Gwenna the Welsh Confectioner

by Vicky Adin

  Misinterpreting Bethan’s words, Gwenna agreed it was indeed wonderful to have Hugh back. She still had to sort out the living arrangements but that was minor in the scheme of things, and she had been considering that she might need extra staff who could use the accommodation above the shop.

  Sharing in her happiness was Alice. “Congratulations, Gwenna,” she said, hugging everyone in turn. “I’m so happy for you.” She had news too.

  She and Elias had found a new workshop and showroom premises in Newmarket, with rooms for Woody above. “And the most delightful cottage for Eli and me, with a picket fence and a garden, a bit out of town. I’ve painted the nursery pale lemon, but I’m hoping for a little girl,” confessed a blushing Alice, glowing with health and pride, anticipating the baby’s arrival. “First week of November, I’m told.”

  But above everything else making Gwenna almost light-headed with glee ... the books showed a substantial profit.

  As the weeks passed, Louisa’s skill with people exceeded Gwenna’s expectations, and Bethan’s warm nature and ability to chat had won over many who might otherwise have considered Gwenna an upstart. Tillie’s fudge was a major drawcard, and Bethan had started to make teas and hot chocolate again, allowing the ladies to sit and enjoy their fudge in a convivial atmosphere. Gwenna would have liked more space for the refreshment area, but it would do for now.

  And then there was Hugh.

  He’d become so much a part of the fabric of her life she couldn’t imagine being without him. He was still as quiet as he’d always been, and when the whole family got together he made excuses, saying he had no place being there. Gwenna didn’t agree, of course, but had long since stopped arguing.

  Many times she’d tried to analyse her feelings for him, which were entirely different to what she felt for Tom – dear Tom, whom she loved and respected as a brother – and in no way replicated how she had once felt, a long time ago, for Johnno. Over the years Bethan had tried to tell her that something more than loyalty kept Hugh by her side. While Gwenna ignored that possibility, she had come to rely on him more than she could say. She trusted him to protect what was important to her and cherish her dreams, and she valued his opinion on anything to do with the making of the sweets, even the packaging designs and his ideas about distribution. Theirs was a friendship beyond compare.

  Intending to stoke the fire into life and put the large kettle on to boil before Bethan arose, she opened the kitchen door. She was startled to find Hugh standing across from her, framed in the outside doorway. For a few moments neither of them moved, separated by the kitchen where they spent most of their time together, each trying to guess what the other was thinking.

  He held a suitcase.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “Gwenna ... I’m sorry. I’d planned ...” Hugh struggled to find the right words. “I can’t ...” and turned his head away from her.

  Gwenna’s heart plunged and a sharp, metallic taste burned the back of her throat. “Are you leaving me?” asked Gwenna, her voice rising in panic. “Leaving the business, I mean? Is that what you’re saying?”

  A soft smile relaxed the lines on his face, that was as familiar to her as her own.

  “You’ll always be with me, Gwenna, wherever I go.”

  He was leaving.

  The punch of reality struck Gwenna as hard as a physical blow. Bethan’s words rang in her ears: ‘You’ll lose him one day if you don’t wake up, girl.’

  Gwenna turned the gold band on her finger round and round. She should have taken it off a long time ago. It didn’t mean what it once had, and it bound her to the past when she wanted a future. But she hadn’t.

  Hugh watched her fingers fret over the ring.

  The silence lengthened and Gwenna trembled as her agitation rose. “Why ...” she began, her voice so croaky she needed to clear it before she could speak again. She pointed to the suitcase.

  Hugh looked down at the leather bag as if he’d forgotten he was still holding it, or as though it would provide the answer to the question. The intensity in his eyes held Gwenna’s, but with his back to the light, she couldn’t read the message.

  “It’s not my place to speak, Gwenna. Not now. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  “Let me be the judge of that,” she said, speaking far more sharply than she intended.

  The muscles in his face tensed. He gritted his teeth and remained silent.

  “Speak, Hugh,” she begged. “Please. Where are you going?”

  He put the suitcase on the floor and crossed the distance between them. Taking her left hand in his, he placed his thumb over the ring on her finger.

  “This is why I can’t speak, Gwenna. It gives you freedom, but you are also bound by it. To it. And because of it, I can’t live and work beside you, day in day out, any longer. I have to go.”

  People believed a heart could burst, and, if the noise in her head and the thumping, pounding heaviness in her chest was any indication, then hers was about to explode.

  “Why? What have I done?” Her eyes shone with the fervour of every emotion she couldn’t begin to put a name to.

  “You’ve done nothing. It’s me who is in the wrong.” Hugh dropped her hand and wiped his hands down the sides of his trousers. “Let me go, Gwenna, before I say too much.”

  She reached out and grabbed his arm, wanting to say the words of love that sprang unbidden to the tip of her tongue. “No, Hugh. You can’t go ... Please, I ...”

  He removed her hand from his arm and held it lightly in his own. “Gwenna, you can do anything you want to in this world, with or without me. Or anyone else, for that matter.” His smile broke her heart a little further. “I’ve watched you develop from a damaged little girl into a determined woman; your class and style sets you as far above me as the stars. And out of my reach.”

  Gwenna tried to calm the panic inside and make sense of it all. “You’re wrong, Hugh. Whatever it is you’re trying to say, you’re wrong. I would be nothing without you. I’m still that little girl inside, scared I’ll fail ...”

  Hugh laughed. He actually laughed. When her world was collapsing, he laughed. The sound echoed around the room and in her head – a joyous sound, one that would normally lift her up but today tore her apart.

  “My dearest girl. You are so wrong. You are the strength that holds everyone together. Don’t you see? You believed it could be done and you did it. You will pass your father’s legacy to your son, as you’ve always dreamed, but until you do that, there is no room in your heart for anything – or anyone – else.”

  He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it while staring at her, staring in the same way she had once gazed at Johnno, trying to etch his every feature on her memory. “Stay, Hugh. Stay. Please. I can’t do it without you. Don’t leave me.”

  Moments passed while their eyes remained locked. Hugh’s desolate, hers beseeching.

  “I can’t, Gwenna, my love. I can’t stay. Not without hope. I’ve loved you from afar for too long. I can’t do it any longer.”

  Her childlike sobs filled the silence.

  He picked up his suitcase. “One day you’ll understand.”

  A moment later he was gone.

  “I love you,” she whispered – too late for him to hear.

  She stood frozen, her mind swirling, while her heart splintered. She’d lost the one person who mattered to her the most. Without her realising it, Hugh had become as essential to her as breathing. She couldn’t imagine a life without him.

  Twisting the ring from her finger, she stared at the empty place where he had stood and vowed to win him back.

  EPILOGUE

  From the newspapers

  Black Jack Jones Gets His Comeuppance

  AT THE COURTS

  3 March 1902

  Mr John Jones, otherwise known as Black Jack Jones, carter of Onehunga, was today found guilty, as charged, with numerous breaches of the Money-lenders Act 1901 and of acquiring moneys by illegal means.

/>   He will be sentenced next month to an expected term of not less than two years’ imprisonment and a fine of £500.

  Coming of Age

  SOCIETY NEWS

  18 April 1902

  Mrs Gwenna Price of G Price and Family Confectioners, was seen at the Savoy Dining Room, in Queen Street, celebrating her twenty-first birthday.

  The supper party guests included her family: Mrs Bethan Price, Mr Elias Hughes and Mrs Alice Hughes, Mrs Louisa Evans, Mr Percy Lewis and Mrs Janetta Lewis.

  Notable business guests included Mr Edward Turner and Mrs Maude Turner, Mr John McKail Geddes and Mrs Annabella Geddes, and Mr & Mrs Ernest Yates.

  Surprise guest was Mr Hugh Powell, recently returned to the business after an absence.

  Gwenna Celebrates

  BUSINESS NEWS

  1 September 1902

  Mrs Gwenna Price of G Price & Family Confectioners is delighted to announce Mr Hugh Powell has returned to the business and will take up his new position as General Manager as of today.

  * * * * *

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The story of Gwenna is inspired by the real-life history of my Welsh great-grandmother.

  St James’s Church in Wellington Street no longer exists. It should not be confused with Hopetoun Alpha in Beresford Street, which was also once known as St James Presbyterian Church. The location of the original St James’s Church is where the pohutukawa sculpture sits at the junction of the Southern Motorway at the top of Hobson Street.

  The construction of the Southern Motorway changed many of the streets mentioned in the story, most of which are no longer accessible in the same way. Beresford Street was cut in half and Nelson Street shortened, amongst others. North Street changed its name several times but is now known as Galatos Street. West Street is now a no-exit, narrow lane squeezed next to the motorway overbridge.

  Partington’s Mill, a major landmark of the time, used by ships as a marker, was demolished in 1950, one hundred years after its construction. The Historic Places Trust was formed in 1957 as a result.

  O’Rorke Street has been absorbed into the University of Auckland grounds, as has the original Government House.

  The Auckland Domain is the oldest park in Auckland. Western Park was one of the first parks, and opened in November 1879. Myers Park, by comparison, did not come into existence until 1915.

  The Auckland Town Hall was built in 1907, and the central markets moved to an area by the railway station in the early 1900s. Edward Turner and his family went on to be known as Turners and Growers Ltd, Fresh Fruit and Vegetable Auctioneers.

  The dates of the Auckland Industrial and Mining Exhibition were adjusted to fit the story. The exhibition took place from December 1898 to February 1899. There is no evidence to show a repeat exhibition was held the following year, as suggested. The next Auckland exhibition was not held until 1913–14, but other exhibitions in Wellington, Canterbury and Otago took its place in the interim.

  The online 1908 map of Auckland City provided by Auckland Council proved an invaluable reference tool.

  Vicky Adin

  Dedication

  To Janice

  who, like Gwenna, battled the odds

  and never gave up

  Latest release due late May 2019 – Pre-order now

  The Costumier’s Gift

  The dual-timeline sequel continuing the family sagas of

  Brigid The Girl from County Clare and Gwenna The Welsh Confectioner

  Awarded a BGS Gold Standard Quality Mark

  Why does a stranger hold the key to untangling Katie’s family secrets?

  1903 – Jane is the talented principal costumier at Auckland’s Opera House in its Edwardian heyday. She thrives in this place where she can hide from her pain and keep her skeletons to herself – until the past comes back to haunt her. Brigid, her beloved foster mother, and her best friend Gwenna are anchors in her solitary yet rewarding life. As the decades go by, the burden of carrying secrets becomes too great, and Jane must pass on the hidden truths.

  Today – Katie seeks refuge from her crumbling personal life with her grandmother, who lives in past with the people in her cherished photographs. All too soon, Katie learns she must identify the people behind the gentle smiles – including the Edwardian woman to whom she bears a remarkable resemblance – and reveal generations of secrets before she can claim her inheritance. She meets the intriguing Jared, who stirs her interest, but she’s not ready for any sort of romance, so is shocked when she learns that he holds the key to discovering the truth.

  * * * * *

  Peek Preview of

  The Costumier’s Gift

  KATIE – Present-day Auckland, New Zealand

  Living in the past

  April

  Katie had only herself to blame and now it was too late: too late for Granna; too late for her; just plain too late. Saddened, Katie shrugged the thought away.

  Her mother’s death fifteen months before had shaken her. No, more than that, shattered would be a better term, but she doubted the old woman sitting before her, endlessly chattering about the past, even knew her daughter had gone.

  “Janey, Janey. You’re here,” said Granna, looking through Katie to someone else. “Say hello to our Katie here. She’s your ... oh dear, I can’t remember now, your great-granty-something-or-other she is, but you know her, don’t you? Our Janey’s ever so clever.”

  “Who’s that, Granna?” asked Katie, knowing she wouldn’t be able to make sense of the answer, if one came.

  Part of her wanted to find out about the people Granna talked about, but none of it mattered. No one else cared about Granna or the past, and since Katie had no plans to marry or have children, there’d be nobody to care in the future either.

  “My Janey is so special,” said Granna, continuing her conversation with no one in particular. “Those designs are superb. Oh my ... is this for me?”

  After Katie’s grandfather died, roughly twenty years earlier, her grandmother had continued to live in their substantial and beautiful villa alone. A decade later, Granna could no longer manage on her own and moved in to her daughter’s family home. Trying to hold her own family together, and looking after her mother as her mind slipped further away from reality, was too much for Katie’s mother’s overworked heart.

  Oh, why had nobody noticed, Katie lamented.

  But Katie noticed things these days. She noticed the delicate bones in Granna’s fingers, and the soft, papery skin riddled with dark lines under the loose flesh. Those once-strong fingers had been so creative and so gentle. Now they looked as if they would break if you touched them, except Granna was nowhere near breaking – at least not physically.

  A bird tweeted out in the garden and Granna turned her head. Her dark velvet eyes glanced across Katie’s face and momentarily held her gaze. Eyes that shone with love and purpose. In days gone by, you could get lost in those eyes, drawn into their protective warmth. Now, the depth that lived within them belonged to another era.

  Putting Granna into the rest home had been the most difficult decision Katie had ever made. Her father had wanted nothing to do with the batty old woman, he’d said and washed his hands of the whole affair. Katie had no such choice. Left with sole responsibility when her mother died, she could see no other option.

  Prone to wander, Granna had taken it into her head that she was living in the house where her Granma Gwenna had once lived and nothing anyone said could change her mind. ‘I know where I’m going, Katie dear,’ she’d say – but she didn’t. Wherever the house in her mind had once been, the rest home was new and in a foreign-to-Granna area.

  Granna’s safety was paramount.

  Every available surface in her gran’s room was covered with her cherished photographs. When she’d first moved in, the managers tried to persuade her to keep them on one shelf and limit the number, promising to change them regularly, but Granna was having none of it. She didn’t say anything but simply took them from the drawer and put t
hem back. At one time, they tried taking them out of the room but Granna had thrown such a hissy fit, they gave in.

  One photo in particular always drew Katie’s attention. The sepia tones had faded but the clothes and hairstyles worn by the two women were unmistakably early Edwardian. One of the faces looking back at her was her own – the resemblance was uncanny. But there was no name on the back to say who she was. Granna called the older woman something that sounded like ‘Moh-ree’ but Katie had never heard her call the second woman by name.

  She made a mental note to look in her mother’s collection and see if she could find anything with names. She’d put off going through the house and sorting her mother’s possessions, but the time had come. Her father had a new love now and the woman didn’t want the old stuff around.

  “You should see those costumes our Janey used to make,” said Granna. “The fabrics were glorious, but Mam wasn’t allowed to go to the theatre to see them on the stage until she was much older. Moh-ree was strict about that ...” and off she’d go again telling a story, half in the present and half in the past, about people Katie didn’t know and whose relationships didn’t make sense. She was sure Granna often confused the generations, and Katie hadn’t been able to work out which name belonged with which era. She couldn’t even put a name to Granna’s ‘Mam’.

  Although she didn’t recognise anyone else, for some inexplicable reason, her grandmother knew who Katie was. Born on the same day as her, sixty years later, and named after her, they’d had a special relationship until Katie had gone off to university. Now Katie wished she’d paid more attention to her mother, and her gran.

  The nurse came in. “Hello, Mrs Bridges, how are you today?”

  Granna turned towards the newcomer and a polite smile creased her face. “Hello. Now, who are you? Have you come to see me? I do so like visitors, they are such interesting people.”

  “I’ve come to make you more comfortable, Mrs Bridges.” Katie watched the nurse pat her gran’s arm.