‘If I’m not very much mistaken, our Dylan is smitten with your Grace,’ Cerys whispered.
Gertie glanced towards them and nodded. ‘I reckon a blind man on a galloping horse could see that,’ she commented with a wry smile. ‘And I have to say he could do a lot worse. Grace has the temperament of an angel, just like her mother, and one day she’ll make someone a very good wife.’
Once they’d finished the washing up, Dylan looked regretfully at the fading light outside. ‘I suppose I ought to be heading off.’
‘And when might we expect to see you again?’ Cerys enquired as she handed him his muffler.
Glancing towards Grace, Dylan flushed. ‘I’m not too sure but it will be soon, no doubt.’ He moved towards the door, hoping Grace would follow him. When she did, his face broke into a wide grin. ‘Till the next time then. Goodbye for now. Goodbye, Gertie.’
Cerys smiled at him and called, ‘You mind how you go now, lad. You’ve a fair way to walk and it will be full dark afore you get home.’
At the door, Grace smiled at him and said, ‘Thank you for the walk. I really enjoyed it. We shall have to do it again.’ Then leaning forward, she planted a gentle kiss on his cheek and his heart began to race. Could it be that she felt the same way as he did? He hoped so.
‘I did too,’ he assured her. ‘I’ll be back just as soon as I can. Goodbye for now.’
He left and Grace excused herself and went to her room to read her Bible, feeling warm inside. In Dylan she felt she had found a friend.
The following Sunday, Grace decided to attend the service up at the convent. She hadn’t ventured out since her excursion with Dylan, mainly because it had been snowing heavily ever since. So she set off early, unwilling to be late. She arrived just in time to see the young postulants streaming into the chapel, their white habits making them look pure and virginal. They were followed by the older nuns and behind them was Father Luke, who would lead the service. She remembered him from the last time she had visited.
Once inside the nuns took their places at the front of the chapel while Grace seated herself towards the back. Unsurprisingly, given the weather, there were no other worshippers from the village.
As always Grace felt at peace as she sang and worshipped with the nuns and when the mass was over she sat on when everyone else had left, feeling happy and content. A noise behind her made her start and she saw Father Luke hurrying down the central aisle.
‘Oh, I’m sorry if I startled you.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘I forgot my Bible. I’m sure I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on.’ He went to retrieve it then came back and took a seat beside her. ‘Haven’t we met before?’
Grace nodded. ‘Yes, I always come to the services when I’m staying with my aunt at Beehive Cottage.’
‘Of course.’ His grin showed off his white teeth and made him look incredibly young. ‘It’s Grace, isn’t it? You’ve grown up since the last time I saw you.’
She nodded thinking that he looked different too. He seemed more grown up than she remembered and she wondered how old he might be. Probably mid- to late twenties, she judged.
‘Is something troubling you, Grace?’ Father Luke had noticed the haunted look in her eyes.
‘No … well … yes, my father is very ill back at home.’ The words had spewed out before she could stop them but then she found him incredibly easy to talk to.
‘Ah, I see, and you are concerned for him?’
Grace flushed a deep brick red as guilt flooded through her, but how could she tell him the truth, or anyone else for that matter. Instead she remained silent as she twisted her fingers together in her lap.
‘Shall we pray for him together?’ he suggested and she sprang up as if she had been burned.
‘Er … no … thank you, I should be going now. My aunt will worry about me if I’m late.’ She suddenly felt flustered. She could smell the scent of soap and incense oil on his clothing and she was finding it hard to tear her eyes away from him.
‘Of course.’ He too rose from his seat. ‘Perhaps another time then? And I hope your father recovers.’
She inclined her head and raced out of the chapel, her cheeks flaming. For a few brief minutes back there she had found peace but now once again she was back in a living nightmare and she had no idea how to stop it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Madeline stared down at the figure on the bed. Jacob had shown no signs of recovery in over two weeks and the doctor had grimly told her that it was possible he might never be the man he had once been. Now all her concerns were for Grace; how could she ever bring her back to live here when her father was in such a state? Thankfully the frequent phone calls she had with Gertie assured her that the girl was safe for now but what of the future?
‘Do you have everything you need?’ she enquired of her husband, for she knew Nurse Matthews expected it of her, which was the only reason she had ventured into his room again.
A loud grunt was her answer as Nurse Matthews appeared at her side to ask, ‘Would you mind staying with him for a few minutes, ma’am, while I fetch his tea tray up from the kitchen?’
‘Of course not,’ Madeline answered graciously although her heart began to pound. Just the thought of being alone with him, even though he was now defenceless, made her break out in a cold sweat.
Seconds later the door closed behind the portly woman and Jacob’s eyes bored into her, full of hatred and rage.
‘I’m sorry it had to come to this, Jacob.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper but she knew that he heard every word. ‘But at least now I know Grace is safe from you and your friends.’
His one good hand began to thump the blanket in frustration and his head thrashed from side to side but she went on, ‘I am seriously thinking of asking Aunt Gertie to keep her there indefinitely.’
The grunting became louder but it evoked no pity in her. As far as she was concerned he deserved everything he had got.
By the time the nurse entered the room some minutes later he was in such a state that the woman dropped the tray onto the bedside table and immediately began to prepare his medication. ‘He has such rages,’ she confided as she gently lifted his head and began to trickle the laudanum into his mouth but she had no sooner started than his hand came up and he slammed the glass out of her hand. It flew across the bed leaving puddles on the bedspread and she tutted. ‘Now, now, sir. That’s quite enough of that. Didn’t the doctor tell you that it wasn’t good for you to get agitated?’ She turned to Madeline and suggested primly, ‘It might be best if you were to leave, ma’am.’
Madeline nodded, only too happy to do as she was told. Once out on the landing she paused and took a great gulp of air as her hand pressed against her heart. It was beating wildly and she felt very unwell, even so she knew there were things that she must attend to so she cautiously made her way down to the kitchen where she found Harry sitting at the table enjoying a tea break.
‘Ah, Harry… I wonder if you could go into town for me please and ask my husband’s lawyer if he would be kind enough to visit me at his earliest convenience. Today if possible.’
Harry nodded and rose from his seat. ‘May I tell him what you wish to see him about, Mrs Kettle?’
‘Yes, you may. Tell him I wish to make a will.’
They had all noticed her pallor and the bluish tinge about her lips as she came in, and at her words, Mrs Batley looked very worried but she said nothing until her mistress had left the room. ‘I don’t like the sound o’ that,’ she commented. ‘An’ the mistress looks right poorly. Happen all this upset is takin’ its toll on her, poor lass.’
Harry nodded in agreement as he shrugged his coat on. Outside the snow lay thick on the ground and he knew he would be quicker going on foot. Luckily, the judge’s office wasn’t that far away so he reckoned he could be there and back in half an hour if he put a spurt on.
‘Make sure yer put yer muffler on an’ all,’ Mabel advised. ‘You’ll need it today. It’s bitt
er out there.’
He paused to stare at her for a moment as if he was considering saying something, but then aware that Mrs Batley was present he nodded and slipped away.
That evening, Harry sat reading the newspaper till Mrs Batley went to bed then, blushing furiously, he motioned for Mabel to join him at the table.
‘There’s been something I’ve been wanting to say to you for a long time,’ he began licking his lips and looking decidedly uncomfortable. ‘An’ I’ve no doubt when I’ve said it you’ll laugh in me face … but the thing is … the thing, is I have feelin’s for you, Mabel.’ When she went to say something, he held his hand up to silence her. ‘No, please let me finish, lass. This ain’t easy for me. You see I know a girl like you could have your pick of any chap she fancied. You’re kind an’ beautiful whereas I … Well, basically I ain’t much of a catch for anybody, am I, wi’ me gammy legs an’ nothin’ much to offer you! But the thing is … I love you; I’ve loved you from the first second I set eyes on you, if truth be told but I was too afraid you’d laugh at me. I suppose what I’m sayin’ is, I want you to be my girl but I’ll quite understand if you turn me down.’
‘Turn you down?’ Tears were glistening in Mabel’s eyes as she laughed and grasped his large hands in her smaller ones.
‘Oh, Harry, you’re the most handsome, wonderful man I ever met and I’d live in a hut with you if need be! You’ll never know how long I’ve longed for you to say that! You see, I love you too and I’d be proud to be your girl!’
‘You would?’ He looked shocked, then ecstatic. ‘Just so long as you realise it could be some time before I have a home to offer you?’
‘I don’t care how long we have to wait.’ And then their lips joined and all was right with the world.
At that moment Mrs Batley appeared in her dressing robe. She had forgotten to take her book to bed with her and had popped down to fetch it. The sight that met her eyes brought a wide smile to her face.
‘An’ about time too!’ she commented wryly. ‘I was wonderin’ when you pair would finally see what was starin’ you in the face. I was beginnin’ to think I’d have to bang your heads together to make yer see a bit o’ sense.’
‘I’m Harry’s girl now, it’s official,’ Mabel told her, her eyes never leaving his face and again Mrs Batley grinned and grabbed her book, chuckling. ‘To my mind you’ve been that since the first time you clapped eyes on him.’ And she scuttled out of the kitchen, leaving the love birds to it.
Madeline took to her bed again. Now that she knew Grace was safe and her affairs were in order she suddenly felt exhausted. After a few days of this Mrs Batley called the doctor.
‘I fear the shock of all that’s happened has taken its toll on her,’ he told Mrs Batley.
‘But surely there’s something you can do!’ Mrs Batley said.
Dr Busby shook his head. ‘I’m afraid there’s not,’ he admitted. ‘In truth with her heart being as weak as it is I’m shocked that she has survived this long. But don’t give up hope. Mrs Kettle has been very ill before and she has rallied. We can only hope that she will do the same again.’
Some days later the phone in the hall rang and Mrs Batley’s heart skipped a beat. Harry and Mabel were in town and Nurse Matthews was upstairs, which only left her to answer it. Usually she left it to one of the others as she hated the damned thing with a vengeance. She approached it gingerly, as if it might leap off the table and bite her. Tentatively she lifted the receiver and held it to her ear.
‘He-hello,’ she whispered nervously. She really didn’t like these new-fangled things, as she considered them to be, not at all.
‘Who is this?’
‘It’s Mrs Batley, ma’am. Mrs Kettle’s housekeeper.’
‘Then go and fetch her and tell her Aunt Gertie is on the phone.’
‘I, er … can’t do that, I’m afraid. Mrs Kettle is ill in bed.’
‘Ill, you say? What is wrong with her?’
‘It’s her heart, ma’am.’
‘I see.’ Aunt Gertie sounded concerned now. ‘And how long has she been like this?’
‘For some days now.’ Sweat had broken out on Mrs Batley’s brow and her mouth was as dry as the bottom of a bird cage.
‘And is her condition serious? What I mean is, should I be bringing Grace home to see her?’
‘I reckon that might be a good idea,’ Mrs Batley told her. ‘The doctor told us there’s nothin’ else he can do fer her now so we can only hope that she rallies round again.’
‘And her husband, Jacob, how is he?’
‘The same.’ Mrs Batley sighed. It wasn’t easy having two invalids to run around after. ‘There’s been no change at all an’ the doctor reckons the longer he goes on like this the less chance there is of him ever recoverin’.’
‘Then in that case I think it might be wise if Grace and I paid a visit. The problem is, we are snowed in here. It could be days or even weeks before we’re able to get to the station. In the meantime, I shall be in constant touch and will ring every day but if either of them get any worse please ring me immediately and please pass on a message to Madeline for me. Tell her that Grace is well. That will be at least one thing less for her to worry about.’
Mrs Batley nodded vigorously as if somehow Gertie could magically see her. ‘I will, ma’am. Good day.’
The phone went dead and she hastily dropped the receiver back into the cradle before scuttling back to the sanctuary of her kitchen where she felt safe.
In Beehive Cottage, Gertie was worriedly chewing her lip. Should she tell Grace that her mother was ill or keep the news to herself until they were able to go to her? After a time she decided that Grace should be told, she was a young woman after all and Gertie was worried that should anything happen to Madeline and Grace realised that she hadn’t been honest with her she would never forgive her. And so shortly after, she sat the girl down and relayed what Mrs Batley had told her. Grace sat silent for a time before bursting into tears.
‘I should never have come,’ she wailed. ‘I knew she needed me.’
‘She is being perfectly well cared for,’ Gertie pointed out. ‘And the second the weather improves we shall go to her.’
From that moment on Grace spent almost every minute gazing from the window praying for the weather to improve.
True to her word, Aunt Gertie phoned every single day for the next few days with Grace hovering anxiously at her side. Like Grace, she was desperately worried and felt frustrated because she couldn’t go to her.
But then suddenly the calls stopped abruptly.
‘Perhaps I should give her a ring just to make sure that everything is all right there?’ Mabel suggested. Luckily, she didn’t have a fear of the phone as Mrs Batley did. They all agreed that this would be a good idea but when Mabel tried the number she got nothing.
‘The phone is dead,’ she told Harry and Mrs Batley. ‘I wonder if the snow has brought the line down or something?’
Harry nodded in agreement. ‘That sounds the most likely. You’ll just have to keep trying until you can get through again.’
It was a whole week later before Dylan finally managed to visit Beehive Cottage again to tell them that the train services had been resumed. The snow had finally stopped falling some days before and although it was still bitterly cold, the thaw had set in, making the lanes treacherously slippy.
Grace was so thrilled to hear the news that she threw her arms about Aunt Gertie and Dylan found himself wishing it was he that she had turned to for comfort.
‘The trains couldn’t run for over a week because of the snow drifts on the lines,’ he told them as he sat with two hands round a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
‘Hmm, I can quite believe it. We’ve had it drifting up the doors and windows here,’ Gertie told him as she stroked Grace’s hair. ‘It brought the phone lines down as well and goodness knows how long it will be before anybody comes to repair them,’ she grumbled. ‘Still, if you say the trains are running ag
ain it isn’t all doom and gloom. Me and Grace will catch one back to the Midlands tomorrow. I’m keen to check on how Madeline is. Hopefully we will find her on the mend when we get there.’
‘Make sure you set out in plenty of time to get to the station then,’ Dylan warned. ‘The lanes are covered in ice.’
Gertie and Grace set off early the next morning and eventually boarded a train from Pwllheli and settled into one of the carriages. It had taken them twice as long as it normally would to get from the cottage to the train station, for just as Dylan had warned the roads were still treacherous.
The journey took two hours longer than it should have done and it was late afternoon by the time the train pulled into Trent Valley railway station in Nuneaton, it was getting dark. By then both Grace and Gertie were shivering with cold and stiff from sitting. They heaved the small bags they’d brought with them onto the platform and set off for Grace’s home. All Gertie could think about was a nice hot cup of tea, while all Grace could think about was seeing her mother.
They entered the house by the back door and Grace instantly noticed that Mrs Batley’s eyes were red and swollen. She was sitting by the fire sniffing into a large white handkerchief and the greeting that had been on Grace’s lips died as she dropped her bag onto the floor and asked, ‘Why, my dear Batty, whatever is the matter?’
‘Eeh, pet … It’s right good to see yer … But yer’ve come too late. Yer see … yer poor mam has passed away.’
Grace heard no more as the floor rushed up to greet her.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Grace sat numbly staring into the fire as her Aunt Gertie hovered over her with a bottle of smelling salts in her hand in case they were needed again.
‘So what happened?’ Gertie asked eventually. She was in shock herself but trying not to show it in front of Grace.
‘I took her breakfast tray up as usual an’ I couldn’t wake her.’ Mrs Batley started to cry again and great fat tears rolled down her plump cheeks. ‘She must have gone peaceful in her sleep, which is somethin’ to be thankful for I suppose, God rest her sweet soul.’
A Mother's Grace Page 19
