Chapter Forty-Eight
‘So what did you do this time? Trip again, did you?’ Aunt Gertie asked wryly when she visited the next day.
Grace flushed and said nothing. She knew her aunt could read her like a book so there was no point in lying.
Aunt Gertie sighed but said no more. She felt sorry for the predicament Dylan was in but the way she saw it he shouldn’t take his frustration out on Grace. All she was doing was trying to help him. She was just thankful that Grace had old lady Gower close by. She’d proved to be a real godsend to her niece and Gertie happened to know that Aiden spent more time with her now than he did in his own home. She couldn’t blame the poor little mite. Dylan didn’t have a kind word for him and although she knew it was wrong, Gertie sometimes wished Dylan hadn’t survived the war. He was making her niece’s life hell and there was not a thing Gertie could do about it. She had never interfered in her niece’s marriage and she didn’t intend to start now.
‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in inviting you and Aiden for Christmas dinner, is there?’
Grace shook her head regretfully. ‘I’d love to come, and I’m sure Aiden would too, but it wouldn’t be right to leave Dylan alone.’
‘Couldn’t Bronwen come and spend the day with him?’
Grace raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure she could but can you imagine what she’d say? She hasn’t got a good word for me as it is and if I were to clear off and leave him on Christmas day, well … Although, I suppose Aiden could come. I’m sure he’d be far happier there with you than here. I’ll bring him over on Christmas morning, shall I?’
Gertie shook her head. ‘No need for that. I’ll get Aled to fetch him first thing. He reckons we’re going to have snow so he’s making Aiden a sledge. He can tow him home on it if it has snowed by then, he’ll love it.’
Grace perked up a little. At least Aiden might have a good day even if she couldn’t. Just before Gertie left to go into the market, Bronwen arrived and the two women eyed each other with dislike.
‘Is there anything you need fetching?’ Gertie asked as she pulled her gloves on and wrapped her thick woollen scarf about her neck. As usual she was dressed in men’s trousers and the colours she wore clashed violently but Gertie didn’t care. She had stopped worrying about what people thought of her years ago and as long as she was comfortable she was happy.
‘No thanks, I think we have all we need,’ Grace assured her and once her aunt was gone she hurried to the sink to put the kettle on.
‘Bumped into a door again, did you?’ Bronwen leered as she glanced at Grace’s eye, but Grace chose to ignore her. She’d found it was easier that way.
Aiden woke early on Christmas morning and he and Grace crept downstairs. For the child’s sake, she had filled vases with holly to try to make the room look festive and with the fire glowing in the grate the cottage looked warm and cosy. Money was tight but she had still managed to buy a few little presents for Aiden, which were now hanging in a stocking above the fireplace. He leaped on them gleefully and Grace watched with a smile as he drew them out one by one. There was a little tin soldier that she had bought from a stall in the marketplace. A new pair of woollen mittens that she had painstakingly knitted herself and a warm woollen scarf to match. There was a bag of marbles and a tiddlywinks game and finally two barley sugar sticks that made his mouth water.
‘But I’ll save these till after dinner,’ he promised and as he flung his arms about her neck Grace thanked God for him. Meanwhile, Dylan watched from his bed but thankfully he said nothing to spoil it for the child.
Once Aled had come to collect him, Christmas Day passed much like any other day for Grace, although she was thrilled that Aiden at least had a wonderful time at her aunt’s.
Before she could blink, they were into a new year and Aiden was back at school although she wasn’t sure how long it would be for. It had been snowing heavily and she feared that if they had much more of it the lane leading to the cottages would be impassable.
Then one day she answered a knock at the door to find Luke standing on the doorstep looking so handsome that her heart did a cartwheel in her chest. It was what she had feared the most since she had left the hospital. Just for a second their eyes locked and it was all Grace could do to force herself to look away from him.
‘Dr Evans is off sick,’ he told her, kicking the snow from his boots and looking away. ‘So I’ve come in his place to see your husband. How is he?’
‘No better, no worse, I don’t think,’ Grace muttered raising her hand to hide her split lip, but she wasn’t in time, Luke had already spotted it and he frowned, although he didn’t say anything. He was concerned to see that she had lost weight and there were dark circles under her eyes.
‘Hello, Mr Penlynn, I’m Dr Hughes. How are you feeling?’ he said as he approached the bed.
As Dylan stared up at him his eyes seemed to stretch and in that moment Grace knew that he had seen the likeness between Luke and Aiden and her heart sank.
‘I-it was you,’ Dylan croaked as he tried to raise himself from the pillow. ‘You’re the bastard’s father!’
Luke looked completely bewildered as he tried to calm his patient. ‘I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about but lie back now, there’s a good chap, and let me have a look at you.’
Dylan’s arms flailed out in front of him and Luke stepped back from the bed, alarmed. ‘Does he often get this agitated?’ he asked with a frown.
‘Er, sometimes,’ Grace answered in a wobbly voice.
‘Get out … Do you hear me … get out!’
The door banged open then and Mrs Gower appeared. ‘So, what’s all the commotion about?’ she asked. ‘They must be able to hear you for miles.’ And then she stopped dead in her tracks as she stared at Luke. It was like looking at a grown-up version of Aiden and in that moment, she too guessed the truth. Recovering herself, she approached the bed and told him sharply, ‘Calm yourself down now, man. You’re getting yourself into a rare old state.’
‘I think it might be best if I left.’ Luke snapped his bag shut and backed towards the door with Grace close on his heels.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she told him. She bowed her head in shame and he felt like snatching her into his arms and running as far away with her as he could get. He couldn’t, of course, so he merely nodded and strode away through the snow with his lips set in a narrow line. What the hell had the man been ranting about, the bastard’s father? He could only assume that he was delirious. He felt sorry for Grace, though. Dylan’s wounds had embittered him and it was more than clear that he was giving his wife a hard time. However, he knew all too well that he couldn’t interfere between a husband and wife, and Grace must love him to put up with it. Pushing the sudden surge of jealousy aside, he went on his way.
Back in the cottage, old lady Gower was trying unsuccessfully to calm Dylan. ‘You’re going to make yourself really ill,’ she warned and then gave a wry smile as she realised what she had said. The chap already was very ill. Yet strangely it wasn’t him that she felt empathy for at that moment, but Grace. The poor young woman looked to be just about at the end of her tether. The weight had dropped off her and with her bruised eye and split lip she was a pitiful sight. She always made excuses for her injuries but the old lady was aware of exactly what was going on. How could she not be when only a wall divided her kitchen from theirs? Every day she would listen to him ranting and raving at her, or listen to the sound of pots smashing when he churlishly flung them across the room. It was a wonder the poor girl had any pots left at all!
She looked down at Dylan and said, ‘If you’ll not take the medicine the doctors are prescribing for you, happen you’ll never get better. It’d serve you right if we all turned us back on you. So are you goin’ to take it or not? Makes no difference to me either way but I’ll tell you now, the next time I hear you’ve knocked it out of Grace’s hands again, that’ll be it. I’ll wash me hands of you!’
She raised
an eyebrow and after a minute he nodded. ‘I dare say I will then!’ he said grudgingly.
‘Just try it, Dylan,’ Grace cajoled as she held the mug with the medicine in it out to him. ‘It can’t do any harm and it just might do you good.’
He sniffed and nodded so she lifted his head from the pillow and held it to his lips. Once or twice he retched as he sipped at it and some of it trickled down his chin but at last he managed to swallow it before knocking the mug away.
‘You can get away from me now, whore,’ he cursed.
Mrs Gower shook her head. Her biggest fear wasn’t for him, it was for Grace because she was sure that one of these days he was going to do her a real injury. Even in his weakened state he could land a cruel blow. ‘Ungrateful bugger,’ she grumbled as she made for the door and Grace silently agreed with her. ‘I’ll be round to make sure he takes more of the same at this time tomorrow. Happen he’ll behave better towards you if I’m here. Meantime send Aiden round to have his tea with me an’ if you need me just hammer on the wall.’
Grace nodded. Sometimes she didn’t know how she would cope without Mrs Gower but it hurt to know that her son was happier round at her cottage than he was in his own home. Sometimes he didn’t venture home until it was almost time to go to bed because he was so afraid of Dylan and his cruel tongue. She supposed it was for the best but she missed him and wondered if life would ever get back to any sort of normality.
They were into March when one of the doctors from the hospital pulled her to one side one day after examining Dylan to ask her, ‘How long has he been being sick for?’
Grace shrugged. The smell of vomit hung on the air despite all her scrubbing and cleaning. ‘Ever since he came home but I do think he’s getting worse instead of better.’
The doctor nodded in agreement. ‘I’m afraid he is. His lungs still have fluid on them as well as being badly blistered and I ought to warn you that I think his chances of recovering now are very slim indeed.’
‘I see.’ Grace felt numb as she stared towards the bed where Dylan had fallen into a doze, his laboured breathing echoing around the room. ‘Is there anything more I can do for him?’ she asked woodenly.
The doctor shook his head. ‘I think you’re already doing all you can,’ he told her sympathetically. ‘And I’m just trying to prepare you, not upset you, my dear. You’ve done an excellent job of nursing him.’
She managed a weak smile as the doctor snapped his bag shut and left, then she sat down wearily on the nearest chair to have a few minutes rest while she could. She was still sitting there when Mrs Gower arrived with her tin mug and instantly the old lady’s eyes were drawn to the large bruise on Grace’s arm. Grace hastily pulled her sleeve down to cover it before saying with forced cheerfulness, ‘Ah, here you are. I’ll put the kettle on and make us a nice cup of tea while Dylan is asleep. Aiden is going straight to Aunt Gertie’s for tea after school today so you can have an evening off.’
‘I don’t mind having the boyo,’ Mrs Gower said as she placed the tin mug on the table. ‘And what did the doctor have to say about him?’
Grace shook her head, stemming the tears that suddenly threatened. ‘He said it isn’t looking good,’ she whispered.
‘Hmm.’ Mrs Gower stared towards Dylan. ‘Then you’d best prepare yourself. It could be any time now.’
Dylan stirred at that moment and snatching up the mug, Mrs Gower approached the bed. ‘Come on then, lad. Get this down you.’
She held the mug to his lips and slowly and painfully Dylan swallowed it a dribble at a time. He seemed to be getting weaker by the day and Grace secretly wondered if there was any need for Mrs Gower to go to all this trouble every day anymore.
‘Right, we’ll have that tea now,’ Mrs Gower said when she’d wiped his chin with the edge of her apron and dropped the tin mug into her pocket.
That evening Dylan developed a fever and began to toss and turn on the bed.
‘You go on up, pet, and get tucked in,’ Grace encouraged Aiden, who as always was keeping a safe distance. Bronwen had only left a short time before. She’d taken to coming for a couple of hours each day in the late afternoon now and Grace almost wished she had stayed so that she could nurse her son through the night. She was so tired that her eyes felt as if they were full of grit but even so she filled the tin bowl with cool water and by the light of the oil lamp she sat patiently sponging Dylan’s face to try and get the fever down.
By the time Bronwen arrived the next day Grace was actually relieved to see her. Dylan was still being violently ill and so Mrs Gower had agreed to let Aiden stay with her for a few days.
Taking one look at Grace, Bronwen told her sharply, ‘Go up to bed for a few hours. You look dead on your feet. I’ll see to Dylan.’
Grace knew that Bronwen was only offering to get her out of the way so she could have Dylan to herself but she was so tired that she did as she was told. Once upstairs she was too tired to even bother undressing. She had spent almost twenty-four hours sponging and changing Dylan and washing soiled sheets so the second her head hit the pillow she was fast asleep.
Grace was brought back from a lovely dream where she and Myfanwy had been paddling in the sea by Bronwen shaking her arm.
‘You’d best come down.’ Bronwen was crying and Grace felt a cold hand close about her heart as she struggled from the bed.
‘Is he worse?’
Bronwen merely nodded and Grace shot past her and charged down the stairs. Dylan was propped against the pillows, his eyes feverishly bright and sweat standing out on his forehead, but when he saw her he managed a weak smile and held his hand out to her.
‘G-Grace …’
‘Don’t try to speak,’ she urged as she stroked his burning skin. He felt as if he was on fire.
‘But th-there’s things I have to say …’
For the first time in weeks she saw a glimpse of the old Dylan, the one she had once cared for, and it affected her deeply.
‘I-I need to say … I’m sorry. For the way I’ve treated you. I-I thought I’d be able to handle seeing … you with another man’s child … but I couldn’t and I’ve treated you very badly.’ As a tear slid down his cheek, Grace bowed her head.
‘Please s-say you’ll forgive me.’
She was too full of emotion to speak so she merely nodded and gently squeezed his hand.
He smiled again as he looked beyond her to the dark shadows in the corner of the room. ‘I-I have to go now. Myfanwy is waiting for me … But remember, Grace … I did love you … too much. Did you ever love me … j-just a little? I can die happy if I can just hear you say it … just the once.’
Grace sniffed back her tears and told him softly, ‘Yes, Dylan. I did love you.’ Then leaning forward, she gently kissed his burning lips.
He stared at her for a moment longer, as if he were trying to memorise every inch of her face then his grip on her hand relaxed and with a sigh and a final gentle smile he closed his eyes.
After becoming accustomed to the sound of his laboured breathing, the silence was suddenly deafening but then she heard a sob behind her and found Bronwen close to her shoulder.
‘Me lovely boyo has gone,’ she wailed.
Grace nodded as she gently raised her hands to close his eyes. ‘Yes, he has,’ she whispered brokenly. ‘And may he rest in peace.’
Chapter Forty-Nine
‘I’ll lay him out,’ Mrs Gower offered a short time later. She had heard Bronwen sobbing through the wall that divided the cottages and hurried round, guessing what had happened.
‘Y-you don’t have to do that,’ Grace said in a wobbly voice, but the old lady shook her head. Bronwen was clearly in no state to do it and Grace didn’t look much better. ‘I bring ’em into the world and I sees ’em out,’ she stated. ‘Just give me a couple of pennies for his eyes then you walk into town and ask the doctor to call and the undertaker to come and collect him.’ She looked towards Bronwen then and snapped rather harshly, ‘And you’d best calm
down. You must have seen this coming. At least he’s out of pain now.’
Bronwen continued to sob as the old lady went to put the kettle on for some hot water to wash Dylan with. He’d been sick so many times over the last few days that the smell of vomit clung to him, despite Grace’s best efforts to keep him clean, so no doubt he’d need a clean shirt too.
When the kettle had boiled she made them all a strong cup of tea and put plenty of sugar in Bronwen’s.
She then watched as the woman drank it before telling her, ‘You may as well walk into town with Grace and get yourself home. I dare say your husband will want to know what’s happened and there’s nowt else you can do here.’
Seeing the sense in what she said, the woman nodded. She was too distressed to argue for a change and shortly after, she and Grace set off into the brand-new morning. It seemed strange that it looked set to be a fine day after what had happened but it just went to show that life went on.
As soon as they’d gone, Mrs Gower slipped round to her own cottage to check that Aiden was still asleep before returning to do as she’d promised. Once Dylan was washed from head to toe she crossed his arms over his chest and placed the pennies on his eyes before opening the window as far as it would go – not only to dispel the sickroom smell, but to let his spirit fly free. Finally, she stood looking down at the corpse, for that was all he was now. She had watched him walk away some time ago, hand in hand with his sister, a fine-looking little lass with ebony black hair and a smile that could move mountains.
And now there was one last job she had to do but that could wait until later in the day, so she settled herself in Grace’s chair and helped herself to another cup of tea.
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