The doctor had been and issued the death certificate and the undertaker had called and taken Dylan’s body to the chapel of rest. It was now mid-afternoon and Grace was cleaning the house like someone possessed. Up to now Mrs Gower hadn’t seen her shed so much as one tear but no doubt they’d come in time. To her mind, Dylan’s passing was a good thing. If he hadn’t gone when he had she feared he’d have inflicted serious injuries on the poor girl. But it was over now and she had a long trek ahead of her.
Slipping from the cottage she set off through the woods and as she climbed she began to huff and puff. It was a steep climb but she plodded on. The buds on the trees were a delicate green and already bluebells were peeping through the earth. She was almost halfway up the hill when a large badger ran across the path in front of her and Mrs Gower smiled. Wildlife held no fears for her, she had an affinity with all creatures, great and small. At last the convent came into sight and leaning against the trunk of a tree the old woman stopped to get her breath back. Eventually she moved on and once inside the foyer, which smelled strongly of disinfectant and sickness, she stopped a young nurse who was hurrying by and asked to see the Reverend Mother.
‘Do come in,’ the nun invited when Mrs Gower knocked on the door.
The old lady closed the door firmly behind her and began to tell her what she had come for.
She left within minutes feeling deflated. It was really the handsome young Dr Hughes she had wished to see but the kindly nun had informed her that he had left only the day before. He had been transferred to another military hospital further along the coast but she had no idea which one.
Mrs Gower was not one for showing her emotions but once out in the sunshine again she could have wept. She was no fool. She’d seen the spark between Grace and the young man when he had called at the cottage and she had also immediately guessed, just as Dylan had, that he was Aiden’s father. But now he was gone once more and it seemed that yet again Grace was to be cheated of her chance at happiness. Moving on, she comforted herself that at least she had done what she thought was right. But Grace … poor Grace.
The funeral was a dismal affair. Bronwen insisted on seeing to all the arrangements herself, right down to choosing the coffin, which was one of the most expensive the undertaker could provide. She still expected Grace to pay for everything though, and Grace did so without complaint, although it would mean that the small amount of money she had left was sadly diminished.
Bronwen also informed her, just days before the service took place, that she would be entertaining any mourners that wished to return after the service at her own cottage and that Grace could attend if she wished to. But from the way she extended the invitation Grace knew she would not be welcome, so she decided that she would say her goodbyes to her husband at the chapel and then return home.
The temporary truce that had seemed to exist between them while they were nursing Dylan was over and Bronwen hoped that after the funeral she need never set eyes on Grace or her bastard ever again.
After the interment, Grace and Aiden walked home to their cottage. Aiden had been unusually quiet but, clutching his mother’s hand, he suddenly asked, ‘Do you think I might get to meet my real father one day?’
He had never mentioned anything since the day Dylan had informed him that he wasn’t his father but now Grace realised that it must have been preying on his mind.
‘I don’t know, love,’ she answered truthfully. ‘I hope you do but if not we’ll be fine on our own.’
‘Will you go back to work at the convent again now?’ Aiden asked and Grace realised with a little jolt that she hadn’t really considered what she might do. She knew that she would have to do something and supposed that it wouldn’t be a bad idea, although she dreaded to think how she would feel if she was close to Luke again. All the love she had always felt for him was still there, simmering away beneath the surface.
‘I might,’ she told him. ‘But let’s just get today over with and then I’ll make a decision.’
Aiden nodded before letting go of her hand and skipping ahead in the bright sunshine. It seemed wrong that someone should be buried in the dark earth on such a lovely bright day somehow, Grace mused. She had noted that Aiden hadn’t shed a single tear since the day Dylan had died, but then, why should he?
Mrs Gower was waiting for them when they reached the cottage with the kettle already singing to make a pot of tea.
‘So how did it go?’
Grace shrugged. ‘As well as could be expected, I suppose.’
‘Hmm.’ Mrs Gower lifted the kettle and poured the boiling water over the tea leaves she had measured into the teapot. ‘And what will you do now?’
‘Aiden just asked me the same thing,’ Grace told her as she removed her bonnet and placed it on the end of the table. She hadn’t been able to afford a new one but she had trimmed it with black ribbon as a mark of respect. ‘He asked if I was going to go and work back at the convent and I suppose it isn’t a bad idea. That is, if you’d be prepared to keep your eye on him after school each day until I got home? I would pay you, of course.’
‘You don’t need to ask and I won’t want paying,’ Mrs Gower told her smartly. ‘But what you have to remember now is, you’re still a young woman. Life can’t be all about work and caring for your son. Happen there’ll be some nice young chap out there who’ll treat you as you deserve to be treated.’
Grace gave a wry grin. ‘I think it’s rather soon to be thinking of getting married again on the day I buried my husband, don’t you?’
Mrs Gower sniffed. ‘All the same, it’s something for you to think on.’
Grace shook her head as she sank into a chair. She felt she could be honest with Mrs Gower. ‘I should never have married Dylan,’ she admitted with a catch in her voice. ‘You obviously know that Aiden wasn’t his. I married him to give my baby a name and I hoped in time that I’d grow to love him. But then when Aiden was born, Dylan couldn’t take to him and the rest you know.’
‘And do you still have feelings for the lad’s father?’
Grace nodded miserably.
‘Hmm, I thought as much. They do say that we only ever know one true love in a lifetime and happen it’s right. But who knows, your paths might cross again one of these days and now that you’re free …’
Grace shook her head. ‘That isn’t likely to happen. Aiden’s father doesn’t even know he exists.’
‘All the same, stranger things have happened and I’m a great believer that what will be will be,’ the old lady said as she pushed a cup of tea towards her.
Grace sighed. If only, but she had discovered long ago that happy ever afters were not for the likes of her. From now on she would earn her own living and Aiden would be the centre of her world.
Chapter Fifty
November 1918
‘It’s over! The bloody war is finally over!’
Grace paused as she passed the day-room door to see the men inside leaping about with joy, or at least those of them who were able to. Even those in wheelchairs were smiling and shaking the hands of the people closest to them.
She had started working back at the convent shortly after Dylan’s death and the time since had been some of the most peaceful she had ever known. Aiden was now seven years old, a fine boy who had suddenly become all gangly arms and legs. He was going to be tall like his father one day and she was reminded of Luke every time she looked at him. As she watched the patients now she found that she too was smiling. The war was over at last! But at what cost? There had been so many thousands of young lives snuffed out like candles in the wind, so many men maimed. Just the day before she had sat for hours at the bedside of a young man with horrific injuries who had cried pitifully for his mother. She had held his hand and soothed him as best she could, and when he finally drew his last breath she had felt relieved. At least his suffering was over. But she wouldn’t think of that now. Today was a day to rejoice.
Within seconds, people seemed to be pouring ou
t of every doorway, kissing the nurses and shaking the hands and clapping the backs of the men nearest to them. Even the Reverend Mother had come out of her office and was beaming like a Cheshire cat.
‘Nurse Penlynn.’ She beckoned to Grace excitedly. ‘Run to the kitchen, would you, and ask the cook if she can organise a little party fare? I think we should celebrate.’
Grace was only too happy to oblige and the rest of the day passed in a pleasant blur. It was only as she was wending her way home across the frosty ground through the woods that evening that she gave a thought to her future. No doubt the casualties would continue to pour in for a time, and it would take even longer for the patients to be well enough to recover and leave. But then, she supposed, the convent would revert to being a place of worship, and what would she do for a job then? It was a sobering thought. She had enjoyed working there despite the heartbreaking things she’d witnessed. Still, she was determined not to worry about it just yet. That was a long way in the future. For now, she just wanted to rejoice like the rest of the country.
‘Heard the news, have you?’ Mrs Gower asked the second Grace walked through the door.
Aiden raced across the room and flung his arms about her waist before she had the chance to reply.
‘The war is over, Mammy,’ he told her joyously as she fondly ruffled his thick blonde hair. ‘The teacher at school told us an’ we’ve been allowed to play all day. No lessons nor nothin’. An’ tomorrow we’re having a party with jelly and everything.’
Grace smiled indulgently. ‘And quite right too. I think the whole country is happy today.’
Mrs Gower, meanwhile, ladled one of her delicious rabbit stews into a bowl and plonked it unceremoniously on the table. ‘Get that down you. It’s freezing cold out there and you look perished through, girl! But this’ll warm you up.’
They had fallen into an easy routine some time ago. On the days when Grace was working, Mrs Gower cooked an evening meal for them and at weekends Grace cooked for the old lady. It had worked very well and over the last few years they had grown even closer. They talked of what peace would mean for them as Grace ate but eventually she told Aiden, ‘Come along, young man. Happy day or not, it’s time you were getting ready for bed.’
The old woman watched them go then sat in her rocking chair with a smile on her face. She had ventured into the market that day, a rare occurrence for her arthritis always seemed to get worse in the cold weather, and quite by chance she had overheard two women talking about the handsome young doctor who had taken over the old practice in the nearby town of Porthmadog.
‘Eeh, they reckon he’s a dreamboat,’ one of the young women had sighed. ‘Blonde hair and eyes as blue as the sea by all accounts. I think his name is Dr Hughes …’
Mrs Gower had hobbled on to the next stall, her mind in a spin. The description and the name. Surely it had to be the same young doctor that had visited Grace? There was only one way to find out. She decided she would catch the bus to Porthmadog the very next day and pay this dishy new doctor a little visit.
Before they knew it, Christmas was almost upon them once more and one evening, Grace came home to find Aiden holding a small metal toy bus.
‘That’s nice,’ she commented. ‘Where did you get that from?’
‘Me friend,’ he told her smugly with a broad smile. ‘I often see him on me way home from school.’
‘Oh, he’s not one of your school friends then?’ He had mentioned his new friend on a number of occasions now and until today Grace had assumed he was from school.
Aiden chuckled as if she had said something really funny. ‘Of course he ain’t. But you’ll like him when you meet him.’
‘I’m sure I will,’ she answered, feeling vaguely uneasy. Who was this friend? But then she scolded herself, he was clearly no threat to the child, and Aiden wouldn’t take kindly to it if she tried to mollycoddle him.
‘Do you know who he is?’ she asked Mrs Gower the next evening when she collected Aiden after work. It had been preying on her mind, Aiden mixing with strangers.
Mrs Gower widened her eyes innocently. ‘Can’t say as I do but I know he’s rare kind to Aiden, so I’m sure you have nothing to fret about.’
That weekend, Grace took Aiden to collect holly from the woods and when they got back to the warm little cottage they filled every vase they had with it and placed it about in the downstairs rooms.
‘There!’ Grace rubbed her hands down her skirt and smiled with satisfaction. ‘That looks Christmassy, doesn’t it?’
‘It’ll look better still when me friend brings the Christmas tree he’s promised me,’ Aiden spouted.
Grace’s eyes widened with shock. ‘What Christmas tree?’ she demanded and Aiden grinned.
‘You’ll see.’ He laughed and scampered away before she could ask any more.
Grace was preparing their tea on Sunday evening when a tap came on the kitchen door and before she knew it Aiden was flying across the room to answer it. Mrs Gower, who was sitting in the chair at the side of the roaring fire, grinned as Grace raised her eyebrows.
Aiden flung the door open letting in a blast of icy cold air and whooped with delight. ‘I knew you’d come,’ he gabbled, leaning forward to yank the caller into the room. Whoever it was was momentarily hidden behind the enormous Christmas tree they were holding in front of them.
And then they set the tree aside and suddenly Grace felt as if everything was happening in slow motion.
‘Luke!’ Her voice came out as little more than a squeak as he gave her the smile that she still dreamed of.
‘Hello, Grace. It’s been a long time.’ As he came towards her with his cold hands outstretched she kept expecting to wake up. This must be some sort of lovely dream, surely?
‘Right, mister’ – Mrs Gower stood up and grasped Aiden’s hand – ‘me and you should have our tea round at my house this evenin’. I reckon your mam and Luke have a lot of catching up to do.’
Aiden went off happily enough and only then did Luke lead Grace to the table where he sat down beside her.
‘I’m sorry if this seems a little underhand and it’s come as a shock to you,’ he told her. ‘But I wanted to get to know my son a little before I came to see you.’
She stared at him wide-eyed. ‘You know? About Aiden? But how?’
He sighed and tapped the side of his nose. ‘Let’s just say a little dicky bird visited to have a word in my ear.’
‘And would that little dickey bird happen to be a little old lady who lives not a million miles away?’
He grinned and then becoming serious again he admitted, ‘It might have been but why didn’t you tell me that we had a son?’
She lowered her eyes as tears glistened on her long dark lashes. ‘I didn’t know myself that I was having a child until after you’d gone and when I did find out I didn’t know what to do. The Reverend Mother sent me away from the convent. Then Dylan offered to marry me to give the baby a name so I took the easy way out. But I wasn’t fair to him. I should never have married him.’ She shook her head sadly as the tears slid down her cheeks. ‘I never loved him as I should have and he knew it.’
Luke tenderly brushed the tears away with his fingertip before delving into his jacket pocket and extracting a small velvet box.
‘I shall never forgive myself for leaving you as I did,’ he said gravely. ‘I was a coward and didn’t know how to handle my feelings so I ran away. The trouble was, I couldn’t forget you, you were always there everywhere I looked. But I hope that now you’ll let me try to make it up to you and my son. I love you, Grace. I’ve always loved you. That’s why I ran away again after I’d come to visit Dylan. I couldn’t bear to see you married to another man and I didn’t want to make the situation worse for you. But that’s all in the past now, so I’m asking most humbly … will you marry me?’ He sprang the lid on the box and Grace stared down at a pretty emerald and diamond ring that winked in the light of the fire and once again the tears gushed as she nodd
ed and fell into his arms. Tenderly he placed the ring on her finger and at last, for Grace, the war was well and truly over.
Next door, Aiden was looking very pleased with himself as he sat watching Mrs Gower saw slices off a fresh-baked loaf.
‘I think me mam likes me new friend, don’t you?’ he asked cautiously and when Mrs Gower smiled he shocked her when he said, ‘But he ain’t really me friend, is he? He’s me dad.’
‘What makes you say that?’ she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.
Aiden gave a sly little grin. ‘Well he looks just like me, we’ve got the same colour hair and eyes and everything. And he’s kind. I’d like him to be me dad.’
‘Well, you’ll have to ask him and your mam about that.’ Mrs Gower didn’t feel it was her place to tell him although she couldn’t have been happier at the way things had turned out. She paused to stare into the corner for a moment as her mind slipped back to when Dylan had died. He hadn’t known that the magic potion she gave him to drink each day was actually arsenic. She’d told him that it was one of her herbal remedies that would help him sleep and after a lot of grumbling he had finally agreed to try it. After that it had been easy to make sure he took it each day. She felt no guilt whatsoever for what she had done. The way she saw it, he would have died sooner or later anyway. She had merely released him from his pain and suffering a little sooner than anyone had expected, and by doing so she had saved Grace from any more vicious swipes.
It was sad to think that yet more years had been wasted after his death because Dr Hughes had left but at least it was all turning out for the best now. It was perhaps as well, she thought as she glanced towards the corner again. She had been feeling very tired lately and all too often she had glimpsed Myfanwy standing there patiently waiting for her. Over the time they had lived close to her, Mrs Gower had come to look upon Grace and Aiden as the daughter and grandson she had never had. But hopefully she wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore. Luke would look after them now and at last she could go on to a better place.
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