‘Soon … very soon now,’ she whispered to the young girl in the corner and with a happy smile she got on with making Aiden his tea.
Epilogue
April 1919
As the guests streamed into the little church perched high on the hill in Sarn Bach they were all smiling. Outside the sun was shining in a cloudless blue sky. It was a perfect day for a wedding. Mrs Batley, was feeling very smart in a new blue two-piece costume and matching hat, while Mabel who waddled in at the side of her with her husband’s hand protectively on her elbow, looked fit to burst. Her third baby was due any day now and she had jokingly told Harry only that morning, ‘I hope he or she can wait till after the ceremony before putting in an appearance.’ They had left their two younger children, Daisy and Timothy, at home with Mabel’s mother as they intended to return to Nuneaton by train that evening, hopefully in time for the expected new arrival to be born in their own bed.
Close behind them was Cerys and Aled Llewelyn. Even the Reverend Mother and Sister Mathilda were there, as well as a number of Luke’s friends and extended family. Next came Aiden, clutching the hand of a beautifully dressed lady wearing a hat that was the envy of every woman there on one side of him, and on the other, he held the hand of a tall, upright gentleman who looked like an older version of Luke, his son.
‘Will Mam be here soon, Granny?’ Aiden asked and the woman smiled down at him.
‘Yes, cariad, very soon now,’ she promised. It had come as something of a shock when Luke’s parents had first learned that not only was their son getting married but that they already had a grandson but Aiden had them eating out of the palm of his hand and they hoped that he would be the first of many. Once inside the church they walked down the aisle to take a seat in the front pew and on spotting Aiden, Luke winked at him.
‘You’re looking very smart in your new suit, son,’ he teased and Aiden preened, feeling very grown up.
Meanwhile Mrs Batley, Mabel and Harry had also taken a seat and leaning towards Mabel while they waited for the bride to arrive, Mrs Batley whispered, ‘Hey, did you hear about the police catching up with Nurse Matthews and Mr Mackenzie then, eh? They’d been in France, apparently, living the life of Riley but they came back on a visit to see Nurse Matthews’s elderly mother who is seriously ill. One of the neighbours spotted them, by all accounts, and reported them to the police and they were apprehended on their way back to the docks. According to the newspapers they’re in custody now awaiting trial so they’ll finally get what’s coming to them.’
‘And will the police be able to retrieve any of the money they stole?’ Mabel asked, always one to enjoy a bit of gossip.
‘Some of it, but Grace says Luke won’t touch a penny of it. It’s going to be put in a trust fund for Aiden and any more children they may have for when they’re older.’
The church was full by then and buzzing with conversation but that stopped abruptly when the organist suddenly started to play the wedding march.
All eyes turned towards the door and there was Grace looking absolutely radiant on the arm of her Aunt Gertie, who had happily agreed to give her away. Grace was dressed in a smart, cream lace two-piece that showed off her slim figure to perfection. A tiny hat trimmed with a small veil was perched at a jaunty angle on her head and she was carrying a posy of lily of the valley and freesias. But it wasn’t her outfit that everyone noticed, it was the look of pure happiness on her face as she walked down the aisle with her eyes firmly fixed on the groom who was staring back at her adoringly.
‘Now there’s a love match if ever I saw one,’ Mrs Batley sighed dreamily, mopping at her eyes with a scrap of lace hanky. Mabel and Harry nodded in agreement as they each thought back to their own wedding day. And then Grace reached Luke’s side and the service began.
‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God to witness …’ The priest’s voice echoed up to the rafters loud and clear as the happy couple stood before him at last. Eventually Gertie and James, Luke’s younger brother and best man, stepped aside as Grace and Luke took their vows and there was barely a dry eye in the church, for the love the couple clearly had for each other was so tangible that the congregation felt that they might almost be able to reach out and touch it. And then it was over and as the happy couple left the church they were showered with rice and rose petals.
‘So how are you feeling, Mrs Hughes?’ Luke asked with a twinkle in his eye and Grace giggled. She still often thought of him as Father Luke.
‘Like a very old married woman,’ she replied as he planted a kiss on her lips. Then they were surrounded by friends and family all wishing them well until it was time to climb into the trap for the short drive to a hotel in the town where Luke’s parents had generously arranged a lavish reception for them.
But first there was something that Grace wished to do so taking Luke’s hand she skirted the church and crossed the grass to stand before the grave of her dear friend Myfanwy and her tiny namesake who had been taken from her far too soon. There was also another person she was missing that day, for sadly Mrs Gower had died soon after Luke had come back into her life, peacefully in her own bed as she would have wished.
‘I hope you can all see me today and know how happy I am,’ she whispered as she bent to lay her posy on the grave with tears in her eyes. And it was then that she saw them. Myfanwy was standing in the shade of a tall yew tree with the baby held tenderly in her arms and Mrs Gower was standing close beside her and they were both smiling. Grace blinked and they were gone and she felt a deep sense of peace as her husband led her to the waiting pony and trap.
The meal at the reception was delicious, followed by dancing to a full band and as the day wore on everyone let their hair down and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Just once, Grace thought briefly of Dylan and her smile faded. His parents had moved away from Sarn Bach shortly after his death and she hoped that wherever they were they had finally found peace. But today was not a day for being sad and soon she was waltzing in her husband’s arms and smiling again, amused to see Aiden attempting a waltz with his new grandmother. He would be staying with them that night at their beautiful country house in Porthmadog and she knew that they would spoil him shamelessly. Luke’s father was an esteemed surgeon at a hospital in Wales so he was delighted that Luke had now taken over the local general practitioner’s surgery in Sarn Bach and was following in his medical footsteps.
Mabel and Harry left early to catch the train home and Grace grew quite tearful as they said their goodbyes. Mrs Batley was staying on with Aunt Gertie for a few days’ holiday.
‘Promise to let me know immediately the little one arrives,’ she pleaded and Mabel nodded.
‘Aye, I will, have a good evening now.’ She bestowed Grace with a wicked little wink then Harry whisked her away leaving Grace to return to the party. But first she and Luke took a minute to just stand and enjoy the quiet. The hotel was on the edge of the village and as she gazed at the hedgerows and saw the daffodils and primroses peeping from beneath them and the soft green buds on the trees unfurling, it came to her that everywhere looked as if it was slowly coming back to life after a long cold winter. Just like me, she thought as she nestled her head contentedly on Luke’s shoulder.
Some hours later, Grace and Luke left the party in yet another flurry of rice as the guests waved them away to spend their first evening in their new home. It was a beautiful house up on a hill overlooking the sea and surrounded by a pretty garden and Grace knew that she would never tire of the view. She and Luke had spent the last few months furnishing it and now it was time to make it into a home.
‘So, here we are, home at last, Mrs Hughes,’ Luke joked as he placed his key in the door and unlocked it. Then turning about, he swept a giggling Grace up into his arms to carry her across the threshold.
‘Stop it, put me down, you’ll hurt your back,’ she laughed. ‘And I’m hardly a virgin bride. In fact, I ought to warn you, you’re actually carrying two of us.’ She had sav
ed this piece of information for this special day.
Luke dropped her to her feet abruptly. ‘What you mean you’re … we’re going to have …’
She nodded. ‘Another baby, yes. I thought I’d wait till we were married before I told you.’
Happy tears shone in his eyes as he hugged her to him. ‘Do you know,’ he said softly, ‘I didn’t think today could get any better but it just did.’
‘And this is only the beginning,’ she answered, staring up into his eyes and then his lips came down on hers and they might have been the only two people left in the world. It was the first day of the rest of their lives.
THE END
Acknowledgements
Once again, I would like to thank Eli, my editor, and the wonderful team at Bonnier Zaffre for all their help, support and encouragement. Not forgetting of course, my brilliant agent, Sheila Crowley, and her lovely assistant, Abbie Greaves, at Curtis Brown. I am so lucky to have you all behind me, thank you all so much xx
Welcome to the world of Rosie Goodwin!
Keep reading for more from Rosie Goodwin, to discover a recipe that features in this novel and to find out more about what Rosie Goodwin is doing next …
We’d also like to introduce you to MEMORY LANE, our special community for the very best of saga writing from authors you know and love, and new ones we simply can’t wait for you to meet. Read on and join our club!
www.MemoryLane.club
Dear Readers,
It doesn’t seem like any time at all since I was writing to you for the release of The Little Angel and here I am again with book three of my Days of the Week collection being published! I’m happy to share with you that this is a very special book for me because it will be my 30th published novel. Something of a milestone! Little did I realise back in 2004, when my first book was released, that I would still be tapping away and bringing my characters to life! I have all of you to thank for that, because if it wasn’t for all your lovely comments, support and enthusiasm I would probably not have continued, so thank you all very much. Since I last wrote we have also celebrated my sales passing one million, so I’m thrilled about that, too!
This book is about Tuesday’s child, who we know is ‘full of grace’. In this one we meet Grace, aptly named for the day of the week she was born on. Once again this is a completely different story, I do like to keep you all guessing, and I’m afraid as usual I do rather put her through it! I think the dark side must come out of me when I’m writing but then as we all know, life for many isn’t all roses around the door. Even though this is another stand-alone story you may all recognise some of the characters that were mentioned in Mothering Sunday and The Little Angel. I hope you’ll all enjoy reading A Mother’s Grace as much as I enjoyed writing it.
I have now just finished book four, which will be out in November. It is going to be called The Blessed Child, turn the page for a snippet to whet your appetite. And so now it’s time to put my thinking cap on for the fifth book! I promised myself I’d have a little break but already I’m champing at the bit to get started on a new one. Thursday’s child ‘has far to go’ and I think I already know the direction she may be taking. Let’s just say for now that it may well involve a very long sea voyage!
On a more personal level, I’m pleased to report that my lovely new granddaughter, Poppy, is thriving and all is well here. I’ve had quite a busy time with lots of events across the country where I got to meet some of you, and that was lovely. It’s nice to escape from the office now and again.
Meanwhile it’s time to get out the gardening tools again as the weather improves. Can’t wait!
Do keep your messages on Twitter and Facebook coming please. I do love to hear from you all. And also do keep your eye on the Memory Lane website where you’ll be kept up to date with everything that’s happening and have the chance to win some smashing books and prizes! You can join at www.MemoryLane.club.
Take care and much love,
Rosie
xx
Read on for an exclusive sample from Rosie Goodwin’s forthcoming novel, The Winter Promise
Order now
Prologue
Fenny Drayton, December 1867
‘Please, Opal … can we stop now? Me feet are hurtin’ an’ me tummy aches.’
‘Not yet, sweetheart, we have to find somewhere to stay first, before it gets properly dark.’
Opal Sharp stared down at Susie, her six-year-old sister, and gave her an encouraging smile, as she shifted the weight of her two-year-old brother, Jack, on her hip. He was fast asleep, although how he managed it she had no idea. She had wrapped him tightly in her shawl, then tied it about her waist, but despite the bitter cold she could feel the burning heat of him against her chest and she was gravely concerned. He obviously had the fever that had taken their father just days before, and she was all too aware that he shouldn’t be out in the bad weather – but she had had no choice in the matter.
The cottage they had lived in was tied to the farm that her father had worked for, and once he had died the farmer had turned up on the same day as the funeral, telling her that they must all be out by late afternoon. Left with no alternative, Opal had instructed Charlie to load whatever he could of their possessions onto the hand cart, and now they were in search of somewhere to shelter from the storm. The snow was coming down thick and fast, getting deeper underfoot by the minute and behind her she could hear fifteen-year-old Charlie grunting softly with exertion as he yanked at the handles of the small wooden cart. Thankfully a kindly neighbour had offered to take in the rest of their possessions until they found somewhere to stay.
‘I’d have you all ’ere in a sigh,’ she had told them sympathetically, ‘but I daren’t upset Farmer Gold or else my Stan might be out of a job an’ all.’
‘We – have – to – find – somewhere – soon,’ Charlie gasped. ‘I don’t know how much further I can pull this thing.’
‘We’ll find somewhere, you’ll see,’ Opal answered, with a confidence she was far from feeling.
They had already tramped for miles, first down the old Roman Road, then through the village of Hartshill. They had then slid and slithered their way down Bucks Hill and now they were on the ground known to the locals as Rapper’s Hole. It was nothing more than a wasteland of fields with an odd scattering of huts and dilapidated cottages scattered here and there, but Opal could think of nowhere else they could go. Even a run-down cottage would be some shelter from the cold, if they could only find one.
They trudged on, getting more dispirited by the minute. At last, a building suddenly loomed up out of the snow ahead of them and, dropping the handles of the cart, Charlie rushed towards it. It was what appeared to be a very old derelict cottage.
‘It’s empty,’ he shouted excitedly. ‘Perhaps we could rest here for the night, Opal?’
As she approached, she saw that there was a large hole in the roof on one side of the building. It was surrounded by a picket fence from which an old gate hung on a single hinge. The tiny leaded windows – or what remained of them – were black and bleak looking and it looked barely habitable, but then she supposed Charlie was right – any port in a storm would be welcome at that moment.
As Susie raced ahead, Opal followed as fast as she could. On entering, she found herself in what she presumed must once have been a small kitchen cum sitting room, although it was hard to see in the all-enveloping gloom. The roof in this room seemed to be intact, so, quickly deciding, she told Charlie, ‘Go and grab the cart. We’ll light some candles and we’ll try to get a fire going.’
He was gone before the words had left her mouth and, minutes later, she heard him grunting as he yanked the cart down the small overgrown path. Placing Jack in Susie’s arms, she soon located the candles and matches. Once she had managed to light one, they looked around. Luckily there were odd bits of broken furniture lying about, so at least they would have some dry wood for the fire. A small inglenook fireplace was set into one wall and, aft
er scraping out the dead ashes onto the hearth with his hands, Charlie immediately began to break the wood into pieces and set them into the fire basket.
Soon after he had it alight and, now with the candle burning and the faint glow from the fire, they could better see the room. A grimy deep stone sink stood against one wall and low beams framed the ceiling – but at least this room was fairly dry. The floor was littered with dirt and from the terrible smell that hung in the air, Opal suspected animals had found refuge there.
She couldn’t believe how quickly their lives had changed, that they were now having to sleep here, but she couldn’t think about that now. Pushing her worries aside, she rooted about in the cart and pulled out the blankets she had packed then shook the snow from them. Little Susie was struggling to keep her eyes open, and Opal immediately laid some of the blankets on the floor in front of the fire, instructing Charlie, ‘Take the kettle and fill it with snow. I’ll make us a brew of tea and at least it will warm us.’
While Charlie was doing that, Opal quickly settled Susie and Jack on the blankets and blocked up the broken panes in the window with rags or anything that came to hand. Soon after that, the kettle was placed on the fire and it gradually got a little warmer. Opal rooted in the cart for the half a loaf she had bought with them and tore chunks off it.
Susie took hers and hungrily began to gnaw on it, but Jack turned his head away as beads of sweat stood out like jewels on his forehead in the glow from the fire.
‘He really needs to see a doctor,’ Charlie said worriedly and Opal snorted.
A Mother's Grace Page 40
