by Vicky Adin
Janie topped up the teacups and pressed on with her story.
“But it was after you married Johnno, and everything else that followed – and then Elias decided to run off and become his own man – that Louisa became jealous. Every time you turned your hand to anything, you succeeded. Worse still, it seemed Elias was becoming successful too, while her life narrowed. It turned her mean.”
Everything started to fall into place in Gwenna’s mind: the moods, the nastiness, the absences – they all made sense now. “Has Louisa left him? Is that why she’s here?”
Janie nodded. “He hit her the morning of the wedding, and her mother-in-law had forbidden her to attend. She defied his mother but paid for it later that night.”
“Oh, that’s terrible, but I still don’t understand about the sideboard,” said Gwenna, frowning in confusion.
“It goes back to the day you opened the shop,” said Janie. “Louisa also admired the sideboard. Not that she would have told you – or me, for that matter. She ordered one, a smaller one, for her own home, without knowing Elias was the maker. She found out later when I started telling her about my visits to the workshop and how well Elias was doing. That’s when she started to behave out of character.”
Gwenna recalled the conversation she and Janetta had had after the Christmas service: She’d said Louisa had started being nice to Janie and telling everyone to visit Gwenna’s shop, totally opposite to what she’d done in the previous months.
“I don’t know what happened to change things, maybe the violence got worse, but the invitation to Elias and Alice’s wedding did it.”
Gwenna’s exasperation with Janie’s convoluted tale erupted. “Did what, Janie? For goodness’ sake, get on with it.”
“Forced her to leave, of course. Louisa has told me since she’s wanted to leave her husband for some time but couldn’t see a way out. But when Mr Woodman contacted her to ask about delivery of the sideboard, she had an idea. Since it was already paid for, she told them to keep it as a present. And I don’t know what you said to her, but whatever it was, it gave her the strength to leave.”
“And I’m never going back,” said Louisa, standing by the door. She had arrived so quietly in stockinged feet, Janie and Gwenna jumped at the sound of her voice.
Gwenna rose to her feet and crossed the room to wrap her arms around Louisa and guide her to the sofa. Tears fell. “I’m sorry, Lou. I never knew.”
“How could you? I hid it from you all, but after what you said about happiness being the key to fulfilling your dreams, I just couldn’t stay there any longer. No one is happy. Not me, not the children, not Albert or his mother. I have no idea about his father, but he’s so wrapped up in the business maybe he is.”
The afternoon disappeared as the three sisters talked. Percy returned, popped his head into the sitting room and promptly left them alone again. More tea was made and drunk as Louisa filled in the unhappy moments in her life. She was adamant she would not go back. She would miss the children and would ask to see them, but they’d been alienated from her already and she doubted the children would care. They were still too young to have any say.
As they talked, Gwenna schemed. “Louisa. Have you thought about what you want to do, or where you’re going to live?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“Three days ago, you said you wanted to come home. What did you mean?”
Louisa’s crestfallen face crumpled. “They were only words, Gwenna. I don’t have a home any more. I’ll have to find lodgings and get a job, I suppose. Can I stay for a few days, Janie? Until I get my head together.”
Janie assured her she could, but Gwenna went one better.
“Before you get too carried away, I have an idea which would suit us both. My house is big enough; you could come and live with me and Mam, and Georgie. Charlie, too, when he’s in the house. He spends most of his time with Tom. But in return, I need your help. I need someone extra to work in the shop and help Hugh put the orders together. It would give me more time to spend making sweets and being a mother to Georgie, so Mam has time to do what she wants. Does it sound like something you’d like?”
“Truly?” asked Louisa, trying to grasp what Gwenna offered. “You’d do that for me?”
Gwenna smiled. “Only if you do me the favour in return and work your hands to the bone.”
Louisa didn’t smile. “Why would you do me any favours, Gwenna?”
“Because you’re family. I’ve known you all my life, and because someone did me a favour not so long ago, and now I’m doing one in return.”
* * *
The following Wednesday half-day, they celebrated Charlie’s birthday. For the first time in years, six step- and half-siblings sat in the same room without daggers being drawn. Bethan’s dreams had finally come true. If her absent son Samuel had been there too she would have felt complete, but having Louisa home again, and Janie expecting another child, was enough.
Gwenna invited them all to share in her latest experiment – lime with a chocolate centre. The shape and balance weren’t quite right yet, but taste was her main objective. “Do you like it?” she asked, eagerly awaiting their reaction.
“Mmmm. Lovely,” said Charlie. “All sweet and sour. I like it.”
Percy wasn’t at all keen, and Alice’s face puckered when the lime juice hit her taste buds. “Too sharp for me, but the chocolate’s nice.”
Elias ate his and took a second and then a third one, murmuring something unintelligible, so Gwenna assumed he liked them. Tillie and Tom had been her tasters while she perfected the combination, and approved. Janie, Bethan and Louisa were rather more non-committal. They didn’t dislike it but couldn’t say it would be a favourite. While not quite the response she’d wished for, Gwenna could not consider it a failure either.
After tea and cakes, the men decided to wander down to the park with Charlie for a game of cricket, leaving a restless Alice, a still downhearted Louisa and a radiant Janie talking about Tillie’s latest quilt and complimenting Bethan on the fine lace shawl unfolding from her crochet hook. Gwenna sat at the table sketching an idea for the barrow Charlie insisted upon, with only one ear on the conversation.
“I’m nine now,” he’d argued earlier, disappointed he wasn’t getting a barrow for his birthday. “And summer is more than half over, and school’s in and you promised. You promised, Gwenna. But it never happened. Louisa’s here now and helps Mam, and you’ve got more time to make things. I can tell. Why won’t you let me?”
Gwenna sighed. She had promised him. She had even thought it a clever idea, but somewhere in the whirlwind of life, she had forgotten. Pushed aside to make space for other more important things. “There’s time, Charlie, bach. You’re still young. It’s a great idea and I will come up with an idea or two, but be patient with me.”
Never mind which way she explained it – she wanted him to have a childhood of freedom and fun, not a time spent standing on street corners hawking her sweets – he came back with a counterargument.
“But Gwenna, I want to. I need money of my own. I’ve got ideas. And I want to know how to make sweets, and how to run a business so I can help when I’m older. Gwenna. Please?”
Not until she’d talked to Hugh, who agreed to make something suitable, had she conceded. “Very well. But I’m not teaching you how to boil sugar until you’re twelve. Do you understand?”
Charlie’s face lit up with delight and he scampered off.
In the meantime, Hugh had created a simple tray from a cardboard box and attached a strap to go around Charlie’s neck, and painted it dark green. Gwenna would give it to Charlie this coming weekend, after signwriting ‘Gwenna’s Confectionery’ along the front.
Snatches of conversation drifted into Gwenna’s consciousness as she turned her attention away from the barrow and started to scribble down combinations of flavours to go with this and a texture to go with that.
Alice had brought the wedding photographs, which were p
assed around to be oohed and aahed at. “Dad says he’s entering Mr Court’s commissioned sideboard into the Industry Awards at the next exhibition. If Elias wins, there’s a monetary prize as well ...”
Gwenna looked at the snaps and saw for herself what Tillie and Bethan had been telling her for some time. She had lost weight. She also saw one Hugh had taken where she was the central image, rather than the bride and groom. It unnerved her how Hugh had focused on her to the detriment of the bride, but she couldn’t decide what it meant.
“Percy and I’ve agreed to have at least six children. I do so hope this one is a little girl. I love the boys dearly, but ...”
Gwenna passed the photos on and turned the page to jot down more ideas. She liked experimenting with new options, even if some of them didn’t work.
“Tom said they were rushed off their feet at Smith & Caughey’s annual sale yesterday. He came home exhausted.”
Louisa had been almost silent since she’d moved in upstairs, so when Gwenna heard her muffled voice, she stopped writing and listened.
“I’m grateful ...”
Gwenna had given Louisa the room at the back, the quietest and sunniest, and where she had a view across the tops of houses towards Western Park.
Between them, Bethan and Gwenna had agreed not to question Louisa. She would talk if she wanted to, and if she didn’t, then as long as she settled in and was happy, they would be content. Janie had told them enough for now.
What Louisa wanted to do with her life from now on, Gwenna couldn’t begin to guess. For now, Louisa was a willing worker and surprisingly cheerful with the customers, but getting her clothes and personal possessions from her mother-in-law had proved an upsetting challenge. Wives who deserted their husbands and families were frowned upon, regardless of the circumstances. Divorce would be out of the question.
“I feel like I’m in a storybook,” said Louisa. “I’d accepted my lot, living in a rut I couldn’t escape, but here I am, and I don’t know what happens next.”
Bethan stopped her crocheting and patted her daughter’s hand. “You take one day at a time, Louisa. We’ve all spent time in a rut not of our making, but something always happens to change it. Sometimes it’s good and sometimes not; we just have to wait and see what life brings us.”
35
Opportunities come and go
April 1901
Autumn sunshine extended the warm summer, allowing Charlie to launch his career as a hawker. After a few false starts, he decided on the days he preferred to use the tray and those when he would take the barrow.
Hugh had excelled himself with a lightweight cart with two wheels and shaft-style handles which were easy for Charlie to manage. Painted in the shop colours, with Gwenna’s Confectionery written on the sides, and a light canvas roof to keep the sun off the sweets, the effect was stylish and classy.
True to his word, Charlie attracted the children from school and soon had a small but loyal clientele. So far, he’d not run into any trouble – at least, nothing Gwenna heard about – but then he always stood on a different corner, or in a different spot, in the hope of catching a different crowd.
Thanks to Edward Turner, Gwenna’s order base through the markets was steady, but for some reason had not increased in several weeks. The battle between imported goods and those locally made continued, and competition was fierce among the big names in confectionery like Rowntree, Cadbury, Halls and Whittaker’s. Elias had said the same thing, even though their products were quite distinct from each other. Imported furniture selling in the big stores outsold anything locally made. Both he and Gwenna were determined to establish themselves as worthy rivals to that philosophy. Bespoke ‘anything’ sold itself by its quality to those who recognised it. The trick was getting people to understand the difference, then persuade them around to the idea of buying New Zealand hand-made products.
Charlie’s ploy was to offer free sweets as he marched up and down Queen Street, or walked around the picnickers at the park, or amongst the men playing cricket in the Domain. Often they would buy a small bag or two, and he made sure he handed out Gwenna’s trade cards – another of his ideas – to every new customer.
His stack of coins grew every day, and he kept them in a special tin labelled ‘Hopes and Dreams’. No one doubted his ability to succeed, but apart from saying he wanted to be a sweet maker like Gwenna, he wouldn’t let on what his other hopes and dreams might be.
“And I have to thank you for the increased trade, too, Charlie, my boy,” said Gwenna. “I’ve been surprised by how well you’ve done.”
* * *
Life settled into a routine. Louisa fitted into family life as if she’d never left. Her most surprising trait was her ability to handle people. The more fuss she could make of them, the better, and there were times when she undoubtedly enjoyed herself. Gwenna could see how easily she had become a leader of the women’s groups she had once belonged to. She’d resigned from them all, removing herself from her past life. When any of the women came into the shop, Louisa was as polite and friendly as ever but refused to engage further. She focused on working in the shop with Tillie, leaving Gwenna to experiment and make a lot more of Gwenna’s specialty sweet treats.
As Tillie suggested, Gwenna passed the boiled lolly making over to Hugh who, due to his strength, could manage larger quantities at a time. He no longer looked the forlorn derelict who had turned up on the doorstep all those months ago. Since his return from South Africa, he’d put on weight, and some of the deeper lines on his face had eased. He was still the silent and trustworthy man he’d always been, but he had left something of his true self behind on foreign soil.
Bethan started going out more to women’s groups; one day she came home and said she thought she might join the church choir. The girls were thrilled that she was, at last, coming out of the dark space she’d lived in for so long. They all were.
Only one blemish clouded Gwenna’s peace of mind: the dreams had returned and once again fear haunted her nights. There seemed no explanation. After the night she’d seen the shadow in the window and Hugh had scared the daylights out of her, her dreams had returned to normal. Worry about the figures adding up kept her awake more often.
But lately, her dreams had been far more restless, disturbed by shadows and vague shapes, and snatches of Johnno. During the day she put it all out of her mind, even though the calendar kept telling her Johnno’s anniversary was fast approaching, and with it came the memories she’d wished to put behind her.
After a tiring Saturday, which had at times required all three sisters in the shop, Gwenna collapsed into the armchair in the kitchen. Lamenting the fact she’d been feeling more tired than normal, Gwenna remembered she still wanted to tell Louisa what a difference she was making – in particular, with the customers.
Bethan was cooking her usual weekend meal of mutton and boiled potatoes with cabbage from the garden, and lashings of gravy.
“Have you seen Charlie?” she asked, getting the plates ready to serve dinner.
“He’ll be with Hugh or Tom,” said Gwenna, without moving from her chair. She’d closed her eyes to ease the itchiness, but she wasn’t so much sleepy as bone-weary.
She heard Bethan moving around the kitchen, going to and fro to the dining room and standing at the back door calling Charlie, but couldn’t stir herself to help. A few minutes later, Bethan rang her little brass handbell, which could be heard at Tillie’s, to tell everyone dinner was ready. They all ate together on Saturday night, including Hugh, who was working in the lean-to they’d converted into a storeroom.
“Has anyone seen Charlie?” Bethan asked as everyone came into the kitchen.
A hand on her shoulder disturbed Gwenna enough for her to open her eyes.
“You must come and eat, Gwenna,” said Louisa. “Come on, I’ve got a story to tell you.” Louisa offered her hand and pulled Gwenna to her feet.
“Where’s Charlie?” asked Bethan again, getting more panicky as she chec
ked the dining room after everyone had gathered and he still wasn’t there.
No one had seen him.
“He must be here somewhere,” said Tom. “Let’s call him again.”
“The last time I saw him, he was heading down Pitt Street,” said Hugh. “He said he was going to try his luck on the waterfront.”
“What time was that?” asked Gwenna, suddenly alert.
“Earlier this morning. About nine.”
“And no one’s seen him since?” queried Tom uneasily.
Heads shook and sisters held hands, worry written on every face.
“Where can he be?” fretted Bethan.
“I’ll go find him if you like,” offered Hugh. “You stay here and have your dinner.”
“I’ll go too. I’ll never forgive myself if anything has happened to him,” said Gwenna, heading towards the hallway.
“We’ll all go,” said Tom.
Dinner forgotten, the others grabbed their hats and were about to head out the door, when Tillie said, “We can’t all go. Someone has to stay with the children.”
Through eyes watering in despair, Bethan pleaded. “Will you stay, Tillie, dear? Please? I can’t sit still knowing he’s out there somewhere.”
“If you’d rather, Mam. But are you sure you want to go?”
Bethan was sure. She pinned her hat in place, pulled her jacket over her blouse and followed the others to where they stood in a group on the street.
Tom took charge while Hugh passed around hurricane lamps. “Hugh and ...” Tom hesitated. Deciding who should go with whom and understanding Tillie’s concern for Bethan, he paired the two. “... Bethan. Go down Pitt and Hobson to the waterfront and back up Nelson. Keep your eyes open up the side streets.”
“Gwenna, you come with me. Louisa, go to the Lewises and ask Percy to go with you. Check Queen Street and don’t forget the marketplace. It’ll be closed up now, but he could be locked inside. Gwenna and I will check Western Park while there’s still some daylight. There was a friendly cricket match there this afternoon.” He checked the setting sun against his pocket watch. “It’s coming up six o’clock. Meet back here in no more than two hours. It’ll be too dark to do anything further afield by then. Stay together, at all costs. I don’t want anyone on their own.”