Chapter Sixteen
Jacob Kettle raised his eyebrows as he stared at his daughter before saying sternly, ‘Whatever are you wearing, Grace? You look like a gypsy child!’
Gertie, who was sitting opposite him looking none too pleased and sipping lemonade, sniffed. ‘I found out some more suitable clothes for her to play in,’ she informed him stiffly. ‘She could hardly go out and do the things children like to do in the fancy ones you sent with her.’
Grace glanced down at the grass stains on the knees of her ill-fitting breeches and wet shoes and socks and gulped. Her red hair was tangled and tied with string at the nape of her neck and her hands and face were grubby.
The dislike between the two adults was so tangible that both she and Myfanwy felt that they could almost reach out and touch it.
‘The things children do?’
‘Yes. Like paddling in the streams and climbing trees!’
‘Climbing trees?’ Jacob looked horrified. ‘Grace has been brought up to be a young lady.’
‘It’s quite possible to be a young lady and still enjoy yourself,’ Aunt Gertie replied tersely. ‘But hadn’t you better tell her why you have come?’
‘Oh, yes … yes of course.’ Turning his attention back to his daughter, Jacob flashed a false smile. ‘I’ve come to take you home,’ he informed her and now it was Grace’s turn to look horrified as tears sprang to her eyes.
‘B-but why? I still have over another week of my holiday here left.’
‘Ah, but the thing is your mother isn’t too grand and I thought if I brought you home it might make her feel a little better.’
Seeing the child’s distress, Aunt Gertie patted her arm comfortingly, ‘Never mind, pet,’ she whispered. ‘You are very welcome to come back when you have your next school holiday.’ She then glared openly at Jacob before asking Mrs Llewelyn, ‘Would you mind helping Grace back into her own clothes please, Cerys, and doing her packing for her?’
‘Of course.’ Taking Grace’s hand, the kindly woman led her from the room.
‘I hope this isn’t going to take too long.’ Jacob took a solid gold Hunter watch from his waistcoat pocket and glanced at it. ‘I hired a trap from the village to get me here and get us back to the station but the next train leaves in just under two hours.’
Gertie shrugged. She was far from pleased at the child’s holiday being cut short but was wise enough to know there was little she could do about it. Jacob was her father after all. She hurried away to fetch Myfanwy a cold drink, aware that the child was feeling as miserable as Grace was.
They sat in an uncomfortable silence until Cerys and Grace reappeared some half an hour later with Grace looking tidy and demure once more in a pretty blue muslin dress and little black buttoned boots. Her face and hands had been scrubbed and her hair had been brushed and was now tied back with a blue ribbon, but she looked utterly dejected.
‘That’s better,’ her father said approvingly as Cerys dropped her heavy case onto the floor at the side of the table and openly glared at him. ‘So if you have everything shall we be off?’
Grace followed him outside without a word and as he heaved her case into the trap she turned to Myfanwy and held her hand out politely, once more the young lady. ‘Thank you so much for showing me around, I’ve really enjoyed it.’
A tear slid down Myfanwy’s cheek and she angrily swiped it away with the back of her arm.
‘You just come back again soon … and remember we’re best friends now,’ she muttered thickly.
‘For always,’ Grace whispered back solemnly and she knew that it was true. She would never forget the special time they had spent together and hoped that there would be many more of them, for young as she was she knew that a precious bond would tie them together for ever. But then Jacob swung Grace up onto the seat of the small trap and she didn’t even have time to say a proper goodbye to her aunt.
Grace glanced at Myfanwy helplessly. She didn’t know how she could bear going back to her father’s strict regime.
‘Right then, you just see you get this girl home safely,’ Aunt Gertie rapped out as Jacob climbed into the driving seat and took up the reins. She had never found it easy to show her affections openly but Grace was aware that there were tears lurking in her eyes too.
‘Goodbye, Aunt Gertie, and thank you so much for having me.’
‘Be off with you then. You’ll not want to miss your train,’ Gertie answered as she took a man’s handkerchief from her pocket and noisily blew her nose, then without another word she turned and strode back into the cottage.
Jacob flicked the reins and the horse set off as Grace turned in her seat to wave to Myfanwy and Mrs Llewelyn who were still standing there. She waved until they were lost to sight as the horse began to labour up the steep hill out of the valley. In the dappled shade of the woodlands she glimpsed wood anemones and ramsons, or wild garlic as Mrs Llewelyn referred to them, growing in wild profusion. Myfanwy had told her that in the spring the floor of the woods was a massive carpet of bluebells and she regretted that she wouldn’t be there to see it. Dog roses and honeysuckle clambered up the hedges and they passed bushes heavy with shiny blackberries. Grace smiled as she remembered the day they had gone to pick some for Mrs Llewelyn who wanted to make a blackberry and apple pie. They had eaten just as many as they had taken home and on that evening poor Myfanwy had been violently sick. They passed clusters of foxgloves, oxlip and cow parsley and Grace was proud that she knew the name of them all now. Jacob, however, seemed oblivious to everything apart from getting to the station on time, so she sat silently at his side hanging on to the narrow seat for all she was worth. At the top of the hill she turned and there was Beehive Cottage nestled in the valley far below her. There was no sign of Myfanwy or Mrs Llewelyn now so she merely tried to lock away her last sight of it in her memory before they rounded a corner and it was gone.
When they eventually clip-clopped into Pwllheli, her father lifted her down from the seat and returned the horse and trap to the farrier’s where he had hired it from before rushing her off to the train station. He was panting by the time they reached it.
‘You’ve ten minutes to spare,’ the stationmaster informed them and Grace felt a little ripple of disappointment. She had half hoped that they would miss the train so that they could go back to Aunt Gertie’s for another night.
She and her father sat on a bench to wait and once seated he took her hand, which made her feel uncomfortable and surprisingly resentful. Why couldn’t he have just left me alone to enjoy the rest of my holiday? she thought. And then instantly felt guilty. If her mother really was ill, then she supposed she should go home.
‘What is wrong with Mother?’ she asked, turning her head to look at him.
‘Oh, I think it’s probably just missing you has brought her down.’ He ran his finger around the inside of his shirt collar. It was a habit Grace had noticed he adopted when he was annoyed or uncomfortable about something. ‘But I’m sure she will perk up again once you are back. I’ve missed you too,’ he added, but she didn’t respond and his lips set in a prim line as he asked, ‘Haven’t you missed me?’
Grace flushed. She couldn’t lie. ‘I, er … I’ve been so busy going out and about that I haven’t really had time to think about it,’ she admitted in a small voice.
They heard the rumble of the train in the distance and thankfully the conversation was stopped from going any further as he lifted her case, gripped her hand and stood to wait for it.
The journey passed uneventfully. Grace sat as far away from her father on the carriage seat as she could, feeling disgruntled. She was tired from her adventures with Myfanwy that day and so they hadn’t gone too far when she fell asleep. The next thing she knew her father was shaking her awake.
‘Come on, sleepyhead, we’re home.’
It was very late and when they emerged from the station they found that the streets were deserted.
‘Never mind it’s not too far to walk,’ her fa
ther said as he again gripped her hand. After asking the porter if he would keep Grace’s case there till the morning, they set off. The house was in darkness when they arrived home. Mabel and Mrs Batley had obviously retired to bed and Grace knew that her mother would have been asleep for hours.
‘Never mind, I’ll help you get ready for bed,’ her father told her as they crept up the stairs so as not to disturb anyone.
Grace looked dismayed. ‘But I’m old enough to get myself ready now, Father,’ she objected. Lately she had begun to feel uncomfortable when he walked into her room without knocking, especially if she was in the process of getting undressed.
‘Nonsense, you’re still just a little girl,’ he insisted as he nudged her bedroom door open and placed her overnight bag on the floor. ‘Now, come along, you can wash in the morning, let’s get your nightdress on.’
With her cheeks burning she stood still as her father fiddled with the buttons on the back of her dress.
‘There, that’s got it!’ He lifted it over her head and she self-consciously folded her hands across her undeveloped breasts as she stood in her petticoats and undergarments.
‘M-Mother says it isn’t seemly to allow a gentleman to see you in your underclothes,’ she protested but he merely laughed.
‘It doesn’t count if the gentleman in question is your father.’
Grace was mortified as he continued to undress her as if she was a baby until eventually she stood before him naked.
Grace was glad that the only light in the room was that of the moon shining through the window. She flushed as she felt his eyes on her but after hastily unpacking her nightdress he tossed it to her and she gratefully wriggled into it. She then yanked back the covers of the bed and hopped in, pulling them up to her chin as he leaned over her.
‘Goodnight, my angel.’ His eyes were gleaming in the moonlight and before she knew what was happening he had leaned across and kissed her forehead. He strode from the room and she breathed a sigh of relief as she snuggled down into the blankets.
The next morning Mabel woke her with a tray of tea, toast, a boiled egg and a wide smile.
‘Your father just told us you were back so I’ve made you yer favourite.’ She smiled and Grace was pleased to see her although she was still smarting because her holiday had been cut short. ‘And your mam will be delighted.’
Grace pulled herself up in the bed. ‘Father said Mother was ill.’ she said and Mabel frowned as she drew back the curtains allowing the sunshine to pour into the room.
‘Did he? She’s no worse than usual.’
‘Oh!’ Grace sliced the top off her egg and proceeded to dip her toast in it.
‘She’s not too pleased about the guests your dad’s had stayin’, though,’ Mabel went on as she hoisted Grace’s case onto a chair and started to unpack it. Harry had fetched it from the station for her early that morning.
‘Over a week they were here an’ right unsavoury characters they were an’ all, if you were to ask me. Still, they’ve gone at last an’ now that you’re home happen things will return to some sort o’ normality. Your dad were skulkin’ about like a lost soul without you, I don’t mind tellin’ yer. Now, you stay there an’ finish your breakfast an’ I’ll go an’ fetch some hot water so you can have a nice wash afore you go to see your mam.’ And with that Mabel pottered away leaving Grace to wonder who the guests might have been.
‘Darling, how I’ve missed you.’ Madeline held her arms out to her daughter the second she stepped into the room and Grace flew into them. ‘Have you had a wonderful time?’
‘Oh yes.’ Grace nodded enthusiastically. ‘I made a best friend. Her name is Myfanwy and we had so much fun together. And Aunt Gertie was so kind to me. But how are you? Father said that I had to come early because you were ill.’
Madeline frowned as she stroked Grace’s thick auburn curls. They were already escaping the ribbon she had tied them back with.
‘I’m no worse than normal,’ Madeline assured her. ‘And I’m very annoyed with your father for making you cut your holiday short. But never mind about that for now. Tell me all you’ve been doing.’
So, after perching on the edge of her mother’s bed, Grace did just that and as she spoke her mother noticed how animated her face became.
‘But the best times were my visits to the chapel on the clifftop,’ she ended breathlessly. ‘The nuns live there but they’re not a closed order – they’re working nuns. Some of them are nurses. Others work in offices in local towns and the postulants work in the vegetable gardens growing fruit and vegetables that they sell at market. All the money they earn goes towards keeping the convent going and they were all so nice. I felt as if I could have stayed with them for ever.’ Looking slightly guilty then she hurried on, ‘Although I missed you, of course. But there was just something so …’ She tried to think of the right words to explain. ‘Peaceful, I suppose. One of the nuns let me have a look inside the convent and that was wonderful as well.’
Madeline smiled indulgently. ‘Well, perhaps next summer you can go back again,’ she said. ‘I’m sure Aunt Gertie loved having you.’
Grace giggled then as she confided, ‘I don’t think Father was very pleased when he arrived to fetch me. Aunt Gertie had given me some old clothes to play in and he looked horrified when he saw me in her old trousers and boots.’
The image she conjured up made Madeline smile too. Jacob was a great one for convention, especially when it came to Grace. They talked for a while longer, mainly about Myfanwy who Grace was missing already, until Madeline grew tired. Grace left her to rest and skipped down the stairs to scrounge a jam tart off Mrs Batley, her mind racing ahead to the following year when hopefully she would return to Sarn Bach and her very best friend, Myfanwy.
Chapter Seventeen
Grace had only been home for a few days when she woke one morning with a raging sore throat. The inside of her mouth felt sore too, even her tongue hurt, and after she had dragged herself out of bed and dressed, she made her way down to the kitchen feeling rather sorry for herself.
‘Why, pet, yer look a bit flushed. Are yer feeling all right?’ Mrs Batley sat her down at the table and felt her forehead then clucked in dismay. ‘You’ve got a temperature. Let’s have you back to bed straightaway. Mabel can bring yer breakfast up on a tray.’
‘I don’t want to go back to bed and I don’t want any breakfast,’ Grace croaked as Mrs Batley fussed around her.
‘Well, whether yer want to or not that’s where yer goin’,’ Mrs Batley said firmly. ‘An’ if you ain’t no better in the mornin’ I shall get your father to ask the doctor to call in an’ take a look at you. Now come along, there’s a good girl, let’s be havin’ you.’
Once she was back in bed, feeling very miserable and sorry for herself, Mabel tucked the blankets up beneath her chin and asked, ‘Now, how about I go an’ make you a soft-boiled egg an’ some bread an’ butter fingers, eh? They’ll be easy to digest an’ happen you’ll feel a bit better with summat inside you.’
Grace shook her head. She really did feel quite strange. ‘I’m not hungry really … Perhaps just a cup of tea?’
Mabel nodded and scurried away, but when she returned some minutes later Grace was fast asleep so she placed the tray down and tiptoed from the room.
Grace woke mid-afternoon and groaned as she opened her eyes. Her mouth and throat felt even worse but she felt too ill to go downstairs. When Mabel checked on her a short time later, she was alarmed to find that Grace’s temperature was even higher.
‘Open your mouth,’ she ordered and when Grace did, Mabel was horrified. The girl’s tongue was swollen and covered in blisters and angry red bumps were appearing on her arms. ‘I’m goin’ to have a word with yer mam,’ she muttered. ‘I reckon we need to get the doctor in to you now.’
Twenty minutes later, Harry was dispatched to fetch the doctor. Madeline had gone to sit by Grace’s bed, watching as her daughter drifted in and out of sleep. ‘Do you think it
might be measles or chickenpox, perhaps?’ she whispered to Mrs Batley, who’d popped in to check on Grace.
Mrs Batley shook her head. ‘Far as I know chickenpox looks like tiny blisters on the skin. These are like little red lumps an’ I’ve never seen anythin’ like them blisters in her mouth. Poor lamb, no wonder she can’t manage to eat or drink anythin’.’
Madeline chewed worriedly on her lip and prayed fervently that the doctor would come soon. Thankfully, Harry managed to catch him just as he was about to start his afternoon surgery and the kindly man came straightaway.
‘Right, little lady, let’s have a look at you, shall we.’ He smiled at Grace, whose eyes were feverishly bright, as he removed his stethoscope from his bag. He conducted a thorough examination and when he was done his face was grave.
He patted her hand then motioned for Madeline to follow him outside onto the landing.
‘Well? What’s wrong with her?’ Madeline looked frighteningly pale. ‘Is it the measles?’
He shook his head. ‘I only wish it was but I’m afraid it’s much more serious than that. I think Grace has scarlet fever.’
Madeline’s hand flew to her mouth as panic set in. ‘But isn’t that a killer?’ Her voice came out as little more than a croak.
Dr Busby hesitated before answering. ‘It can be,’ he admitted. ‘But hopefully we have caught it in time.’
‘So, what do we need to do? Will we need to get a nurse in or—’
He held his hand up. ‘Unfortunately, scarlet fever is highly contagious. She will have to be admitted into an isolation hospital.’
‘B-but we can look after her here,’ Madeline protested tearfully.
Dr Busby shook his head. ‘No, she must go into isolation. Meanwhile everyone who has had contact with her must wash their hands thoroughly and do not allow anyone else into the house. Once she has gone you must burn her clothes and thoroughly scour her room.’
Both Mabel and Mrs Batley were wringing their hands, but the doctor hadn’t finished. ‘There have been no reports of any outbreaks in Nuneaton, as far as I know,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Has she visited anywhere else?’
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