‘That’ll be lovely, cariad,’ Cerys commented as she carved some more slices from the loaf and spread them with thick, creamy butter. ‘You’ll have to wear something nice.’
‘Why?’ Grace asked innocently. She didn’t usually bother getting dressed up when she and Dylan went off on one of their jaunts.
‘Oh, I, er … just thought you’d like to look your best when you go meet our Bronwen, that’s all.’ Cerys looked embarrassed and Grace frowned.
‘But I’ve already met her. I went there with Myfanwy when we were children.’
‘Ah, so you did but … I suppose I ought to warn you, Dylan’s mam might have changed since the last time you saw her. She took our Myfanwy’s death very badly, see? And if truth be told she has never been the same since.’
‘That’s sad.’ Grace sighed. Strangely, although her friend had died some years ago, she only had to close her eyes to picture her as if they had been together only the day before. She still dreamed about her too and the dreams were so vivid that when she woke, it was hard to convince herself that Myfanwy hadn’t really been with her. They finished their meal in silence and Grace didn’t give the matter another thought.
Sunday dawned bright and clear and Dylan arrived to collect Grace shortly after lunch. She had chosen to wear a pretty cream cotton dress with sprigs of flowers all over it and she looked fresh and bright. Her red-gold hair was gleaming and there was a sparkle in her eye and Dylan’s heart did a little flip. Grace was still quite petite, in fact her figure was almost boyish, but there was something about her that he found irresistible.
‘Right, we’ll be off then,’ she told Gertie cheerfully as she slipped her feet into flat sandals.
‘Have a nice time but mind you’re back before it gets dark.’ Gertie looked up from the lamb she was feeding. The mother had rejected the poor little thing. Cerys was busily washing up the dinner pots at the sink and Grace flashed them all a smile as she stepped out into the sunshine.
When they finally arrived at Dylan’s home Grace didn’t think it had changed a bit. Dylan’s father was sitting mending some fishing nets in the sunshine and the garden was still scattered with shells, some of which she and Myfanwy had once collected from the beach.
‘Afternoon.’ Dylan’s father inclined his head and Grace smiled at him as she followed Dylan down the path and in through the front door. After the bright sunshine, it took her eyes some time to adjust to the dimness as they went along the narrow hallway to the kitchen. They found Dylan’s mother slicing a large, freshly baked loaf at the table and she glanced up, her eyes settling on Grace.
‘Hello, Mrs Penlynn.’ Grace smiled, noticing the pain that flared briefly in the woman’s eyes. She was no doubt remembering the last time Grace had visited with Myfanwy.
‘Afternoon. Sit yourselves down. Tea won’t be long.’
It wasn’t the warmest greeting Grace had ever received but she did as she was told, glancing at Dylan who smiled at her reassuringly.
‘We’ve just been down to the harbour,’ he told his mother.
‘Oh ah.’
‘It was quite busy,’ he went on, hoping to draw her into a conversation but his efforts were in vain and his mother simply got on with what she was doing.
Grace began to feel slightly uncomfortable. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea after all? But she was there now so for Dylan’s sake she determined to make the best of it. Things improved slightly when Dylan’s father joined them and he began to tell her about his fishing trips.
‘Ever been out on a fishing boat, have you?’ he asked as he spread a thick layer of home-made bramble jam onto his buttered bread. There was also something called ‘bara brith’, which Dylan explained was a traditional Welsh bread made of sweet fruit and cold tea as well as a fine Caerphilly cheese and biscuits.
Grace shook her head. ‘No, but Dylan took me on a boat trip once.’
‘Ah, but that’s not to be compared to the fishing boats. We go much further out to sea than them, which is why we can hit problems if a storm suddenly blows up.’ He grinned. ‘I’ve had some right close shaves, I don’t mind telling you. The sea can be treacherous. Calm as a millpond one minute and towering waves the next. Still, I wouldn’t be anything other than a fisherman. The sea is in my blood an’ I reckon our Dylan takes after me.’
Dylan nodded in agreement and thankfully the rest of the meal passed comparatively comfortably, although Dylan’s mother said very little and at times Grace could feel her eyes boring into her. She wondered if perhaps the woman blamed her for Myfanwy’s death? After all, she had survived and her dear friend had not. The thought made her feel even more uncomfortable and she was relieved when it was over. Dylan’s father moved to sit in a chair at the side of the fireplace to smoke his pipe and Grace stood up to help Dylan’s mother clear the table.
‘There’s no need for you to do that,’ the woman snapped ungraciously. ‘Guests aren’t expected to help with clearing up.’
‘Oh, I, er … Sorry, Mrs Penlynn, I had no wish to offend you.’ Grace flushed to the roots of her hair.
‘Mam didn’t mean to offend, did you, Mam?’ Dylan stared pointedly at his mother before adding, ‘But perhaps it’s time we got off now, cariad.’
The older woman’s lips set in a thin line at the term of endearment but she thankfully said nothing as Grace nodded hastily.
‘Er … yes we should be off. Thank you so much for the lovely tea, Mrs Penlynn.’
The woman sniffed and began to carry the dirty dishes to the sink as Grace said her goodbyes to her husband before following Dylan to the door.
Dylan’s face was dark as he marched down the path ahead of her and once out in the lane he told her, ‘I’m sorry about that. I think Mam resents the fact that Myfanwy succumbed to the fever and you survived.’
‘I can understand that.’ Grace kicked at a stone. ‘I feel guilty about it myself sometimes.’ Then as a thought occurred to her she suggested, ‘Why don’t we call into the churchyard on the way home. We could pick some flowers along the way.’
He nodded and they began to stoop and collect the flowers as they went. Once they were standing at the foot of Myfanwy’s grave, Grace’s eyes filled with tears.
‘I still miss her so much,’ she mumbled and Dylan nodded in agreement as he took her hand.
‘I do too, but life goes on.’
She bent down to lay the flowers in front of the headstone then they picked their way through the graveyard to the lychgate still hand in hand. It was as they were meandering along the coastal road that Dylan suddenly said, ‘There’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask you.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘The thing is … I was wanting to ask you if you’d be my girl … officially.’
For a moment, Grace didn’t know what to say. It had come as a complete surprise to her, for she had never looked on Dylan as anything more than a friend.
‘But … aren’t we a little young for anything like that?’ she said eventually, suddenly conscious of his large, warm hand clasping hers.
‘Not at all,’ he denied. ‘You’re sixteen and I’m eighteen. There’s lots of the fisher lasses your age who are wed already.’
‘But I don’t think I’m ready for something like that just yet,’ Grace said in an attempt not to hurt his feelings.
To her relief, he smiled. ‘It’s all right. There’s no rush. I just wanted you to know how I felt. Just say the word when you do feel ready and we’ll take it from there because I know you’re the girl for me, Grace. I knew it from the first second I clapped eyes on you.’
‘But I don’t know if I ever will be ready,’ she said. ‘I haven’t decided what I want to do with my life yet.’ The last thing she wanted to do was give him false hope.
Dylan laughed. ‘Why, you’re a girl. You’ll get wed and have babies. That’s what girls do.’
Grace frowned. ‘Times are changing,’ she whispered. ‘Women are beginning to have careers now. I thought
I might like to be a teacher but I haven’t properly decided yet.’
‘A teacher!’ he scoffed and she felt a little flood of anger. Why shouldn’t women have careers?
‘Anyway, just think on what I’ve said,’ he said, taking her silence as agreement.
Once they arrived back at the cottage her aunt immediately noticed how quiet she was and asked, ‘Did you have a good time?’
‘Er … yes, it was very nice.’
Somehow Grace’s words didn’t quite ring true and Gertie raised an eyebrow although she wisely refrained from asking any more while Dylan was there. She wondered if perhaps they’d had a tiff, although Dylan seemed happy enough.
Gertie waited until Dylan had left to tell Grace, ‘I rang your home today and Nurse Matthews informed me that your father is slightly worse. Do you feel that you wish to visit him yet?’
Grace blinked. The answer to that question was no, she didn’t wish to return home, but then perhaps she should if her father was deteriorating? A short time away from her aunt’s would give her some space to think about what Dylan had said as well.
‘Yes, I suppose I should.’
Her aunt heard the uncertainty and assured her, ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Grace.’
Grace smiled. ‘I know, but I would have to live with my conscience if I didn’t go and anything was to happen to him. I think I’ll go for a few days at the end of the week, if that’s all right with you. I shall be quite all right travelling on my own.’
She had already realised that if she went then, she would avoid Dylan’s next visit. The trouble was she would also miss mass at the chapel with Father Luke but that couldn’t be helped.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
‘Eeh! Yer look grand, lass. The Welsh air must suit yer,’ Mrs Batley greeted her when Grace arrived back home.
Grace gave her a hug, asking, ‘Where are Mabel and Harry?’
‘Oh, they’ve gone into town to do some shopping for me.’ Mrs Batley grinned then as she leaned towards her and confided, ‘They’re like a pair o’ lovebirds. More than ever since the master took bad, come to think of it. Harry seems to have more confidence an’ him an’ Mabel have been officially walking out together for some while. Not before time, eh? I was beginnin’ to think they’d never get together properly but now I have high hopes that a weddin’ might be in the offin’ afore too long. But that’s enough about them, how are you, lass?’
Grace forced a smile. Just being in this house brought memories of her mother flooding back and it was painful. ‘I’m all right. I still miss my mother, of course, but I dare say that’s something I shall have to learn to live with. I came back to visit because Aunt Gertie told me that Father had taken a turn for the worse.’
Mrs Batley nodded. ‘He has, although he hasn’t had another turn nor nothin’. He just seems to have lost the will to live. Happen he’s missin’ you an’ seein’ you will perk him up again.’
Grace secretly doubted that, but she didn’t say anything. Instead she lifted her small case. ‘I’ll just take my case along to my room and pop in to see him. Then I’d love a cup of tea, if it’s not too much trouble.’
‘Nothin’s too much trouble fer you, pet,’ Mrs Batley assured her. ‘This place ain’t been the same wi’out you an’ yer mam.’
Upstairs Grace dropped her case onto the floor and stared around at the familiar room. Strangely it didn’t feel like home anymore and she knew then that she would never return on a permanent basis. Her home was with Aunt Gertie now – until she decided what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, that was. She had been plodding along nicely but Dylan’s suggestion that they should get wed had added urgency to making the decision now. She went along to the bathroom to wash and tidy herself, thinking how luxurious this all was compared to Beehive Cottage. The toilet there was located at the end of a long cinder path at the bottom of the garden and the bath was a tin one that they carried in from the yard and filled with hot water from the boiler. Yet Grace realised she hadn’t missed all the modern conveniences her father had had installed, probably because she was happier at her aunt’s. Here there was electric lighting at the flick of a switch but now Grace was accustomed to gasoliers and candles lighting her to bed.
She straightened her back and after another glance in the mirror that hung above the sink to make sure that her hair was tidy, she took a deep breath and set off for her father’s room. She may as well get it over with.
She tapped at his bedroom door and stepped inside. Nurse Matthews was sitting in a chair by the window reading a book and her father was lying in bed staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Grace was surprised to see that the nurse had started to take a pride in her appearance. She had lost a little weight and had her hair cut into a more fashionable style. However, her father seemed to have shrunk to half his original size and looked vastly older. Grace supposed she should feel sympathy for him, yet she still felt nothing as she approached the bed. His mouth was still grotesquely twisted down at one side and his eyes when he turned to her were dull and listless.
‘Hello, Father.’ He raised his one good hand to her but she could see that even that was weak now and merely hovered inches above the counterpane.
She knew that she should take it but couldn’t bring herself to. Even being close to him made her cringe. ‘I thought I would pay a visit to see how you are,’ she said. ‘And I thought perhaps I’d stay for a couple of days.’ She wanted to make sure that he knew from the start that she had no intentions of returning permanently. He shook his head and Grace wondered how he was managing to cling to life. He looked so old and frail that it was hard to remember the man he had once been.
‘He’s been a bit under the weather, haven’t you, judge?’ Nurse Matthews smiled a greeting as she laid her book aside. This had turned out to be one of the best jobs she had ever had so she made sure that Jacob received the best care she could give him. He might not have much of a life but the longer he lived the longer she could stay there.
‘So I heard, that’s why I’ve come back,’ Grace answered. It certainly appeared that the woman was doing a good job. A silence stretched between them then until she told him, ‘I’m very contented living with Aunt Gertie and I love living in Wales. I attend the chapel at the convent there every Sunday morning and recently I converted to the Catholic faith.’
‘N-no … come h-home.’ The words came out as a gurgle and clearly cost him an enormous effort.
Grace eyed him coldly. She supposed she should treat him with more compassion but remembering how he had treated her mother she found it impossible.
‘I shall never return home, not to stay,’ she informed him. She could see that Nurse Matthews was becoming alarmed at how agitated her father was, so, having done her duty as far as she was concerned, she excused herself, leaving Nurse Matthews to try and calm her patient, who had worked himself up into a rare old state of distress.
The kettle was singing on the hob and Mabel and Harry were back by the time she got downstairs and they were delighted to see her.
After tea, Grace rose from her seat. ‘I think I’d like to visit the churchyard and take some flowers to my mother’s grave. It’s far too nice an evening to be stuck in the house.’
Mrs Batley nodded her agreement. ‘You do that, pet, an’ by the time yer get back I’ll have a meal ready for yer.’
Thankfully, on the way, Grace found a little flower shop still open so she purchased a large bunch of red chrysanthemums and hurried on. The churchyard was deserted and there was nothing but the birds to be heard as she weaved amongst the tombstones. She was pleased to see that a fine marble headstone bearing her mother’s name had been erected at the head of the grave, no doubt by Mr Mackenzie, and a bunch of roses that were just beginning to droop were placed in a pot in front of it. Mrs Batley had promised her before she left for Wales that she would tend the grave and she saw that she had kept her word. After quickly removing the drooping flowers, Grace replaced them with
her own, then sitting back on her heels she said quietly, ‘I miss you so much, Mother. I’m so sorry for what happened. But I’ve accepted that you’ve gone now and I know I have to get on with my life. I think that’s what you would have wanted. I recently converted to the Catholic faith. I don’t suppose that will surprise you. You know I was always fascinated with it. I just told Father but he got in a lather about it. He always begrudged the time we spent together at church, didn’t he?’
She gently laid her hand on the mound of grass in front of the headstone and she could feel her mother’s gentle presence rising up from the ground beneath. ‘I like living in Wales with Aunt Gertie. She’s nowhere near as hard as she appears; in fact she’s a big softie underneath, but then I suppose you know that, don’t you? I’ve been spending a lot of time with Dylan there. He is Myfanwy’s brother. You know – my best friend who died. We have a lovely time together but now I’m worried because he … he says he wants to marry me. The trouble is, I don’t love him like that, I love him more like a brother, and I don’t want to get married. And then there’s Father Luke.’ She smiled as she thought of him. ‘He’s the priest who conducts some of the services up at the chapel. He’s not at all as you’d imagine a priest to be – he’s young, probably less than ten years older than me, which is young for a priest, isn’t it? I feel so peaceful when I’m with him and the nuns. All the worry and the stress seems to float away when we’re together and we talk about anything and everything.’ She sighed then. ‘The trouble is, I feel that it’s time I did something now. Something to give my life a purpose, but I don’t know what. I wish you were here to advise me. I just need some sign so that I know what I should do.’
Her only reply was the sound of the birds singing in the trees, and she sat, with tears streaming down her face, basking in the peace of the place. It was funny, she thought, how the only time she ever felt truly happy was when she was in or close to a church. Suddenly it came to her like a bolt from the blue. Perhaps her mother was sending her a sign after all! She would enter the church and devote her life to God rather than marry a man she didn’t love. She slowly climbed to her feet and smiled down on her mother’s resting place, feeling that she was suddenly very close to her. She would go back to Wales tomorrow and go and speak to Father Luke and the Reverend Mother at the convent about her decision. Rising to her feet she planted a gentle kiss on her mother’s headstone. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘Sleep tight until we meet again.’ And as she turned and walked away, she felt as if she was leaving a little piece of her heart behind.
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