Mabel blushed then and glanced towards Harry who had been reading the paper but whose ears had now pricked up. He smiled and gave her an almost imperceptible nod so, gulping, Mabel said quietly, ‘Actually, Batty … there’s somethin’ me an’ Harry have been meanin’ to tell yer.’ This seemed as good a time as any.
‘Oh yes?’
‘Well the thing is … we were thinkin’ it were about time we took the plunge … got married like … what do yer think?’
‘I think it’s about bloody time,’ Mrs Batley said with a grin. ‘I thought yer were never goin’ to get round to it. When is the happy day to be?’
‘We thought round about Christmas.’
‘Right, well we’d best put the plans in motion then. It’s been some time since this house had anythin’ to celebrate. I shall do a slap-up spread fer you an’ yer family the like o’ which this place ain’t seen for a long time an’ sod him upstairs. He can hardly object, can he?’
She saw Harry and Mabel exchange a smile that melted her heart. They were clearly meant for each other. I wonder if the young mistress will be allowed to come home fer the celebrations? she wondered. She decided she would ask Gertie to pass on the news the very next time she rang. Meantime, there would be lots of organising to do – there were the flowers to think of and the dress of course, and a hundred other things.
Seeing the dreamy look on the older woman’s face, Mabel seemed to read her mind and told her hastily, ‘We’re only plannin’ on havin’ a quiet do, Batty. Me mam an’ dad ain’t that well off, as yer know.’
‘Quiet do, me foot!’ Mrs Batley frowned. Over the years she had come to look on Mabel as the daughter she had never been blessed with and she intended to give her and Harry a day to remember. She would use a little of the money the old master had left her to do it and gladly. ‘You’ll have a weddin’ fit fer a princess,’ she told her firmly and now it was Harry who was grinning. Knowing Mrs Batley as he did, there would be no use arguing with her once she had made her mind up about something. She could be as stubborn as an old mule so he was happy to sit back and leave all the arrangements to the women.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Before everyone knew it, Christmas was almost upon them. Grace and the postulants had been allowed to go out and gather holly and ivy and now it decorated the chapel and the usually bare corridors of the convent. The shiny green leaves and rich red berries on the holly made the otherwise bare corners look homely, although, as Grace had discovered, it was almost as cold inside as it was out. At night, her small cell was so bitter that her breath hung in the air in front of her as she hastily changed into her coarse nightgown, and she would lie beneath her blankets for a long time, shivering.
One cold, frosty night as she tried to get warm, her thoughts turned to Christmas Day. She and the postulants had been given permission to visit their families for dinner. It would be a very different Christmas to the ones that had gone before, however. There would be no exchanging of gifts this year, for Grace was not allowed to bring material possessions with her. Even so, she was still looking forward to it. Thinking about Christmas inevitably brought back memories of her old home, where preparations would be under way for Mabel and Harry’s wedding. They were to be wed the week before Christmas and though she was sad that she wouldn’t be able to attend, part of her was glad that she wouldn’t have to face her father again. Aunt Gertie reported that he was still clinging to life, although no one knew how. She still missed her mother dreadfully too, and from time to time had terrible nightmares about the night her father had had his seizure, but thankfully not as often now so she was grateful for that at least.
Life at the convent was getting better, although she still struggled with certain things. She missed being able to wander at will up and down the valleys. She missed swimming in the sea and picking wild flowers, but then she supposed these were small things to forsake if one day she was to become a true nun. Some of the other postulants were almost ready to take their final vows and she envied them, for most of them seemed to be able to leave the outside world behind with ease.
But despite her difficulties, Father Luke had informed the Reverend Mother that he felt Grace would be ready to become a postulant in the New Year and she was excited about it. She would then wear the white veil and have to dedicate even more time than she did now to prayer. She didn’t mind the thought at all. Her main concern, though, was her feelings for Father Luke. An image of his face would flash in front of her eyes when she should be praying, and just the sight of him could make her heart skip a beat. Sometimes she felt as if she was just living for the times they spent together, and it confused her.
Eventually she slept and dreamed of Father Luke, as she often did.
On Christmas Day, after some hours spent praying in the convent chapel, Grace set off to spend some time with the Llewelyns and Aunt Gertie. She wished she had a small gift for each of them. But then, as the Reverend Mother had told her, Christmas was not about gifts, it was a day when everyone should be celebrating the birth of their Saviour, the baby Jesus.
‘Ah, here you are then,’ Aunt Gertie said when Grace stepped into the kitchen bringing an icy blast of air with her that made the fire roar up the chimney. ‘Shut that door, do! We’ve only just managed to get the room warm.’
After the biting cold of the convent, Grace felt as if she was walking into an oven but she didn’t comment as she hurried across the room to kiss her aunt. ‘Merry Christmas, Aunt Gertie.’
‘The same to you, dear. Now take that ugly old cape off and come and get warm by the fire. You can tell us what you’ve been up to then.’
Grace giggled. ‘Truthfully, there isn’t much to tell: I’ve prayed, scrubbed floors, prayed, done the laundry, prayed, helped in the kitchen and prayed, and that’s about it. But Father Luke thinks I may be almost ready to become a proper postulant soon, possibly in the New Year.’
‘Huh, it’s a waste of a young life, if you were to ask me,’ Mrs Llewelyn grumbled and Grace and her aunt grinned at each other.
Grace was relieved to see that Dylan wasn’t there, she would have felt awkward, although from what she had gathered during past visits he was well and truly over her now. In fact, Cerys had told her that he’d had more girlfriends than hot dinners in the previous months. Grace could only hope that one of them would be right for him as she still felt guilty for not being able to return his feelings.
‘Mrs Batley was full of Mabel and Harry’s wedding when I rang her the other day,’ Aunt Gertie informed her. ‘It went off really well, apparently, and when it was over she paid for them to have four days’ honeymoon in Skegness as her present to them.’
‘I’m so pleased, and how nice of her.’ Grace threw her cloak over the back of the chair and sat at the table with her aunt to help her finish preparing the Brussel sprouts. There was a nice fat goose cooking in the oven and the delicious smell made Grace’s stomach rumble. ‘And did she mention how my father was?’
‘No better no worse, apparently, but there is one more little bit of gossip. Mrs Batley reckons that something is going on between Mr Mackenzie and Nurse Matthews.’
‘Really?’ Grace was surprised but pleased for them if that was the case. ‘Then there could be another wedding in the offing.’ She chuckled. ‘Mrs Batley will be in her element.’
Mr Llewelyn, who had been outside feeding the chickens, joined them and after giving Grace a kiss he settled down next to the fire to smoke his pipe.
By the time she left later that afternoon, Grace was feeling happy, despite the bittersweet memories of Christmases spent with her mother. The Christmas dinner had been delicious and she wasn’t looking forward to going back to her cold, bleak room in the convent at all.
I’m so ungrateful, she scolded herself. The postulants all seemed so content with their lot, so much so that some of them had preferred to stay at the convent and spend Christmas Day in prayer.
Already the light was fading from the afternoon and a thick
frost was forming so Grace quickened her pace. It would be darker still under the trees and she didn’t want to get lost in the forest. She had only gone a few yards into the woods when something suddenly shot across the path in front of her and she yelped with alarm before realising that it was only a fox. Taking a deep breath, she moved on again until a voice saying her name startled her yet again.
‘Who is it?’ She spun around quickly to see Dylan step out from behind a tree. He looked perished – his nose was glowing red and his unmittened hands were blue. She realised that he must have been waiting for her and didn’t know whether to be angry or sorry for him.
‘Hello, Grace,’ he said timidly. He’d dreamed about this meeting but now it had come he felt humiliated and embarrassed. Over the last months, he’d sown his wild oats with any lass that was willing, and there’d been no shortage of them. The trouble was, none of them could hold a candle to Grace in his eyes, so he’d waited here to see her, praying that she’d had a change of heart and was ready to give up this stupid idea of becoming a nun. ‘I, er … thought I’d just stop by an’ wish you a Merry Christmas.’ The words sounded inane even to his own ears. She must have known he’d been purposely waiting for her but she didn’t blink as she answered, ‘And the same to you, Dylan.’
They stared at each other for a while, neither quite knowing what to say, until Grace broke the silence. ‘I ought to be getting back. Sister Mathilda will be angry if I’m late.’
‘Would you like me to walk with you?’
She heard the hopeful note in his voice and sadly shook her head. ‘Thanks, but it might be best if I go on my own.’
Seeing his downcast expression her gentle heart softened. ‘I … I often think of the happy times we spent together,’ she said softly. ‘And I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you hoped, but you deserve someone who will love you with all their heart. I will always look upon you as a true friend and remember you with fondness, so be happy, Dylan. Goodbye.’
He watched until she disappeared into the gloom before ramming his hands into his coat pockets and slowly turning in the direction of Beehive Cottage. He may as well call in and get a hot drink inside him. It felt like he’d been standing out in the cold for hours and what good had it done him? He cursed himself. For days he’d been practising what he would say to her and what had he said when it came to it? Practically nothing!
Grace meanwhile was hurrying towards the dim light beyond the trees ahead. She had seen the pain in Dylan’s eyes and it had hurt her more than she cared to admit because she cared for him but she could never imagine loving him as a woman should love her husband. She could never imagine loving any man in a physical way if it came to that. Every time she even thought of it she remembered the feel of her father’s hot, sweaty hands on her body and broke out in a cold sweat. The only man she felt truly safe with was Father Luke and she supposed that was because he was a priest and had taken a vow of chastity so would never think of such things. Why does everything always have to be so complicated? she wondered. But she had chosen her path in life and there was no veering away from it now, so she walked on with her head down. Suddenly some of the joy had gone from the day.
In the New Year, Grace took the white veil of the postulant and her life changed yet again. She was still allowed to visit her aunt but not as frequently, for now she was preparing herself for when she became a bride of Christ. Oddly enough, she didn’t see quite so much of Father Luke now. He and Sister Eileen shared the postulants’ Bible classes between them and the priest had put Grace into the elderly nun’s group, which, much to her surprise, had hurt her. She shouldn’t really have cared who tutored her, she supposed, and yet she found that she missed him and still thought of him constantly. She saw him occasionally going to and fro to the chapel and he always inclined his head and smiled at her, but he never stopped to speak anymore, so with that she had to be content.
She was still expected to do the back-breaking jobs she had done before along with the other postulants and sometimes when she listened to them she felt envious. They seemed so committed and excited about the life they were about to embark on and appeared not to have any regrets about their families or the things they had left behind. So why do I? she asked herself in an agony of guilt. She was still frequently sent before the Reverend Mother like a naughty schoolgirl for things she had done wrong or things she had failed to do and sometimes she wondered if the serene-faced woman was losing patience with her. The last time was when she had been caught standing on her bed gazing out of her window at the balmy night sky after lights out when she should have been kneeling at the side of her bed in prayer.
‘Do you still truly feel that this is the path you wish to follow, Grace?’ the Reverend Mother had asked and Grace had nodded vigorously.
‘Oh, yes, mother … It’s just that sometimes I get distracted. It was such a lovely evening, I just wanted to look at the stars. But I will try harder, really I will.’
The woman had smiled at her. It was very hard to be annoyed with Grace, she so wanted to please everyone, although she didn’t always succeed.
‘Very well. I can understand that you love nature, but in future your prayers must come first. Now go, child, and try harder.’
By the time Grace celebrated her eighteenth birthday, some of the girls who had been postulants with her had already taken their final vows, but Grace feared she was still a long way from taking that step and she knew the Reverend Mother wouldn’t even contemplate it for her just yet. It had been a bitterly cold winter and some of the nuns, including Sister Eileen, had come down with chills that confined them to bed.
One day, the Reverend Mother called her into her office and told her, ‘I am going to ask Father Luke to give you some one-on-one time.’
So on a cold and frosty morning in early January 1911, Grace sat face to face with Father Luke in the chapel. It was freezing in there and yet she was so happy to see him that she didn’t feel it.
Some time ago, she had hacked off her beautiful red hair to shoulder length. She saw no point in keeping it too long – it would be shorn when she took her final vows anyway and it was so much easier to manage at the length it was – although already it had sprung into curls again. Her figure had filled out slightly too, although she was still petite, and now Father Luke saw a young woman rather than a girl sitting before him and his throat felt dry. What was it about this girl that made him ache to know her better? he wondered. It was a sin for a man of the cloth to have such thoughts and yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself, which was why he had suggested that Grace should join Sister Eileen’s group.
‘How are you?’ he asked awkwardly. When she smiled he felt his legs turn to jelly.
‘I am well, father … and yourself?’ Grace could feel the colour flooding into her face as it suddenly hit her like a blow: she, who was preparing to offer herself to Christ, had fallen in love with Father Luke! It was ridiculous, preposterous and yet deep down she finally realised it was true. That was why she always felt safe in his presence … she loved him, but up until now she had not allowed herself to admit it.
Confusion made her gasp and put her hand to her mouth, then suddenly she was gathering her things together and making to rise.
‘Grace … where are you going?’ The distress in his voice made tears spring to her eyes and she looked at him helplessly. Their eyes locked and she saw mirrored in his what she felt for him. He cared for her too, she realised with a jolt of pleasure, but then the reality of the situation hit her full force and she knew that it was hopeless. Their love must never be allowed to blossom. What they felt for each other was a sin.
‘I … perhaps I should go,’ she breathed, but his hand was on her arm sending tingles all down it.
‘No … not yet …’ Father Luke looked as confused as she did as he too battled with feelings he had desperately tried to ignore. He had hoped that if he avoided her company he would stop thinking about her but it had all been in vain. Her face would pop into his
mind when he least expected it and he had found himself looking for a glimpse of her at every opportunity.
And then suddenly they were both standing and as he pulled her into his arms she didn’t try to stop him. Neither of them could fight what they felt for each other anymore. It felt right and in that moment, she knew that this was meant to be. Her head was against his chest as he stroked her hair and she could hear his heart pounding in time with her own.
‘Oh, my darling girl … this is so wrong, we should stop,’ he said in a strangled voice. ‘I’ve tried so hard for so long to ignore the feelings I have for you but I just can’t seem to help myself.’
‘Nor me,’ she whispered as she stared up into his wonderful deep blue eyes. They were so full of emotion that they seemed almost black today. And then suddenly his lips were on hers and she had the sense of coming home. This was where she was meant to be.
He kissed her lips, her eyes, her throat and somewhere along the way her white veil slid off and fell to the floor unnoticed. Then he gently took her hand and led her unprotestingly to a small room tucked away at the side of the chapel. It was seldom used and old, long-discarded habits hung on pegs on the wall. Reaching across her he snatched some of them and threw them down on the floor before gently lowering her onto them. Once more his lips were on hers and they might have been the only two people left in the whole world. She clung to him as if she might never let him go as his hand began to gently stroke her breasts through the rough material of her habit, and then he was gently pulling it over her head and gazing in wonder at her tenderly. His hands began to wander over her breasts making her nipples tauten with desire and setting off powerful emotions and feelings that she had never known before. Their hands explored each other’s bodies on the uncomfortable floor but it didn’t matter where they were anymore. They were oblivious to anything but each other.
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