Aled drove them to the chapel and once the short service was over they went on to a public house in nearby Penlan Street for the wedding breakfast that Gertie had treated them to. The meal was delicious, but Grace found that she couldn’t eat a thing. The thin gold band on her finger felt wrong and she just wanted to run away and cry, although after a time her face ached from forcing smiles. Dylan, on the other hand, was beaming from ear to ear and halfway through the meal he whispered, ‘How are you feeling, Mrs Penlynn?’
Mrs Penlynn! Grace forced yet another smile. She couldn’t answer for fear of bursting into tears and all the time her heart was crying, Oh, Luke, where are you? It should have been you I married!
At last it was over and the party assembled in the street outside to say their goodbyes. ‘Now, you come and see us often, mind,’ Cerys said before clambering up into the trap.
It was Gertie’s turn then and she pecked Grace on the cheek, saying in a low voice, ‘You know where we are, pet.’
Grace nodded mutely and watched as the trap rattled away.
‘Right then, lad. We’d best go and get ready to get the boats out. Time and tide wait for no man, eh?’ Griffen, Dylan’s father slapped him heartily on the shoulder as he winked at Grace. He seemed friendly, at least. He tugged at the starched white collar of his shirt and laughed. ‘Eeh, it’ll be a relief to get this darn shirt off and get back into me fisherman’s outfit.’ Taking his wife’s arm, he walked ahead as Dylan took Grace’s hand. She had laid her small bouquet on Myfanwy’s grave when they left the chapel and now she moved mechanically as panic threatened to overwhelm her. She wished Dylan didn’t have to go to sea, not today anyway, but as she was to learn, fishermen had to take full advantage of the weather. But what would she do when she was left alone with Dylan’s mother? Would Bronwen make her feel unwelcome? She was soon to find out.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The minute they entered the tiny two-up two-down cottage that was Dylan’s home, his mother nodded scornfully towards the trunks that were piled up at the side of the door. They contained Grace’s clothes and possessions and Aled had delivered them earlier that morning.
‘I suggest you get that lot put away, that’s if you can find somewhere to put them!’ Bronwen sneered. ‘I don’t want them left down here where I’ll be forever tripping over them.’
‘I’ll carry them up now for you.’ Dylan smiled at his bride reassuringly. He didn’t want anything to spoil this special day so he chose to ignore his mother’s unpleasant tone, although he vowed he wouldn’t allow her to continue to talk to Grace that way. The poor girl looked terrified and this was her wedding day. Grace followed him upstairs without a word as he heaved the first heavy trunk up the steep narrow staircase. There was a tiny square landing at the top of the stairs with two doors leading off it and Dylan turned into the one on his left. Grace blinked with surprise when she followed him in. The room was very small, barely big enough for one person let alone two, but she supposed they would manage. Her eyes were drawn to the iron bed and she felt herself blushing as she imagined herself lying in it next to Dylan.
‘We’ll stack these trunks in the corner for now,’ he told her. ‘Then when you’ve unpacked them I’ll try and find room out in the shed for them. It’ll give us a bit more space.’
Grace nodded as he set off down the stairs to fetch another trunk and soon they were all neatly stacked in the corner.
‘There, that should keep you busy for a while.’ He nodded towards an old chest of drawers. ‘I’ve made some room in there for you and I’ve knocked some nails in the back of the door so that you can hang some of your clothes up.’
She managed a faint smile then blushed an even deeper shade of red as he began to undress.
‘Best get changed then,’ he said cheerily. ‘Me dad hates to be kept waiting but he’s promised we’ll finish for dark this evening. We fish right through the night sometimes if the conditions are favourable.’
He threw his shirt onto the bed and reached for a thick old jersey that he wore on the boat as Grace quickly averted her eyes and hurried across to the window, where she made a great show of looking at the view. There wasn’t much to be seen, if truth be told. Just the small yard that they shared with the next-door neighbour and the long, narrow gardens stretching down to the privies at the bottom of them. Tin baths were hung on the walls at the back of the cottages and she noted that most of the garden was planted with vegetables. Eventually she turned to find Dylan fully dressed in his work clothes and she took a closer look at the room. Apart from the bed and the old chest of drawers, the only other furniture was a rather dilapidated washstand on which stood a plain chipped jug and bowl. There wasn’t room for anything else and Grace began to feel claustrophobic. The curtains hanging at the window were so faded and thin that she wasn’t sure what colour they might once have been and the only concession to comfort on the floor was a small clippie mat at the side of the bed to cover the scrubbed wooden floorboards. Even so, she had to admit that everywhere was spotlessly clean, including the sheets and blankets on the bed, but already she was longing for when Dylan found them somewhere of their own to live.
‘Right, I suppose I’d best be off then. I have a wife to support now,’ Dylan teased as he crossed to put his arms about her waist. ‘How about a kiss for your husband to see him on his way?’ He could feel Grace tense but then she raised her head and kissed him on the cheek. It wasn’t quite what he’d been hoping for but he kept his smile in place anyway as he told her, ‘Don’t get doing too much now. I’ll see you later,’ and with that he turned and clattered away down the stairs as Grace chewed on her fist in an attempt to stop the tears that were threatening.
‘Oh dear God, what have I done?’ she moaned silently as she sank onto the side of the bed. But common sense told her that it was done, there could be no going back now. She had made her vows, till death us do part, and from this moment on she must try to stop thinking of Luke. He was her past, Dylan was her future.
‘How much longer are you going to be up there?’ Bronwen shouted up the stairs sometime later. ‘There’s vegetables waiting to be peeled down here. Come and make yourself useful. I’ve got enough to do with two men to look after so don’t think I’m going to skivvy for you an’ all.’
Grace had been sitting on the side of the bed steeped in misery but at her mother-in-law’s words her head snapped up, she swiped the tears away with the back of her hand and straightened her back. Perhaps it was time to get a few things straight.
She sniffed then walked down the steep, narrow staircase and into the kitchen with her head held high. ‘I’d like to make it clear that I am more than prepared to pull my weight and I don’t expect you to wait on me, I am used to hard work after the time I spent up at the convent,’ Grace said in a clear voice. ‘All you have to do is tell me what needs doing and I’ll do it. And I’d like to know how you wish me to address you. Will it be Mrs Penlynn, Bronwen or Mam? I’m quite happy to go along with your preference.’
The woman looked slightly taken aback. It appeared that the girl had spirit after all. She nodded. ‘Then I dare say, for our Dylan’s sake, you’d best call me Mam.’
‘Very well … Mam.’ The word felt strange on Grace’s tongue but she forced herself to say it. ‘Now where are these vegetables you want me to peel?’
At teatime, the meal the women had prepared was placed over pans of hot water on the hob to keep warm for when the men came in from fishing, and they dined on bread and cheese. As soon as it was over, Grace washed and dried the pots before Bronwen had a chance to ask her and then asked, ‘Is there anything else you’d like to me to do?’
Bronwen had settled in a chair by the open back door to work on the new jersey she was knitting for her husband and she shook her head. ‘No … thank you,’ she answered grudgingly.
‘In that case, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go for a walk and familiarise myself with the area a little more.’
Bronwen nodded
but didn’t answer, so Grace slipped past her and headed for the harbour.
They had hardly said a word to each other since Grace had come down to the kitchen early that afternoon and now she just wanted to escape the tense atmosphere. Dylan’s mother had made it more than clear through her actions that Grace wasn’t welcome in her home and already Grace’s nerves were stretched to the limit. After taking a deep breath, she slowly wandered through the cobbled streets and it was as she was going that she suddenly felt a movement in her stomach. It resembled the feeling she had felt when Mr Llewelyn had once driven the trap over a humpback bridge too quickly. Her hand moved to her stomach as a smile spread across her face. It was her baby moving. She’d felt flutters before but never anything so strong as this and suddenly she knew that she had done the right thing in marrying Dylan. She didn’t love him but he would be a good father and provider for her baby, who she loved already. In just a few months’ time she would meet him – it was funny how she always thought of the baby as him – but who would he look like? Grace half hoped that he would take after her and have red hair. If he was blonde like his father it would take some explaining, but then she would cross that bridge when she came to it. Feeling slightly brighter she moved on. She had her wedding night ahead of her but for now she tried not to think about it.
‘Would you mind if I went to bed?’ Grace asked her mother-in-law that evening as the sky was darkening.
‘No, you go up, I’ll see that the men get their meal when they come in,’ Bronwen answered. Grace had a feeling that the woman just wanted to get rid of her but she said goodnight politely and made her way upstairs. Once in the room her heart began to pound again as she thought of the night ahead. She quickly undressed and washed herself from head to toe with the cold water in the jug that she had taken upstairs earlier, then after pulling the fine lawn nightgown trimmed with lace, which had been a gift from Aunt Gertie, over her head, she quickly slid into bed. At some stage, she must have fallen asleep because the next thing she was aware of was the bedroom door creaking open and someone entering the room. It was dark with only the light from the moon filtering through the thin curtains, so Grace lay very still.
‘Grace … it’s me. Are you awake, cariad?’ Dylan’s voice penetrated the darkness but still she lay as if she had been turned to stone. In the darkness, she could hear him fiddling with his clothes as he undressed. Then the bedclothes were lifted and he slid in beside her. The next minute his arm snaked about her waist. With a little shock, she realised that he was naked but she forced herself to breathe evenly, praying that he would believe she was asleep. His body was curled into her back and she could feel the heat of him as he tenderly kissed the back of her neck.
‘Sleep tight, my lovely,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve had a big day.’ Soon after she felt his arm relax, his breathing became regular and she knew that he was asleep. He had promised that the physical side of their marriage needn’t happen until she was ready and for now it appeared that he was prepared to keep his word.
Over the next month, Bronwen softened slightly, more, thought Grace, at the prospect of her first grandchild than anything to do with her. Each week she walked to Beehive Cottage to visit her aunt but now that she was growing bigger she was finding it increasingly difficult and wondered how much longer she would be able to make the trek.
It was early in July as Grace was getting ready for her weekly visit that Bronwen suddenly said cautiously, ‘I’ve been thinking. You must have been still up at the convent when you fell for this baby.’ As she eyed Grace suspiciously, the girl flushed scarlet. ‘And our Dylan was sowing his wild oats with the village girls round about then,’ she went on, her eyes fixed on Grace.
Grace kept her mouth firmly shut as Bronwen narrowed her eyes. ‘So how did you and my lad manage to come together?’
‘I … I’d rather not talk about it,’ Grace muttered as she pulled her shoes on. Bronwen clearly suspected that the baby might not be Dylan’s, but how could Grace tell her the truth? She knew that her mother-in-law didn’t approve of her and should she ever discover that the baby wasn’t Dylan’s, Grace had no doubt that she would make her life hell. ‘I’m going now,’ Grace said, and she scooted out of the house at a speed that surprised even herself.
On the way to her aunt’s, Grace fretted about what she should do. She hated deceiving anyone, even Bronwen, but she had promised Dylan faithfully that she would let everyone believe that the baby was his.
‘Ooh, cariad, happen this walk is getting too much for you,’ Mrs Llewelyn greeted her when she finally arrived all hot and bothered. ‘You look all in. Come and sit down and I’ll get you a nice cold drink. I’ll call Gertie an’ all to let her know you’re here. She’s out the back cleaning out the pigsty.’
Grace sank gratefully down at the table and looked around as Mrs Llewelyn pottered away. This place still felt like home, unlike where she was living now. Still, she supposed she was lucky. Most men wouldn’t have touched her with a bargepole once they knew she was carrying another man’s baby. Dylan had kept to his word too, apart from the odd peck on the cheek and a cuddle in bed, his demands had gone no further. So why then, she questioned herself, am I so very unhappy?
One night in mid-September Grace woke with a dull ache in her back in the middle of the night. Dylan was fast asleep at her side and through the thin dividing wall that separated the bedrooms she could hear his father gently snoring. Slowly, so as not to disturb her husband, she inched to the edge of the bed, then grabbing her dressing robe she draped it around her shoulders and crept downstairs. Perhaps if I walk about a bit it will go off, she thought. But an hour later, after countless walks about the kitchen, it was worse if anything. She was still pacing when Bronwen appeared early the next morning and the woman raised an eyebrow. Bronwen always rose early to prepare the men’s breakfast and pack the food they would take with them when they went to sea.
‘You’re an early bird,’ she commented as she raked the embers in the fire and threw some wood on them. ‘Didn’t you think to put the kettle on?’ Then seeing how pale Grace was she asked, ‘Is something wrong?’
Grace shook her head as she stroked her back. ‘No, it’s just this pain in my back. I thought if I got up and walked about it might go off but it’s getting worse, if anything. I must have laid funny.’
Bronwen sniffed. ‘I don’t think any amount of pacing is going to take this away. It sounds to me like the baby is on its way. I’ll call our Dylan and get him to fetch old lady Gower before he goes to sea; she delivers all the babies hereabouts!’
Grace looked shocked. It had never occurred to her that this might be the start of the baby coming and suddenly she was afraid.
‘Sh-shouldn’t a doctor be here too?’ she asked in a small voice.
‘Huh! Why would you want to waste money on a doctor? You’re young and healthy so there shouldn’t be any problems.’
Grace could only pray that she was right. Strangely, she didn’t care so much about herself. But she knew if anything were to happen to Luke’s baby she would be heartbroken. This baby would be all she would ever have of him and suddenly she couldn’t wait to meet it.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Dylan pounded down the stairs the second his mother woke him, his face the colour of bleached linen. He had pulled his trousers and shirt on, although the shirt was unbuttoned as he snapped his braces over his shoulders and asked fearfully, ‘Is the baby coming?’
‘Well, of course it is! Why else would I wake you? You daft ha’p’orth,’ his mother snapped. ‘Now get yourself round to old lady Gower and tell her we need her as soon as possible.’ Bronwen sniffed then for all the world as if Grace had committed a sin by going into labour at such an early hour. ‘She’ll no doubt be miffed by being wakened at such an ungodly hour but tell her there’ll be an extra sixpence in it if she gets a shufty on.’
Dylan needed no second telling, he was already pulling his boots onto his bare feet, then he shot off, his shirt ta
ils flapping behind him.
‘And you, young lady, need to get yourself upstairs,’ Bronwen ordered. ‘I’ll get Griffen up and you can do the birthing in our bed. There’s more room in there. I’ll go up and rouse him and get everything ready, then you can come up.’
Grace nodded as she bit on her lip. She wished her mother was there. She wished Luke was there, but this was no time for self-pity. Soon she would meet her new baby and she tried to concentrate on that. She had no idea what to expect, although the horrific tales she had heard the fisherwomen whispering about what they had endured during childbirth had struck terror into her heart.
Griffen came down the stairs shortly after, fully dressed and bleary eyed but his voice was kindly as he said, ‘So, the little one’s about to make its appearance is it, cariad?’ Then seeing the look on her face, he gently squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t be frightened now. God will never send us more pain than we can endure.’
Grace gulped, praying that he was right, and shortly after Bronwen came back down to tell her, ‘Everything is ready, go and get into my bed. Old lady Gower shouldn’t be too long.’
‘But what if she doesn’t get here in time?’ Grace croaked.
Bronwen laughed. ‘First babies have a habit of taking their time so don’t get worrying about that. Now be off with you while I get some water on to boil and get some towels ready.’
Grace did as she was told and once in the front bedroom she glanced around nervously. It was considerably bigger than the room she shared with Dylan, admittedly, but all the same she felt strange in there and would have preferred to stay in her own space. She saw that Bronwen had positioned the small wooden cradle that had once been Dylan’s and Myfanwy’s at the end of the bed and she smiled as she thought of her friend. Myfanwy would have been so excited at the prospect of a new niece or nephew. But then, Grace reminded herself, it wouldn’t have really been her relative and guilt stabbed at her yet again.
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