Soon after, Dylan arrived with the horse and cart he’d borrowed for the afternoon. He had already picked up the furniture that Grace had bought that morning and now he started to load the smaller items onto the cart while Grace flew about collecting their clothes together. At last they were ready to go and once Grace had clambered onto the hard bench seat next to Dylan, Bronwen passed Aiden up to her. Griffen, who was going along to help them unpack, clambered into the back.
‘Be sure to keep in touch now,’ Bronwen told them. Strangely, despite her feelings when they’d first married, she’d grown fond of Grace during the time she’d lived there. ‘And take these with you an’ all.’ She placed a large, covered pot at Grace’s feet. ‘I doubt you’ll have much time for cooking tonight so I made you a nice lamb cawl. You’ll only need to warm it up, and there’s a fresh loaf there as well.’
‘Thank you.’ Grace smiled at her as Dylan picked up the reins and soon they were on their way.
Once they had passed the harbour Dylan turned the cart up what was little more than a dirt track and the cart swayed from side to side. At times, Grace was fearful they were going to lose the furniture off the back of it and they seemed to be going a very long way out of the town, although she didn’t voice her concerns.
Some way further on, she spotted a huddle of three old terraced cottages nestling in front of a copse and her stomach sank as she realised that this must be where they were going. There was smoke pouring from the chimney of the middle cottage but the two on either side looked unoccupied and almost derelict. Dylan drew the horse to a halt in front of the furthest one and she tried not to show her dismay as she looked at it properly. There was a small garden at the front, which was completely overgrown, surrounded by an old picket fence that was falling down in places. She saw that some of the tiles were gone from the roof. The windows were so filthy that she couldn’t see through them and the whole place looked completely neglected. How am I ever going to make this place into a home? she wondered but she forced a smile as Dylan helped her down from the cart.
‘Right then, boyo, I’ll have a little look round inside, then I’m going to repair the roof,’ Griffen said positively.
Dylan led them up the path to the front door, which was swinging open drunkenly.
‘I’ll fix that afore I go as well,’ Griffen declared as Grace choked back tears.
Clutching Aiden close to her she picked her way along the path through the weeds, which were almost waist high in places, to the door. Dylan had gone ahead and as she entered what appeared to be a kitchen-cum-sitting room, she couldn’t stop herself from gasping with dismay. It was even worse than she had feared. Leaves had blown in and were piled in every corner and she was just in time to see a long tail disappear into a hole in the skirting board. Wild animals had entered at various times and left faeces about the floor and the place reeked of stale urine, but Dylan didn’t seem to notice the mess and was beaming from ear to ear.
‘So, what do you think?’ he asked as if he had brought her to a palace.
‘It’s, er … going to need a lot of work to make it habitable.’ Grace was so distressed that her voice came out as a squeak.
‘Rubbish, we’ll have it shipshape in no time,’ he declared confidently, throwing open another door that led into what she assumed was a small parlour. Various bits of furniture had been left in there but it was so gloomy she couldn’t really see what there was or if it was salvageable.
‘Let’s look upstairs,’ Dylan said as he sprinted over to a small staircase in the corner of the kitchen.
Grace followed him up and found herself on a small landing with two doors leading off, not dissimilar to his parents’ cottage. The first was quite small and smelled musty, although she was forced to admit that it would be a perfect size for Aiden when he got a little older. The second bedroom was somewhat bigger with a large wardrobe standing in one corner. It was very dusty and grimy but after giving it a quick examination Grace hoped that it would be worth saving. It would certainly come in very handy for their clothes. Back downstairs in the kitchen she saw that there was a range – it was desperately in need of black leading but at least she would have something to cook on. The deep Belfast sink and wooden draining board looked to be in good order as well, although they, too, were coated in layers of dust.
‘There’s a well at the back of the cottage that will provide us with water,’ Dylan told her. ‘And the privy is at the end of the garden.’ They were at the back of the cottage out in the weak sunshine and Grace noted that there was a tin bath hanging on the outside wall. ‘Oh, and old lady Gower has a goat. Look, you can see it in her garden and she said she’ll sell us some milk every day to save you having to walk into the town to fetch it.’
Grace merely nodded. Dylan was clearly taken with the place and she didn’t want to spoil it for him. There was no alternative but to roll up her sleeves and get stuck into the cleaning.
Over the last weeks, the weather had turned colder and now she shivered as she went back into the cottage.
‘I’ll need to light a fire before I do anything else,’ she told her husband. She could already hear her father-in-law hammering away as he fixed the fallen tiles back onto the roof.
‘I thought of that.’ Dylan smiled. ‘I bought a sack of coal with me, it’s on the cart. Though once we get settled we can use the wood from the fallen trees in the copse behind us. I bought a brush too that I borrowed from the chimney sweep. The cottage has stood empty for some time so the chimney will have to be swept afore we light anything.’ He darted away to return seconds later with Aiden’s crib and the brush.
Grace settled the baby into the crib in the bedroom and covered him with a thick blanket before making her way out to the well to collect some water. Thankfully there was a bucket at the side attached to a long rope so she managed to draw some up without too much trouble. By the time she got back inside out of the biting autumn wind, the air was full of soot and there was a pile of it in the hearth, along with a couple of dead birds and Dylan looked as if he had done a shift down the pit.
‘That should do it,’ he said, eventually removing the brush. ‘I’ll get us a fire going now.’
Within an hour, Griffen had made the repairs to the roof and was working on the door and with a bright fire now blazing in the hearth things didn’t look quite so bad. With the first bucket of water, Grace gave the windows a thorough wash and was heartened to see the light stream in. The windows were actually quite nice, with small leaded panes and Grace tried to imagine what they would look like with pretty curtains hanging at them. The afternoon was drawing in by then so Griffen and Dylan carried the rest of their things in from the cart.
‘I ought to be getting the horse and cart back now,’ Griffen told them. ‘Unless there’s anything else you need me to do afore I go?’
Grace smiled at him. ‘You’ve already done more than enough. Thank you for your help.’
He blushed and hurried away.
Aiden was snuffling by then and Grace had to stop what she was doing to feed him, while Dylan manhandled what furniture they had into the rooms. As soon as Aiden was settled again, Grace started on the floor. She swept out all the leaves then mopped it thoroughly twice over until she began to see the colour of the flagstones. She then warmed up some of the cawl that Bronwen had sent them in a large pot on the fire while Dylan went to buy a jug of goat’s milk from Mrs Gower. They sat on the mismatched chairs at the kitchen table to eat it, listening to the wind howling outside.
‘At least we’re warm and cosy in here,’ Dylan said, grinning. Grace could only nod. In actual fact, it didn’t look quite so bad now and she silently prayed that they would be happy here and that she would be able to turn it into a home. She also hoped that now that they had a place of their own Dylan might begin to show Aiden a little more attention. Only time would tell.
Chapter Forty
For the first month after they had moved into the cottage, Grace spent every single day scru
bbing and cleaning. When he wasn’t out fishing, Dylan tackled the outside. He scythed down all the overgrown grass and weeds and made a start on digging the garden ready for planting in the spring, and very slowly, between them, the tiny home was transformed.
‘I have to admit you’ve done wonders with the place,’ Gertie commented when she came to visit one cold and blustery November day. The last of the leaves that were left on the trees were clinging to the branches while the ones that had already fallen flew about in the wind like confetti in colours ranging from russet to gold.
Grace smiled as her eyes followed her aunt’s to the pretty curtains that now framed the tiny windows. With the left-over fabric, she had made cushions for the chairs, and the week before Dylan had arrived home with a horsehair sofa that he’d bought for a snip, which now stood before the fire. The black-lead grate gleamed as did the copper pans that hung above it and the floor was so clean Gertie declared she was sure she could have eaten her dinner off it. The rest of the cottage was just as spruce. Grace had scrubbed the floorboards in each room until they were almost white, and warm blankets covered the old brass bed, which now shone. The wardrobe had also been polished to a high shine and had proved to be very useful indeed, and the curtains, which Grace had sat up night after night laboriously stitching, shut out the cold night.
Despite her initial reservations, Grace had enjoyed doing it. She found that while she was kept busy cleaning and caring for Aiden she didn’t have so much time to think of Luke, although whenever he did flash into her mind the hurt still cut deep. Thankfully, Dylan still hadn’t demanded his rights but Grace knew that it couldn’t be put off for ever, especially now she could no longer use the excuse that his mother and father were only feet away from them. On the days when he went to sea he’d taken to coming home late, often the worse for drink, which she had never known him to do before. She always tried to be in bed feigning sleep when this happened, although most times he never even made it up the stairs. He would stagger in and fall asleep on the sofa in front of the dying fire.
Now Gertie brought her thoughts back to the present when she told her, ‘I spoke to Mrs Batley on the phone the other day. She’s enjoying her retirement and asked me to give you her love. Oh, and she said to tell you that Mabel and Harry are now expecting their first child. They’re over the moon about, it so she says.’
‘How lovely!’ Grace was thrilled for them.
‘Do you ever feel a bit isolated here?’ Aunt Gertie asked then.
After thinking about it for a moment, Grace shrugged. ‘Not really, although I thought I would when I first saw it. It’s no more isolated than Beehive Cottage. There’s always Mrs Gower about in her cottage and she’s actually quite nice when you get to know her. A bit eccentric, perhaps, but harmless.’
‘Hmm.’ Aunt Gertie took a sip of her tea as she stared at Grace over the rim of her cup. She seemed to have taken to motherhood like a duck to water and it was clear to see that Aiden was thriving. He was a plump, happy baby who smiled the instant you looked at him and Grace adored him. If truth be told she was never happier than when it was just her and the baby alone in the cottage. Yet for all that, Gertie suspected that Grace wasn’t truly happy and if the rumours that were flying about were anything to go by, she wasn’t surprised. She’d heard via Aled that Dylan was now a frequent visitor to the inn in the town. Tact had never been Gertie’s strong point, so she suddenly blurted out, ‘Aled mentioned that he saw Dylan coming out of the inn in town one night last week and he looked like he’d had more than enough to drink. Is everything all right?’
‘Of course it is,’ Grace said defensively as colour burned into her cheeks. ‘He’s entitled to enjoy a beer when he’s been at sea all day, isn’t he!’ Then, instantly repentant, she muttered, ‘Oh sorry, Aunt Gertie. I didn’t mean to snap your head off.’
Gertie airily waved her apology aside. ‘You don’t have to say sorry to me … But you know, Grace, you shouldn’t spend your life wondering about what might have been if Aiden’s father had stood … Oh, just forget I said anything. You know my mouth is always running away with me. Of course you’re all right. But just remember, if ever you should need me …’
‘I know, and I appreciate it.’ Grace sighed as she stared down at Aiden who was fast asleep in his crib with his thumb in his mouth. He looked nothing at all like her and certainly nothing like Dylan, which she sensed was the problem. Every time Dylan looked at him he must wonder who the baby’s father was. His eyes were still a startling deep blue, and his hair, now that it was growing, was so fair that it was striking. Bronwen had commented on it yet again only the day before when she’d visited.
‘I can’t recall any of my family ever having hair that colour, or Griffen’s for that matter.’ There had been a questioning look on her face and Grace had known that she was still deeply suspicious as to the paternity of the child but she would rather have died than enlighten her. She knew Aunt Gertie was curious too, but she remained tight-lipped.
That evening, as always, she had Dylan’s meal ready shortly before it got dark. The fishermen worked shorter hours in the autumn and winter, but by seven o’clock he still hadn’t appeared so she placed the meal over a saucepan of boiling water on the stove to keep it hot for him.
At ten o’clock there was still no sign of him. The meal was ruined by then so she threw it away and placed a crusty loaf of fresh-baked bread and a block of cheese on the table. He would have to help himself when he got in. She felt far too tired to wait up for him. Leaving the oil lamp burning on the table she took herself off to bed by the light of a candle. Aiden was already fast asleep and soon she was too.
A large thud and a muttered curse downstairs startled her awake. It sounded like someone slamming the back door. The candle had burned down and she had no idea what time it was. Grabbing her robe, she slipped it on, grateful that Aiden was still fast asleep, then she crept to the top of the stairs and peered down them. Dylan had flung himself onto one of the fireside chairs so she quietly made her way down, her bare feet making no sound on the wooden stairs.
‘I left you some food on the table. Your dinner dried up and I had to throw it away,’ she told him testily. He turned bloodshot eyes towards her and grinned.
‘Never mind about me dinner. Come over here and give your husband a kissh.’
Grace stared at him in dismay. He was clearly very drunk as he staggered up from the chair and came towards her with his arms outstretched.
‘I think the best place for you is bed. You need to sleep it off,’ she scolded him but he grabbed her around the waist. The smell of ale on his breath made her gag and she tried to push him away. In the tussle one of the kitchen chairs overturned and hit the floor with a clatter and Grace began to panic.
‘Stop it now, Dylan! You don’t know what you’re doing!’ She had never seen him this bad before.
‘Ah, but I do.’ He raised his hand and tweaked one of her breasts painfully. ‘I’m doin’ what I should have done a long time ago. Ashertin’ me rights as your husband!’
‘No … not like this!’ Her head wagged from side to side. ‘At least come upstairs to bed.’ She’d always known this day must come but had never imagined it would be like this. But Dylan didn’t seem to hear her.
‘I don’t wanna go upstairs in that room with the little bastard!’
‘Dylan! How could you say such a thing!’ There were tears in her eyes now as she renewed her efforts to push him away, but suddenly he tripped her and she fell in a heap on the cold flagged floor.
He was on her in a second and grabbing the frilled neckline of her nightgown he yanked on it and it tore to the waist, exposing her bare breasts.
What followed was a nightmare. Dylan fastened his mouth around her nipple and bit cruelly and she shrieked with pain.
‘Hmm, you don’t complain when him upstairs is fastened to it, do you?’ he sneered as his hands raked up and down her bare thighs.
She struggled frantically as her worst
fears were realised. Dylan resented her son although he had promised that he would bring him up as his own.
‘Please, Dylan … not like this,’ she sobbed, but he was panting now and she gasped with pain as he suddenly thrust his finger into her. It had been nothing like this with Luke. He had been gentle and tender but Dylan was behaving like an animal. Then suddenly she felt him struggling with the buttons on his trousers. She was powerless to stop him, for he had all his weight on her, then he thrust into her and she screamed as pain tore through her, but Dylan was oblivious to anything but satisfying himself. Upstairs Aiden began to cry. She tried to push Dylan off her but he brought his hand back and gave her a blow across the cheek.
‘Lie still, you bloody little whore!’ he grunted. ‘I bet you didn’t object to the fly-blow’s father doin’ it to you.’
All she could do was lie there as he bucked and grunted, and pray it would be over soon. She wished that she could just curl up and die as pain and humiliation washed through her. This wasn’t the man she had agreed to marry; the man who had always shown such kindness and gentleness to her. She didn’t even recognise him anymore and wondered how she was going to live with what he had done to her. She could feel blood trickling down her chin from a split in her lip and her eye was already closing. It seemed to go on and on as Aiden’s cries rang in her ears but at last he let out a shuddering gasp and flopped on top of her. She lay motionless, afraid that if she moved he might do it again. A few minutes later, she was relieved to hear his breathing become regular and he began to snore loudly. He was fast asleep! Very, very gingerly she rolled him off her and staggered to her feet, then pulling her ruined nightgown about her bare breasts she raced upstairs to see to Aiden.
At some stage during that long night she managed to fall asleep with the baby clutched in her arms. She woke at first light, fed and changed her little son then, when he was happily settled in his crib and fast asleep again, she ventured back downstairs.
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