A Mother's Grace

by Rosie Goodwin

  ‘Eeh, I don’t know if that hill is getting steeper or it’s me getting older,’ the woman breathed as she dropped onto a kitchen chair. ‘And it’s hot as hell out there, I tell you!’ Taking a large white handkerchief from her pocket she mopped her sweating brow as Grace grinned.

  ‘Well, you timed it right. I’ve just made a pot of tea. Or would you rather have a cold drink?’

  ‘Tea will be fine,’ her mother-in-law informed her, then glancing around she asked, ‘The little ’un in bed, is he?’

  ‘No, he’s playing out in the garden.’ Grace’s smile froze as she saw Bronwen frown and she suddenly realised that she couldn’t hear him.

  ‘I didn’t see him,’ Bronwen commented but her words fell on deaf ears. Grace was already racing towards the open door. A glance at the empty lawn proved her visitor to be right. Grace’s heart sank and she felt as if she’d had all the breath sucked out of her.

  ‘B-but he was here just minutes ago,’ she gasped as panic set in.

  ‘In that case, he can’t have gone far, now calm yourself down. It’s no good for the baby getting yourself all worked up.’ Bronwen had come to stand behind her. ‘You just stay where you are,’ she advised, ‘and I’ll go and look for him.’

  But Grace was already heading into the garden, her feet barely touching the ground as her head swung from side to side for a sight of her tiny son. ‘He … he can’t have been gone for more than five minutes, ten at most.’ She was crying now and the commotion brought old lady Gower out of her cottage to see what was going on.

  ‘So what’s to do then?’ She raised a questioning eyebrow at Bronwen. She could see at a glance that she’d get no sense out of Grace.

  ‘Aiden’s gone missing,’ Bronwen informed her worriedly.

  ‘Right then, we’d best go and find him. You go on up the lane’ – she gestured to Bronwen – ‘I’ll walk down towards the village, an’ you, Grace, you go and see if he’s headed for the trees at the back of us.’

  In her mind’s eye Grace was picturing the large pond that stood in front of the trees. If he’d managed to make it there … Then lifting her faded serge skirt, she was off like a hare, regardless of her swollen stomach.

  ‘Aiden! Aiden! Are you there?’ As she ran she called and called repeatedly but there was no answer and not a sign of him. Eventually she came to the edge of the pool where she paused to press her hand into her side and catch her breath. Her heart was hammering and she felt sick but the surface of the pool was as calm as a millpond.

  What if he’s fallen in and the weeds have pulled him under? she wondered. And without stopping to think, she splashed into the water and began to feel about frantically beneath the surface. Very soon only her chin was above the water level and she knew that she could go no deeper. Sobbing, she turned about and painstakingly waded back towards the bank as Bronwen suddenly appeared.

  ‘Whatever are you doing?’ she scolded as she reached down to help Grace up the slippery bank. ‘Aiden is safe and sound back at home. He’d not gone far along the lane. Mrs Gower found him. But come out of there now. Getting yourself into such a state is no good for neither you nor the baby.’

  Crying with relief, Grace dropped onto the grass, her clothes clinging wetly to her and her hair hanging in rats’ tails. The pain in her side was getting worse but she didn’t care now that she knew that Aiden was all right.

  Dylan’s mother tutted. ‘Just look at the state of you. Let’s get you back home and into some dry clothes.’ She helped Grace to her feet and Grace leaned on her as they made their slow way back to the cottage. Grace felt strangely light-headed and they were almost halfway back when suddenly she doubled over.

  ‘Oh no,’ she panted. ‘I think the baby’s coming and it’s too soon.’

  Bronwen looked horrified. ‘Now see what you’ve done haring off like that,’ she snapped. ‘But if the baby is on its way we’re lucky we have old lady Gower to hand. Come on, there’s no time to lose, we need to get you home.’

  They limped on and when the cottage came into sight, Grace heaved a sigh of relief to see Aiden sitting on Mrs Gower’s lap on a chair outside the kitchen door.

  ‘Help me get her inside,’ Bronwen shouted. ‘I think the baby is on its way.’

  Mrs Gower lifted Aiden to the ground then hobbled towards them and took Grace’s other arm.

  ‘We’ll get her straight upstairs where I can have a look at her,’ she ordered.

  Somehow, between them, they managed to manoeuvre her up the steep, narrow staircase.

  ‘Right, firstly we’ll get you into a clean nightgown and out of those wet clothes,’ the old lady told Grace. ‘And you’ – she nodded towards Bronwen – ‘go and watch the young feller me lad. We don’t want him wanderin’ off again.’

  Grace bit down on her lip as another pain tore through her. Mrs Gower meantime was busily stripping the wet clothes from her and rubbing her hair with a piece of huckaback that was folded on the end of the bed.

  ‘It … it’s too soon for the baby to come yet. I still have another six or seven weeks to go,’ Grace groaned. Her teeth were chattering and she felt sick from all the pond water she had swallowed.

  ‘You should ’ave thought of that afore you went throwing yourself into that dirty pond,’ Mrs Gower grumbled as she slipped a clean nightgown over her shivering frame. ‘Everyone knows that water is stagnant. God alone knows what germs are lurking in there.’

  With a strength that belied her small frame she swung Grace’s legs up onto the bed and Grace flopped back against the pillows like a rag doll.

  ‘Now then, let’s see what’s going on with this baby!’ Mrs Gower rolled her grimy sleeves up and without ceremony hoisted Grace’s nightgown up above her waist and bent to examine her.

  ‘Hmm!’ She clucked as she shook her head. ‘I’m afraid this little ’un is well an’ truly on its way now.’

  ‘No … please, you mustn’t let it come yet,’ Grace fretted as her head swung from side to side. ‘Dylan is so looking forward to this baby … if anything should go wrong now …’

  Mrs Gower could only shake her head as she turned to go and fetch hot water and towels. ‘I’m afraid it’s all in God’s hands now,’ she muttered as she disappeared through the door but Grace was in the grip of another contraction and didn’t even hear her.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  It was almost dark when Dylan came whistling merrily up the lane that night. He and his father had had a good day fishing and the money he’d made from his catch was nestling in his pocket. It was only when he reached the little picket fence that surrounded the cottage that he noticed there were lights shining from every window. That’s odd, he thought. Grace was usually very frugal with the oil for the lamps. The second he entered the kitchen he saw his mother sitting at the table and he frowned.

  ‘What’s this then?’ he queried. His mother rarely ventured out of an evening, even to visit him and Grace.

  She nodded towards the ceiling. ‘It’s Grace. The baby is coming.’

  He frowned. ‘But it’s too soon, surely?’

  She nodded in agreement. ‘Aye, it is, but there were a bit of bother early on. Aiden went wandering off so she went looking for him and ended up in the pool beyond the trees. She thought he might have fallen in.’

  ‘But that pool is filthy,’ he exclaimed. ‘You used to tell me an’ Myfanwy that you’d skelp our backsides if ever you found out we’d even been near it.’

  ‘So I did,’ she agreed. ‘But Grace was panicking. Anyway, the long and the short of it is the shock brought on early labour. Mrs Gower is up there with her now. I thought she’d have had it be now but she ain’t having an easy time of it apparently.’

  Dylan scowled as he began to pace up and down before asking, ‘And Aiden?’

  ‘Right as ninepence, he’d wandered off down the lane. He’s fast asleep in the other room now. I took his cot through there so as Grace wouldn’t disturb him.’

  He ground his teeth togeth
er as he pushed his hand through his thick hair. At that moment Mrs Gower clattered down the stairs and when she saw Dylan she looked relieved.

  ‘Ah, you’re back then – good! Now get yourself into town quick as you know how, boyo, an’ tell the doctor he’s needed here.’

  Dylan looked worried. ‘Is something wrong?’

  Evading the question, she answered, ‘Let’s just say this little ’un should have been here by now. But don’t waste any more time standing there, get yourself away!’

  Dylan sprang towards the door sensing that something was seriously amiss.

  ‘Oh, and call in and tell your dad I’ll be staying here tonight else he’ll be worrying,’ Bronwen called after him.

  As he disappeared off down the lane, Mrs Gower wearily made her way back upstairs to Grace. It had been a long day and there was still no sign the birth was in sight as yet.

  It was almost an hour later when Dylan and the doctor returned and wasting no time the doctor went straight upstairs to Grace leaving the father-to-be to pace the floor. Soon it was deepest night and Dylan and Bronwen began to think the baby was never going to put in an appearance, but then suddenly the sound of a newborn baby’s cry echoed down the stairs and Dylan sprang to his feet with a joyous smile on his face.

  ‘It’s here … the baby’s here!’ He shouted as he caught his mother about the waist and danced her around the room. ‘I’m a father!’

  Bronwen stared at him with a frown on her brow. ‘What do you mean, son? You already have a son asleep upstairs. You’ve been a father for some time.’

  ‘Oh, er … yes … I know,’ he blustered. ‘What I meant was I’m a father again!’

  The little seed of doubt that had always been in the back of Bronwen’s mind about Aiden’s paternity was growing again. She had always wondered why Grace had wanted the child’s middle name to be Luc but this wasn’t the time to address it so she merely nodded as they stared upwards waiting for Mrs Gower to come and inform them whether the child was a boy or a girl.

  Thankfully they didn’t have long to wait. Shortly after, the old woman appeared with a tiny bundle wrapped in a towel in her arms.

  ‘Here you are then.’ She held the baby out to Dylan who took it with a rapturous expression on his face. ‘You have a little daughter, but I should warn you, she’s very tiny.’

  Dylan didn’t seem to hear her, he was too intent on studying the tiny miracle in his arms.

  It was his mother who asked, ‘And how is Grace?’

  Lowering her voice Mrs Gower told her, ‘Not good. She had a bad time of it an’ she’s feverish and delirious now. Will you be staying to see to her and the babe?’

  Bronwen nodded as Mrs Gower stifled a yawn with the back of her hand.

  ‘Good, then I’m away to me bed. I’m getting too old for all of this.’ And with that she took her leave.

  ‘Eeh, just look at her, Mam, she’s right bonny.’ Dylan was smiling from ear to ear as Bronwen went to meet her new granddaughter. She was indeed a tiny little thing and she looked so weak that the first sight of her filled Bronwen with foreboding. How could anything so tiny survive? she wondered. She didn’t express her concerns to Dylan, though.

  Instead she said, ‘Right then, we’d best get the child bathed and fed, eh?’

  After fetching the tin bowl from the sink, she filled it with warm water from the kettle and washed and dried the infant. She had very little hair but already it was obvious that when it grew she was going to be dark like her father. The clothes they had laid ready swamped her but once she was clean and wrapped in a warm shawl that Bronwen had knitted, she handed her back to her doting father and fetched some goat’s milk to warm on the range. The doctor was still upstairs with Grace and if what Mrs Gower had said was right then it was doubtful that Grace would be up to feeding her that night. Instead, Bronwen attempted to drip the warm milk into the baby’s mouth, although most of it dribbled down her chin.

  ‘Shouldn’t she be hungry?’ Dylan asked anxiously.

  ‘Don’t forget she’s only just been born. No doubt she will be in a few hours’ time.’ She smiled at him reassuringly although she was deeply concerned.

  Sometime later the doctor came down the stairs with a grave expression on his face. ‘I’m afraid your wife is very ill,’ he told Dylan, who was still cradling the baby in his arms. ‘She seems to have developed a fever. No doubt caused by swallowing some of that filthy water in the pond. You’ll need to watch her closely throughout the night and I shall call in tomorrow to see how she is.’

  He then beckoned Bronwen towards the door and once out of earshot of her son he told her in a hushed voice, ‘I’m concerned about the baby too. She’s very small and weak. Keep her warm and try to get some milk into her.’

  ‘Do you think she’ll survive, doctor?’

  He frowned. ‘To be honest, I wouldn’t like to say at the moment. It could go either way for both mother and baby but rest assured I shall do all I can. Now, I’ll wish you goodnight.’

  Bronwen paid him his fee from the tin tea caddy on the mantelpiece, thanked him profusely and quietly closed the door behind him. With a very heavy heart she hurried away upstairs to check on Grace. Shortly after, Dylan joined her and bending to his wife he took her hand and whispered, ‘We have a lovely little lass, Grace? Can you hear me?’

  But Grace was beyond hearing as she lay with beads of sweat on her brow, muttering unintelligibly.

  ‘You go down and keep an eye on the baby,’ his mother ordered as she took a damp cloth from the bowl of cool water at the side of the bed. She proceeded to mop Grace’s brow. ‘I’m going to stay up here and try to get this fever down. Call me if the baby cries and I’ll come down and try again to get some milk into her.’

  Dylan nodded and after glancing worriedly at his wife he went to do as he was told. He had been gone no more than a few minutes when Grace’s head started to thrash from side to side on the pillow.

  ‘L -Lu …’ she mumbled.

  Bronwen leaned closer. ‘What’s that you’re trying to say, pet?’

  ‘L-Luk …’

  Bronwen frowned. What was Grace saying – look, luk …? And then suddenly it came to her, the girl was crying for someone called Luke! Could it be that this Luke was Aiden’s father? Was that the reason she had wanted Aiden to have his middle name? Bronwen suspected it could be because after seeing the newborn she was fairly sure now that Aiden wasn’t Dylan’s child. Even so, for now she put her suspicions to one side and concentrated on trying to get Grace well again.

  Grace hovered between life and death for the next twenty-four hours but then after Bronwen dripped one of Mrs Gower’s remedies into her mouth, the fever finally broke and she slipped into an exhausted sleep.

  ‘She’ll recover now,’ Mrs Gower said with satisfaction. ‘Though I have me concerns about the baby. Is she still not taking any milk?’

  Bronwen shook her head. ‘Not so much as a drop, though I’ve tried to feed her every hour or so. Our Dylan is beside hisself with worry about her.’

  Mrs Gower took a deep breath. To her mind the baby didn’t stand a chance of surviving although she couldn’t say that, of course. She had fetched Aiden to her house early that morning and kept him there all day to give Bronwen and Dylan time to concentrate on the invalids, and not once had either of them asked after him. She too had wondered from time to time if Aiden were Dylan’s son. He certainly didn’t favour either Grace or Dylan for his looks, and now she was fairly certain that he wasn’t Dylan’s, which would explain his coldness towards Aiden, the poor little mite. He hadn’t asked to be born after all, whoever his father was. On the other hand, Dylan was clearly quite besotted with his new baby daughter and had hardly put her down all day. He’d sat rocking her and cooing over her and had even changed her binders – admittedly, somewhat clumsily, but he’d managed it.

  ‘I’m sure she just smiled at me,’ Dylan told her when she went downstairs and she smiled indulgently.

  ‘It w
ere probably just a bit o’ wind, lad. But has she still taken no milk?’

  Worried again now, he shook his head, his eyes never leaving his daughter’s face. ‘We’ll have to name her when Grace wakes up,’ he told her. ‘But I’m hoping that Grace will agree to Myfanwy after me late sister. She and Grace were best friends when they were little before Myfanwy died.’

  ‘It’s a lovely name,’ old lady Gower muttered before heading back to her own cottage where Aiden was fast asleep. She felt cold inside, for as she’d stared at the sleeping baby she had sensed death close by. She had inherited this sense from her mother, who had always told her that she had ‘the gift’. The old lady sometimes wasn’t sure if it was a gift or a curse, for over the years she had spent many a sleepless night over it. And now she knew with utter certainty that the lovely baby next door was not destined to stay on this earth and no amount of her potions would change it.

  Grace woke up properly the next day and immediately asked to see her baby and Aiden. Dylan carried the child upstairs to her while Bronwen rushed around to fetch Aiden from Mrs Gower’s, where he was happily playing with a tin cooking pan and a wooden spoon on her kitchen floor and making enough noise to waken the dead.

  ‘I … want to hold her,’ Grace croaked when Dylan appeared and he reluctantly handed the child to her. Grace was still incredibly weak and he had to support her as she stared down at her tiny daughter.

  Grace’s eyes filled with tears as love for this helpless little infant flooded through her.

  ‘She … she’s just beautiful,’ she murmured as she stroked the soft skin on her baby’s cheek. ‘But she’s so tiny.’

  ‘Aye, well that’s because you brought her birth on too early by chasing after him!’ Dylan snapped, unable to conceal his anger, but then seeing the tears slide down Grace’s cheeks he softened. ‘Anyway, she’s here now and she’s a little beauty,’ he went on in a gentler tone. ‘I was thinking we should name her and wondered how you’d feel about calling her Myfanwy?’