‘Oh, good God above, what have I done?’ he groaned as he dragged himself out of the chair and lurched towards her.
Grace initially shrank away from him, but when she saw that he meant her no more harm, for now at least, she allowed him to help her to her feet.
‘Sh-shall I fetch Mrs Gower?’ Aiden whimpered his eyes never leaving his mother’s face.
‘No!’ Dylan and Grace said together and the child watched as Dylan helped Grace to the nearest chair. One of her eyes was completely closed and both of them were black with bruises. Blood from her split lip had stained the front of her nightgown and when she opened her mouth she spat out a tooth.
Dylan looked truly repentant as he saw what he had done. ‘I’ll fetch a bowl with some water and a cloth in it,’ he told her but Grace shook her head.
‘N-no, you just get yourself off to work, I can clean myself up,’ she told him weakly.
He shook his head. ‘I’ll have missed the tide be now anyway. Please let me help you.’
When he returned with the bowl he began to gently wash her wounds.
Once she raised her hand to stop him and pain lanced through her again. ‘I … I think one of my ribs is broken,’ she muttered and he bowed his head in shame.
‘I’m so, so sorry.’ In that moment, she almost believed he was … until the next time. There was always a next time with Dylan and sometimes she wondered where the kindly man she had married had gone to.
‘You’ll have to help me bind my chest,’ she gasped. ‘Tear up one of my petticoats into strips and bind it as tightly as you can, otherwise I won’t be able move about.’ Every breath was painful but Grace was determined to appear as normal as she could for Aiden’s sake. And then the child shocked them and both heads turned towards him as he suddenly said to Dylan, ‘I hate you! You’re naughty, Dada. Go away!’
Grace hardly dared to breathe. She was in no state to protect him if Dylan were to turn on the boy now.
The silence lay thick between them as Dylan stared back at the lad and then in a shaky voice he told them, ‘Well, happen you’re about to get your wish, boyo, cos while I was drunk late yesterday me an’ some o’ the other lads off the boats went an’ signed up for the army. I’m going to war!’
Chapter Forty-Four
Two weeks later, as Aiden hid behind her skirts on the doorstep, Grace asked, ‘Are you sure you have everything you need?’
Clutching the small bag she had packed for him, Dylan shrugged. ‘I dare say I won’t need much. They’ll be issuing us with uniforms when I get to the training camp.’
They stared awkwardly at each other. There was so much he wanted to say but the words seemed to lodge in his throat.
‘Well, take care and be sure to write.’ Like her husband, Grace was struggling for words.
‘We were told we’d get a few days’ leave when the training is over, but happen I’ll just let them move me on to wherever it is they’re sending me.’
When Grace didn’t argue, he bowed his head in shame. Only now did he realise what a terrible fool he had been, and all because he had loved her so much that he hadn’t been able to bear thinking of her giving birth to another man’s child. But it was too late to do anything about it now. Worse still, he must leave knowing that she would have no wages coming in for a time until his army pay kicked in. Her broken ribs were slightly easier now and the swellings on her face had gone down, but she still was in no fit state to collect the washing that usually brought in a few extra pennies each week.
‘Are you sure you’ll manage, cariad?’ he asked as his conscience stabbed at him.
She nodded. ‘We’ll be all right. We have eggs from the chickens and milk, and there’s enough vegetables and fruit in the garden to see us fed for a while till I’m ready to work again.’
He nodded. ‘Right then, I’d best be off.’ He leaned towards her hoping for one last kiss but she turned her cheek. He didn’t blame her really, he’d been a real bastard.
His eyes dropped to Aiden then as he swung his bag onto his shoulder. ‘See you, boyo. Take good care of your mam, now.’
Aiden stared up at him with frightened eyes, and with a huge lump in his throat, Dylan turned and walked away, tears blinding him.
He turned just once at the end of the lane to see Grace and Aiden still standing there and he raised his hand. She waved back and then he was gone and she suddenly felt guilty. She knew that she should be feeling upset. After all, her husband was going to fight for his king and country and could very well be killed and never come back, and yet all she could feel was relief. Admittedly the first few weeks were going to be difficult until she was healed enough to earn again but at least she wouldn’t have to live in fear of what state Dylan would be in when he came home each night now. Thankfully, what had remained of her inheritance had bought the cottage outright so she didn’t have to worry about paying rent and as she’d said, the garden was well stocked so no doubt she and Aiden would muddle through. She had briefly considered moving back to Nuneaton. Mrs Batley and Mabel still wrote to her regularly and she knew that one or either of them would have taken her and Aiden in. Alternatively, she knew that she could go back to Beehive Cottage. But pride forbade her from doing that. She had made her bed and now she must lie in it.
‘Right then, how about we go and milk Nanny and then you can have a nice cool drink?’ she suggested. Aiden smiled up at her. As always, now that his father was gone he was like a different child.
‘I’ll go and see if the chickens have laid any eggs an’ all, shall I, Mammy?’ As he skipped away, she smiled and leaned heavily against the door post. It still hurt to breathe and although the swelling on her face had gone down a little, it was a kaleidoscope of colours and her split lip kept reopening every time she smiled.
‘You do that, sweetheart,’ she murmured. ‘The basket is in the pantry. Mind you don’t break any, though!’
Mrs Gower appeared at the back door later that afternoon to ask, ‘Get off all right, did he?’
Grace smiled. It was funny to think that when she’d first moved there she’d been slightly afraid of the old woman and yet now she found she enjoyed her company.
‘Yes, he did.’
‘Good, then let’s have a look at that chest o’ yours. I’ve got summat here as you can rub on it that should ease the pain an’ then I’ll bind it again for you. I reckon you could have a couple o’ cracked ribs there!’
Grace knew better than to argue and nodded as she painfully began to remove her worn cotton work blouse, which had been washed and repaired so many times that it was almost see through. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had something new to wear and when she thought back to the expensive London clothes her father had always insisted she wore, it seemed like a lifetime ago.
She sat patiently as the woman applied a salve to her bruises, failing to see the look on her face. Mrs Gower was fuming to see what he’d done to her. As far as she was concerned, she was glad he’d gone. He’d probably have killed the poor lass if he’d stayed, but as usual she didn’t comment.
Once she was done she bound Grace’s chest tightly again, saying shortly, ‘There, that should give you a little relief when it starts to work. Oh, an’ by the way, I’ve got a chicken round home you can do for you and the lad’s dinner. I had a couple that had stopped laying so I wrung their necks earlier on.’
Feeling embarrassed, Grace frowned. ‘It’s very kind of you but really we—’
Mrs Gower held her hand up. ‘I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll never eat two on me own now, will I? You’ll be doin’ me a favour if you take it off me hands.’
‘In that case, thank you very much,’ Grace muttered. It would be the first meat they’d had for over a week and even after making a roast dinner for them there’d be enough left over to do a stew that would last them for at least another couple of days if she used some of the vegetables from the garden.
It was another three weeks before Grace was well e
nough to wheel the handcart into town to collect the dirty washing but she was sadly disappointed when many of her customers told her she was no longer needed. Most of their sons or husbands had gone away to war and already people were tightening their belts and cutting down on their outgoings wherever they could.
‘I’ve got to do something to bring some money in,’ she mused to her Aunt Gertie when she called in later that afternoon.
Gertie nodded. ‘Well, I don’t know what truth there is in it but I heard when I was at market that the nuns are preparing to turn the convent into a nursing home for injured soldiers for the duration of the war.’
Grace raised an eyebrow. ‘But how would that help me? I’m not a nurse.’
‘Maybe not, but they’ll need cleaners, won’t they? They’ll also need VADs.’ Seeing Grace’s puzzled look she went on, ‘Voluntary Aid Detachment nurses, they’re not trained but they help out with changing bandages, emptying bedpans and such, leaving the trained nurses to do the more professional stuff.’
‘Hmm, I suppose it’s worth giving it some thought,’ Grace admitted. ‘Although everyone is saying they think it might be over fairly quickly.’ It was hard to believe there was a war on at all, because except for all the local men who had gone away to fight nothing had changed in their part of the world.
‘You do that,’ Gertie urged. ‘You could always drop Aiden off to us, it’s on your way and one of us could easily look after him till your shifts were finished.’
The following morning, the postman brought the first letter from Dylan and Grace settled down at the kitchen table to read it.
Dear Grace,
I just wanted to let you know that I have finished my training. I don’t mind admitting that I’ve found it hard although I always considered myself to be reasonably fit! Me and some of the other chaps are being shipped out to the front next week although no one will tell us exactly where we are going. It’s all very hush-hush although me and the other chaps reckon we’ll be sent to —! (This part of the letter was censored.)
I hadn’t realised just how comfortable you had made the cottage until I saw the barracks I have been living in here. They’re actually tents and while it’s pleasant enough to sleep in them in the summer I’m not so sure it will be in the winter, but who knows where I might be by then. The food leaves a lot to be desired as well, though I suppose I shouldn’t grumble. I hope you are well and managing. As of now you will receive a part of my wages each month, I hope it will be a help. I have been told that if you wish to reply to me you may send the letters to this address and they will be forwarded on to me. I have no idea when I might see you again but until then I remain,
Your loving husband,
Dylan xxx
Grace snorted. Loving husband, indeed! And even now he hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask after Aiden and it hurt. She hadn’t missed him at all, and already there was a marked difference in Aiden. The nervous tic in his eye had disappeared and he seemed happier and more content. Even so, Dylan was her husband so she supposed she should reply to him. She felt guilty because she had never been able to love him as she should, so in fairness she couldn’t lay all the blame on his shoulders. With a sigh, she set the letter aside. She would reply to it later.
Over the next few weeks, Grace walked into town at least twice a week to buy a newspaper so that she could follow the progress of the war. She’d heard no more from Dylan so she could only assume that he had been posted abroad somewhere. On one particularly busy market day, for the first time in ages, she came face to face with Bronwen and their meeting wasn’t pleasant.
Grace usually went to market late in the afternoon. There were bargains to be had then when the stallholders were about to pack up and she usually managed to buy some cheap cuts of meat if she timed it right. She was just paying for a piece of brisket when a voice right behind her made her jump and whirling about she came face to face with her mother-in-law.
‘It’s a wonder you’ve the nerve to show your face round here,’ Bronwen ground out. ‘It’s because of you my son is away fighting. Have you read in the papers what the men out there are having to endure? Filthy trenches and rats squirming about their feet!’
‘Bronwen, I had nothing to do with it,’ Grace said reasonably. ‘Dylan and some of his friends joined up when they’d had too much to drink one day and once it was done there was no going back.’
‘Huh! Is that what he told you,’ the woman sneered. ‘Well, I know different. He went to get away from you and your whoring ways and that bastard he’s had to keep for all this time!’
Grace blushed crimson. People were stopping to stare and she just wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Turning back to the stallholder, who was watching open-mouthed, she hastily paid him, dropping some coins in the process in her embarrassment. It seemed pointless trying to speak to Bronwen, she was clearly in no mood to be reasonable so she was keen to get away as quickly as possible. She had left Aiden with Mrs Gower, and she was relieved that he hadn’t been here to hear it. The poor little soul had suffered enough at the hands of this woman’s son.
After hastily stuffing her purchase into her deep wicker basket, she began to hurry away but Bronwen’s raised voice followed her, ‘That’s it, walk away, you little slut. Got customers waitin’ back at home for you, have you?’
Grace’s cheeks were burning as she mustered what dignity she could and sped away and she didn’t slow her steps till the town was far behind her. Only then did she stop to lean heavily against the trunk of a tree and allow the tears to spill down her cheeks. Even with Dylan away it seemed that there was to be no peace for her and she wondered where it would end.
Chapter Forty-Five
As autumn approached, the newspapers reported that the British Expeditionary Force had been forced to abandon their position in Mons and retreat with the French to the Somme, where they hoped to halt the German advance on Paris. As had been rumoured, the convent had been adapted to care for the injured and now the first casualties began to arrive.
Life still went on much the same for Grace, although the days were turning colder now and she had to spend more time in the woods each day collecting fallen branches that she could chop into firewood to keep the cottage warm. She spent her days collecting the remaining fruit from the apple and pear trees in the garden and making enough jam to hopefully last them through the winter. She also pickled whatever vegetables she could and made sure that she had a good supply of flour in, reasoning that she would always have enough to bake their own bread. Even so it was getting harder to make ends meet now that the food supply in the garden wasn’t so plentiful, so one day when Aunt Gertie was paying her weekly visit she asked, ‘Would you mind very much taking care of Aiden for an hour or so tomorrow for me? I’m going up to the convent to see if there are any jobs going and I could drop him in on the way.’
‘It’d be no trouble at all,’ Aunt Gertie assured her. Grace was very proud and had declined all her offers of help up to now so she was pleased that Grace was looking ahead. If what people were saying were true, certain things would become harder to get before very much longer now that the boats were no longer bringing in so many supplies from abroad.
And so, the next morning bright and early, Grace and Aiden set off. She dropped him off at Beehive Cottage where she knew he would be spoiled shamelessly by Cerys Llewelyn and began the long trek up the hillside. As she passed beneath the canopy of trees she was reminded of all the times she had walked that way during her time as a postulant and she felt sad. She had been so sure of what she wanted when she had first arrived in the convent. But all that had changed when she met Father Luke and now she wasn’t even sure if she believed in God anymore. If there truly was a God how could he allow such awful things in the world to happen? She was breathless by the time she emerged from the trees and she stood for a moment in silent contemplation, staring at the convent. It looked much the same as it always had apart from the fact that there were a number of
military vehicles parked outside the front doors, which she assumed were ambulances.
Eventually she took a deep breath, patted her hair into place and moved on. After approaching the front doors, she came upon a scene of organised chaos. Men on stretchers lay on the floor as nuns and nurses milled around sorting out what wards they should be admitted to. She stood back not wishing to disturb them and eventually when all the injured had been whisked away she cautiously approached the Reverend Mother’s door and nervously tapped on it.
‘Come in,’ a voice she remembered so well commanded and when Grace entered a smile spread across the older woman’s face.
‘Why, Grace, my dear girl. How lovely it is to see you.’ The nun rose, coming round her desk and taking Grace’s hands in hers. ‘But how may I help you?’
‘Actually, I was rather hoping that I might be able to help you,’ Grace said, returning her smile. ‘I was wondering if you’re in need of cleaners or VADs to help with the patients?’
‘As it so happens we are in urgent need of both.’ The smile slid from the elderly nun’s face and she shook her head sadly.
‘The wounded are just trickling through to us but I fear before long we will be packed to the rafters so we will need all the help we can get. Come, I will show you around.’
As they moved from room to room around the convent, Grace reflected that although it appeared the same from the outside it was vastly changed inside. The dining room now had two rows of neatly made beds down either side of it, as had most of the other rooms. In fact, the only places that seemed to have remained the same were the kitchens, the Reverend Mother’s office and the chapel. As they walked round, the patients were efficiently being lifted from the stretchers into the prepared beds by nurses in starched white caps and cuffs.
‘So,’ the Reverend Mother said when they’d finished their tour. ‘Do you still think this is something you might like to do, Grace? I should warn you, the hours will be long and tedious and you will see some horrific sights. We already have men here who have lost limbs, others are suffering with horrific burns to name but a few of the injuries. I’m afraid it isn’t a job for the faint-hearted. If you join us as a voluntary nurse, part of your job would entail emptying bed pans – not the nicest of jobs – and also administering bed baths to the men.’
A Mother's Grace Page 35