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4

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Life-changing news

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2 December 1899

Gwenna returned from her second visit to the privy and flopped into Bethan’s armchair. The unmistakable aroma of baking bread was making her feel queasy again, and she put her arm across her forehead to block the light. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Mam. Must be something I ate, but I feel awful sick.”

Bethan wiped floury hands on her apron before pulling up a dining chair. “I’ve a mighty suspicion what ails you, Gwenna, but I was hoping I was wrong. I was hoping you wouldn’t get yourself in this position.”

“What position?” Gwenna, feeling hot, flapped her skirt and undid a button on her blouse.

“You’re expecting, girl. Did you not suspect anything?”

“Expecting!” Gwenna’s head throbbed and she felt faint. “I can’t be.” Disbelief, denial and dread fell over one another as she digested the news.

“I see more than you realise, young woman,” said Bethan. “And aye, you can be, if you’ve been doing what I think you’ve been doing, with that young fella who’s been hanging around. An’ getting Hugh to pass you messages. Poor man. It must break his heart.”

“But ... it’s not ...” Guilt and uncertainty warred with each other in her brain. “How can you be sure?”

“For goodness’ sake, Gwenna. Don’t be so naive. I’ve had five of me own, remember, and I know the signs. I’ve been watching you these last weeks. You’ve filled out a little, and your skin has changed. And I bet your breasts are giving you trouble, too. Nothing much, and no one else would pay any heed. Ask Tillie if you don’t believe me.”

“But ...” Gwenna hesitated, feeling the hot blush rise from her chest and burn her cheeks. Unable to face Bethan, she covered her eyes with her hands. “But ... he said ... ’twould be all right if he didn’t go all the way,” she finished in a rush. Removing her hands from her face, she pleaded with her stepmother. “And we didn’t. Honest, Mam. We didn’t. So how ...?”

“It doesn’t work that way, pet.”

Embarrassed and chastened, Gwenna fell to her knees in front of Bethan, wrapped her arms around her stepmam’s neck and burst into tears. “Oh, what have I done?” she wailed through the sobs. “What’s to become of me?” 

Bethan patted the girl on her back and let her cry. 

In time Gwenna asked, “What should I do?”

“The only thing you can do, Gwenna, bach.”

* * *

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Elias didn’t know about the baby – yet – but Gwenna needed a solution before he found out. And she didn’t have long – Bethan reckoned she was six or seven weeks gone. She would start to show soon.

A few mornings later Elias grabbed her as she returned from yet another visit to the privy, pinching the soft part of her underarm as he pulled her inside. His grip tightened and Gwenna winced. “I won’t have you shirking off like this. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how many times you disappear.” He shoved her down the hall in front of him and she lurched into a side table. “Now get to work.”

She didn’t know whether it was the pain in her stomach from hitting the table, the fact she felt so terrible, or sheer worry that caused her to snap, but the tension inside her erupted. “You’ve no right to tell me what to do, Elias Hughes. You do next to nothing these days except shout and bluster and drink yourself to a standstill. I work hard enough and always have done. Now leave me alone.” 

She stormed back to the kitchen and started banging the pots and pans around and slamming cupboard doors as she prepared another batch of sugar. A shudder overtook her as she thought of what she’d done. Elias hadn’t followed her, but that didn’t mean anything. He could still make her pay later for her outburst. Although maybe facing up to him might make him change his behaviour. The idea left her as quickly as it had come. The reason the beatings had decreased in the last few months was because Elias was hung-over more often than not, and had no enthusiasm for anything. If it wasn’t for the work she and Hugh did, the business would have folded. Or rather the work Hugh had done, but he was gone now.

Hugh had left for training camp six weeks earlier, at the end of October. Gwenna had been more than surprised when he volunteered to join the forces going to South Africa to fight a war. The first contingent, with two companies, had left in mid-October, and it seemed no sooner had they gone than Hugh volunteered for the second contingent, due to depart in January. How he got accepted, as he wasn’t a military man, she’d never know, but he was good with horses, so she guessed that was the reason. 

Elias had been furious, but Hugh just stood there listening to the rant, his face impassive. Gwenna hadn’t completely fathomed Hugh’s reasons for leaving either, but his words echoed in her mind long after he’d gone: ‘I can let go now, knowing you’ll be safe with someone else to look out for you.’ 

What did he mean? Let go? But something Johnno had said months ago about Hugh came to mind. She just couldn’t remember what it was. Something about watching her.

Gwenna was still banging pots around when Bethan walked in. 

“My, it’s warm out there. What’s all the noise about, girl?” Bethan removed her bonnet, hung it on the coat rack and patted her hair into place. 

“Nothing!” 

Regretting taking her temper out on Bethan, Gwenna turned to apologise and saw her mam was wearing her going-out dress: a slightly old-fashioned but pretty mid-blue skirt, with navy frills and ruffles at the back over a small bustle, and a matching tapered-front jacket.

“Where have you been?” Surprise registered in Gwenna’s voice.

“Don’t tell Elias. I slipped along to the post office to make sure I was on the register for next week’s election.”

“Wouldn’t you still be on their list from ’93?” Gwenna was confused. Women had been granted the right to vote in time for the 1893 election, with very little fuss. It had been a momentous decision and New Zealand had been the world leader. She’d read about the suffragette troubles overseas and assumed every woman here would have rushed to sign up.

Bethan shook her head. “I wasn’t on the list. I didn’t vote ...”

“You didn’t?” interrupted Gwenna shocked by the missed opportunity. “Why ever not? I would have.”

“I don’t know. Life was busy – remember, we’d not been here long, not even two years at the time – and we didn’t know much about the way the country worked. Your father always talked to me about what he knew of politics and his thoughts on the matter. It just didn’t seem necessary at the time, since I agreed with him. It does now.” 

“What about last time then, in ’96?” Gwenna wished she was twenty-one and could vote. “You must have voted last time.” She couldn’t wait to have her say in how the laws affected women.

Bethan shook her head in sadness. “No. Not last time either. Your father was so sick three years ago I couldn’t bear to leave him, even for a little while. You remember, don’t you?”

Gwenna stopped mid-action. Placing both hands on the wooden bench scrubbed almost white, her head fell forward as her eyes filled with the tears she’d been fighting since her run-in with Elias. She remembered only too well how sick her father had been. They’d expected – hoped – the summer would help him get better, and although his coughing had eased with the warmer weather, nothing had saved him. 

“What is it, child?” Bethan put her arm around Gwenna’s shoulder. “What’s happened?” 

Gwenna shook her head.

“You’ve been ill again. I can tell by the colour of your skin. Has Elias found out?”

Turning her face towards Bethan, she let the tears fall. “No. Not yet. At least, I’m not sure, but I shouted back at him when he turned on me again this morning. I’m sorry, Mam. I hope he doesn’t take it out on you.”

Bethan placed both hands on the girl’s shoulders so she could look directly at her, and smiled. “Listen to me now, our Gwenna. I’m glad you stood up to him. It’s about time. But don’t you go concerning yourself about me. I’m the least of your problems.”

Gwenna nodded in agreement – Elias was proving the biggest stumbling block in her scheme.

“That boy’s so lost in his own worries I doubt he notices my presence, or lack of it. As long as Charlie keeps out of his way, he leaves me alone. It’s you he resents. And you need to start thinking seriously about your own life.”

Gwenna found it such a relief to talk about Johnno and express her worries about marrying him, even if she had little choice. “I do so love him, Mam, and dream of our life together, but ...” Gwenna stopped, unsure how to explain everything.

“Have you spoken to Johnno at all?”

Gwenna shook her head. “Not yet. I’m scared he won’t want me now, not like this.” Gwenna spread her hands over her stomach. “But it’s his father who worries me most. He won’t want me or this child. He hated me even when I was little and he came to pick up the goods. He’d snarl at me in that growling voice of his and push me out of the way. I saw him kick a dog once. You know what he can be like. Rude and surly and mean, and ...”

“I’m sure you’ll win him over. He can’t be all bad,” coaxed her stepmother.

Gwenna wasn’t convinced. Not from the things Johnno said about him. “And of course I worry about you – and Charlie,” she insisted. “How are you going to cope alone? There’s not enough orders coming in as it is. What are you going to do for money?”

Trade had been falling off even before Hugh had left, and Elias had not been able to find a man to replace him. It seemed no one was desperate enough. The sweet-making tasks had fallen on Gwenna’s shoulders, while Elias did the deliveries and managed the accounts in secret. Elias tried to hide how bad things were getting, but Gwenna could tell by the quantities she was making that they were in trouble.

Unfazed, Bethan had another surprise for her stepdaughter. “I’ll find a job.” 

“What? You can’t do that.” Gwenna’s head buzzed with other ideas of how they could earn an income. Bethan was neither old enough to receive the pension, nor had she been in the country long enough to qualify for the new scheme passed into law a year earlier. Even so, her going out to work was not something Gwenna had considered. “And what about Charlie?” 

Gwenna’s forehead creased into a frown. Bethan had been a bright, capable woman, raising her own four children, being mother to Gwenna and Tillie as well as wife, housekeeper and confectionery maid for two husbands. And then she brought up another baby. But what did any of that qualify her for in the workplace? 

Especially now.

These days Bethan seemed to doubt her every thought and move and had become more submissive as time passed. The thought she could find work didn’t fit.

“That depends on you,” Bethan replied with a touch of her old self. 

“Me?” 

“Yes, child, you. Don’t be slow-witted now. You can’t stay here. You know you can’t. Elias will throw you out on your ear when he finds out, which means you can’t keep making sweets for him either. Which is why you need to talk to Johnno.”

The reality of her situation sank home with the truth of Bethan’s words. Gwenna had been avoiding the obvious and she needed to take action before someone did it for her. 

“We can help each other,” continued Bethan, letting Gwenna pass to check the sugar boiling in the pan. “I can pay you a little to take Charlie after school, which would give you money of your own. Take my advice – start making your own sweets. Go into opposition with Elias. Take your father’s reputation with you and build on it. It’s not too late.”

A ray of hope flared. Maybe everything was not lost after all. But what would Johnno say? And more importantly, what would Black Jack say?