6

Gwenna stopped dead in her tracks the minute she opened the door. Her skin tingled a warning while her eyes scanned the room. Bethan sat in her usual chair by the fireplace, but her agitated fingers flew above her crochet work faster than normal. Charlie, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her, leant as close to her legs as he could, resembling a statue more than a little boy. And there was no smell of cooking.

Her ears strained to hear the slightest sound out of place until a tiny flicker in Bethan’s eyes alerted Gwenna to something behind her. She turned, but she couldn’t move fast enough. Elias’s fist skimmed past her jaw and slammed into the front of her shoulder. The force of the blow sent her stumbling.

She instinctively rolled into a foetal position as soon as she hit the floor, a matter of moments before Elias’s boot struck. A searing pain shot up her spine. She flung her head back and arched her back away from the blow. Blood seeped from her tongue.

Within the veil of agony, she was vaguely aware of a loud, high-pitched scream. Was it her voice or someone else’s? Charlie fell across her and a moan escaped her lips.

“Stop!” cried Bethan. “Elias, I said stop!” The tone she used brooked no argument. “This is too much, too far.” She swept her arm towards the still prone figure of Gwenna, with a sobbing Charlie splayed over her.

“You ... you’re out of control.” All her pent-up strain and anger burst forth. “Enough is enough. This bullying has got to stop. I will not tolerate it any longer.”

Elias stared at his mother as if she was from another time and place. She hadn’t spoken to him like that since his father died. Nor had she ever lifted a hand towards him. He took a threatening step towards her. “I’ll do whatever I want, if I want ...”

A resounding slap rang around the room as Bethan’s hand connected with Elias’s face. “No. You won’t. Not any longer. I should have stepped in a long time ago, but I kept making excuses for you. Thinking you’d had enough hardships in your life, and I’d do nothing to add to them. But all I’ve done is condone your ghastly behaviour. It stops now.”

Elias held a hand to his cheek. He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again. Without another word he left the room, slamming the dividing door behind him.

Another groan from Gwenna brought Bethan to her knees beside the girl.

Charlie scrambled off his sister and started to wipe her brow. “You orright, now, Gwenna? Elias shouldn’t have kicked you. He’s bad.”

“Yes, Charlie, Elias was bad, but we’ll make her better, that we will,” said his mother, holding Gwenna’s hand as she tried to move. “Careful, don’t get up too quickly,” instructed Bethan. “Where does it hurt the worst?”

Still lying on the floor, Gwenna fingered her shoulder where the first blow had knocked her over, but after moving her arm around in the socket found it wasn’t too bad. Her elbow, which had taken the force of the fall, hurt as much. Both would mend soon enough.

“My back. Can you help me sit up?”

Bethan slid her arm under the girl’s shoulder blades and lifted her into a sitting position against the chair leg. Charlie pushed a cushion behind her. They waited while Gwenna, biting her bottom lip to contain a moan, eased herself onto the side hurting the least.

By good luck, Elias’s kick had landed on the softest part of her buttock. Bethan told her to expect a huge, painful bruise, and she’d find her joints stiff and bothersome as the days passed, but the damage could have been much worse. She could have lost the baby.

Bethan wiped away the tear trickling down the girl’s face. “When you are ready, I want you to get off the floor and lie face down,” she said. “I’ll get some poultices for those bruises. Can you stand?”

Gwenna nodded. Gingerly, she folded her legs under and rolled onto her knees. Standing would have been impossible if not for Bethan’s strong arms helping her to her feet. Still supporting her, Bethan watched her stepdaughter turn shades of white and green as she mastered the pain surging through her.

Beads of sweat popped out on Gwenna’s forehead and upper lip as she stood. She released her breath and gave the faintest of smiles. “There, see. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, aye? You will be, but not yet awhile.” Bethan eased the outdoor coat Gwenna still wore off her sore shoulder. “Now come on, rest yourself on the sofa, and I’ll make you a nice cup of sweet tea. And a slug of brandy won’t go astray, neither. It’ll help with the shock. You can worry about getting up the stairs tomorrow.”

Charlie was sent up to gather a pillow and a blanket. “And bring her house slippers with you,” Bethan shouted after him before returning to remove Gwenna’s button-up boots.

“I heard everything,” whispered Gwenna. “Thank you.”

Bethan shook her head. “No, don’t thank me. It’s me who should be saying sorry to you. I spoilt him. I let him pretend he was a man after his father died, although he was too young for the task. At some stage, I stopped teaching him right from wrong.”

Bethan got to her feet and moved to the coal range to make the tea and start preparing a soothing poultice from brown paper soaked in sage and vinegar.

Gwenna raised her head enough for Charlie to push the pillow behind her. “Even so, you were mighty brave to stand up to him, Mam. He could have taken to you, the mood he was in.”

“No, he wouldn’t. He never hits me. Oh, yes, he’ll grab me, and push and shove and be mighty rude, but he only strikes out at you.”

Charlie tried to spread the blanket over Gwenna, but it was too big for him to manage and he put more over her face than anywhere else.

“Easy, Charlie,” said Bethan, coming to his rescue. “Our Gwenna is real sore. Let me help you.”

Once the blanket was in place and Charlie had tucked it around Gwenna’s feet, Bethan took her hand. Her eyes carried years of sorrow. “I should have stopped him long before this. Forgive me.”

Holding Bethan’s gaze, Gwenna recalled all the years of mothering she had received from this kind, self-effacing woman. “There’s nothing to forgive, Mam. You’re trapped as much as I am.” She stroked her stomach and thought about the child growing inside, and struggled to find a way to spring the trap.

* * *

Clothed in chemise and knickers, Gwenna lay curled on her side in an awkward position. She had no memory of undressing and could only guess what Bethan had put in her tea to help her sleep. Still feeling groggy, she opened her eyes a tiny bit, shut them, opened them again. Her stepmother sat asleep in the chair, and Gwenna could hear Charlie snuffling softly on the floor. A warm glow filled her heart at seeing them, like guardian angels protecting her.

A soft, grey light filtered through the window, and the embers in the coal range glowed through the blackness of its cast-iron door. Somewhere in the distance a horse snorted.

Aching and stiff, Gwenna tried moving one arm at a time. The left arm with the damaged elbow throbbed cruelly, but her right shoulder, where Elias’s fist had struck, was worse. She was almost too scared to change position, fearing she’d aggravate the pain. Pins and needles gnawed at her skin, and one foot had gone numb. She couldn’t stay still any longer.

She stretched one leg a bit at a time without making a sound. The burning sensation tearing through her lower leg and foot as soon as the blood coursed back was almost too much to bear, but she swallowed a cry. She tried to move the other leg.

Bethan was on her feet and kneeling beside her before Gwenna’s deep-seated moan had come to an end. She whipped back the blanket and rubbed her stepdaughter’s legs until the pain had eased. “Roll onto your stomach if you can, child. I’ll put another poultice on the bruises and rub liniment into your back. It’ll help with the soreness.”

Gwenna had so many questions about what had happened after she fell asleep, but she scarcely had the strength to move, let alone talk. She needn’t have worried.

“’Lias went out and hasn’t come home,” announced Charlie. “He won’t hurt you any more, Gwenna. Mam says.”

Bethan began to rub her home-made salve into Gwenna’s skin. The sharp scent of camphor and peppermint tickled her nose, but it wasn’t long before the heat from the ginger began to work its miracle and her muscles began to relax under her stepmother’s gentle massage.

“Charlie’s right. Elias hasn’t come home all night. I hate to think what state he’ll be in when he does return.” Bethan stopped rubbing and pulled Gwenna’s clothing into place. “Stay there and I’ll put fresh poultices on your shoulder and under your backside.”

Once they were in place and Gwenna lay propped up with cushions and pillows, Bethan handed her a cup of tea.

“What on earth did you put in the tea last night?” Gwenna smiled a thank you. “It must have been a powerful brew. Knocked me out completely.”

“Never you mind. It did what it was supposed to do. You needed sleep so you can have your wits about you today. You’ll need them.”

The way Bethan spoke, the tone she used or maybe how she moved, set alarm bells ringing. Gwenna guessed the older woman had something more far-reaching to say.

“I’m worried for you.” Bethan pulled her chair closer and sat with her cup and saucer on her knee. “I’m not sure I can keep Elias away from you,” she said, staring at the tea swirling in the cup as she stirred it. “I took him by surprise last night, but when he’s had time to think about it and fire himself up with alcohol and those ... those women who can’t answer him back ...”

Gwenna snorted at Bethan’s reference to the ‘women of the night’, as the local prostitutes were called. Although never spoken of in polite society, no one could deny either their presence or the fact they knew Elias rather too well.

But Bethan was serious. “He’ll be madder’n a swarm of wasps when he does bother to come home, and I want you gone before then.”

“It’ll be all right, Mam. Don’t worry. I’ll just keep out of his way and make sure I don’t do anything to annoy him.”

Bethan shook her head. “It won’t be enough any more, love. He knows about the baby. Don’t ask me how, but he knows. He was waiting for you last night. He’d threatened to thrash Charlie if I didn’t do what I was told.” Bethan hung her head. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe if we did what he wanted, he wouldn’t lose his temper. I was wrong. I’m ashamed of what I did.”

Gwenna reached out and took her hand. Their eyes met. “It’s not your fault ...” she began, but Bethan shushed her. She hadn’t finished.

“You’re not safe here any longer. I want you to leave. Today. And I want you to take Charlie with you.”

“Mam! You can’t be serious.” Gwenna’s eyes followed Bethan’s glance at the packed suitcases and holdall sitting by the door.

Bethan was deadly serious.