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Future hopes
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New Year’s Eve 1899
Gwenna cheered and clapped at the loud crack of exploding fireworks. The colours and beauty of the sparkling shapes lighting up the sky filled her with wonder. Johnno had been his usual sweet self, suggesting they go to the Queen Street Wharf to watch the display at midnight. Seeing an old year out and a new year in was now a ritual, but for Gwenna being present at the change of a century was truly special.
She couldn’t quite understand the articles in the newspapers where people argued how the new century would not begin until the end of 1900 because the Gregorian calendar did not start with the year nought. It didn’t make sense to her. Tomorrow would be the first day of 1900; it was no longer the 1800s. It must be the start of something new.
For Gwenna, it would be the start of her new life. The year 1900 could only be a good one with Johnno at her side.
Dozens of boats crowded the harbour. At the striking of the hour, bells rang, horns sounded and whistles blew. The cacophony continued for what seemed an endless time. People laughed and danced, lovers held hands and kissed, while children ran around without fear of reprimand for this one night.
“Didn’t I tell you it would be fun?” Johnno spoke into her ear so she could hear him above the noise. His face was lit by another explosion, and the playfulness in his gaze gave her gooseflesh, and she tingled from head to toe. Delighted, she nodded her head, clapping her hands as yet another shower of glitter illuminated the blackness. Her face shone like a child’s in awe.
Although she much preferred living in town to living in the country, Gwenna had never seen so many people in one place before. She would have believed it if someone had told her every citizen who lived anywhere within travelling distance of Auckland was crowded into the streets that night. The government reduced the rail and ferry fares so people could afford to travel, and thousands took the opportunity.
Earlier in the evening, the two of them somehow managed to find space on the top deck of the paddle steamer Eagle for an excursion around the harbour. From the water, the lights of the city twinkled as far as the eye could see. Every street and every window appeared to have been lit up specially for tonight. The new electric lights shone brighter than their traditional gaslight counterparts, and the outline of Partington’s Mill stood tall and proud above everything else on the Karangahape Road ridgeline. Gwenna saw for herself how large Auckland had become.
Time passed in a flash until the sound of train whistles reminded them they must return home. Feeling more tired than normal, Gwenna climbed aboard. Sleep beckoned if she was to enjoy the planned picnic with Tillie, Tom and Charlie tomorrow. Resting her head on Johnno’s shoulder, Gwenna crossed her fingers that Bethan would join them.
“Saying thank you seems hardly enough, Johnno. I’ve had such a good time tonight. I’m so glad we came.” She pushed her arm through his as they sat in the overfull carriage surrounded by other tired but exhilarated passengers. She would never forget this night.
“Anything for you, my sweet girl.” Aware of the many eyes around them, he patted her hand and winked. She flushed at the thought of how they would celebrate when they got home. No more hurried fumbling; no more dread of being found out; no more misgivings – they were husband and wife. Together. Forever.
As long as Jack wasn’t there to spoil things.
“What did you tell Jack about tomorrow?” Gwenna avoided him as much as possible. He’d eaten with them once in the last week, but his mere presence put a damper on what she and Johnno could do together.
“Just that we’d be away for the day,” Johnno replied. “Why?”
Jack came and went as he pleased, but Johnno had no such freedom. Every day Jack had chores for him to do. So far, they’d all been local, and Johnno hadn’t been away from the house for long.
“Oh, no reason.” Gwenna couldn’t explain how much she dreaded the time when his father would take Johnno away on one of their long-distance trips and she would be left alone in that sad, lonely house.
Jack had not returned for two days after their first meeting. She’d made an ad hoc attempt to make the place seem less shabby for Christmas, but Gwenna decided she couldn’t live in the place as it was. She had to clean it up, even if she ran the risk of incurring Jack’s wrath. He couldn’t be any worse than Elias, and Johnno was there to protect her.
She’d boiled the filthy rag rugs scattered on the floors in the copper in the outside laundry, washed and rearranged the assortment of crockery and cooking pots, thrown out all the stale and rotten food, and sent Johnno to buy fresh flour and other essentials to cook with.
Gwenna then cleaned the front bedroom she shared with Johnno, thankful she had fresh linen, since what she’d found was not fit to use. Although now clean, in her eyes their room remained cheerless.
When Jack came back demanding Johnno help him with some deliveries, he turned on her. “I’ll have no women’s fancy fripperies in my house. Keep your things out of my sight, and, by God, if you so much as touched a single item of mine, you’ll pay for it.”
Gwenna took him seriously. He made it only too plain she lived there under sufferance, and she’d be out on her ear faster than lightning if she got in his way. Within the first week, she sensed she was going to be worse off living with this bully than with the one she’d grown up with.
The train rattled its way along the tracks, and Gwenna put Jack out of her mind. She was excited at the thought of seeing her family again in the morning. They’d considered going to the monster picnic and camp day at Swanson, since the train fare was so cheap. She’d never been in native forest before, but in the end they decided to go to the Auckland Domain instead. Charlie was in the Sunday school parade, led by the Salvation Army band, who would march from the corner of Queen Street and Karangahape Road, past the mill, down Symonds Street around Grafton Gully and back up the other side to Park Road and into the Domain. The forecast was for a fine day and, with all the shops closed, there was no reason why they shouldn’t all attend.
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The next morning, she and Johnno got off the train at Newmarket and walked the distance up Carlton Gore Road to watch the parade enter the Domain. They hurried as best they could, but even with Johnno carrying the hamper, Gwenna couldn’t keep up. She couldn’t understand why her legs dragged and she couldn’t summon her usual strength.
From the top of the rise, they could hear band music floating in the air. Once they got closer they could see groups of children waving flags, both the traditional Union Jack and the informal New Zealand ensign, marching behind banners showing the name of their school. As each school group arrived at the spot where the band was still playing, the children dispersed and started shouting for their parents. Even from a distance, Gwenna could see Charlie looking lost when he couldn’t see her.
As soon as she caught up with him, she wrapped him into a tight cuddle. “I’m here, Charlie, bach. Give us a cwtch then,” she said, rocking him from side to side. Without realising it, she often slipped in Welsh words she’d grown up with, but which Charlie never used. She’d forgotten most of them herself.
Even when they’d lived in Wales, there were few enough Welsh speakers other than in the more traditional northern parts. With so many outsiders from England and elsewhere coming in to find work in the mines, the Welsh people had needed to learn English to coexist. Before the family had emigrated to New Zealand, they’d decided not to speak the language any longer – including Bethan, who’d grown up speaking Welsh. They needed English if they were to prosper, but sometimes the odd word crept in when she was being sentimental, like today, and no other word seemed appropriate. She remembered a little Maori girl from school had said the same thing was happening to her language. She spoke Maori at home with her parents and grandparents but was not allowed to speak it at school or at the milliner’s shop. It seemed such a sad state of affairs; Gwenna liked mixing up words from both languages when she could.
Feeling the need to sit down soon, Gwenna kissed the top of Charlie’s head and scanned the crowd for Bethan.
“Mam’s not here,” Charlie said, his voice muffled against Gwenna’s belly. “She made sure I was in line and walked someways with me before she went back home to get the picnic.”
Behind them, Johnno and Tillie spread blankets on the grass in the shade of a tree, and Tom helped Tillie sit down. With three months still to go, she felt ungainly and awkward. Johnno sat reclining on one elbow, leg extended and hat tilted back, watching Gwenna’s every move.
“There she is,” Gwenna pointed, as Bethan hurried towards them carrying a laden basket. Her heart lifted. She let go of Charlie and rushed forward to wrap her stepmother in a warm embrace. She missed her mam’s steadfastness, even after a week.
The women unloaded their baskets onto the blankets, chattering away and vying to provide food enough to feed the entire gathering, rather than for the six of them. They laughed when each of them unwrapped a batch of Welsh cakes, a bara brith tea loaf and their traditional, skinless Glamorgan sausages made from vegetables.
“My favourites,” shouted Charlie. He grabbed one of each from his mother and his sisters, and ran off to play with his friends.
“Don’t go too far,” Bethan called after him. He disappeared into a crowd of children all yelling at one another, kicking and tossing balls.
Once the adults were settled, the ladies handed the tins of food around. The conversation turned to what they had done since they’d last seen each other at the wedding a week earlier: Christmas Day services; the St Benedict’s fair Bethan had attended; foods they’d prepared; cards and presents received and given. Gwenna managed to say little about her day, avoiding specifics other than ‘we had chicken’, but nodding in agreement when Bethan said she’d missed Gwenna.
The men were more interested in the Auckland–Otago cricket match, which Auckland had won a few days earlier, and the article in the morning paper stating: ‘the year which came to a close yesterday will rank among the most memorable of the century’.
In a semi-recumbent pose, Tom folded the paper to a manageable size so he could read it more easily. “Listen to this. Here’s an interesting article about the state of affairs in South Africa which, I must say, I find unsettling. And it goes on about the Federation of Australia. I’m glad New Zealand didn’t join. ’Twas a silly idea, in my opinion. And the war in Samoa caused by German annexation. But what’s really interesting,” Tom explained, “is that it ends up stating the last century has been one of prosperity for ‘the whole world’ – England, the United States, the continent of Europe, and, of course, New Zealand. How about that?”
Tom sat up with his legs crossed to read the final paragraph aloud. “The New Year, apart from the shadows of war, presents a bright and hopeful aspect, and we are justified in anticipating that it will prove as prosperous as the one that has now come to a close.” He slapped the paper with the back of his hand. “Now, isn’t that something to look forward to?”
The three women agreed with him; prosperity was good for everyone.
Johnno was the one to niggle. “I hope they’re right. I ’eard more soldiers were going off to fight that crazy war, wherever South Africa is, and prices for basic goods would go up. I can’t afford no more, what with a baby comin’ ’n all.” He reached for Gwenna’s hand to reassure her.
Between breaths, sucking on his pipe to draw the flame of the match, Tom said, “Don’t worry, lad. All will be well. You’ll see. If prices go up, incomes will match it. They have to.”
Charlie came and went, looking for something to eat while the adults tucked into the remainder of the food. More drink was consumed as the temperature rose and they moved the picnic blankets into the deeper shade of the tree.
“Tom,” said Johnno, when everyone was sated. “Are you up to finding a friendly game of cricket or something? I’ll go to sleep here otherwise.”
Tom nodded. “I am that.” Tapping out his pipe, he slipped it in his pocket, and the two men wandered across the grass, under the cloudless sky, leaving the women to their own conversation.
“Going by the shouting and cheering I can hear, there’s a game of something going on,” said Tillie.
“More than one, by the sounds of things,” said Bethan. “And the children are having fun. Whoever organised all those games and races deserves a day off to rest tomorrow. Look at them go.”
The women watched the sack race, then the egg-and-spoon race followed by the three-legged race, laughing as much as the children when they fell over.
“Rather them than me,” Gwenna said. “It’s far too hot for such activities.”
“I’m so glad Charlie’s having fun,” said Bethan. “There wasn’t much laughter to be had over the last year.” She reached into the pocket of her skirt. “I’ve brought something for you, Gwenna, dear.” Pulling out a small bundle of envelopes – letters from ‘the old country’, as she called it – she handed them to Gwenna. “I saved them all.”
Every Christmas and sometimes once in between, Bethan’s sister would write with news of parents and other family or the ‘goings-on’ in the town. She was a poor letter writer. Her sentences were disjointed, and her spelling often made it difficult to work out what she had written. To make matters worse, she wrote both ways on the page – across, and up and down – to save paper, but it didn’t matter. Bethan loved to hear the news and each letter was cherished and reread.
“There’s a new one on top, but I found a couple of others I thought you might like to read again.”
Gwenna took the letters and hugged them to her, knowing how precious they were to Bethan. “Thank you,” she whispered, folding the older woman’s hand within hers. “I shall enjoy reading them.” Although, if she was being honest, she had little recollection of, and even less interest in what was going on ‘back home’. She would always feel a bond with her homeland, and its spirit lived in her heart, but she couldn’t relate to those days long gone. Her home was here now. Nevertheless, these letters were important to Bethan.
Gwenna felt tears prickle behind her eyelids and wondered, once again, what was wrong with her today. The raucous sounds of laughter, music playing, children screeching and overlapping conversations were swirling inside her head, making her feel weak and giddy, and her eyes ached from all the colours and constant movement. She hoped it was the effect of too much sun, but she could easily just lie down and cry. Except she had nothing to cry about, not when she had her family around her, and when her new life with Johnno was about to begin.
“I’ve got other news, too,” continued Bethan. “In the last three months, ever since the day you left home, Gwenna, Elias is like a different person. He’s stopped drinking so much. He comes home early, quite sober, and eats supper with me. He spends the evenings working in the storeroom, organising the stock and keeping good records of what’s available and what’s needed.”
Bethan sipped the tea Tillie had poured, grateful to ease her throat. She hadn’t talked so much in a long time. “I’m not as good as you, Gwenna dear, or you, Tillie, but I’ve got my own specialties and Elias has worked up a few batches to add to the stock levels. I don’t quite know what he’s doing about it all. I don’t see much stock moving out, but he gave me a few coins for food, so everything must be all right. Mustn’t it?”
Gwenna didn’t answer, too distracted by everything around her to think about the change in Elias, but Tillie agreed. “I’m sure all is well, Mam.”
Bethan nodded, appearing relieved. “I’m puzzled about one thing, though. For weeks, Elias has disappeared for long periods of time without saying a thing about where he’s going or what he’s doing. Whatever it is, he’s like a new man when he returns. He’s almost cheerful. I can hardly believe it.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it, Mam,” said Gwenna, her head thumping, and feeling out of sorts at the news. “For your sake. You deserve a little peace. It’s just a pity you had to pay the price of Charlie and me leaving home to get it.” Had it been her fault Elias behaved as he had?
“Let’s hope it lasts then, Mam,” said Tillie, sensing her sister’s unease. “My turn. I’ve got something for you, Gwenna.”
She pushed a small, round tin with a typical English countryside scene on the lid towards her. Gwenna prised it open and let out an excited cheer. Her mouth salivated as the smell of butter and sugar wafted upwards. Hidden between pieces of waxed paper, the tin held three layers of Tillie’s best fudge: vanilla, clotted cream and chocolate.
Gwenna couldn’t decide which to try first. She drooled at the thought of them all, but it had been such a long time since Tillie had made any, she wanted to savour each one. Her hand hovered. Her fingers stretched into the tin and she selected a piece of the clotted cream. She considered it Tillie’s best recipe. Taking a bite, she closed her eyes, tilted her head back and let her taste buds delight in the rich smoothness as it melted and slid down her throat.
“Tillie. That must be the best batch you’ve ever made. I don’t know how you get it so creamy. Mine is never as good.”
“Mine is made with love,” Tillie responded. “For you.”
Tears threatened again. Annoyed at her soppiness, Gwenna clambered to her feet and gave Tillie a hug. “I love you too, my dearest sister. Thank you. And I’m glad I’m such an inspiration. Especially if it means I’ll never be without fudge ever again.”
An idea took shape at the back of her mind as to how she could use Tillie’s fudge to attract customers, if ever she could get her own sweet-making business started.
All too soon, the New Year’s Day picnic came to an end. The band had long since departed, the games had finished and the children had become noisy and quarrelsome.
“I should be going,” said Bethan. “I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. Too much sun, I fear, but it’s been a great day.”
“I’ve ordered a carriage,” said Tom. “It’s too far for Tillie to walk. You can have my place.”
“Thank you, Tom. How thoughtful,” said Bethan. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. Charlie and I will catch the tram. Or walk if it’s too full. You ladies go ahead. We’ll be there before long.”
“We’re heading the other way, back to the station,” said Gwenna before Johnno could speak. They didn’t have the money for a carriage, although she wished they did. Her legs wobbled, she was that tired. “It’ll be good for me to get a bit of exercise. I’m getting lazy these days.”
The women said their farewells with hugs and kisses, agreeing they’d all had an excellent time. Gwenna watched them go. She linked her arm in Johnno’s, and they started their trek back to the train.
She shivered as a weird sense of foreboding surged through her.
