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Early April 1900

Mavis dropped in now and then to bring her a bunch of flowers, a few veges from the garden or an egg or two. The days were bearable, but the silence at night set Gwenna on edge. Three days later, unable to stand her own company any longer, Gwenna took the train to Auckland. The walk to the station carrying her small holdall seemed a lot further than it once had, but at least she didn’t feel so self-conscious travelling alone in public. Not now. Not wearing the maternity wrap dress she had borrowed from Tillie, which buttoned all the way down the front, softening her bumpy profile.

Getting off the train in Queen Street and catching the horse tram up to Karangahape Road felt like a homecoming. She smiled and found others smiling back at her. This was where she belonged. The isolation of the farmhouse was getting on her nerves, regardless of how much effort she’d put into making it look and feel as if it were ‘her’ place. It could never be hers. And she missed making sweets. She hadn’t realised how much until now.

With only herself to feed, she had done little cooking and even less baking until word reached her that Johnno was coming home. After the first time, when they’d left in such a hurry and without saying how many days they’d be away, she made Johnno tell her before he left how long he’d be gone and to send word when he was on his way home. She’d needed something to look forward to, a time to prepare for, and tasks to take her mind off her loneliness. She’d whitewashed the interior walls, and the entire outhouse to brighten the place up, but it wasn’t enough.

Tillie was pleased to see her. “You have no idea how often Olwen wakes and how little sleep I’m getting. But I mustn’t complain. She’s such a delight.”

Gwenna sympathised. “Now I’m here, you can take a nap when you need to, and I can do some of your chores, but first things first. I’m going to make us a batch of butterscotch.”

Setting aside her bonnet and gloves, and removing the wrap dress, now she was in the company of family, Gwenna headed to the kitchen with Tillie following behind.

“There’s something about making sweet things by hand that is so satisfying, isn’t there,” commented Tillie, going to the pantry. She opened a cake tin and showed Gwenna the latest batch of fudge she’d made. “I was in a hurry because Olwen was crying. It’s not my best, but it turned out all right.”

As usual, Gwenna could not resist Tillie’s fudge and popped a piece in her mouth. “Mmmm. It’s still good. You’re so clever,” she mumbled through the gooey lump she chewed.

“Didn’t Mam teach us not to speak with our mouths full?” teased Tillie.

Gwenna almost choked as the laughter caught at the back of her throat. She put her hand up to her mouth. Oh, how good it was to be back home.

“Have another piece.”

Later in the day Bethan came around, delighted to know Gwenna was back in town again so soon.

“I’ll stay for a couple of days. Mavis has promised to let me know if anything arrives from Johnno telling me when he’ll be home. He’s supposed to be back on Saturday, but he might come earlier.” She sounded more hopeful than certain, but if he didn’t arrive ahead of time, three more days wasn’t too long to wait.

Over tea and scones the women chatted as if life was perfect – and for those few moments it was. All their cares and concerns faded into the background. It was not until Bethan mentioned stocks must be low, that either girl took notice.

“Elias hasn’t asked me to make anything in a long time. He’s away from home such a lot, and sometimes I don’t know what I should be doing. He never tells me where he’s been, but wherever it is, it’s a dusty place. His clothes are covered in it.”

Questions over whether Bethan had money for food, or if the bills were paid, came one after another, but she assured the girls all seemed well.

“The horse gets groomed, and there’s plenty of hay, but the cart doesn’t get used as much as it used to. Elias seems to do whatever trade he’s doing either on foot or on horseback and I’m hearing the telephone more often. I don’t like that thing, but Elias seems happy enough using it.”

Gwenna pictured the black, box-shaped delivery cart with the protective roof jutting over the driver’s head, which Pa had used. He’d had it varnished with several coats of high gloss and emblazoned G Price & Family, Confectioners, Auckland in white and gold on both sides.

He’d been proud of his purchase, pleased he had enough trade to warrant the expense, and considered it an investment. “Best advertising in the world, Gwenna, my love,” he’d said. “Links me, our name and the business together in one.”

Gwenna remembered something else he’d said. “All we need is a shop to make the business complete.”

Now, according to Bethan, the cart sat neglected in the yard. It broke Gwenna’s heart to think of it.

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Two blissful days passed.

Each morning, Gwenna took a breakfast tray up to Tillie, insisting she stay in bed and rest after she had fed and changed Olwen. Gwenna would then walk with Charlie to school just as she had done when she lived at home. The mornings disappeared with chores, coping with the extra washing a newborn baby created and preparing whatever Tillie decided they were having for lunch and supper. The heaviness and lethargy Gwenna had felt in previous months seemed to leave her as her sense of purpose and worth returned. Sharing her days with her sister became the happiest she’d known in a long time – a time before Elias, before Black Jack, a time when she only knew lightness of heart.

On Good Friday as arranged, Louisa, Janetta and their children visited after church. Ostensibly to sing the praises of baby Olwen and offer congratulations to the mother, and to wish Gwenna happiness for her birthday in five days’ time, but the day turned out less than cordial.

“Welcome, dear sisters, welcome,” said Tillie. “Do come in. It’s been so long since we saw each other. Mam’s already here, and Gwenna’s been baking since early morning.” Hugs and fake kisses were swapped, bonnets removed and skirts swished as they moved to the sitting room.

The cups of tea and cakes began well, with gossip about husbands, their work, the latest fashions, or the newest appliances. The mood started to drift when Louisa’s daughters, Ella and Lucy, aged three and two, became whiny and clung to their mother’s skirts. Bethan considered them spoilt. George had been delighted with his first step-grandchild but didn’t live long enough to enjoy her or meet his next one.

As best they could, they carried the conversation on around the grizzling children. Tillie excused herself once to clean up a spill from Olwen and refresh her nappy. No one asked Bethan about the business, or Elias, and Bethan refrained from sharing a precious letter she had received from Samuel.

Janetta laid the baby on a blanket on the floor beside her when she’d first arrived and wouldn’t let anyone touch him. Refusing to play with girls, her two-year-old sat in the corner amusing himself with a few marbles and the wooden blocks Janetta pulled out of her excessively large bag. At least he was quiet. After a while, the girls began to poke each other and fidget, demanding their mother’s attention.

“Isn’t motherhood hard work?” Louisa commented to Tillie while trying to extricate her children. “Go outside and play, for goodness’ sake.” But after a pointed glance out the window onto the road frontage and seeing people and carriages passing, she sighed. “No. I’d forgotten, you can’t do that here. Sit over there.” Pulling a couple of cloth dolls out of her bag, she pointed to the hooked rug on the floor.

“Actually, I don’t find it hard at all,” replied Tillie as she watched the girls shoving each other and whispering as they headed towards Billy. “Well, not yet anyway. A little more tiring, maybe, but I’m enjoying watching Olwen develop. She changes so quickly.” Tillie wondered what the girls would do to upset the delicate balance.

“Teach them to be seen and not heard,” advised Janetta. “Children have to learn independence and to amuse themselves, like my Billy,” she said with a smug smile. “Not like some I know.”

Louisa took immediate offence. “What do you mean by that, Miss La-di-da?”

“Whatever you take it to mean, sister dear.” Janetta sipped her tea and selected another dainty from the cake stand.

After their little outburst, tension simmered between the sisters; Louisa and Janetta were at odds over something. Tillie didn’t quite know what to say to ease the way, and Gwenna bit her lip to stop herself uttering something she would regret. Honestly, sometimes they behaved worse than the children.

Seconds later, a scream from Lucy brought everything to a standstill. She and Ella had been teasing Billy, rolling his marbles away and hiding his blocks, so in retaliation he’d ripped an arm off Lucy’s doll. The mothers began to soothe their respective offspring while the children continued to poke tongues and call each other rude names. Tears fell.

Janetta took her leave first. “Goodbye, Tillie. I hope you do well with your baby. Gwenna, it’s been nice to see you again after so long. I hear you live in Onehunga these days. You must tell me about it some day. I hear it’s frightful. Lovely to see you too, Mam. I wish you would call on me. We could go somewhere and have high tea if you’d like. I can promise it would be peaceful.”

Louisa couldn’t contain herself. “Good riddance to you, Janie Lewis. I’ll not be taking tea with you again until you climb down off your high horse.”

Gwenna came close to spluttering out loud. Louisa was the one who most often sat on her high horse, boasting about all the fancy new things she could purchase, thanks to how well the butchery was doing and the increase in wages Albert had received. Neither of them cared two hoots about Mam; they were too busy trying to outdo each other. But Janetta wasn’t to be outdone.

“I’m surprised you don’t suffer from giddiness with your head so far in the clouds. You’ll come crashing back to earth one day, you’ll see.”

Huffing and puffing, Louisa gathered her two daughters and left in Janetta’s wake. “You’ll regret that comment, Janie Lewis. That you will.”

“Ta-ta then, girls,” Bethan called from the doorstep, in a strong Welsh accent. “Glad I was to be seeing you. You be good now.”

Tillie and Gwenna burst out laughing. The scowl Louisa had thrown over her shoulder at her mother had been withering, but the girls regretted their mirth when they saw their mam’s face.

“They don’t set out to be mean,” Tillie consoled her.

“They are just so wrapped up in themselves and their world, they don’t consider anyone else,” echoed Gwenna. Any thoughts about her birthday: gone.

“Thank you, girls. I know you mean well, but it still hurts to see how they have turned out. Now, let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

Bethan bustled about gathering the used cups and saucers, while Tillie saw to Olwen and Gwenna packed the leftover food into tins.

A few minutes later, Tillie returned to the kitchen. “Are you staying another night then, Gwennie? You’ve not heard from Johnno, I take it.”

Gwenna stopped, hand hovering in mid-air, and stared in dismay at her sister. For the first time in ages, Johnno had slipped from her mind. She was having so much fun staying with Tom and Tillie, and seeing her mam every day, she’d blocked out her new life, her future life. That same dread feeling she’d experienced before sank into her stomach.

“No. I haven’t. Oh, my goodness, Tillie. I’ve not heard a word. What can it mean?”

Bethan and Tillie were quick to assure her it meant nothing. Maybe Mavis hadn’t noticed the telegram delivery or hadn’t got around to sending one of her own. Maybe Jack had asked Johnno to stay another day.

“There could be dozens of reasons,” said her mam. “Stay the night. You can go home in the daylight, and by the time you get organised, you’ll find Johnno on your doorstep before you know it.”