13

14 April 1900

Gwenna arrived home on Saturday towards the middle of the day and set about preparing the house, opening windows, lighting the fire and making bread. She set the meat she’d bought from the butcher in Karangahape Road to simmer on the range with onion, potato and carrots. The succulent smells made her stomach rumble.

By mid-afternoon, when everything could be left unattended for a while, she walked over to Mavis’s place, hoping to get some milk.

“Gwenna, dear. I was just thinking about you. The hens were busy this morning so I put aside a few eggs. Come in. Sit yourself down.”

Mavis handed a bag of eggs to her young neighbour. “Thank you,” said Gwenna. “You are so good to me. Is there any chance you might have a little milk to spare too? I couldn’t carry anything else back from town.”

“Of course, dear, of course. Hang on a minute while I find a jar to put it in.”

Mavis bustled around her kitchen until she’d found one and poured in the fresh milk from their house cow.

“Now tell me the news from Auckland while I put the kettle on.”

Any news from town was good for gossip, and Mavis laughed over some of baby Olwen’s antics. They sighed together about not being able to attend the Easter Fair, the chrysanthemum show or Pollard’s Opera Company comic opera production, The Geisha. They tutted over the alarming, ongoing news about rats coming ashore off ships arriving from Sydney. Fears they might carry the plague dominated the headlines, but people were assured stringent controls were in place.

“At least no one’s got sick or died here. I feel for those poor folk over in Australia, with so many dead. Must be a worry, it must.”

“The papers say they are offering a penny reward for every rat caught,” said Gwenna.

The two women chatted for another ten minutes, relaxed in each other’s company.

“Thanks for the cuppa,” said Gwenna, finishing her tea, “but I can’t stop any longer; I’ve got meat cooking and I’m expecting Johnno home any time now.”

“Have you heard from him, then?”

Gwenna shook her head. “But it doesn’t mean anything. He said he’d be home tonight at the latest.”

Dusk fell, day turned to night in the blink of an eye, and still no sign of Johnno. Gwenna paced the floor, straightened the cutlery on the table set ready for supper, and lifted the lid on the stew pot for the third time in as many minutes. Ignoring her stomach rumbling at the aroma, she refused to eat until she could share the meal with Johnno. She just hoped his father wouldn’t be with him.

Another hour passed. As the minutes ticked by, she accepted he wouldn’t be coming home that night. She banked up the fire with the last of the coal, lowered the flue damper and went to bed.

Neither she nor the baby rested easy. While the baby kicked and turned, so did Gwenna.

One minute she needed the blankets, the next she’d kicked them off. She fell into a fitful sleep in the hour approaching dawn and was beset with dreams: the sound of crying in an empty space with a single beam of light breaking the darkness; children laughing and playing Ring a Ring o’ Roses, to be swallowed by the earth when they fell down; a flower seller’s barrow re-forming into a fast-growing wilderness, spreading its tentacles to cover everything in its path – gates, fences, wagons, people.

She woke with a start. A fine layer of sweat covered her face, and her nightdress clung to her. The room felt cold even though the sun was well up. She shivered. After a moment, her brain grasped where she was, and what had disturbed her.

She could hear someone shouting.

“Where is he?”

Was that Jack’s voice?

“Where’re you hiding him?”

Her skin crawled.

The back door of the kitchen burst open. She scrambled out of bed, grabbed her wrap dress and hurried down the hall doing up buttons as she went.

Jack stood in the middle of the room. He was more dishevelled than usual and she could smell the sweat and dirt from the doorway. Underneath the awful greyish-green greatcoat he always wore, his clothes were filthy and he hadn’t shaved in days, but it was his eyes that set off alarm bells. They were troubled – and red, as though they had grit in them or he hadn’t slept, or both.

“Where is he?” Jack rasped, his throat dry and rough, but he sounded more annoyed than worried.

“Johnno? You mean Johnno?” Panic put an edge on her words.

“Who else, you stupid girl?” Jack pulled out a chair and sank into it, lowering his head; he stared at the section of floor between his feet. His hat hung in his hand.

“He’s not here, if that’s what you think,” she snapped, anger and fear competing for dominance. “He’s supposed to be with you.”

She stoked up the fire, more for something to do than any other reason. Her hands shook as she filled the kettle and set it on the range, and with every beat of her heart, her uneasiness grew. The disquiet of her dreams added to her anxiety. She couldn’t bring herself to ask the question because she didn’t want to hear the answer.

The kettle boiled and broke the silence that had grown between them. She threw a handful of tea leaves into the pot and poured in the hot water. Turning the teapot around a few times, she tipped the strong, black tea into a mug and banged it on the table in front of Jack, spilling some on the clean tablecloth still set from the night before.

She poured a cup for herself and, holding it in both hands, leaned against the bench as far away from him as possible. Her jaw ached; her throat burned. A convulsive gasp escaped her lips as she took a deep breath; her whole frame shook with the effort not to lose control. She could stand it no longer. Through gritted teeth, she breathed, “When did you see him last?”

Jack’s head shot up at the sound of her voice, as if he’d forgotten she was there, or even where he was. He stared at her, his eyes distant and empty. “Monday. Afore last.”

Two weeks tomorrow. Gwenna gulped in extra air.

“He was here on the Wednesday night before the rain set in. He left first thing the next morning. He said he had to collect a consignment from the wharf.”

Jack nodded. “Aye. It was urgent. I told him to be back by Friday. It was important.”

“So where is he?” She couldn’t hold back any longer.

Jack turned his head away as if she no longer mattered. “He’s ruined everything, he has. Wait till I get hold of him.”

Gwenna let her fear and fury out. “You should be worried about your son, not your stupid business. What’s happened to him?” she screamed.

“What are you talking about, woman? Nothing’s happened to him. He’s playing games, that’s all. Trying to cheat me.”

Gwenna couldn’t believe her ears. His son, her Johnno, was missing, and the only thing his father could think about was the money he’d lose. “Johnno would never cheat anyone, you selfish old man,” she seethed. “We need to find him. And if you won’t, then I will.”

She sped down the hall to her bedroom to get dressed. Her hands were shaking so much she struggled to tie the laces on her corset. A minute or two later, she dropped her blouse over her head and fastened her skirt. She was buttoning her shoes when she heard hoof beats.

Her heart lifted – was that Johnno?

Tottering towards the window with one shoe in her hand, her spirits plummeted as she caught sight of Black Jack whipping his horse into a gallop and disappearing down the road in a cloud of dust.

She was alone again – with no idea how or where to start looking for her husband.