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Hiding the truth
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23 April 1900
Neither of them had the grace of time. On Monday morning, a knock sounded.
“Is a Mr Elias Hughes at home?” queried the man who stood at the door checking his notebook.
Bethan stood back, opening the door wider.
Elias rose from the table, still cluttered with breakfast dishes, and took a few steps forward. “I am he.”
“Detective Lawrence Scott.” The man, dressed in a tweed jacket and bowler hat, showed his badge. “Could we have a word, sir?”
With a wave of his hand, Elias allowed the man entry and made the introductions.
Bethan scurried to clear the table. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”
“Thank you, ma’am. That would be very kind.”
Once Elias and the detective were seated, Bethan made a fresh pot of tea, placed it on the table next to a plate of biscuits and moved the sugar and milk within reach. Gwenna watched, aware that fussing over the little details kept Bethan’s anxiety at bay.
“Now, sir. I understand you were in the vicinity of an accident on Wednesday on the Razorback.” The man added some milk, took a sip of tea and picked up a biscuit.
“I was, yes. We’ve been expecting you.”
“Oh, and why is that, sir?” He didn’t pay attention to Elias as he asked the question and proceeded to dunk his biscuit in the tea and suck it.
Elias frowned. “Well, about the wagon I discovered down in the gully. I was helping rescue a man from down the bank when we saw it. I presumed you wanted to talk about that.”
“We know all there is to know about the rescue. Mr Davies has kindly advised us of the details. Mr Dean also.”
“How is Dan?” enquired Elias.
“I believe Mr Davies is recovering and will be returning home shortly.”
“Good, I’m glad. Which one was Dean? I didn’t get everyone’s name.”
“I understand he was the driver of the other vehicle.”
“In which case, what brings you to my door?” Elias fidgeted restlessly in his chair.
“I’m here on another matter.” The man paused and dunked another biscuit. “We’ve received a report of some suspicious activities involving you.”
“What suspicious activities?” Elias was undeniably taken aback.
“We could go to the station if you would prefer.”
“Station?” exclaimed Bethan. “Whatever for? What are you accusing him of?”
“Nothing yet, ma’am. We are simply making enquiries. It seems Mr Hughes failed to mention the body he found in, shall we say, unusual circumstances.”
A strange, strangled sound escaped Gwenna’s lips as though someone had squeezed what little life remained from her.
“Are you well, ma’am?” For a moment, the officer sounded alarmed.
Gwenna didn’t answer.
“Really, detective,” snapped Elias. “Have some decency.”
Scott remained unruffled. “It seems you may also have omitted to tell the ladies here about your, er, ‘find’.”
“On the contrary, sir. I have informed Mrs Jones ...” Elias waved a hand towards Gwenna, “... that I believed her husband was no longer with us, and the police would formally advise her in due course – which I had supposed was the purpose of your visit. However, I chose not to supply the less-than-pleasant details of how I reached my conclusion.”
The detective had enough propriety to apologise. “Forgive me, ma’am, for the shock, but police business must take precedence.”
“Pompous fool,” Gwenna muffled under her breath, irritated by his manner. This was her husband, her Johnno, that ghastly man was talking about. Her back straightened. “I understand, Detective Scott, but surely, you could have found a more suitable way.”
The officer would not be cowed, however. “I did not comprehend you had not been informed. My apologies, but I am here on more important business.”
In his haste and anger, Elias knocked over his chair when he stood up. “Let us go elsewhere, detective. This conversation is completely out of order.”
Shocked out of her lethargy, Gwenna held up a staying hand. “No. Stay. I want to hear what happened. Elias, I know you are trying to protect me – and I thank you – but Johnno is gone and nothing is going to bring him back. I want to know how and why. Maybe you can tell me, detective.”
In the few days since he’d rescued her from Onehunga, Gwenna and Elias had rubbed along together, if not comfortably, at least not acrimoniously. They would never be close, and probably never friends either, but she hoped they were no longer enemies. He spent most of his time away from the house – seeing Alice and working at the workshop, he’d said – so the police finding him at home was pure chance.
To Gwenna’s mind, there was no doubt Alice’s stabilising and calming influence over Elias had changed him. He was a different man to the one Gwenna had lived with, but that in itself scared her; it had been so sudden, and she worried the old Elias would reappear if anyone crossed him. So far, she’d not seen any evidence of the violence returning, but she had noticed the effort it took him to control his tongue on occasions.
He’d appeared that morning in a particularly good mood, so she had asked him to stay and teach her how he managed the accounts, the stock, sales and deliveries and all the other details he had kept from her. She had no doubts about her skill in making the lollies or any style of sweet-tasting treat, for that matter, but while Pa had taught her about weights and measurements, about cost efficiencies and the value of freshness, she had never had anything to do with the running of the business. She would now have to take into account the cost of running the home, the lease, the telephone, owning the neglected delivery van and caring for a horse, as well as managing the orders. The task seemed insurmountable, but the more plans she made, the more hopeful she became. She had so many ideas she was near to bursting with them all. Dragging her down – apart from her despair over Johnno and worry about how she would raise a baby without a husband – was her self-doubt after so many years under Elias’s authority.
“Are you sure, Gwenna, love?” Bethan plainly didn’t want to know. “Some things are best left as they are. The less you know, the better, in my experience.”
Bethan had good reasons. She too had lost a husband to an accident and, in truth, lost her son at the same time. She lost another husband to sickness and had to learn to live with that same son under, at times, harrowing circumstances. Bethan had adapted, learnt to cope with whatever life threw at her, without complaint, and in the process had lost herself. She no longer had any say over anything. Gwenna didn’t want that to happen to her.
Two bright spots of anger coloured her cheeks. “I’m sure, Mam. I need to know. I have to learn to take control of my life. Please, Elias. Sit down. If you’d prefer, Detective Scott can tell me what he knows, or you can tell me. It’s up to you.”
Elias began by explaining how the events on the day of the rescue had unfolded, including seeing a body, which he believed was Johnno’s. “I left it to the man named Bill to report the accident with Dan Davies, and what else we’d found, to the police. I didn’t consider it necessary for both of us to do so.”
As the story developed, the detective appeared to relax. He took notes and occasionally asked a couple of questions, but mainly left Elias to do the talking.
“It was only much later, in a conversation in the Tuakau pub, did I learn about the terrible storm everyone believed had caused the first accident – and when Jack Jones’s wagon had more than likely gone over the edge.”
Sometimes Elias hesitated, and Gwenna could only surmise what detail he’d left out for her benefit – or could there be a more sinister reason? If so, the officer didn’t pick up on it, but he didn’t know Elias the way she did. He wouldn’t interpret the nuances she had learnt to read to protect herself, but for whatever reason, Elias was lying. Or at least not telling the whole truth.
“In my opinion, the wagon went over in the wet and trapped the driver,” concluded Elias.
“I concur with your assessment, young man. The wagon at the bottom of the gully did belong to J Jones Esq., senior. Mr Jones is currently being sought by the police for questioning concerning his dealings, which are contrary to the proposed new laws of moneylending. He is not a registered trader and will have to answer to the courts when the bill is passed. However, he has not been sighted for some time, except it seems by Mr William Cunningham, if what you say is correct. We will follow up this sighting with Mr Cunningham.”
He folded his notebook, slipped it into his pocket and extended his hand towards Elias as he stood up. “Combined with our investigations and what you’ve told me, I believe we can now safely identify the person involved as Mr John Jones. You will be formally notified, Mrs Jones.”
The two men shook hands before the officer turned to Gwenna and Bethan. “Thank you, Mrs Jones, and you, Mrs Price, ma’am. Sorry to have intruded upon you, but police business must be attended to,” he repeated for the third time.
As soon as he took a step forward, Bethan jumped up to open the door for him.
“Just a moment, detective,” said Gwenna, who remained seated at the table. “I was not feeling my best when you arrived, and I’m even more shaky now, given what I have learnt. However, if I’m not mistaken, at the start you indicated Mr Hughes had some suspicious activity to account for, did you not?”
The detective fiddled with his hat. “I did, ma’am.”
“And do you still believe it to be the case?” Gwenna noted the man’s embarrassment and used it to get what she wanted.
“No. I do not.”
“Then you owe Mr Hughes an apology. He did nothing other than to keep some of the more gruesome details to himself.”
The man nodded and again extended his hand towards Elias, which, this time, Elias did not accept. Detective Scott dropped his hand to his side. “No hard feelings, I hope, sir. You will understand, I’m sure, I was simply following orders and doing my duty. I thank you for your co-operation and apologise for taking up your time unnecessarily.”
It would do.
“Thank you,” said Gwenna. “Forgive me if I don’t see you to the door. As you can see, I’m heavy with child.”
The man glanced between Elias and Gwenna, flabbergasted and shocked at her effrontery.
Elias smiled. “You assume incorrectly, detective. Twice. I am not head of this household. Mrs Jones holds that position. Good day.”
When Bethan shut the door behind him, Elias let out an odd-sounding burst of air, which caused Bethan to squawk. Gwenna managed a small twitch of the lips at the noises they made, even though she had no desire to laugh. Death was no laughing matter, but it broke the tension that once again had surfaced.
“I’m sorry you had to go through all that on my behalf, Elias. I never realised how bad it must have been for you.” Gwenna had again slumped in her chair, exhausted.
“And I’m sorry you had to suffer that fool,” said Elias. “I’d have kept the details from you and Mam if I’d had my way. No woman should face such things. You handled it graciously.”
Gwenna stared at him in astonishment. What on earth had Alice said to him? Never in a lifetime would she have expected Elias to compliment her. She was grateful he no longer hit her.
“I didn’t thank you for finding him. I should have. I am grateful, and obliged to you.” For a few moments, she sat motionless. “I still can’t quite believe it – even though I dreamt it.” Gwenna had known something was going to happen, some instinct she hadn’t known she possessed. An inner sense made her try to stop Johnno from going. “Remember, I told you about my dream: the one where the wilderness spread its tentacles over everything in its path – even wagons and people.”
If Johnno hadn’t done his father’s bidding that day, none of this would have happened, but he had and he’d been killed. All because of his father. She would never forgive the man.
––––––––
Gwenna’s greatest ordeal began later that day when the police arrived.
As Detective Scott had indicated, two officers appeared on her doorstep announcing a body had been recovered, identified and was available for burial.
“We’ve provided a suitable box, ma’am, but regret you will not be able to view the body. Where should we send it?”
After the morning’s fiasco, Bethan nearly fainted with shock. Tillie, who’d hurried around as soon as she’d heard about the detective’s visit, supported her stepmother while Gwenna staggered to a chair. They all struggled to gather their wits to answer after the man’s bluntness.
Eventually, Tillie came to her senses first. “I will ask my husband, Mr Thomas Griffiths, to contact you as soon as possible.”
Tom proved to be his usual tower of strength and organised for the body to be sent to the undertakers, who advised the somewhat malodorous and miserable box should be interred as soon as possible. Following their advice, Tom arranged a speedy and private burial and persuaded the minister to present himself at the house to hold a small service. At the best of times, women were not expected to attend funerals, and there were no men to speak of, other than Tom. They didn’t even post a notice in the newspapers. There seemed no point. No one, Gwenna included, wanted Black Jack to see it and turn up unexpectedly. He would not have been welcome.
For Gwenna, it was a day to forget.
In many ways, Johnno’s funeral was a painful non-event. She did not have the luxury to indulge in the lengthy and elaborate funeral rituals of the past, nor could she afford to shut herself away from view for a year or more, mourning her loss while she could lose the very business that kept her going.
She rejected the traditional symbols of mourning. She didn’t have a lock of hair or a photograph or any memento. All she had were memories – and few enough of those. And since she didn’t know when Johnno died, she couldn’t stop the clock. Neither would she drape the windows and mirrors after death.
Feeling empty inside, she could not bring herself to show any emotion, and the others followed her lead. Awkwardness was the overriding feature of the day.
