31

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New Year 1900

At precisely midnight, Elias handed Alice a small, flat packet wrapped in plain brown paper. While the crowd stood in awe of the fireworks, entertained by the blast of sound coming from ships’ horns, clanging bells, harsh whistles and chiming clocks, Elias and Alice only had eyes for each other.

“What’s this?” she shouted into his ear.

“Open it and see.” He held his breath, waiting, eager for her response.

Pulling the string tie open and unfolding the paper, she gasped at the sight of the intricately carved lovespoon lying in her hand. The Welsh tradition of a lovespoon, proof of the carver’s skill as well as a gift of love, said more than any words he could have used. Each of the symbols had a meaning: a horseshoe for luck, a cross for faith, bells for marriage, hearts for love, a wheel, supporting a loved one and a lock for security – and he’d used them all.

Alice’s hair bobbed up and down as she bounced on her toes, and she flung her arms around Elias’s neck, ignoring the stares and sniggers from people around her. “Oh, Eli. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much.”

As soon as the fireworks finished, the Garrison Band, under the baton of Mr Hunter, picked up their instruments and started playing again, while the paddle steamer Eagle continued its excursion around the harbour.

The open top deck was crammed almost elbow to elbow, but Eli couldn’t have been happier. He’d booked two places aboard the boat on the second trip of the night so Alice could see the fireworks. He’d wanted, no, needed, to tell Alice how much he loved her and explain how guilt-ridden he felt about his earlier detachment but, unable to put any of it into words, he had to come up with a different plan.

The newspaper advertisement for the New Year’s Eve excursion had sparked one idea, but the lovespoon had been entirely his. Out of the blue, a memory had come to him one day of the simple lovespoon his father had given his mam when they wed – the one he, their son, had snapped into pieces in a rage and thrown in the fire when his mam married George Price.

He’d watched the tears trickle down her face, but she said nothing. She had never reprimanded him or mentioned it since, even though she must have been heartbroken. Only now was he beginning to accept the power of love over the potency of hate. He never wanted to feel hatred like that again. It had nearly destroyed him and everything he once loved.

He had much to regret, and even more to make amends for, but the mythical folklore surrounding the custom became significant. Whether as an act of contrition, a form of retribution or as a pledge, Elias couldn’t decide, but the urge to make a lovespoon for Alice was too strong to resist. Like her.

Wrapping his arms around her, his heart soared and his mind cleared. For the first time, Elias truly believed he could make something more of his life – with Alice beside him, and a new century ahead of him.

* * *

A few days later, taking a break from the oppressive heat inside the workshop, Elias sat in the shade in the courtyard reading the newspaper. Since Woody had built the display room out the front, the workshop had become unbearable in summer. He would have to hint to Alice they should find better premises one day soon.

Elias read about several remarkable and unremarkable events, but the editorial in the Observer saying farewell to the old year and ‘the death of the Nineteenth Century’, and welcoming the twentieth, held his attention and he read from beginning to end.

It is a momentous moment in the history of the world. Looking backward upon the records of history, it is impossible to view the passing away of the Nineteenth Century with other than feelings of regret, for it has been a hundred years unparalleled for marvellous scientific discovery, for the rapid evolution of religious and political freedom, and for a wonderful improvement in the social condition of the peoples of the world.

It is sad to think that the closing hours of the century should be embittered by bloodshed and strife, but so it is for, with all our advancement and enlightenment, we have not yet reached that idealistic era when the sword shall be beaten into the ploughshare and racial hatred and carnage shall give place to universal love and brotherhood. However, let us hope that the new century may see an end to war and its horrors and bring about that happy period when international quarrels shall no longer be submitted to the arbitrament of the sword.

To us in New Zealand, far removed from scenes of bloodshed, the closing year has been gratifying and prosperous, and we must always look back to it as one of the brightest and most progressive periods in our history. Whether the credit is due to the prevailing administration, or to the better conditions of trade and commerce, the fact remains that New Zealand finances were never more buoyant than they are today, and the people were never more prosperous and contented. Let it be hoped that this condition of things will be maintained, that the wellbeing of the people will continue to advance, and that the destinies of this young and self-reliant country will be moulded into a noble and glorious future by the wisdom and sagacity of our legislators.

We in Auckland have every reason to think well of 1900, for it has increased our prosperity, and left us vigorous, happy and hopeful. During the twelve months our city has advanced by leaps and bounds, the development of our natural resources has been profitably proceeded with on an expanding scale, while the last few months has witnessed the gradual recovery of the mining industry, upon which we so largely depend. Employment is plentiful, wages are good, and the working classes in this country never lived in greater comfort or more free from poverty.

Under these circumstances, there is a peculiar sadness associated with the death of the Old Year. We owe it much, it has been a kindly friend to us, and we cannot part from it without a pang of regret

The Old Year must die, and all that is left to us is to speed the parting, while we welcome the coming guest.

Elias, of course, couldn’t agree with half of what he’d read. He was never more pleased to see the back of a year. Despite whatever scientific and social advances had been made during the last century, his life had been a series of disasters. He hoped a new century would bring about the changes and prosperity and comfort, the writer so ardently championed, but he doubted it. Nor, in his view, would mankind learn any lessons from the ravages of war.

Of more interest were two other announcements taking effect from 1 January 1901 – the Federation of Australia, that New Zealand had stood apart from, which mattered little to Elias, and the release of the Universal Penny Postage, announced by Joseph Ward, which mattered a lot.

According to the newspapers, both inland and overseas postage were now set at one penny throughout the British Empire, and Postmaster-General Ward would be opening new post office buildings in celebration up and down the country throughout the coming year.

Exempt from the new penny postage would be Australia, now it had become a federation of its own, and other foreign territories such as the United States of America, France and Germany, who chose not to take part and who were accused of protecting a falsely perceived fall in their postal revenues. Telephone connection numbers were expected to boom.

If the fact that Woody had recently installed a new telephone connection was anything to go by, the papers were right. Woody didn’t like modern inventions, he liked to do things the traditional way. Alice had been responsible for persuading him otherwise. She could cajole both of them into anything she wanted.

Putting aside the newspaper, Elias returned to the workshop to resume where he’d left off shaping the smaller of the two cabinets he’d been commissioned to make. Woody insisted the smaller one should be finished first, to Elias’s consternation, since Mr Court’s larger order would bring in more reward. But it wasn’t his place to question.

Again, under the spell and aroma of the native timbers Elias loved the most, his thoughts could wander. After the most glorious of New Year’s Eve celebrations, the next day he and Alice had attended the picnic at Matiatia Bay on Waiheke Island.

Against all his instincts, Elias enjoyed the trip. The passengers experienced an unusual sense of movement and power aboard the SS Kawau as it surged through the gentle waves of the Waitemata, creating a white-water wake like a snow-laden road after being ploughed. Elias found the jaunt by steamship far more exhilarating than the paddle steamer the evening before. The Eagle had also churned up the water like lather but the slow, unwieldy vessel hadn’t excited him like this.

The expanse of water and smell of the ocean brought back memories of the ship that had brought him to New Zealand ten years earlier. In those days, his anger and resentment battled against anything remotely agreeable and he turned his bitterness into animosity: for the water, the ship and the people who had taken him across the world. He had never fathomed Gwenna’s love for the harbour, until now.

But it wasn’t only the joys of the harbour, the natural bushland of Waiheke Island, its beaches and festivities that had made the day so successful. He and Alice had also set a wedding date. Rather than wait, they agreed on Saturday February 2nd. Alice’s reasoning was more emotional than practical.

“Two for Two,” she said. It was all they needed, two people together. The rest would simply fall into place.

* * *

Elias had no idea what had come over Janetta. Whether the changes in him had triggered a change in her, or whether something else had sparked the shift, he couldn’t say, but since her first visit back in November, Janetta now called in to the workshop most weeks. The two of them had almost reached the point of being comfortable, if not friendly.

Alice offered her a cup of tea or some other refreshment.

“Thank you, dear, but I won’t be staying. I just want to catch up with Elias for a few minutes.”

Woody never objected. As long as Alice was happy.

“I won’t keep Elias long, Mr Woodman, I promise, but it’s so good to talk to him without the rest of the family interfering. No offence, Alice, dear. I meant my sister mostly, who would interrupt and correct me.”

Elias inwardly cringed whenever anyone referred to family as something whole and worthwhile.

Janetta told him innumerable stories about Gwenna and Louisa. Elias learnt something new about their state of flux with every conversation, but he rarely heard anything about Mam. He wondered why, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask about her, yet.

Those months after Gwenna and Charlie had left ... Elias shuddered, remembering the time when the devil had reached so far into his soul that he’d mutated into a beast he’d rather forget. Those months when there’d been the two of them living in the house – him and Mam – had been the turning point in their relationship. Since then, other people had come between them again and he’d maintained a distance.

On the few occasions he’d stood watching the shop and all Gwenna had achieved, hoping to catch Bethan on her own, he’d been disappointed. Every time she left the house she had someone with her: two infants in a double baby carriage, who Janetta had told him were Tillie’s Olwen and Gwenna’s George; or Charlie, often; or Tillie; sometimes Tom Griffiths; and of late Hugh Powell. Elias couldn’t fit Hugh into the picture. Janetta had not mentioned him, but obviously, he’d returned from the war.

Never once had Elias seen Bethan by herself, and he recoiled from exposing his shame in front of anyone else. In the end, he would turn on his heel and return to Alice and Woody, who only knew the recreated Eli.

“Elias?” Janetta began haltingly, dragging him back to the present. “Do you remember how Louisa could get when things didn’t go her way?”

“What about it?”

“She’s behaving like that now. All snappy and argumentative. Restless. Impatient even. Have you heard anything?”

Elias shook his head. He had less to do with Louisa now than ever. He couldn’t even remember her married name. Wed a butcher, he vaguely recalled. “What’s it to me?”

“Nothing, I suppose. Except ... well ...” Janetta explained, “This family’s had enough of its share of troubles and upsets, don’t you think? I don’t want to see a second generation caught up in a similar turmoil. Isn’t it time we all made amends?”

Elias questioned why Janetta needed to make amends. His faults he acknowledged. He doubted Gwenna needed to make amends to anyone – if anything, she was the one sinned against, and not only by him. He had refused to accept it for a long time, but he and Gwenna were alike in many ways, both proud and stubborn.

At the cusp of starting a new life with Alice, he wondered what Janie wanted from life. For so long he’d shoved his family away, kept them all at arm’s length, not caring for one moment what happened to them. All he’d cared about was his hurts, his problems, but being with Alice had made him see beauty in the people and things around him, things he’d not noticed before.

Tillie loved beautiful things. In her perfect world, people would live in harmony with one another. Gwenna would fulfil her father’s dream – she was driven enough to fight off any naysayers. By Janetta’s account, Louisa had numerous friends and loved being the centre of attention. It wasn’t all he remembered. Independent was the word he’d use to describe her – she’d hated being restricted or bound by rules, even as a youngster.

But Janie? He couldn’t decide about her. She wasn’t creative like Tillie, Gwenna or him, nor as self-reliant as Louisa, but she was more than capable, with far more common sense.

“What are you getting at, Janie?”

“I just thought, what with you getting married soon ... you are, aren’t you?”

Elias nodded without giving the date away.

“Maybe we could gather together to welcome Alice into the family. I’m sure Gwenna would allow us to meet in her shop, there’s room there, and Mam would love it. She’d put on a feast I’m sure. And ... we’d have to talk to Alice, of course,” Janie rattled on. Now she had the chance to give her thoughts free rein there would be no stopping the floodgates until she’d finished. “But it’s a chance for absolution for all the wrongs we’ve done each other.”

Elias said nothing, but he thought plenty. There’s no way I could put myself through that. And what has Janie done?

“Oh, Elias. Please,” begged Janetta. “So much has changed – none of us are the same people we used to be. Look at you – if you hadn’t made the change, none of us would be as we are today. Is there a chance each of us can learn to forgive, if not forget?”

Elias gazed at her for several moments in total bewilderment. “You’re asking the wrong person, Janetta. I can accept people might need to forgive me, but who do I need to forgive?”

By openly admitting fault, his contrition and humiliation were complete. He bade her good day and returned to his work, her final word ringing in his ears.

“Yourself, Elias. Forgive yourself.”