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Nightmares become reality
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18 April 1901
This time when she woke, something other than her dreams had disturbed her. Gwenna rose, tied her wrap around her and tiptoed downstairs. Her heart hammered like a pounding steam engine. Certain she’d heard a noise, she stopped to listen. Footsteps? No one else in the house had stirred but, beginning to think she’d imagined it all, she heard the sound again. Like a sack being dragged.
In the months to follow, she would berate herself for not lighting the lamp when she entered the shop through the connecting door as she had done hundreds of times over the previous six months.
The street lamp was no longer lit, and with no moon the solid darkness became impenetrable, but she had this overwhelming need to check the door was bolted. Like a blind person, Gwenna edged her way to the door by feel, reaching out to the table on her right, the mantelpiece on her left.
She sighed with relief when she checked the bolts and they were still in place. She’d taken a few steps on her return journey when an object flew through the window, sending glass flying. Gwenna lost her balance and fell heavily against the table, toppling it as she crashed to the floor with a yell. How she missed landing on the glass she would never know, but before she could fathom what was happening, another object smashed through the second window, and the third. Glass shards flew everywhere. She whimpered with every bump and bang, but whoever was outside, intent on destroying the windows, hadn’t finished. The door glass shattered before another attack was launched on the front windows, using what Gwenna assumed was an iron bar, to smash every remaining pane.
Terrified whoever it was would attack her too if they saw her, she lay absolutely still, praying her white nightdress and robe would not give her away. Hearing sounds from the house, her addled brain realised the noise would have disturbed Bethan and Louisa. Georgie would probably be crying. She had to stop them coming through to the shop. She pulled herself into a kneeling position against a chair, taking care to make the least amount of noise as possible. From there she struggled to her feet amidst the tangle of clothing. Pain shot up her leg and she vaguely worried about what damage she’d done. She stood up at the same time as the door opened and her eyes were assaulted by a bright light, and the shadow of a person looming large came towards her.
––––––––
“Gwenna, wake up. Come on, Gwenna. You’re safe now. Wake up, Gwenna, bach.”
The soothing voice of her mam echoed in the fog behind her eyes until the astringent smelling salts passing under her nose had her sitting upright. Her head exploded with the movement, and she lay back down again, groaning with the pain.
“What ...” She licked her lips. Memory returned and with it panic. She tried to sit up once more, but the room spun, and she was forced to close her eyes and lie down to still the clanging in her head.
“Is ... every ... one ...” She seemed unable to find the words.
“Shush, Gwenna. Rest. We’re safe. You’re safe. The doctor will be here soon. Hugh’s gone to get him,” soothed her mam.
Louisa pressed a cold compress, smelling faintly of lavender, to Gwenna’s forehead. “You fainted when you saw us. The light was too much of a shock.”
“What ...” Gwenna began again. “Tell ...”
“No talking,” ordered Louisa, stroking her arm. “You’re to rest. And I’m here to make sure you do.”
Louisa’s voice faded. Oblivion overtook her.
* * *
“You should consider yourself very lucky, Mrs Price,” said the doctor. “In my opinion, you were headed for a complete nervous breakdown, young lady.”
Gwenna only half listened to the doctor lecture her about her ailments and what should be done about them. Today was her birthday. Two years in a row circumstances had ruined it.
“You are exhausted,” continued the doctor, “and grossly undernourished. We need to build your strength up. It will be a slow process requiring long-term bed rest. The bruises will heal, but I am a little concerned with the ligament in your knee. Do not put any pressure on it until I tell you. Initially, I’m confining you to bed for one month.”
“A month!” Whatever else he had said, that word was enough to bring Gwenna to her senses. “I won’t stay in bed for a month. I can’t.”
“You can, and you will,” said Louisa firmly. “I promised Mam.”
Louisa had taken on the role of chief carer. Her skills in the kitchen were limited, and she had never learnt how to make lollies.
Not at all happy with being contradicted by his patient, the doctor began to put his instruments back in his bag. Tersely, he said, “I’ve given Mrs Evans here some tonic to help strengthen your blood and something to help you sleep. She has a list of recommended foods. I strongly suggest you follow my advice, if you know what’s good for you. Good day, madam.”
Mam and Louisa were constantly in and out of her room, giving her possets of warm, spiced milk laced with brandy, soups of varying tastes and disgusting aspic jellies. The custards were much better, and the sweet milk toast a treat. They allowed her out of bed long enough to use the commode and propped her up on pillows for an hour at a time, but mostly she slept. The soothing lavender oil Louisa put on her pillow and rubbed on her temple and inside her wrists, helped Gwenna’s body take control over her mind.
On the third day, Gwenna felt strong enough to push herself into a sitting position and started asking questions.
To begin with, nobody was keen to discuss what had happened in the shop.
“You have to tell me,” moaned Gwenna. “I’m going crazy with worry here.”
“Don’t upset yourself, Gwenna, bach,” said Bethan. “Get better first.”
By the end of a week, only a few bits of information had filtered through to her.
“If someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on, I will get up and find out for myself.”
Gwenna threw the bedclothes back and attempted to stand up. Her head swam and her legs wobbled dangerously. She was forced to balance on the side of the bed, one hand on the bedpost, the other holding her head until the room stood still.
Bethan fussed and bothered, calling Louisa to help her lift Gwenna back into bed, but Gwenna would not be calmed.
“If you won’t tell me, send Tom or Hugh to see me.”
Bethan was scandalised that Gwenna would even consider admitting Hugh to her bedroom while attired in her nightgown. “You can’t do that. It’s not done.”
But Gwenna had moved beyond the niceties of society, demanding to see one of the men. “At least Hugh will be honest with me, which is more than you two are.”
Neither of her carers would give in.
Later in the day, Louisa returned. Sitting on the side of the bed, she faced Gwenna and laid down the law. “I can’t have you getting yourself all worked up like this over things you can do nothing about. What’s done is done. I’ve told you the windows have been battened and the place is secure. That’s all you need to know. There’s to be a police investigation. We can’t do much until then.”
“The business will be ruined. We have to do something,” wailed Gwenna.
“Stop it, Gwenna. Or I won’t tell you anything.”
At Louisa’s threat, Gwenna calmed down and listened.
“To ease your mind and make it simpler for everyone concerned, I’ve organised a day bed for you in the sitting room. You will be allowed to come down in the morning before luncheon and again in the afternoon, after a nap, until dinner.”
Gwenna started to quarrel, but Louisa put her fingers on Gwenna’s lips.
“If you argue with me, you won’t be allowed down at all. I will help you dress in the day robe Tillie is making. When you’re ready, Hugh will carry you downstairs. Yes, Gwenna,” she said when Gwenna again attempted to contradict her. “Carry you. You are not walking and that is final.”
The next morning Tillie and Louisa dressed Gwenna in her pale-blue wool day dress. Shaped into the waist and flaring out over soft petticoats, it fastened together from neck to toe with tiny frog fastenings. Brocade trim and heelless brocade slippers turned a plain robe into an elegant dress.
“There’s no need to wear corsets, my dear,” said Tillie. “It’s designed for comfort, but you will be able to receive guests now.”
Gwenna was thankful, and said so, giving both sisters a hug and a kiss. Hugh lifted her as if she was a feather and carried her gently down the stairs. Gwenna carelessly draped her arm around his neck and felt a faint shiver through his shoulders. She glanced at him in surprise, but Hugh kept his eyes firmly fixed on where he was going until he sat her on the day bed in the sitting room.
Gwenna had never seen the sofa before but fell in love with it straight away. She must thank Tom, or whoever bought it. Covered in a warm gold velvet, it looked like an armchair with rolled and padded arms and back, but longer, with extra length for her legs. She splayed the skirt of her robe out to drape prettily over the side.
“You’re looking better, if I may say so, Miss Gwenna,” said Hugh. “There’s a bit of colour in your cheeks.” And by the way he danced from foot to foot and turned colour himself, he was clearly embarrassed.
“Thank you, Hugh. Will you stay and talk with me? Tell me what’s going on.”
“Not right now, Miss Gwenna. Mr Griffiths will explain everything.” Hugh glanced at Louisa’s stern face. “I’d better be going for now.”
Louisa plumped pillows behind Gwenna, pulled a side table closer to her and handed her a milk posset and a book. “Is that better?”
“Perfect. Thank you, Louisa,” smiled Gwenna. “But when is someone going to tell me what I need to know?”
As if on cue, Tom knocked on the door and entered the room. He kissed Gwenna on the cheeks and, after all the civilities had been covered, pulled up a chair.
Gwenna sat transfixed, almost unable to utter a word, as Tom explained the events of that night.
“We have not been allowed to touch anything. They are taking photographs of all the damage, including the bricks – to see if they can identify where they came from. And a crowbar left behind. We still don’t know who it was, or why. There’s been no witnesses come forward, other than you ...”
“It was Black Jack.”
“What? Don’t be silly, Gwenna. It can’t have been him,” Tom said, dismissing her idea. “You’re imagining things, girl. No one’s seen or heard of Jack Jones in over a year. He’s gone.”
Gwenna shook her head and sat forward. “It was him, I’m telling you, Tom. He’s haunted my dreams for weeks – just like those dreams I had before Johnno disappeared. It was him. I just know it. Even if no one can prove it. And ... the date, Tom.” Tom knew what she meant. “Why that date if it wasn’t him?”
“Calm yourself, Gwenna. I won’t argue with you if you feel sure. Your instincts have been good before, but it’s a long shot. I’ll suggest it to the police, but don’t expect them to take it seriously.” Tom paused. “There’s one more thing. The other piece of evidence they’re following is the word ‘Shrew’ painted on the wall.”
Gwenna gasped, and tears threatened. She wasn’t as strong as she thought. What a horrible word to use, and to deface the building was unforgivable. “Is it still there?” she asked in a strained voice.
“Yes, but it’s covered up now,” Tom assured her. “The police nailed a piece of canvas over it so passers-by won’t gawk at it, and they’ll also investigate the paint on the footpath where the pot was spilt. They’re hoping whoever it was might have got some on a shoe or their clothing.”
“Can I see?”
“No. Absolutely not, Gwenna. You’ve had enough trauma. You heard what the doctor said. Total rest and no upsets. Anyway, your mother and your sisters would kill me if I let you anywhere beyond this room.”
Gwenna attempted a smile, but her mind was working overtime.
“I never saw the room afterwards. It was pitch dark until Louisa came through the door with the light and I fainted. From what I remember while lying on the floor, he smashed every window. I know I knocked one table flying, it’ll be broken, and now you tell me the evil man painted the outside too? I can picture it, Tom. The shop’s ruined, isn’t it. He’s ruined it. I’m not going to be able to get it up and running again, am I?”
Gwenna saw the sorrow in Tom’s face, but he would never conceal the truth from her. “No, Gwenna, you’re not. The damage can be fixed but even if you could reinstate the shop, I’m not sure people would come.”
At Tom’s words, Gwenna’s hopes and dreams shattered. The shop was gone. Everything she had worked for, everything she had sacrificed – all gone in one night of wanton destruction.
Like a dam bursting, her courage deserted her, leaving her as emotionally and mentally exhausted as she was physically drained. She lay on the day bed with no idea how she would recover from such a loss.
* * *
Over the next few days, Gwenna had a constant stream of visitors. Elias, the most surprising of them all. He didn’t stay long, but she valued his coming.
“Alice told me,” he said. “I’m sorry you’ve met such troubles, Gwenna. Never mind what is between us, you don’t deserve them.”
From Alice, she learnt more about the story of Louisa’s sideboard and how Mr Evans had tried to claim it since he’d paid for it, he said, but her father had refused. His client, Woody insisted, was Mrs Louisa Evans and since she had gifted it to his daughter Alice, that was the end of the matter. Mr Court’s sideboard was coming along excellently, and Woody was certain it would win first prize. And Elias and her dad were planning on moving to a bigger workshop – “Which means I’ll be able to help choose where we live and what the house looks like. I so want a nicer place. It’s been fine for Dad and me, but Elias and me, we’re a family now.” And finally, breathlessly, Alice thought she was pregnant. “You don’t mind me telling you, do you, Gwenna? I know it’s too soon to know for certain and I shouldn’t tell anyone, but I’m so excited.”
From Janie, Gwenna learnt about the redecorations in their house to welcome the new baby. New furniture, new curtaining, new colours. They had scrimped and saved after Percy’s increase had come through, and the house they’d bought had been pretty run-down, but the potential had been huge since it had so many bedrooms. “Enough for all the children, and a spare one. Percy says I can get a maid in to help.” Dreams were coming to fruition for the Lewis family.
“I’m happy you’re prospering, Janie. It’s good to see,” said Gwenna, increasingly concerned about her own situation.
Bethan told her about the new people she’d met through the choir, and how she was helping the ladies with the church bazaar fundraising. In the hope Gwenna would eat more, Bethan prepared her favourite foods in addition to the life-sustaining diet the doctor recommended. Louisa nursed her as if she was a baby in need of constant attention, and strictly adhered to the times she was allowed downstairs. The only times Gwenna saw Hugh was when he carried her up and down. In those brief moments, which she found awkwardly intimate, Gwenna tried to find out what Hugh was doing but misinterpreted his reticence to mean more than his words. The less he said about how the wholesale side was doing, the more Gwenna fretted.
Even Tillie had news. “Tom’s been promoted to Assistant Head of Department. A manager even.” Gwenna was delighted with the news. Tom deserved recognition, but would it mean she’d lose Tillie? With Tom in such an elevated position, Gwenna assumed Tillie would no longer want to work – not with sufficient money coming into the house for her to become a society lady if she wished. Gwenna couldn’t imagine what she would do without Tillie.
All around her, the family was prospering, yet no one spoke of Gwenna rekindling her dreams. No one gave her any hope she would be able to rebuild what she had lost. Her heart ached. She had promised Pa she would care for Mam, and Charlie. Even if Tom had taken over the role, there was still Mam to consider – and Louisa. And she had made a pledge to her son. She had failed them all.
Sleep became her escape, thanks to Louisa’s magic medicine.
