Turning Points

Chapter 1

November 1944

Carys Bowen was not quite ten years old when her mother died. Four days later on her birthday, when she should have been playing party games and eating birthday cake with her friends, she stood instead in Llanbach churchyard watching forlornly as four black-clad men lowered her mother’s coffin into the damp, inhospitable earth. It was a sunny, mid-autumn day and Carys glared briefly towards the sun, willing it to go away because it reminded her of happy, carefree days, which she felt had passed along with her mother. A few dry brown leaves skittered and swirled around the feet of the gathered mourners – about two dozen in number – as they stood, eyes downcast, listening to the monotonous voice of Reverend Davies. Annie was holding her small, cold hand, but Carys barely even noticed; her hand remained limp and lifeless in Annie’s grasp. She looked across at her father, who stood stiffly on the opposite side of the grave in his best Sunday suit, hoping that he would look back at her and make the heaviness in her heart lift just a little. But her father Gareth just stared over her head, lost in his own thoughts and apparently oblivious to her grief.

Annie squeezed her hand.

Carys, suddenly reminded of her cousin’s presence, looked up at her dolefully. As she did so, a flurry of wind blew a lock of unruly red hair so that it bounced in front of her eye, obscuring her vision. Annie pushed the errant curl gently back into place for her and gave a little half smile, but Carys feeling too numb to return it, looked down at her feet instead.

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, droned old Reverend Davies.

Carys turned and buried her face in Annie’s dress, unable to hold her emotions in check any longer. She sobbed loudly and inconsolably, and heard no more of her mother’s funeral service.

Annie held on tight to Carys’ shaking body, and looked over her head at Uncle Gareth. Still he seemed not to notice his daughter’s anguish. Lost in sorrow, or lost in thinking about her, thought Annie angrily. She glared at him. Then she looked up over her shoulder at her mother, only to see her doing exactly the same. They were here to pay their final respects to one of the dearest, most beloved members of their family, but this, this overshadowed even the grief of their loss. How could he, Annie thought as she protectively ran her fingers through her sobbing cousin’s hair, when his wife was dying, how could he start fooling about with Rhonda Bevan?

Poor, trusting Carys was too young to understand but Annie, being seven years older, understood all too well. Her mother had tried to keep it from her, but rumours like that spread like wildfire. Oh, Uncle Gareth had certainly loved Carys’ mother – Annie had been bridesmaid at their wedding and, even at the age of six, had recognised the look of total adoration in his eyes that day – but things had obviously changed since then and, now she was gone, Annie thought Gareth Bowen would not mourn for long.

An hour later, Carys was back at home, in the house her father had built before her mother had become ill. She stood alone next to the heavy, green chintz curtains just inside the sitting room door, glancing around the room from one group of adults to the next in the hope of being noticed. But none of them even looked in her direction as they stood talking in hushed tones and chewing on the sandwiches Auntie Gladys had made and delivered to the house early that morning.

Carys sighed heavily and adjusted the hem of her black Sunday-best frock.

As the minutes ticked past, her mind drifted back to recall the simple, happy life she had always taken for granted. But all this had ended abruptly just a few days ago, and now she was left with a yawning black pit in her chest, right where her heart used to be.

Bronwyn Bowen had been an inspiring woman: a talented teacher, a gifted artist, an exceptional piano player and a hardworking business woman. Carys thought she was the perfect mother too; she admired and loved her and wanted to be just like her when she grew up. When Bronwyn had become ill, Carys knew she would soon be better and, even when she could not leave her bed except in a wheelchair, it did not cross Carys’ mind that it was at all serious.

Then, on that dreadful Wednesday, as she got off the bus and skipped nonchalantly up the front path towards her home, she had been surprised to see her father sprinting across the garden from his workshop into the house, an expression of panic on his face. Auntie Mary held open the door for him as he rushed past, not noticing Carys at the end of the path.

A sensation of dread spread inexplicably through Carys like a drop of black ink on a piece of blotting paper. She paused for the merest fraction of a second and then, clutching her school bag to her chest, ran as fast as her legs would carry her the rest of the way to the house.

Auntie Mary had almost shut the front door when she noticed the distraught Carys hurtling towards her, her eyes wide and her mouth open, gasping for breath.

Oh, cariad, she said gently, come in and sit down with me: I have some terribly sad news to tell you, and you’re going to have to be very brave.

Carys was pulled back to the present by the slamming of that same front door. Annie and Auntie Mary had arrived from the church, and were taking off their coats to hang them up in the hallway. Her heart lightened at the prospect of having her ally, Annie, back with her. She didn’t rush to them straight away though, as they were talking and her mother had taught her not to interrupt conversations.

"Did you see her there; standing off by herself near the gate?" asked Annie incredulously.

Couldn’t really miss her ‒ wearing that red coat while everyone else was in respectful black ‒ could you? replied her mother.

Why would she go to the funeral? Doesn’t she have any shame? Or compassion for the family, come to that? Annie spat.

No, I don’t think she does. She probably just sees it as another opportunity to get her claws into him, said Auntie Mary angrily. Then Carys thought she heard her add softly, Poor little mite.

Carys stared up at her aunt with sad blue eyes, trying to understand what she had meant when she mentioned claws.

Annie turned towards the sitting room as Auntie Mary hung up their coats on the already heavily laden coat hooks. As Carys took a step forward to greet her, she thought her cousin looked surprised to see her.

Annie tugged urgently at her mother’s sleeve and cleared her throat.

Please don’t do that Annie! Auntie Mary reprimanded, spinning round to face her. Oh! Carys, cariad, she added, blushing, isn’t your da looking after you?

No, Auntie Mary, he’s over there talking to Miss Bevan, muttered Carys.

Auntie Mary glanced back at Annie, rolling her eyes. Let’s see if we can find you a sandwich then, she said. As Annie passed her to go and find the food, she added quietly Looks like it’s up to us then.

Auntie Mary took hold of Carys’ small, unresponsive hand and led her through the group of mourners towards the food table. Already there, standing the other side of the table, were Auntie Gladys, Auntie Mary’s youngest sister, and her husband – Carys’ Uncle Jack – who was chomping his way heartily through a small pile of jam sandwiches on his plate.

Did you see her? whispered Auntie Gladys.

When Auntie Mary frowned quizzically, her sister inclined her head towards the other side of the room, where Carys saw her father still talking to Miss Bevan. As Carys watched, her father must have said something amusing because Miss Bevan giggled and blushed, adjusting the collar of her deep red blouse and straightening her close-fitting black skirt as she smiled up at him.

"How does she have the nerve?" Auntie Gladys hissed.

You know, said Auntie Mary, "I don’t even think he realises. Too nice he is by half. Wouldn’t recognise a snake if it came and wrapped its coils around him. But I’m sure she knew what was going on – you know, before she went." She picked up a jam sandwich and put it on a plate, passing it absently to Carys.

Oh yes, I know, said Auntie Gladys glowering at Miss Bevan, and for that, I can’t forgive him, no matter how nice and unassuming he might be.

Auntie Mary, whinged Carys, I don’t want to eat; I’m not hungry.

Auntie Mary looked down at her, the angry expression melting away. That’s all right, cariad, if you don’t want it, you can give it to Uncle Jack.

Carys looked up at the great looming figure of Uncle Jack standing next to the diminutive Auntie Gladys and offered her plate up to him. He whisked the sandwich away and took a large bite, nodding his thanks as he did so.

Mary, said a deep, gentle voice. Mary swung around. It was Gareth. He looked apologetic and Mary’s heart softened a little. She’d always thought him a handsome man: tall with dark wavy hair and a strong chin, a charming smile and manner to match. She’d felt a twinge of jealousy when Bronwyn had married Gareth some 11 years ago, even though she was happily married to Will and had her own beautiful daughter, Annie. And the local gossips had had a fine time spreading the news that ‘plain old Bronwyn’ had caught the ‘finest looking fish in the sea’.

Mary, do you think you could help me out of a problem?

What do you need? she asked. You know I’d do anything I could to help my little sister’s husband.

I need someone to look after Carys, he said simply, a hopeful expression on his face.

Her eyes narrowed. I could do that. Annie would be glad to have her stay over for a couple of nights. It would give you some time to settle yourself and think things through properly.

"That would be wonderful, I knew I could count on you, he said animatedly. I’ve packed her a suitcase. It’s in the upstairs hall. I even remembered to pack her ration book. You could pick up her case and gas mask before you leave and take her along home with you. Then, almost as if it had been an afterthought, he added, Might be more than a couple of days though."

What do you mean? Mary asked, trying to keep the suspicion she felt out of her voice.

Well, I was thinking of a couple of weeks; maybe a month. Then I can sort out what to do with the house – it’s too big for the two of us, you see? he explained.

All right, she said slowly, I think Will would agree to that, but I’d have to check with him when he gets in from work tonight and let you know.

That’s fine, said Gareth, visibly relieved. You could take her now if you like; it would save her sitting through all this adult talk and getting bored.

Looking over at Rhonda, Mary sighed. I think you’re right that she’d be better off away from here right now.

Turning her back on Gareth, she took Carys by the hand. Let’s go and get your suitcase and gas mask, cariad. You can come back to stay at The Oaks with us for a while. She forced a smile as the child looked trustingly up at her. Noticing Annie glaring at Gareth, Mary said, Come on, Annie; time to go home, love.

Chapter 2

The car journey to the Saunders’ house was only about eight miles, but Carys felt as though she was travelling to the other side of the world. Although she loved Annie, Auntie Mary and Uncle Will, the moment she sat herself on the back seat of Uncle Will’s black Austin 7, Carys wanted only to be back at home with her father. She was puzzled at being sent away and – for some reason she couldn’t pin down ‒ a little uneasy. Shouldn’t they be sticking together and helping each other through this difficult time? As she stared out of the window, she wondered fleetingly whether the evacuees from the big cities had felt like she did now when they were being taken to safer homes in the countryside.

As Carys sat feeling small, helpless and lost in the back of the car Annie, sitting in the front passenger seat, looked back over her shoulder and gave her a warm smile. The gesture made her feel a little better, but she wished Annie had sat in the back to keep her company. Carys had always felt especially close to her cousin, perhaps because she was the only other child in the family: Neither of them had brothers or sisters and Auntie Gladys and Uncle Jack hadn’t been blessed with children. Annie had always been there for Carys, taking her for walks while the grown-ups chatted, cleaning up her grazed knee when she fell over and buying her sweets from the village shop. Carys thought of Annie not only as her cousin but as a role-model and best friend; if she had a sister she knew she would be just as wonderful as Annie.

But as much as she loved the Saunders’, Carys could not dispel the feeling in the pit of her stomach that going away to stay with them was not right.

Auntie Mary, can I go back please? My da will need someone to look after him now, so I don’t think I can go with you after all, she announced, trying her best to sound grown-up.

Oh, Carys, I think you’re a little too young to do that yet, responded Auntie Mary, glancing back over her shoulder with a sympathetic smile. When you’re a bit older maybe, but right now you’re not big enough to take on a woman’s work.

"I am! wailed Carys, pouting. I’m a big girl now – I turned ten today, remember?"

Auntie Mary’s face dropped and Carys felt momentarily guilty for pointing out that she had forgotten about her birthday.

So you did, cariad, said her aunt awkwardly. When we get home, you can have the present that Annie made for you, can’t she Annie?

Annie nodded and smiled.

But ten isn’t old enough to be looking after a full-grown man like your da and besides, you have school to go to, continued Auntie Mary.

Looking after my da is more important than school, declared Carys, determinedly.

But your mammy would have wanted you to do well in school, wouldn’t she; having been a teacher and all?

At the mention of her mother, Carys’ shoulders fell, and her head drooped. She fiddled absently with the string handle of her gas mask box.

I suppose so, she admitted.

Then keep on going to school, and make your da proud of you. Mammy will be keeping an eye on you from up in heaven you know, and you wouldn’t want to disappoint her, would you? asked Auntie Mary.

A tear ran down Carys’ face and dripped onto her dress. "I won’t disappoint Mammy. I couldn’t do that. But Da needs me, so I’ll finish school first; to make Mammy happy, and then I can look after him," she announced, her bottom lip jutting out.

All right Carys; that sounds like a sensible idea to me, said Auntie Mary, sounding relieved. She and Annie shared a look that Carys could not read, and Carys spent the rest of the trip staring out of the window wishing that she was old enough to see the world through adult eyes.

Auntie Mary parked the car on the road right beside the whitewashed garden wall of The Oaks, got out and held the door open whilst Carys climbed through from the back.

Annie reached into the car and dragged the surprisingly heavy suitcase off the back seat, shutting her door with a bang.

Come on, let’s get you sorted out and settled in, then Annie can give you her present, declared Auntie Mary.

Carys dragged her heels, still unhappy at having been told that she was too young to take care of her da. But she did as she was told, and Auntie Mary took the suitcase from Annie so that the two of them could hold hands as they went through the gate and up the short path to the house. Carys’ spirits lifted a little as Annie smiled down at her.

Come on then, said Annie amiably, leave your gas mask on the peg in the front hall, then let’s go upstairs to my bedroom so that I can give you your birthday present.

All right then, replied Carys shrugging.

Once they were inside the house, Auntie Mary tapped Annie on the shoulder and handed her the suitcase.

Annie, struggling determinedly to manage two tasks at the same time, hauled the case in one hand and took Carys’ hand in the other before making her way carefully up the narrow staircase to the first floor landing. She opened her bedroom door, dropped the suitcase onto the threadbare carpet and ran to her wardrobe. Pulling open both doors, she rooted around in the bottom until she found what she’d been looking for. With a satisfied smile, she turned and thrust a small package wrapped in crisp white tissue paper and tied with a green ribbon towards her cousin. Happy birthday! she declared enthusiastically, I made this for you myself.

For the first time that day, Carys felt that this truly was her birthday; her own special day. Her da had forgotten, but she understood why that was: he was missing Mammy, as was she, and was too upset for remembering birthdays.

Does Mammy know it’s my birthday? asked Carys unexpectedly.

"Yes, of course she does, silly, said Annie reassuringly. Mothers never forget their children’s birthdays. Now open your present."

Carys carefully took the package from her cousin. She sat down on a little wooden footstool and gently tugged at the end of the bow. Placing the delicate green ribbon carefully onto her lap, she unfolded the tissue paper from around the small gift. Her eyes lit up when she saw it. You made this? It’s so pretty! she exclaimed.

It’s for all your sewing bits and bobs, explained Annie.

Carys turned the little sewing case over and over. It was just as big as her hand, made of red felt and shaped like a heart. The outer edge had been hand sewn in gold thread, using a neat, even blanket stitch. It was decorated on one side with felt pieces arranged like a small bunch of multi-coloured berries. Carys lifted up a flap of green felt on the other side to find two sewing needles.

Sorry there are only two, said Annie apologetically, Mam said that’s all she could spare. There’s a thimble inside too though, and a few safety pins and two little reels of cotton – to get you started, you know?

Carys opened the top and looked inside. Oh, Annie, thank you! It’s really lovely, she said appreciatively. Then her eyes opened wider; I can use it to keep my sewing things in when I’m big enough to look after Da! I can darn his socks, fix new buttons onto his shirts and… she stopped, her bottom lip beginning to tremble. A single tear trickled down her cheek. It’s a good job Mammy taught me how to sew, she added, turning her face away from Annie and wiping away the tear with the heel of her hand.

Anything you don’t know, my mam can teach you, suggested Annie sensibly. "She’s ever such a good seamstress, just like your mammy was."

"Hmm," replied Carys half-heartedly, her face still turned away from her cousin.

There was an uncomfortable silence as she struggled to hold back the hot tears she could feel welling up in her eyes at the mention of her mam.

Then they heard the thud of the heavy front door being firmly closed.

I’m home! called the familiar, melodic voice of Annie’s dad, Will Saunders. Anyone here?

Annie jumped to her feet and grabbed Carys’ hand before swooping excitedly along the corridor and down the stairs to greet her father.

Reaching the lounge, they saw the tall, slim figure of Uncle Will standing with his arms wrapped tightly around Auntie Mary’s shoulders, his lunch bag dropped on the floor by his side. Hearing them skid to a halt behind him, he turned his head without loosening his embrace.

Carys? he said, unable to conceal his surprise at seeing her there. He glanced back at Auntie Mary, who raised her eyebrows and squeezed his arm gently. It’s lovely to see you! Give your Uncle Will a hug now, will you?

Carys stepped forward immediately and, even though Uncle Will bent down to meet her, she had to stand on tiptoe to reach her arms around his neck and give him an affectionate peck on the cheek.

I’m afraid dinner isn’t ready yet, said Auntie Mary apologetically. We haven’t been back long. Should be ready in about half an hour though, so there’s just time for you to have a wash and change out of those filthy, dirty clothes, she remarked, looking her husband up and down, her arms crossed in mock displeasure.

Uncle Will looked down at his oil-spattered overalls and arms. Well, I had one or two things on my mind today, and got dripped on a few more times than usual, I’m afraid, he admitted. I suppose I should go and get myself sorted out then, he concluded, grinning sheepishly as he sauntered off towards the stairs.

Auntie Mary picked up his lunch bag and opened it as she strode off back in the direction of the kitchen.

Annie followed her mother across the room, but as she reached the doorway, Auntie Mary turned and said, I know you normally help with dinner, but I’ll manage by myself for today. Go and get Carys settled in would you please, cariad?

It’s all right, I can unpack by myself Auntie Mary, said Carys bravely, lifting her chin slightly. Then Annie can help you in the kitchen. She thought for a moment, frowned and added, I can help too, if you like. I always helped Mammy at home and I got really good at it while she was sick.

"No no, don’t you worry, Carys; you pop off upstairs and get your things unpacked. But I would appreciate Annie’s help, added her aunt, since there will be extra potatoes to peel tonight."

Carys turned on her heel and climbed back up the steep stairs. She pulled on the handle of her heavy brown suitcase and just managed to lift it off the floor. Then she swayed off with it across the bare wooden floor to the opposite side of the hallway and pushed the guest bedroom door open with her foot. She tried to swing the case up onto the bed, but was not strong enough, so she laid it flat on the floor, opened the two metal catches and lifted the lid. As she sat down, cross-legged, on the carpet and looked blankly at the contents of the case, her thoughts suddenly returned to her mammy.

She was still there, staring blindly into her case, half an hour later when Annie came to tell her dinner was ready.

Chapter 3

Dinner seemed to go on forever, yet also passed in a blur for Carys. She sat at the table, pushing the unwanted food round and round her plate knowing the others were trying to talk about things that wouldn’t upset her. After a heartrending half hour, Auntie Mary told her that she was excused from the table and she hurried gratefully back up to the spare bedroom. She closed the door with a heavy sigh, and leaned back against the cold wall.

About ten minutes later, there was a tentative tapping on the bedroom door and Carys, still leaning against the wall just inside, reached out and opened it. She smiled weakly at her cousin.

Would you like to come downstairs and play cards with us until bedtime? Annie asked uncertainly.

Carys frowned and looked down at her feet.

"You can’t sit up here by yourself all evening, Annie said sounding quite determined now, and since you’ll be staying here and spending some time with us for a while, you should start as you mean to go on. So come on." She took her cousin firmly by the hand and pulled her towards the top of the stairs.

Carys didn’t resist, instead allowing herself to be led downstairs to the dining room where Auntie Mary and Uncle Will were already sitting at the round oak dining table, her uncle deftly shuffling a deck of cards.

"There she is! he said with a smile. Glad you decided to join us. We’re playing rummy and I know you’re a dab hand at it. So take a pew and we can make a start."

After a couple of games, Carys began to relax and the gentle banter of the Saunders as they played their customary family game of cards made her feel settled and accepted. While her mother had been ill, she had often spent weekends at The Oaks, and the Saunders had become more than just her mother’s family ‒ like a second family of her own, in fact. She loved Annie as if she were her proper sister and had often sat in this very chair playing card games with the family before making her way up to bed feeling both tired and happy. As the evening drew on, to her own great surprise, Carys even found herself laughing aloud once or twice at Uncle Will’s animated stories about his schooldays.

All too soon though, Auntie Mary announced that it was time for bed. She took Carys upstairs, got out her wash things, which were still packed away in her suitcase, and steered her along the hallway to the bathroom.

Get yourself washed and clean your teeth, then change into your nightie. I’ll pop back in a couple of minutes to tuck you in, she said, giving Carys’ shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Carys did as she’d been told and was in bed, with the heavy woollen blanket tucked right up under her chin, when Auntie Mary returned a few minutes later.

As she came into the room, Mary repressed a mournful sigh at the sight of her young niece lying in bed at The Oaks when she should have been at home with Gareth. She found herself fleetingly wondering whether the girl’s father was sleeping alone that night, but chastised herself for thinking such uncharitable thoughts and pushed the idea to the back of her mind. She bustled over to the bedside and busily tucked the sheets under the mattress.

Night night, cariad, she said, stooping to kiss Carys’ freckled forehead, sleep tight.

Carys closed her eyes, pretending that she was too tired to reply when, in truth, she just wanted her aunt to leave so that she could say a private prayer for her mammy. Opening them just enough to see, she watched Auntie Mary smile briefly before blowing her a kiss, turning off the light and gently closing the door.

Pressing her hands together underneath the blankets, and speaking very quietly, so that no-one would overhear her private thoughts, Carys whispered, "Dear God, please look after my mammy, who was a better mam than I could ever deserve. Tell her that I love her, and tell her that I’ll miss her every day until I can be with her again. And please, God, look after my da until I’m big enough to look after him properly myself, and make me a good housekeeper so that he won’t ever want me to leave him again. Then she quickly added, And God bless Auntie Mary, Uncle Will, Annie and everyone else in my family."

As she lay there in the dark, she wondered if she could reach out to her mammy’s spirit up in heaven. She’d heard people say that they talked to people who had died; Mr Williams at school had said that he talked to his wife every day after she’d passed away from pneumonia four years ago. So she decided to give it a try for herself. Determinedly, she squeezed her eyes shut and let her heart reach out to find her mammy.

After a minute or two, her eyes started to hurt from the strain of squeezing them shut so tightly, so she decided to try relaxing instead. She took deliberate, deep breaths and gently called out, Maaammy, Maaaaaammy, are you there? She didn’t really know what she expected: to hear a voice? Probably not. To feel as if Mammy was here in the bedroom with her? Yes, probably that. There’d have to be something to show for it if she was here. But as long and as hard and as many different ways that Carys tried, she felt and heard nothing. Nothing at all. She was completely alone. And her heart twisted with the pain of her loneliness as warm tears began to flood unchecked down her cheeks, soaking her pillow until eventually she