seemed to have turned up to show their sympathy with the poor widow who had found life too much for her. Mr Isaacs made no reference to the fact that suicide was a considered a sin against God. On the contrary, he seemed full of sympathy and pity for the poor woman.
He prayed for her and for her young soldier son whose life had ended almost before it began. He was only nineteen and a popular, lusty, curly haired boy, always ready for any mischief or prank.
Mr Isaacs reported that Dewi was the seventh young soldier to be killed from their small parish. ‘It’s the fourth year of the war. They’ve taken our horses and they’ve taken our young men. How long, oh Lord, how long.’ By the last hymn, many people were in tears.
A young relation from North Wales, a Miss Tudor, came down to take over Sarah’s cottage. Fair play to her, she found the money to pay for the shroud and the coffin and for the funeral tea. On the next Sunday, Mr Isaacs introduced her to the congregation as Sarah’s niece and it was learnt later that she was a dressmaker and that she would be living in the cottage and was hoping that people would be pleased with her fine workmanship and fair prices.
Catrin was one of her first customers. She had bought a length of crimson slub silk in Carmarthen and wanted it made into a dress. Miss Tudor seemed to have no patterns but she knew exactly what Cartrin wanted, took measurements and would like a fitting in a week’s time when it would be cut out and tacked. The cost was not mentioned.
‘What is she like, this Miss Tudor?’ Lowri asked.
‘She’s small as a child and she has brown hair pulled severely away from her face. She looks like an industrious little mouse. I hope she’s a good dressmaker. I paid a lot for that silk.’
By the following week she had found out that Miss Tudor was not a good dressmaker. She was in tears when Catrin turned up to fit the new dress and confessed that she had never before worked as a dressmaker, but had thought it would be much easier than it was. ‘I’ve always been good at making clothes for my dolls,’ she said, sniffing into a minute lace handkerchief. ‘My stitching is very fine, but I didn’t realise how difficult it would be to cut out shapes for grown-ups. Please don’t be cross with me.’
The beautiful silk was spoilt. Luckily Catrin found her story so amusing that she wasn’t as indignant as she might have been.
‘Could you let me have just a little money?’ Miss Tudor asked. ‘I did try my best. I was up until three o’clock this morning altering and trying different things. If I had some money I’d go back home and try to learn dressmaking as my mother wanted me to.’
‘I couldn’t refuse to pay her,’ Catrin told Lowri later that day. ‘She doesn’t seem to have any money. I’ve asked Graham to call there to take her to the station next week. I won’t tell him that she’s ruined my lovely material.’
‘I think you have enough left to make a skirt,’ Lowri said. ‘It’s only the bodice she’s ruined. Shall I try to make you a nice full skirt? You could wear it with that cream Chantilly lace blouse you have. And I won’t charge you anything.’
‘Thank you, love,’ Catrin said. ‘I can’t help thinking about little Miss Tudor. I promised to go back there if she comes back when she’s done her apprenticeship.’
She never came back and the small cottage stood empty for years.
Chapter six
When Graham next came over to the farm, he sat alone with Josi for a long time
Josi told them all later that Catrin had fallen into a serious depression after her excitement over her brother’s return from France and the baby’s birth. Apparently the medical profession had recently been made aware of a phenomenon described as post-natal depression which was a serious illness and could well last for some months, even years, and in the worse cases for a whole lifetime.
After taking advice from doctors who had experienced such a
He prayed for her and for her young soldier son whose life had ended almost before it began. He was only nineteen and a popular, lusty, curly haired boy, always ready for any mischief or prank.
Mr Isaacs reported that Dewi was the seventh young soldier to be killed from their small parish. ‘It’s the fourth year of the war. They’ve taken our horses and they’ve taken our young men. How long, oh Lord, how long.’ By the last hymn, many people were in tears.
A young relation from North Wales, a Miss Tudor, came down to take over Sarah’s cottage. Fair play to her, she found the money to pay for the shroud and the coffin and for the funeral tea. On the next Sunday, Mr Isaacs introduced her to the congregation as Sarah’s niece and it was learnt later that she was a dressmaker and that she would be living in the cottage and was hoping that people would be pleased with her fine workmanship and fair prices.
Catrin was one of her first customers. She had bought a length of crimson slub silk in Carmarthen and wanted it made into a dress. Miss Tudor seemed to have no patterns but she knew exactly what Cartrin wanted, took measurements and would like a fitting in a week’s time when it would be cut out and tacked. The cost was not mentioned.
‘What is she like, this Miss Tudor?’ Lowri asked.
‘She’s small as a child and she has brown hair pulled severely away from her face. She looks like an industrious little mouse. I hope she’s a good dressmaker. I paid a lot for that silk.’
By the following week she had found out that Miss Tudor was not a good dressmaker. She was in tears when Catrin turned up to fit the new dress and confessed that she had never before worked as a dressmaker, but had thought it would be much easier than it was. ‘I’ve always been good at making clothes for my dolls,’ she said, sniffing into a minute lace handkerchief. ‘My stitching is very fine, but I didn’t realise how difficult it would be to cut out shapes for grown-ups. Please don’t be cross with me.’
The beautiful silk was spoilt. Luckily Catrin found her story so amusing that she wasn’t as indignant as she might have been.
‘Could you let me have just a little money?’ Miss Tudor asked. ‘I did try my best. I was up until three o’clock this morning altering and trying different things. If I had some money I’d go back home and try to learn dressmaking as my mother wanted me to.’
‘I couldn’t refuse to pay her,’ Catrin told Lowri later that day. ‘She doesn’t seem to have any money. I’ve asked Graham to call there to take her to the station next week. I won’t tell him that she’s ruined my lovely material.’
‘I think you have enough left to make a skirt,’ Lowri said. ‘It’s only the bodice she’s ruined. Shall I try to make you a nice full skirt? You could wear it with that cream Chantilly lace blouse you have. And I won’t charge you anything.’
‘Thank you, love,’ Catrin said. ‘I can’t help thinking about little Miss Tudor. I promised to go back there if she comes back when she’s done her apprenticeship.’
She never came back and the small cottage stood empty for years.
Chapter six
When Graham next came over to the farm, he sat alone with Josi for a long time
Josi told them all later that Catrin had fallen into a serious depression after her excitement over her brother’s return from France and the baby’s birth. Apparently the medical profession had recently been made aware of a phenomenon described as post-natal depression which was a serious illness and could well last for some months, even years, and in the worse cases for a whole lifetime.
After taking advice from doctors who had experienced such a
Similar Books
