27

 

July – August 1884

John again came into the house alone and some time after his father that evening, but this time he looked calmer.

‘I saw Harry,’ he said.

‘Where is he?’ Jack asked, looking over John’s shoulder as if he expected to see Harry there.

‘He’s gone next door. He said he wanted to be away from…’ John glanced at Susannah, ‘people for a while. He went up in the bush—he said he felt like killing something, so he shot a few pheasants.’

‘When’s he coming back?’ Jack demanded.

‘I don’t know, he didn’t say.’

‘He’d better be back here tomorrow morning or I’ll go and get him,’ Jack growled. ‘He needn’t think he’s sloping off like that.’

Jack was not forced to go and fetch his wayward son. Next morning when Amy was carrying the rugs out to the clothesline to beat them, she saw Harry walking across the paddock to join his father and brother. She gave a sigh of relief.

Amy tried to find a way of scrubbing the kitchen floor that stopped her bulge getting in the way so much, but her arms banged against it every time she pulled the brush towards her. She was concentrating so hard on the task that she did not even look up when the back door opened, though she recognised her father’s tread.

‘Leave that,’ Jack said brusquely.

‘But… but today’s my day for doing the floors, Pa. I’m only half finished.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to see you doing that heavy work. Where’s your ma?’

‘She’s in the bedroom, getting the little ones dressed.’

Jack stomped out of the room and up the passage, and Amy carried her bucket of dirty water outside to empty it. She looked anxiously at the half-washed floor when she brought the bucket back in, but she could not disobey her father.

An indignant Susannah came into the kitchen a few minutes later at Jack’s side.

‘I don’t see that it’ll do her any harm,’ she said. ‘Just a bit of scrubbing.’

‘I didn’t notice you doing it when you were with child.’

‘That’s different. I was so ill most of the time. Amy’s in perfect health—a bit of exercise is good for women in that state if they’re well enough.’

‘She can go for a walk if she needs exercise. I told you to look after her, and I don’t want her doing that heavy work. Understand?’

‘Yes,’ Susannah muttered. But she made no move to finish the scrubbing when Jack had left the house.

That evening’s meal was even more awkward than the previous one. Harry glared across the table at Susannah.

Susannah glared back. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Harry lowered his brows even further, but said nothing. ‘Jack, he’s not answering me when I speak to him,’ Susannah complained.

‘I can’t make him talk to you,’ said Jack. ‘You’re better off if he doesn’t, anyway. I don’t think you’d like to hear what he’d have to say.’ Susannah looked affronted, but Amy noticed she avoided meeting Harry’s eyes after that.

 

*

 

Now that she was no longer allowed to do the heavy work, Amy found herself with an unwelcome amount of time on her hands. Free time meant time to think.

Amy missed Lizzie badly. She pined for her cousin’s ready sympathy now that she had no kind words or soft looks from anyone else. When the rest of the family returned from church the first Sunday after the revelation, an awkward-looking John spoke quietly to Amy as she stood at the bench serving up lunch.

‘Lizzie asked me to say sorry she hasn’t come to see you,’ he said. Amy’s head swung to him in surprise at even being spoken to by her brother. He avoided her eyes. ‘She said she wanted to, but her pa won’t let her.’

‘Oh. Thank you, John.’ Tears pricked at her eyes. Uncle Arthur thinks I’m too bad for Lizzie to be allowed to talk to. She felt lonelier than ever.

Amy adjusted her days to avoid seeing the others any more than she had to. Her father and brothers hardly spoke to her; when they did she could see that she embarrassed them. Susannah’s company gave no pleasure to either of them.

So Amy rose early to prepare breakfast, and ate her own before the men got up. When she had served their food she carried Susannah’s cup of tea in to her and took the little boys off to play in the parlour while Susannah finished waking up, drank her tea and dressed.

After she heard the men go out, Amy did the dishes and whatever work was light enough for her to manage. She did all of the cooking now, while a grumbling Susannah did the heavy cleaning; or at least the portion of the cleaning that could not be ignored.

Amy could not avoid eating lunch and dinner with the family, but as soon as she finished her evening meal she took herself off into her bedroom and worked at her sewing until she heard the family go into the parlour. With the kitchen to herself she washed the dishes, prepared the bread dough for the next morning, then went early to bed to toss and turn the night away.

That still left much of the day to be filled, and Amy took to wandering about on the farm. When she came back from the first of these long walks, Susannah accosted her. ‘Don’t you go near the road,’ she admonished. ‘Someone might see you. You don’t want the whole town talking about us, do you?’

Amy did not want that, so she kept well away from the road. She also avoided the places where she and Jimmy had walked arm in arm, and most of all those where they had lain together. That left many parts of the farm where she could trudge across the paddocks or, even better, slip into the peace and loneliness of the bush. Walking up the steep hills got more difficult every day as her bulk increased, but she welcomed the weariness it brought. It meant she could sleep at night.

 

*

 

Jack lay in bed looking at his wife’s back as she undressed and put on her nightdress. He had found her attractive once. Damn it, he still did. But there was a limit to how much humiliation a man could take. The sheet was twisted uncomfortably under him. He wished Susannah would make the bed more often than once a week, when she changed the sheets. It didn’t seem worth arguing about, though. There had been more than enough arguing lately.

The sight of Susannah gave him no pleasure, only irritation. He turned instead to look at his two small sons, cherub-like in sleep. It was good to have little ones around again. Especially now they both slept through the night. Susannah had given him the young fellows, anyway, albeit grudgingly.

Susannah turned off the lamp and climbed into bed beside him, though each of them now slept on the extreme edges of the bed to avoid touching one another.

‘Jack,’ she said quietly a few minutes later. ‘Are you awake? We need to talk about Amy.’

That jolted him into alertness. ‘What’s wrong with her? Is she ill?’

‘No, no, I’ve been taking care of her, she’s quite well. In her body, that is.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Susannah gave a deep sigh. ‘She’s very miserable.’

‘She hasn’t got much to be cheerful about, has she?’

‘No, poor girl. What are we going to do about her?’

Jack grunted. ‘Nothing much we can do. The time for doing things was months ago. That’s when you should have been taking care of her.’

‘You’re never going to forgive me for that, are you?’ Susannah said, a catch in her voice. ‘I did my best, really I did. I don’t know anything about looking after girls of her age, and girls in the country grow up so much faster. I never meant this to happen.’

She was obviously near tears. ‘Don’t go on about it,’ Jack said. ‘There’s no use talking about whose fault it all was. It’s done now, we’ve got to make the best of it.’

‘That’s what I want,’ Susannah snatched at his words. ‘I want the best for Amy. I don’t think we should give the baby to anyone in Ruatane, I think it should go further away. Auckland might be best. We should start arranging it soon, we’ve only got a few months now.’

Jack let her run on while he tried to absorb her meaning. ‘What are you talking about?’ he asked finally. ‘Who said we were going to give it away?’

He heard Susannah catch her breath. ‘You don’t mean we should keep it here?’

‘Of course we’re going to keep it. That’s my grandchild you’re talking about. Not to mention your niece or nephew,’ he added bitterly.

‘Haven’t I got enough to cope with, looking after two babies under two years old? However would I manage another one?’

‘How would you manage three children? The same way thousands of women do. Amy’d look after her own baby, anyway.’

‘But Jack, think of Amy. Now she’s soiled it’s doubtful any man will ever want her, so she’s not going to have much of a life, is she?’ She went on, not giving Jack time to answer. ‘It just seems too much for her to have the child of her shame before her eyes all the time. The poor girl, she’ll never cope with it.’

‘She’ll cope. She’ll have to.’

‘Think of her life, Jack! Never to have a home of her own, and to have to bring up a child alone.’

‘She’s got a home. You’re probably right, she won’t find a husband now, but her home’s here. If she never gets another one, well, I can’t do anything about that. And you’ll help her bring up the child.’

‘But Jack—’

‘That’s enough.’ He rolled noisily onto his side, feeling the crumpled sheet ruck up under him as he did, to let her know the conversation was over. To his surprised relief, Susannah lapsed into silence.

 

*

 

Amy put a blanket over the bread dough and rose awkwardly to turn out the lamp. She jumped when the door opened from the passage and her father came in, carrying his account book as well as pen and ink.

‘I was just going to bed, Pa. I’ll be out of your way in a minute.’

‘Amy,’ Jack said, reaching out an arm to stop her, then letting it drop without actually touching her, ‘I… I wondered if you could give me a hand with this. You’re better with numbers than I am.’

Amy felt a small surge of pleasure at being asked. ‘I’d like to do that, Pa.’ In the past she had often helped her father with his accounts, which without her assistance involved many crossings-out and ink-blots, and a quantity of bad language.

Jack pulled out a chair for her and they sat side by side at the table. Amy wrote down amounts as he called them out, and they talked in low voices.

‘What a lot of butter I made over the summer,’ Amy said. ‘The cows were producing well.’

‘It’s high time they started that cheese factory they’ve been on about for years.’

‘We had a good crop of potatoes, didn’t we?’

‘Mmm. Not a bad price, either. I might put another paddock into spuds next year.’

Amy could tell that her father had put her state out of his mind for the moment. She deliberately lingered over the accounts, taking longer than necessary over writing down each figure and working out the totals. She knew it could not be for very long, but while it lasted she basked in the warmth of their companionship.

It lasted a shorter time than she had expected. Amy was adding up one of the columns of figures when the passage door opened. They both looked up to see Susannah in her dressing-gown, holding a candlestick.

‘What are you doing out here at this time of night?’ Susannah asked.

‘Just doing the accounts,’ Jack said. ‘I thought you’d gone to bed.’

‘I’ve been writing a letter to Constance. I never seem to get any time during the day. Amy, you should be in bed.’

‘She’s helping me. Amy’s good with numbers, and I always seem to get in a muddle if I do them by myself.’

‘Oh yes, she’s very clever,’ Susannah said. ‘But you shouldn’t keep her up so late, Jack. She’s only fifteen, you know, and she needs her sleep. Especially at the moment. Come along, Amy,’ she said, holding the door open.

‘I’m all right, I’m not very tired tonight. Can’t I stay up a bit longer and help you, Pa?’ Amy pleaded.

‘No, you do as your ma says, she knows best about these things. She’s right, I shouldn’t be keeping you from your bed. You’re not quite over that cough yet, either. Off you go, I’ll manage without you.’

Susannah stood in the doorway and watched as Amy went meekly off to bed. Amy wondered briefly why Susannah bothered writing to her sister when she knew they didn’t get on; in fact she could never remember Susannah’s having written to her before. But her mind was too full of yet another disappointment to spare much interest for whatever Susannah might be up to. She managed to get the bedroom door safely closed behind her before the tears came.

 

*

 

Frank watched Lizzie carry the dirty dishes to the bench. He caught her eye across the table when she turned back towards him. She gave a small nod, Frank rose to join her, and they started towards the door. Frank had his hand on the door knob when Arthur spoke, making him jump.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

Lizzie answered while Frank was still recovering from the rush of guilt that had assailed him. ‘We’re just going for a little walk across the paddocks. Maybe down to the creek, no further. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?’

Arthur looked at them suspiciously. ‘You keep out of the bush. I don’t want you going out of sight of the house. Understand?’

‘Yes, Pa,’ Lizzie said.

‘I’ll be keeping an eye on you. If I look out of this house and I can’t see you…’ Arthur let the threat remain implicit. ‘You hear me, Frank?’

‘Y-yes, I do,’ Frank assured him. ‘We won’t go far.’

‘You’d better not.’

Frank glanced over his shoulder when they were a short distance from the house; sure enough, Arthur was standing on the verandah watching them. Frank felt too shy to take Lizzie’s hand with such a disapproving audience.

‘What’s up with your pa?’ he asked. ‘He’s been really funny lately.’

‘Oh, Pa’s got a lot on his mind.’

‘He hasn’t sort of… well, changed his mind, has he? About us, I mean.’

‘Of course he hasn’t. Don’t talk rubbish.’

‘Well, he doesn’t seem as though he likes me very much any more. He was really friendly for a while, after he said I could have you. Now he looks like he wants to hit me or something.’

‘He won’t hit you. It’s nothing you’ve done.’ Lizzie looked thoughtful. ‘Actually, I think he’d almost like us to get married sooner than next April, but he’s said we’re to wait and he won’t back down on that.’

They walked for a few minutes, and Frank looked up at the house again. It was still in sight, but too far away for anyone watching to see how close he and Lizzie were. He reached out and took her hand. ‘I wish we didn’t have to wait till then.’

‘So do I. Pa’s been so bossy lately, I’m fed up with him.’

Frank snaked his arm around her waist and squeezed. It gave him less satisfaction than he had hoped; Lizzie had gone into adult clothes since her engagement, and she felt stiff to his touch. He missed the sight of her ankles and calves, too, now that she wore long dresses. For a moment he allowed his imagination to wander up from those calves and into the forbidden realms above her knees, but that gave him an uncomfortably tight feeling in his trousers. It also made him see Arthur’s face in his mind instead of Lizzie’s. He let his arm drop to his side.

‘You’ve been sort of quiet lately,’ Frank said, thinking how uncharacteristic this was.

‘Have I? That’s because Pa’s so grumpy. I miss Amy, too.’

‘She’s been crook for ages now. Lizzie,’ he said awkwardly, ‘she is… Amy is going to get better, isn’t she?’

‘I hope so. Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,’ Lizzie said, seeing Frank’s expression. ‘She’s going to get better. It’s just going to take a long time.’

Frank sensed that Amy’s illness was not something to be spoken of freely, at least in front of men. ‘Is it anything catching?’ he asked, hoping he wasn’t prying too rudely.

‘Pa thinks it is. That’s why he won’t let me see her any more.’

She looked sad, and Frank reached for her hand again. He was rewarded with a smile.

‘I suppose sitting down right beside the creek counts as out of sight from the house?’ Frank asked when they had reached the bank of the Waituhi.

Lizzie glanced back in the direction they had come. ‘I think it does. We could sit here on the bank, though. We’ll just look like two dots from up there.’

‘Let’s cross over first and sit on the other bank,’ Frank said. If a vengeful Arthur was going to bear down on him from the house, Frank wanted a chance of seeing him first. He helped Lizzie across the stepping stones and they sat very close together on the far bank, with their arms around each other’s waists.

‘Have you told Ben about us yet?’ Lizzie asked, bringing Frank back down to earth with a jolt.

‘No, I haven’t quite got around to it.’ He waited for Lizzie to scold him, but she looked unconcerned.

‘Oh, well, you’ll have to sooner or later.’

‘I know.’ He studied her carefully. ‘I thought you’d go crook at me because I haven’t told him,’ he admitted.

‘Why should I? It’s not my problem. You don’t have to get your brother’s permission to get married, and you’ve already got Pa’s for me.’

‘Ben’s not going to like it, Lizzie.’

Lizzie shrugged. ‘He’ll get used to it. He’ll have to, once I move in. He might even find he likes having a woman around the house.’ Frank was sure it would not be that simple, but he said nothing. ‘He won’t have to eat out of a saucepan because you’ve got no clean dishes left once I’m there,’ Lizzie said.

‘I would have tidied up that day if I’d known you were coming,’ Frank protested. ‘It doesn’t always look that bad, you know.’

‘Doesn’t it?’ She grinned at him. ‘Those dishes looked as though they were growing things.’

‘They did not! We do them once a week at least, when we boil up the water for washing the clothes.’

‘Or when you run out?’ Lizzie teased mercilessly. To silence her he kissed her soundly.

They had got better at kissing; there were no more nose collisions now. Frank could concentrate on enjoying himself. He put both arms around Lizzie’s waist and held her close, trying to ignore the unpleasant feel of whalebone. He wondered how high the stays came up her body. One hand wandered up from Lizzie’s waist until he found the top edge of her corset. A few inches higher and he had a handful of something deliciously soft. He pressed his mouth harder on hers as a thrill of excitement rushed through him, but a moment later he felt Lizzie’s hand tugging at his wrist and she twisted her face away from his.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded, her face flushed with anger. Frank had always thought Lizzie looked like her mother; right now she could have been a female version of her father at his most fierce.

‘What’s wrong? It’s all right, isn’t it? I mean, we’re engaged.’

‘Yes, that’s all we are,’ Lizzie flashed at him. ‘Engaged, that’s all. We’re not married yet.’

‘But… but I thought you’d let me touch you a little bit, Lizzie. That’s all I want to do, I won’t try anything else, honest I won’t.’

‘You won’t try that again either. You can do what you like once we’re married, but until then you can just control yourself.’ She glared at Frank.

Frank fought down his irritation at Lizzie’s abrupt change of mood. ‘What’s the point in being engaged if we can’t do anything we couldn’t do before?’

‘Being engaged means we’re promised to each other and we’ve told everyone. It doesn’t mean you can take liberties with me.’

‘You’re always going on about “liberties”,’ Frank grumbled. ‘Anyone would think I was a real ratbag. What’s wrong with you, anyway?’

‘Nothing’s wrong with me. Just because I want to keep myself decent, you’re trying to make out I’m strange.’

‘I don’t see what’s so scandalous about letting your intended give you a cuddle.’

‘Well, you should,’ Lizzie flung back at him. ‘That was more than a cuddle you were trying, Frank Kelly.’

Frank smothered a curse in time for it to come out as an unintelligible grunt. ‘What with you deciding I’m some sort of rogue and your pa looking as though he’d like to kick me all the way down the road, I don’t know why I bother coming here. I might as well go home.’

‘Go on, then. Don’t let me stop you.’ She turned away from him.

‘All right then, I will.’ Frank rose to his feet.

‘I suppose it’s my fault,’ Lizzie said, still facing in the other direction. Was that a catch in her voice? Frank wondered. ‘I must have behaved badly if you thought I’d let you do that. Yes, it must be my fault,’ she said pensively. ‘I wish I knew what I’d done wrong.’ Her shoulders heaved as though she were bravely smothering a sob. Frank felt a rush of affection and guilt.

‘Aw, Lizzie, don’t cry,’ he begged, dropping to one knee and putting an arm round her shoulder. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s my fault, you were right, I shouldn’t have done that.’

Lizzie laid her head on his shoulder. ‘You sounded so angry with me,’ she murmured. ‘I thought you didn’t love me any more.’ Her breath tickled his ear as she spoke.

‘Of course I love you. I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me if I didn’t. I just wish we didn’t have to wait so long.’

‘Oh, Frank!’ Lizzie’s eyes were shining. ‘You’ve never said you love me before.’

‘Haven’t I?’ Frank said, surprised. ‘Well, I do. I guess I just thought you already knew. Hey, you’ve never said it to me, either.’

‘I couldn’t till you did.’

‘I’ve said it now.’ Frank grinned at her.

‘So you have.’ She smiled back at him. ‘I love you, Frank.’

There was only one way to seal such a moment. Frank wasted no time in taking Lizzie in his arms and kissing her.

 

*

 

The hill that dropped from Jack’s house down to the flat paddocks by the creek was not steep, but it was thickly covered with stumps. Amy had to concentrate on placing her feet carefully as she walked, so that she would not trip over. It was even harder now that she could not see where each step was about to land without peering over the top of her bulge.

When she reached the bottom of the hill the going was easier, and she lengthened her stride. The day was grey and cold. A light mist still lingered over the trees on the far side of the valley. That part of the bush was out of bounds to her. Susannah had repeatedly stressed that she must stay away from the road. She was too shameful for anyone to see.

The forbidden trees looked beautiful to Amy, especially the patch of bush directly opposite where she stood. She longed to stroke the rough trunks; to look up at the sky through the leaves. There was plenty of bush on her side of the road, but none of it held the same fascination as that stand of trees.

But she knew she would never be able to bear to enter it, even when she was once again allowed to wander freely on the farm. That patch was where she had led Jimmy the night of the dance. The place where he had asked her to marry him. Where they had lain together for the first time. She could picture every tree; she could feel the hard ground under her and hear his voice murmuring words of love in her ear. His face so close to hers was clear in her mind, the way he had looked on their last day together when she had held his face in her hands and printed it in her memory. Her hand went involuntarily to the place between her breasts where his brooch had been fastened; but the brooch had lain in her drawer, nestled in the blue velvet ribbon, ever since the day she had learned he was not going to come back to her. She no longer felt any desire to wear it, now that she knew the words that went with the gift had been untrue.

Her eyes blurred with tears, and she hardly noticed that the ground had become rougher. She glanced down in front of her and was surprised to see water lapping over the toes of her boots; she had wandered right down to the creek. I’d better get out.

But instead of backing out, she took a step forward. The water, muddy green under the pale grey sky, held a fascination for her. The creek was running at its higher winter level, and it swirled and eddied with the extra burden of water. It was quite opaque; even near the edge where the water was only a few inches deep the creek bed was invisible. Amy watched a small branch tumble along the surface and out of sight around a bend in the stream.

She took another step, and the water came over the tops of her feet. She felt it seep into her boots around the laces. A few more steps and it would reach the hem of her dress, muddy green water touching the dark green of the thick woollen fabric. The water would clutch at her, drawing her into its embrace. Would she sink right away? Or would she float until she reached the sea? No, the heavy dress would drag her down as soon as the water was deep enough.

What does drowning feel like? Maybe it hurts. But it wouldn’t hurt for long. Pa might be sad for a while, but everyone would be nice to him. They’d say how sad it was his daughter drowned. No one would have to know about how bad I am. He wouldn’t have to look at me any more. She had moved further into the creek without realising it. The hem of her dress was splashed with water. She leaned forward slowly, drawn towards the changing patterns of tiny whirlpools.

A loud rattle caught her attention. She stood up straight and looked across the creek. It was the noise of the buggy coming along the road; her father and Susannah had come home from town with the supplies and the mail.

Amy looked down at the water again, but now it looked frightening instead of inviting. Pa would know I’d done it on purpose, and he’d feel bad. Even worse than he does now. I mustn’t kill the baby—the baby’s not bad, only me. She backed carefully out on to dry ground, then turned and squelched in her wet boots alongside the creek, careful not to look at the water.

When she struck a fence she turned again and walked parallel to it, too clumsy in her bulkiness to want to climb it. She had been following the fence line for some time before she realised it was the boundary fence that separated her father’s farm from Charlie Stewart’s. It’s a good thing I didn’t climb over.

The ground started to rise, and walking took all her attention as she once more entered an area thickly dotted with stumps. She was so busy concentrating on where to put her feet that it was some time before she sensed someone was watching her. She stopped abruptly and looked around. With a sinking heart she saw Charlie standing just across the fence, barely a dozen feet away. He was staring fixedly at her.

Amy looked at him in horror, hoping desperately that he had not noticed her bulge. But his eyes were on her belly. He lifted his gaze to her face, and Amy tried to think of something, anything, to say that would break the spell of the moment. Instead she gave in to her fear, gathered up her heavy skirts and turned away from him.

She hurried up the hill as fast as her bulk would allow, and was puffing by the time Charlie was out of sight. That was stupid of me. I kept away from the road, but I forgot about the boundary. But Charlie never talks to anyone, so he won’t gossip about me.

It was too early for her to go home and start making lunch; in any case, she wanted the tell-tale patches of water to dry out of her hem before she faced Susannah, and in this cold weather that would take some time. She climbed right to the top of the hill behind the house, then looked down the valley and out to sea. It was little more than a habit now; whatever Susannah had meant about what they were going to do with her, Amy knew it would not include making any of her old dreams of seeing the world outside the valley come true.

All those things I was going to do. I was going to be a teacher. I was going to live in Auckland. I even believed Jimmy when he said he’d take me to Australia. Plays to see, fancy clothes to wear. None of it’s going to happen now. She turned her back on the sea and sat down on a convenient stump to wait for her dress to dry. A tiny rifleman fluttered about in the grass near her feet, hunting for the insects Amy had disturbed.

Half an hour later she saw a man coming up the track to her house. He was nearly at the farmhouse gate before she recognised the tall, slightly stooped figure of Charlie Stewart. Her heart gave a lurch. It would take something serious to make Charlie visit her father; she could not remember his ever coming to the house before. He must be really annoyed about me. I’ll be in trouble now. For a moment her heart beat faster, then she shook her head over her own foolishness. It doesn’t matter. Things couldn’t get any worse than they already are.