by Lily Hammond
‘I take it the news from Elspeth wasn’t hopeful, then?’
Clemency closed her eyes and tipped her face towards the sheltering branches of the tree above them. How many times had she sat out here with Maxine? she wondered. Hundreds? More likely thousands. She would miss it.
‘No,’ she said at last, opening her eyes again and sighing. The birds had fallen silent, except for one who cried out at the sight of the first star on the night horizon. ‘She thinks there is some paralysis of the vocal cords, probably sustained during birth, since Eliza can’t remember ever being able to speak.’
‘Because a lot of people can’t speak from psychological reasons.’
Clemency looked at Maxine. ‘How do you know that?’
Maxine shrugged. ‘Ruth.’
‘Elspeth said that it’s likely Eliza could make some sounds and even talk a little when she was young, but as it wouldn’t have sounded like anyone else, it’s quite likely that she simply stopped making the effort – and now it would be too late, according to Elspeth. Apparently, it’s a very complicated area.’ Clemency stopped talking and sipped at her drink, her throat suddenly dry.
‘What about the reading? Why can’t she read?’
Clemency shook her head. ‘It’s unrelated, would you believe? Although that means, that with some effort – and an excellent teacher – Eliza should be able to get around her reading disability.’
‘She could learn to read?’
‘And write.’ Clemency smiled widely at the thought.
‘That will make an enormous difference to her – to both of you, I suppose. If you intend to make a go of things?’
Clemency closed her eyes. Somewhere nearby, jasmine was still blooming and she breathed in its heady perfume. ‘We do,’ she said, looking over at the house as her body grew heavy and warm at the thought of days spent with Eliza, watching her, teaching her, laughing with her, making love.
‘She’s really good with the camera already,’ Clemency said. ‘All that time she spends in her head – I knew she had the habit of really looking at things and seeing them in ways most of us don’t notice to.’
‘You’ve saved her,’ Maxine said.
‘Maybe,’ Clemency replied. ‘In some ways, perhaps – but she has saved me.’
Maxine laughed. ‘Yes. You were getting rather old and cranky there.’
Clemency shook her head. ‘I was lonely, and suffering.’
They sat for several minutes after that, Maxine smoking meditatively, both of them listening to the night, the distant sweep of the sea, the faint female voices from inside the house. A baby cried out, and a voice soothed it.
‘How lucky we are,’ Clemency said at last, and Maxine nodded.
‘The luckiest pair of all.’
‘We’re going to Australia.’ Clemency hadn’t meant to tell Maxine like this – baldly, without preamble. She’d meant to work up to it, introduce the idea slowly. She and Maxine had always been friends. Had always sat out under this old tree, listening to the salt breeze, telling each other everything.
‘Australia?’ Maxine looked over at her. ‘What?’
Clemency drew a breath and shrugged. ‘Just for a year, maybe two.’ She picked up her glass and swallowed the last mouthful. ‘There’s a woman over there who will teach both of us sign language. And she’ll work with Eliza to learn to read and write.’
Neither of them said anything for a while. The cicadas ceased their sawing, the birds were on the bough, little heads tucked under soft wings. Something rustled in the grass behind them, a hedgehog perhaps.
‘Well,’ Maxine said at last.
‘Well,’ Clemency agreed.
Maxine plucked her pipe out of her mouth and pointed it at Clemency. ‘You’d best get inside, my friend, and tell that young woman you love her.’
Clemency smiled in the gathered darkness. ‘She already knows.’
That made Maxine nod her head. ‘It seems so, but if there’s one thing my Ruth has taught me…’
‘It’s that a woman likes to hear the words.’
The pipe waggled in the dimness. ‘Exactly.’
Clemency nodded, reached out for her friend’s hand and squeezed it. ‘We’re two lucky ducks, all right,’ she said.
‘That we are,’ Maxine agreed. ‘That we are.’
Eliza rinsed the last of the teacups and picked up a tea towel. Her heart was full of Ruth’s happiness, threatening to burst at the seams with it. She wandered back in her mind to the day Maxine had brought little Timoti home, and how Ruth’s eyes had been full of tears all evening, glistening with dazed wonder as she held the baby. Eliza had watched her, helped her unpack the little pile of clothes into the drawers in her old room, which was now Timoti’s room, and she’d thought as she’d done so, how perfectly everything had worked out. Ruth and Maxine had their baby – and Timoti’s birth mother was not far away and would soon be living out her dreams – it was all so very good.
Eliza hadn’t dreamed much, since she’d started working at the laundry. A job like that – it took a woman’s dreams and fed them through the industrial mangle until they were strangled, dry little things, not worth the delicate fabric they were made of.
But she’d dreamed since she’d met Clemency, she thought, putting a row of dry cups on the scrubbed table in Ruth and Maxine’s house. She’d dreamed rich and wide and wildly and they had all come true.
There was a step outside in the hallway and Eliza put down the tea towel and looked toward the door, her face expectant. She brushed a strand of hair back, feeling the smile grow on her face. She knew that step anywhere.
When Clemency put her face around the door, Eliza closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked into the wide green eyes she loved so much. They gazed back at her and Eliza was aware of everything, held in the deep ocean of them. Clemency stepped into the room and Eliza moved into her arms as though they’d always been made to dance together.
‘I’ve come to tell you I love you,’ Clemency said, and Eliza smiled up at her.
I know, Eliza thought in reply, lying her head on Clemency’s shoulder and pressing the palm of her hand against Clemency’s heart.
I know, she repeated.
* * *
Glossary of Maori Words
whanau – extended family, family group
Hinemoa – personal name
whare – house, building, residence
pepe - baby
Pakeha – English, foreign, European
Hahana – personal name
Whina – personal name
Ko…tenei – this is…(person’s name)
kia ora – hello!
ko… toku ingoa – my name is…
haere mai – welcome
tena rawa atu koe – thank you very much (speaking to one person)
* * *
About the Author
Lily Hammond is a New Zealand writer who lives in Dunedin, NZ with her American wife. She writes historical and time travel romances. Lily also writes contemporary wlw romance as Ana McKenzie and suspense and drama novels as Kate Genet.
Find out more at Sapphica Books
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Also by Lily Hammond
Alice & Jean
Violet
The Way Home
Writing as Ana McKenzie
Times Like These
Cry Of The Heart
Writing as Kate Genet
Saving Rose
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