Jessica

by Bryce Courtenay

  She is happy enough to accept the enforced rest, as she doesn’t much care for Mrs Baker — a dreadful and interfering old gossip who spends most of her waking hours complaining to anyone who will listen about the poor state of her health. This, she will tirelessly explain, has been brought about by a peculiar condition of her heart, which, according to a famous Sydney physician she’d once seen, doesn’t throb to a regular cadence like everyone else’s. It seems Mrs Baker’s heart is known to miss a beat every so often, a condition known as arrhythmia. Accordingly, her dicky heart is always on the verge of giving up the ghost. She explains that it is something to do with the way it ticks, which she refers to as her arithmetic. She will conclude with a deep and distinctly mournful sigh and declare, ‘A body could drop dead this very moment from me arithmetic.’

  As long as anyone can remember, the organist at St Stephen’s has pronounced to all and sundry that she is living on borrowed time. ‘My life is a gift from the Lord, only He knows the day and the hour,’ she will say melodramatically. ‘I ask only that He take me to Paradise while I am seated at the organ in praise of His precious name.’

  And so Jessica had taken a plate of roast pork and potatoes into the bedroom with her and concluded happily that being absent from any dinner table shared by Mrs Baker is no hardship.

  Jessica is completely unaware of her mother’s true reason for inviting old Mrs Baker, who has been so carefully chosen for her very morbidity. It is Hester’s guess that the advent of Meg’s faked miscarriage will render the old girl hysterical, so that when she accompanies Joe with the bloody evidence to the vicarage that afternoon she will have a pronounced effect on the Reverend Mathews, M.A. Oxon.

  Hester has finally decided that Joe should show Jack’s contract indicating the terms of her marriage to the vicar and then, immediately after, expose the evidence of the miscarriage for him to examine. Joe will reveal it quickly so the vicar may obtain only the briefest glance. Whereupon Mrs Baker will tearfully confirm that she had been present when Meg was took ill, quite out of the blue and not an hour after Sunday dinner. The vicar’s lack of anatomical knowledge, coupled with squeamishness and his almost certain reluctance to make a second closer inspection of the evidence, will, Hester anticipates, finalise the matter.

  Joe hasn’t at first wanted to get involved to this degree, afraid that he will show his nerves and give the game away. ‘The more you shake and quaver the better,’ Hester replies. ‘He’ll see it for your grief.’ She then points out that no loving mother would leave her poor suffering daughter alone under such trying conditions. Furthermore, she says, with Joe handling the bloody evidence and Mrs Baker whimpering at his side, the Reverend Mathews, M.A. Oxon., is even less likely to embarrass him with a close and careful scrutiny of the gory evidence. It may safely be assumed he will wish only to ply Joe with a deep and abiding sympathy for the terrible tragedy which has befallen their daughter. After all, Hester points out, Meg is the new Mrs Jack Thomas and the reverend can only hope that she proves to be as generous to the church and to himself as was the former incumbent of Riverview Station.

  ‘Never you mind, that one knows which side his bread is buttered on,’ Hester concludes.

  But, while Hester has been able to influence her husband to conspire with her, she has quite underestimated the calibre of opponent she faces in Colonel Septimus Cunningham-Thomas, Jack’s company commander. In what can only be described as a strange coincidence, Hester is handed a letter for Joe from the verger at St Stephen’s the very Sunday morning they are to return home with Mrs Baker. This isn’t in itself unusual. Folk travelling to Narrandera will collect any mail for people in the district and leave it at the vicarage or bring it to Sunday worship to be handed to the recipients. What is a coincidence are the contents of the letter. Hester is so preoccupied with the plans for the day that she forgets to give the letter to Joe when she returns with Mrs Baker from morning worship. It is this seemingly innocent oversight that will cost a life, and contribute to a tragedy that will last for the next fifty years.

  All goes well at Sunday dinner. Hester and Meg chat happily with Mrs Baker and even listen for the umpteenth time to the story of her dicky heart and its arithmetic. Joe is his usual silent self and Mrs Baker declares the pork quite the best that she has tasted in a good while. After Mrs Baker has had her last piece of crackling, Meg clears the dishes from the table and Joe, with hardly a grunt, leaves the three of them at it and says he’s going over to the north paddock. After she’s cleared the table and washed the dishes, Meg also excuses herself.

  ‘What’s the matter, dearest?’ Hester asks, a little surprised.

  ‘It’s the pork I think, a bit too rich.’ Meg holds her stomach, emphasising the far from impressive bulge under her dress. ‘Maybe the baby doesn’t care for crackling as much as Mrs Baker,’ she says, giving her mother a wan smile.

  ‘You go to your room and rest, my dear, I’ll look in a little later,’ Hester says, comforting her daughter. ‘Perhaps a little water? Take some in with you.’

  Meg pours herself a mug of water from the clay pitcher on the table and departs. ‘Such a lovely girl,’ she hears Mrs Baker say.

  It is less than twenty minutes later when Meg reappears. She is sobbing and clutching at her abdomen with part of her skirt bunched in her hands so that the hem is lifted to her knees. Blood runs down her right leg and into the top of her boot. ‘Mama, something terrible is happening to me,’ she wails.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Hester gasps, bringing her hand to her lips. She rises from the table. ‘Oh my God, the baby!’ she repeats, rushing over to Meg and turning her away from an astonished Mrs Baker. Then, putting her arm around her daughter’s shoulder, she leads Meg back into her room.

  Old Mrs Baker sits for a moment like a stunned mullet, then she clutches at her heart. ‘Oh, my heart!’ she screams. ‘Water, water!’

  Jessica hears the scream and comes running into the kitchen from her room. She is dressed only in her pantaloons, having removed the remainder of her clothes in the privacy of her room to bring her some comfort from the heat and her pregnancy. Mrs Baker, who has her back to Jessica, has risen from the table and has her hands thrown into the air and is stumbling about in a circle, sobbing and gasping and screaming out whenever she can catch her breath.

  ‘What is it?’ Jessica cries as Mrs Baker turns to see a young woman near nude and with her pregnant stomach boldly distended.

  Mrs Baker cannot believe her eyes, which seem to pop from her head at the sight of Jessica. ‘Oh, oh, help!’ she yells, then she points a trembling finger. ‘It’s you! Oh Gawd, you’re p ... p ... pregnant!’ she stammers and seems as though she must at any moment faint.

  Jessica crosses the room quickly and takes her by the arm. ‘Come and sit, Mrs Baker,’ she says, steering the old lady to a chair. ‘Sit, I’ll get you some water. Is it your heart?’ she asks as she pours the old girl a mug of water. ‘My heart, oh yes my heart,’ Mrs Baker says, clutching at her bosom. With the shock of seeing Jessica pregnant and almost naked, she has for the moment forgotten why she became upset in the first instance. Jessica holds the mug to her lips. ‘Drink, Mrs Baker.’ The old woman drinks greedily from the mug, some of the water spilling down her front. Just then Hester walks into the kitchen. ‘Jessica!’ she shouts. ‘Get back to your room at once!’

  ‘Mother, Mrs Baker is unwell,’ Jessica protests.

  ‘At once, you hear me! Go!’ A fine spray of spittle flies from Hester’s mouth as she holds her arms rigid, her hands balled into fists. ‘You wicked girl! Look at you! Are you quite mad?’ Hester screams at her.

  Jessica glances downwards and, suddenly aware of her state of undress, she gasps and places the mug on the table beside Mrs Baker, then turns and £lees back to her room.

  Hester watches her youngest daughter leave and then turns to the old woman seated at the table. ‘Mrs Baker, Meg has had a miscarriage. Will you help
me, please?’

  She speaks calmly enough, though her voice is not without anxiety, and her tone brings the old lady halfway back to her senses. Hester crosses to the stove, where she takes the kettle from the hob and pours boiling water into a small basin and then cools it with water from the clay pitcher. She takes three rough kitchen towels from the line beside the stove and places them over her arm before she picks up the basin. ‘Come, you must help me,’ she says to Mrs Baker. ‘Follow me, please,’ she says in a voice which brooks no contradiction.

  Mrs Baker enters Meg’s darkened room to see Meg spreadeagled on top of the counterpane, clutching her pillow and wailing. The centre of the counterpane between Meg’s wide-open legs is soaked with blood, though the bloodied material of her skirt covers her to the knees. At the bottom of the mattress is a bloodsoaked towel, wrapped into a small bundle.

  ‘Here, hold this,’ Hester instructs, handing the small basin of steaming hot water to the old lady.

  ‘I fear I c ... c ... ca ... can’t,’ Mrs Baker says tearfully, her teeth chattering.

  ‘You must,’ Hester snaps. ‘Just hold it.’ She now dips one of the towels into the basin and starts to clean up Meg. ‘You don’t have to look. Close your eyes, just hold the basin close.’

  The old woman closes her eyes while Hester works at cleaning up a wailing, sobbing, seemingly hysterical Meg.

  ‘There, there, dearest, it’s all come away, you’ll be safe now,’ she says soothingly to her eldest daughter. ‘God in his infinite mercy didn’t want you to have this dear child.’

  At the mention of God, whom Mrs Baker regards as her own personal territory, she opens her eyes. ‘God bless you, my dear,’ she manages to say, though whether this is meant for Hester or Meg is not clear. ‘The little mite is on its way to Paradise.’ These dear sweet words seem to surprise and cheer her up no end and she offers to take the blood-tinged contents of the basin into the kitchen and return with fresh hot water from the kettle. ‘Not too hot,’ Hester instructs quietly. ‘She is so very tender.’ She looks up at the old woman, and Mrs Baker gives an involuntary sob as she sees the terrible sadness in Hester’s eyes. She turns and hurries as much as she might with the basin in her hands into the kitchen.

  When she returns Hester tells her to place the basin on the floor beside where she sits on the bed. In Mrs Baker’s absence she has moved a chair to the furthermost side of the bed. ‘Will you sit, my dear, and hold Meg’s hand?’ she asks. ‘I must go and find her father.’ Mrs Baker moves over to the chair, happy to be able to do something for Hester and knowing herself calm enough to hold Meg’s hand. Hester pauses at the door and speaks to Meg. ‘Dearest, I must fetch your father,’ she says, as though Meg hasn’t heard her words to Mrs Baker.

  ‘Mama, don’t go! Please don’t go,’ Meg wails. ‘Send Jessica!’

  Hester sighs deeply. ‘She’s not well, my precious.’ Hester now turns to Mrs Baker and in a whisper, as if she is still talking to Meg, says, ‘Poor Mrs Baker saw our dear Jessica naked, her mind quite gone.’ She looks again at Meg. ‘Try to sleep, my dearest, Mama will be back soon.’ She leans over and kisses Meg on the forehead. ‘Mrs Baker will mind you while I’m gone.’

  Hester, free from the homestead and on her way to the cow paddock where Joe will be waiting, is both elated and despairing. Mrs Baker will make a fine witness without her ever having seen the evidence. But, at the same time, she has witnessed Jessica’s condition and will now have to be sworn to secrecy. Hester despairs at the thought that she will need to throw herself on the old woman’s mercy and beg her not to reveal Jessica’s pregnancy. She knows the old lady, despite any assurances she may give, cannot be trusted, for she simply can’t help herself. There is nothing much Hester can do about this latest predicament and she is furious at Jessica’s behaviour. Once again her youngest daughter has shamed them all. Joe nods quietly when she tells him all this, though she doesn’t tell Joe how she has meant Mrs Baker to believe Jessica has gone strange in the head.

  ‘It would have come out sooner or later,’ Joe says philosophically, ‘we can’t hide the girlie’s pregnancy forever.’

  It is as they are walking back from the paddock together that Hester remembers the letter. Quite why it would pop into her head at such a moment she cannot think. ‘Joe, there is a letter for you — the verger gave it to me this morning.’

  Joe goes into Meg’s room when they return to the homestead. He feels awkward in front of Mrs Baker, who still clings dutifully to Meg’s hand, but it is this very awkwardness which makes the scene all the more convincing.

  ‘I’m sorry, girlie,’ he mumbles. ‘You get better now, eh.’ Then he turns and walks out slowly, followed by Hester who goes to her handbag and gives him the letter.

  Joe, who knows himself to be a slow reader, goes to sit at the kitchen table. Tearing open the envelope, he begins to read.

  Dear Mr Bergman,

  I most sincerely trust you and your good wife are in excellent health, though, as a physician, I hope this is even more the case with your daughter Meg, a fine young woman whom I understand is now married to young Jack Thomas. An admirable family and an excellent choice, if I may say so. As I recall saying to you, these things have a splendid way of working out for the best.

  However, I am charged with a most extraordinary duty and all of it in the name of King and Country. I have received a letter from Colonel Septimus Cunningham-Thomas who is, I believe, the colonel in charge of Jack Thomas’s battalion and also, I seem to recall, his uncle, on his father’s side. In what seems to me to be a highly unnecessary precaution, he asks that in the unlikely event of a miscarriage or stillbirth, Meg is overseen by myself or a midwife of my nomination, and the sad occasion witnessed and certified by either one of us.

  I have told him that it is unlikely that I will be in a position to oversee the birth, or, as it may be, miscarriage, but that I will recommend a certain Mrs Colleen O’Sullivan, a woman in whom I have complete trust. She lives in Yanco and while she is of the Church of Rome this should not be held against her as she is thoroughly trustworthy and highly skilled in the modern technique of delivery. In the sad event of a miscarriage or stillbirth, I, or as it is likely to transpire, Mrs O’Sullivan, may be called as witnesses. In such an instance I regret that you must keep the foetus in your possession for inspection by myself or Mrs O’Sullivan.

  I hasten to say that I feel it highly unlikely that such a calamity will befall your daughter. Nevertheless I have written to say that we will comply with the colonel’s instructions, as they are in your best interests. I say this because I am led to conclude from his letter that the marriage contract is in some way implicated if Meg’s pregnancy is not forthcoming.

  I am too old to feel insulted by such a manifest doubt in my ability to determine so obvious a condition of pregnancy, but for the sake of good relations with your son-in-law’s military commander, I have agreed for Mrs O’Sullivan to be called as the primary witness if such a tragedy should occur. Upon her evidence I would then certify to the colonel’s satisfaction that a miscarriage has in fact taken place or that the child was stillborn.

  All this is, of course, entirely unnecessary. Your daughter Meg is to my mind in excellent health and, but for the slimness of her hips, I foresee no complications. She should carry the full nine months and give birth to a healthy child, though I strongly suggest she remains out of the saddle for the last two months of her pregnancy and is required to undertake only light duties.

  Please let me know when the birth takes place so that we may adjust the little matter of timing we talked about previously.

  My felicitations to your dear wife and daughter.

  I remain, yours faithfully,

  Nathaniel Merrick (Physician).

  Joe rises slowly from the kitchen table and walks over to stand in the doorway of Meg’s bedroom. Hester looks up as he reaches the door and he indicates with a jerk
of his head that she should follow him. Back in the kitchen, he hands her the letter from Dr Merrick. ‘Come outside, we’ll talk there,’ he mutters.

  Hester stands in the yard and reads the letter and then looks up at Joe and sighs.

  ‘What now?’ Joe asks, spreading his hands as they begin to walk towards the cow paddock.

  Hester hands him back the letter and walks silently for a while, thinking. After a time she looks up at her husband. ‘We’ll have to do her in.’ She shrugs. ‘There’s simply no other way out, Joe.’

  ‘Do her in? Do who in?’ Joe asks, confused.

  ‘Mrs Baker.’

  Joe shakes his head, lost for words. He is about to say something when Hester interrupts. ‘Joe, can’t you see, she now thinks there’s been a miscarriage. We can’t go denying it happened — pretending Meg is still pregnant.’

  ‘I thought you said you’d speak to her ... Mrs Baker ... about Jessica, get her to shut her trap. Ask her to do the same now about the miscarriage.’

  Hester brings the tips of her forefingers of both hands to press down on either side of her nose. ‘She’ll know we’re up to something. It may have worked with Jessica — she saw her half naked, to her that would be a sure sign of Jessica’s insanity. She will also understand how it has come about after Jessica’s trip with Billy Simple.’ Hester now looks up. ‘But she believes she saw Meg’s miscarriage with her own eyes. She won’t be able to keep quiet about that.’ Hester looks pleadingly at Joe. ‘If she asks me why she shouldn’t tell about Meg,’ what reason will I give her? Will I tell her that we’re trying to deceive Jack? The old girl was very fond of Ada Thomas — Ada paid her salary for years! She’ll see what we’re trying to do to Jack.’ Hester bows her head and starts to cry softly. ‘We’re ruined. We will be disgraced, destroyed,’ she sobs.