by Sarah Lark
There were indeed strong indications of this lack of interest, as Matt appeared increasingly bored and in a bad mood. The absence of high praise for the wonderful, humorous, and tender Matt Edmunds was an indication of Claire’s disenchantment with her husband.
Claire was unrestrainedly happy about the money she and Kathleen made, though. “We’ll be rich yet, Kathleen.” She smiled, but then grew serious. “We’ll run away together.”
Kathleen looked up, surprised, from her money. She was just counting it all again, hardly able to comprehend her fortune. But this ripped her out of her trance. Claire Edmunds was thinking of escaping her marriage?
“They say,” whispered Claire, who seemed finally to need to express herself, “well, the women in Christchurch, they say Matt has a lover in Lyttelton.”
Kathleen laid her arm around her friend’s shoulder. “That can’t be true, Claire. It’s surely just gossip.”
“But it might be true,” Claire said bitterly. “After all, in the first few years, the sea was rarely so rough that he had to stay overnight in Lyttelton. But now it happens all the time. I see it, too, Kathleen. I’m not blind, you know.”
“But do you not let him into your bed anymore?” Kathleen asked, blushing. “I mean, you haven’t gotten pregnant again.”
Claire wiped the tears from her eyes. “It’s not that I don’t let him,” she said quietly. “He just doesn’t want to. Matt is so . . . I don’t know what makes him so dour and unhappy. I do love him, even though he’s so different than he used to be. But well, I think, I think, for all he cares, the sooner I’m gone the better.”
Claire Edmunds, the eternal optimist, broke down in tears.
Chapter 5
Kathleen Coltrane’s and Claire Edmunds’s marriages didn’t grow any happier over the next few years, but their business together developed into an unexpected success. Kathleen couldn’t keep up with all the orders she received for dresses and even evening gowns. They hired two women in town to do the sewing, and Kathleen concentrated primarily on the clothing designs and cutting the patterns. Claire focused on weaving filigreed wool cloth, and she was very skillful at creating new effects with different shades of coloring. She worked nearly all the wool from her sheep herself, and she took Kathleen’s yield when the Coltranes had sheep during shearing time.
Certainly Claire contributed to the family’s income, which was bitterly necessary.
Claire complained about how Matt’s business never flourished. While the other boatmen and fishermen had already acquired bigger and more modern boats, Matt had made no progress. The money he earned he drank away either in the taverns or in boats with friends.
Even Ian grumbled occasionally about Matt: “He entertains the whole tavern with his sailor’s stories. But those won’t catch him any fish or carry any loads—and there’s less and less of that to do the more they pave the Bridle Path.”
Coaches could now travel along the pass, and when Ian was away for several days and took Colin with him, Kathleen and Claire gathered up Sean and the girls and ventured to make an excursion to Lyttelton. Kathleen wanted to see her Maori friend Pere again, and Claire, who had been seized with ambition when it came to wool, hoped to learn about fabric dyes from the native woman.
Naturally, Pere was overjoyed. She raved about how big Sean had grown and spoiled him and Heather and Chloe with sweets. Kathleen marveled at how the primitive settlement of Port Cooper had developed into the large town of Lyttelton. She enjoyed being able to talk with Pere’s husband, John, and learn more about their new country’s course of development.
“They found coal in Westport; they’re starting to mine there,” John explained. “But more important than that, they found gold in Otago. All the madmen and adventurers are rushing to the gold sites hoping to make a fortune. Not many are going to manage that, but it’ll bring people to the country. Unfortunately they’re not exactly the best sorts, but they’re founding towns too. Dunedin on the coast in the south—settled by Scots mostly. Blenheim in the north—bunch of Germans around there. So the land’s slowly filling up.”
“And does that not disturb your people?” Claire asked Pere, who was just explaining the night sky to the children.
It was a warm summer evening, and they had enjoyed the view of the sea while Pere grilled fish and sweet potatoes. Now, the clear night sky emerged before them, and Claire was thrilled that Pere knew the names of the stars—though only in her own language, not English.
Pere shook her head. “Not here on South Island, Te Waka a Maui. Never were many. Only one tribe, Ngai Tahu, and a few others far to north. Have nothing against pakeha—when they pay honest for our land and work. You must watch out; many swindlers. But our chieftains smart, not much fighting with each other. On North Island different. Many tribes there, much treaties. In Waitangi, chieftains made treaty with pakeha but still, there is often trouble.”
“Here the people are just happy when they get work,” John added.
Pere grinned at him. “And money and pots and blankets and warm clothing,” she said. “Who doesn’t want to live little better life?”
Kathleen and Claire nodded in agreement. Their lives lacked luxury despite the good income they earned. Claire hid her money in the barn beneath the manure pile, and Kathleen hid hers behind a loose brick in her fireplace. They couldn’t spend anything without making their husbands aware of their income. Now they looked longingly at Pere and John’s comfortable home, the cushions on the chairs, the wall hangings woven by Maori women, and the small sculptures out of pounamu jade.
“These hei-tiki,” said Pere, generously giving Claire and Kathleen two tiny jade fetishes on leather bands.
Claire looked reverently at her pendant while Kathleen quickly hid hers beneath her clothes. It made her happy to have a good luck charm, but she dared not think of what Ian would do if he found it. The best thing would be to hide it in the secret compartment in which she kept her money—and Michael’s letter and lock of hair.
Claire now joined the little stargazers, pulling Chloe into her arms. “That’s the Milky Way,” she explained, pointing at the sky.
Pere smiled. “We call it Te Ika o te Rangi,” she explained. “And that’s Matariki, very important for attitude of new year—so we have grand festival.”
“The Pleiades,” Claire interpreted. “But what do you call that star there, Pere? I don’t know any name for it.” As soon as Pere told her the name of one, Claire would point to yet another star.
Pere answered patiently, and finally Claire’s wish to learn more about her new stars was being fulfilled.
Kathleen did not care at all about the night sky. While Claire and the children laughed, repeating Maori words, she memorized the names of the pakeha settlements John mentioned: Greymouth and Westport, Nelson and Blenheim, Dunedin and Queenstown. She would certainly never travel to the stars. But maybe she would find a place for herself and her children right there on New Zealand’s South Island where she could be safe from Ian’s presumptions and abuse.
More years passed, and it was 1858 before Kathleen seriously thought about realizing her escape plans. Ultimately, it was not Kathleen’s growing desperation or Sean’s increasingly worse relationship with Ian that provided the impetus. It was Matt Edmunds, of all people, who started the ball rolling.
Sean was eleven, Colin ten, and both boys were attending school in Christchurch. It was a long trip, but Sean was happy to ride the ten miles—he hungered for knowledge, and he’d found a place for himself at school. Thanks to Claire’s instruction, he had been able to read and write for a long time, was good in math, and even understood a little Latin. He had read halfway through the dictionary, and in doing so developed remarkable knowledge. Sean impressed his teachers so much that they skipped him one, then three grades. Even among the older students, he was one of the smartest, and people already talked of his being admitted into Christ’s College, which was being built.
Colin enjoyed school less. Thanks to C
laire’s lessons, he could skip first grade and would surely not have had to attend second grade either, but he showed little initiative. For his later career as an animal trader—he was already declaring that now—he claimed that all he needed to know was math and that the rest of the subjects were a waste. Colin wanted to spend his time preparing the horses for sale and breaking them in, and of course there was nothing better than traveling with Ian on his business trips.
Ian rode from farm to farm, though Kathleen had the feeling he avoided the biggest and most important estates. People like the Wardens on Kiward Station, the Barringtons, or the Beasleys could not be tricked, and they undoubtedly had too much dignity to even receive Ian. They either ordered their animals from England or bred them themselves. Ian mostly did business with small farms, and he swindled people over and over again. Naturally, whiskey played a big role in this, and Ian even drank during the day now.
Aside from Colin, the whole family was relieved when Ian went on sales trips. Ian increasingly showed Sean his disdain, and he didn’t even take notice of Heather. Having just turned nine, Heather had begun to fear her father more, and when Ian was gone she did not miss his bullying of her beloved brother Sean and his beatings of her mother.
In fact, on that spring day in November, Colin was the only family member in a bad mood. Ian had set out that morning on a trip that would last several days, but he had left Colin at home so he would not miss school. Colin was mistreating the horse with which he was working in the paddock in front of the house. Sean was cleaning out the stables, and every time he came out with the wheelbarrow, he argued with his brother about how harshly he was treating the young horse. Kathleen was in the house, and Heather was picking red rata and yellow kowhai blossoms. Like Claire, Heather insisted on being a lady and decorating her house.
Suddenly, Claire’s chestnut-colored mule came galloping down the unpaved path between Kathleen’s house and the paddock as if pursued by the Furies. Claire sat on its bare back, steering it as best she could with a rope for a bridle. Spotty, her donkey, followed just behind, also at breakneck pace, with Claire’s daughter, Chloe, on top. Chloe was now almost as good a rider as her mother and rode either sidesaddle or stock saddle, but that day Chloe held onto Spotty’s bony back with great effort. If mother and daughter had ridden all three miles at that pace, the girl must have been sore.
Claire and Chloe got down from their mounts as soon as they stopped. The little girl went to hitch the animals, but Claire seemed incapable of any reasonable thought or action.
“Kathleen! Kathleen!” Claire shouted.
When Kathleen stepped out of the house, Claire threw herself, sobbing, into her arms. “Kathie, Kathie, I, we, our house, Matt . . .”
Kathleen embraced her friend, pulling her close to comfort her. Her thoughts raced through all the possible catastrophes. Had the house burned down? Might Matt have died in the flames?
“A, a fire, Claire?” she asked.
Claire shook her head but did not manage a single word.
“Some people came,” Chloe said when her mother couldn’t explain. “A man and his wife and two boys. With a big wagon and furniture. And they, they threw us out.”
Chloe sounded more taken aback and disbelieving than unsettled, as if she didn’t quite yet understand the seriousness of the situation.
“They threw you out?” Kathleen did not understand either, although memories of Ireland suddenly assailed her. Gráinne Rafferty on the dock in Wicklow. The Drurys’ hut, torn down and burned. “But that can’t be, Claire; this is a free country. There aren’t any noble lords—”
“The people say they bought it,” Chloe said. “With all its in . . . in . . .”
“Inventory,” Claire finished the word, seeming to regain her speech. “They had proof too. The bill of sale was without a doubt correct. Matt, the dog . . .”
“Matt sold the house out from under you?” Kathleen asked, horrified.
Claire nodded. “Maybe he sold us as items in the inventory too,” she said bitterly. “The buyers were very angry to find us still there. They claimed Matt had already left. He had used the money from the farm to buy shares in a schooner, a cargo ship. He’s sailing to China on it as we speak.”
Kathleen looked at her dear friend who was so wholly beside herself and suddenly became completely calm. She had put the decision off for a long time, but now fate was handing her an opportunity. She could not let Claire go—everything in her rebelled against returning to her joyless life before Claire’s arrival. And Claire was too well bred to survive on her own in Christchurch or Lyttelton. Kathleen breathed deeply.
“What about your clothes, Claire?” she asked.
Matt had never taken an interest in Claire’s wardrobe, but her mother had continued to send her material that Kathleen crafted into beautiful pieces. Claire and Chloe owned an extensive wardrobe that was their pride and joy, and of course, the dresses were like new since they never had the opportunity to wear them.
Claire’s eyes flashed with anger. Apparently, now she was really coming back to herself, and her despair was giving way to a healthy rage.
“Part of the inventory. I wanted to pack some, but the woman saw right away that I had more than this old thing I’m wearing.” Claire was wearing a tattered housedress, so she must have been working in the garden when the people stormed in. “In any case, she plopped down, plump and greedy, in front of my wardrobe and said she bought all the valuable items with the farm.”
“You could fight it,” said Kathleen. “A lawyer from Christchurch . . .”
Claire waved the idea away. “Oh, forget it. They’ll have it all sold before the lawyer even shows up. Besides . . .” She smiled grimly. “We got the animals in exchange.”
“They must have belonged to the inventory, didn’t they?” asked Kathleen. “How did you manage to get them away?”
“They were in the forest, at the Fairy Place,” she said. “And the new people had enough to do making sure I didn’t take anything from the house. So Chloe and I ran to the river and then rode around the farm into the copse. And here we are.”
“You two shouldn’t stay too long,” Kathleen said. “They’ll report the theft, guaranteed.”
“You, you’re not serious,” Claire whispered. “You’re, you’re not throwing us out, are you? I thought . . .”
Kathleen shook her head impatiently. “Stop that nonsense. Of course I’m not throwing you out. But you have to know they’ll look here first. At least, they will once they learn we’re friends. Besides, Ian won’t tolerate you here. But that doesn’t matter. We’ll run away. The two of us and the children.”
“We’ll run away?” Claire’s eyes were huge. “You mean to leave Ian?”
Kathleen nodded decisively. “I have for a long time. I just didn’t dare do it alone. But forget it; we need to plan. First, the animals need to go into the stables. Sean . . .” Kathleen turned around, looking for him, and saw Sean and the other children too. Sean sat on the paddock fence listening patiently; Colin was on his horse, eyes and ears open; and Heather was whispering with Chloe.
Missy and Spotty could no longer be seen. Sean winked at his mother. Kathleen gave him a warm smile. How clever the boy was. He’d already gotten the animals out of sight.
“Good. Then let’s go into the house now and pack our things,” Kathleen said to her children. “Ian has the wagon. We need to take the carriage and the mule. So don’t take too much. It’ll be tight with six of us already.” Kathleen breathed deeply and readied herself for the most important question. “Claire, do you have your money?”
Kathleen exhaled when Claire nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “Chloe grabbed it from the barn while I argued with the woman about the clothes. Otherwise these people might have laid claim to it too. But here it is.”
She fished the bills and coins from the pockets of her housedress. She had stored her money in a handsome mahogany box—another piece from her largely useless trousseau—but she
couldn’t have ridden with it.
“Good!” Kathleen’s relief was so great that she embraced Claire suddenly. “Then it all won’t be so bad. See, you have your animals, your money; you’re rich, Claire, and me too. We’ll run away. We’ll start over somewhere else!”
“But where?” Claire asked as she followed Kathleen into the house. Kathleen boiled water and placed bread and butter on the table—no matter how eager they were to go, Claire needed tea and something to eat. Chloe seemed starved, and she started eating right away.
Kathleen’s children did not make any move to gather their things. They listened, fascinated, to the conversation their mothers were having.
“It has to be a city,” Kathleen said, “and preferably not one that’s grown out of a whaling station or the like. There won’t be any women there, so whom would we sell our dresses to? Only places like Christchurch make sense.”
“But that’s too close,” Claire said.
Kathleen rolled her eyes. “Of course we’re not going to Christchurch. Ian would find us within a day, and you’d lose your animals, not to mention face charges for theft. No, we should either head north to Nelson or south to Dunedin.”
“I would argue for Nelson, Mother.” Sean spoke up in his sometimes-stilted formal mode of expression. “Or even for the North Island. That’s where all the big cities are—Wellington, Auckland—and Father would never find us there.”
Sean was the only one of the children who did not seemed surprised by Kathleen’s plan to flee. On the contrary, it was as if he had already considered it.
