‘Let me take them, perhaps I can clean them,’ she said, reaching for the boot. ‘I could put some new ribbon on for you if you like—I’m afraid that one’s ruined.’
Susannah slapped her hand away. ‘Leave them alone! And don’t you gloat over me.’
Amy dropped her hand in surprise. ‘I’m not gloating—I’m only trying to help.’
‘No, you’re not,’ Susannah hissed at her. ‘You’re just trying to say “I told you so”—I won’t have it from a child like you. Tell her to stop it,’ she said, turning to Jack.
‘She doesn’t mean any harm, Susie,’ Jack said, looking bewildered over all the fuss. Susannah’s face turned distraught. She dropped her boot beside its equally filthy mate and ran from the room with a sob. ‘What’s wrong with her?’ Jack asked Amy.
‘I don’t know, Pa,’ Amy said helplessly.
‘I’d better try and settle her down,’ Jack said with a sigh. He followed his wife out of the room.
Left alone, Amy picked up the sad-looking boots and set about trying to clean them. It took her most of what was left of the morning by the time she had scrubbed them, carefully removed the ruin of the ribbon trim with her tiny embroidery scissors and then put the boots to dry near the range. She thought they would probably be wearable, but would never look quite the same again.
John came in ahead of the other men at lunch-time.
‘How did Pa and Harry get on this morning?’ Amy asked, looking at the passage door to check they weren’t about to be disturbed.
‘I stopped them from killing each other.’ He saw Amy’s worried face and smiled. ‘No, they got on all right—I made sure I was between them most of the time.’
‘Thank goodness you’ve got a bit of sense,’ said Amy. ‘What do you think about it all, John?’ She waved her hand in the direction of the passage door.
‘I think he’s mad. But there’s nothing anyone can do about it, so we might as well make the best of it. What about you?’
‘I don’t know what to think,’ Amy admitted. Harry arrived, and the conversation came to an abrupt end.
When Susannah appeared for lunch Amy said nothing about the boots, although she saw Susannah’s eyes flick to them then widen a little in surprise. Susannah had changed into a blue woollen dress with a high neck and a darker blue border. Amy gazed at the dress admiringly.
‘You have such pretty clothes,’ she said.
Susannah seemed pleased. ‘I like nice things. It’s a pity I’ve nowhere to wear them now.’ She looked at Jack reproachfully, but he was too busy with his meal to take any notice.
Harry paid little attention to Susannah while he was eating, but Amy saw him flash an occasional dark glance at their stepmother when he thought no one was watching.
For her part, Susannah appeared pained when the men reached across the table for butter or salt, or when Jack spoke with his mouth full, and Amy felt ashamed on her family’s behalf, even though the culprits were oblivious. Her grandmother’s civilising influence had never extended to the men of the family.
‘When are you going to get the rest of my things, Jack?’ Susannah asked when they were eating pudding.
‘Eh? Oh, that’s right, we left that trunk at the wharf. You’d better go in and get it this afternoon, John.’
But it was Harry who set off with the cart after lunch, as Amy saw from the parlour window when cleaning that room. She went out onto the verandah and saw John with Jack, working on one of the new fences.
Later in the afternoon she took them down some tea and scones, and Harry drove back up the road while they were still eating. Amy managed to whisper in her brother’s ear while Jack was distracted. ‘Did you tell Harry to go in instead of you?’
‘Mmm, I didn’t want to leave him and Pa by themselves until Harry’s got used to Her Ladyship,’ John answered as quietly.
‘I don’t think Harry should take the trunk in to Susannah by himself—she’s in her room.’
‘You’re right.’ In a louder voice, John said, ‘I’ll give Harry a hand getting that trunk in.’ He and Amy walked back to the house together.
‘We can’t go on keeping them apart for ever,’ Amy fretted.
‘No, they’ll have to sort it out for themselves. Harry won’t have to see that much of her, I guess—neither will I, come to that.’
‘I will, though,’ said Amy. ‘If she ever comes out of her room, that is.’
As if she had heard Amy, Susannah was in the kitchen when they reached the house, looking around. John and Harry carried the trunk in and left again as quickly as possible, leaving Amy alone with Susannah.
‘I was just going to get dinner started,’ Susannah said. ‘I suppose you’ll help me?’
‘Of course—I’ll do it by myself if you want to get your trunk unpacked.’
‘No, I’ll do it. Don’t try to organise me.’
‘I’m not—I’m just trying to help.’
‘And stop contradicting everything I say!’
‘I wasn’t… I mean, I’m sorry,’ Amy said helplessly.
‘You’d better tell me where everything is, then.’
Amy showed her how the dresser was arranged, pointed out her jars of preserves on the shelves that lined one wall, then took Susannah outside to the dairy.
‘Is this a larder?’ Susannah asked, looking around in surprise. ‘Where’s the meat?’
‘No, it’s not a larder, I’ll show you that next. It’s a dairy, it’s where I make the butter and cheese. I keep it on these shelves, see?’ She pointed to the neat rows.
‘Make it? Why do you make butter and cheese? You can buy it in the shops.’
Amy wondered where Susannah thought the butter and cheese in the shops came from, but she held her tongue on that. ‘We’ve got so much milk, you see. I make it for the house, and I make extra to sell in town. Not in winter, though, there’s only enough milk for our own butter this time of year. I’ll start making extra again soon.’
‘Oh. He needn’t think I’m doing that.’ There was no need to ask who ‘he’ was.
It’s my job, anyway, Amy wished she could say. ‘Come and see the larder.’ She led Susannah out of the dairy and over to the large, airy room that held most of the food stores. ‘There’s not much meat left. Pa usually kills a sheep on a Saturday, so we’re nearly out by Friday.’
‘Kills it? Himself?’
‘Yes,’ Amy said, puzzled at the question. She was surprised to see Susannah shudder.
‘There’s nothing here but chops,’ Susannah complained.
‘That’s because it’s Friday, and Pa kills—’
‘I know, I know, don’t go on about it.’ Susannah picked out eight of the cutlets.
‘That won’t be enough,’ said Amy.
‘What do you mean? Of course it will—that’s one each for you and I, and two each for the men.’
‘But those are only little cutlets, we ate all the chump chops the other night. They’ll want four each, and I usually have two.’
‘Four! They can’t want four each! And one’s enough for a scrap of a girl like you.’
‘They will,’ Amy said in some distress.
‘Don’t argue with me, child,’ Susannah said, her eyes flashing. ‘I’ll tell your father you contradict everything I say.’
‘I’m only trying to…’ Amy gave up, seeing that she was simply making Susannah angrier. She helped Susannah cook the meal, and when the men arrived they set out the plates together.
‘Have you run out of meat, girl?’ Jack asked, looking at his meagre plateful. John and Harry prodded at their portions in equal amazement.
‘No,’ Amy said, unsure how to explain without causing trouble.
‘Is there something wrong with it?’ Susannah asked. ‘I cooked dinner tonight.’
‘Ah, no, there’s nothing wrong with it, Susie,’ Amy saw Susannah close her eyes in frustration, ‘there’s just not much of it.’
‘I thought it was plenty.’ Susannah’s lower lip qu
ivered slightly. ‘It’s the first time I’ve cooked dinner for you, and now you don’t like it.’ There was a catch in her voice.
‘Of course I like it—it’s a fine meal—don’t get upset. It’ll be enough, I wasn’t all that hungry anyway.’
‘I was,’ John said very quietly so that only Amy heard. Harry simply stared at his plate in disbelief.
They ate their meat and vegetables, then devoured the custard pudding that Amy had made; she gave silent thanks that she had cooked a huge one. She hesitated before putting the jug on, but Susannah showed no sign of doing it herself; Susannah did, however, take over pouring the tea from the pot.
Harry drank his tea, then said bluntly, ‘I’m still hungry.’
‘Hold your tongue,’ Jack said, glaring at him.
‘Why should I? There’s no crime in being hungry.’
‘I’ll get you some biscuits, Harry,’ Amy said. She loaded a plate from her cake tins.
Harry took a handful of biscuits, but he looked at Susannah accusingly. ‘It’s meat I wanted, not biscuits.’
‘Harry,’ Jack growled.
‘I’m a bit hungry too,’ John said, reaching for a biscuit.
‘How was I to know you’re all such pigs?’ Susannah burst out. ‘I did my best, and all you can do is complain. And you,’ she turned to Amy, ‘you’re just waiting to gloat over me again.’
‘I’m not—’
‘You’re all against me.’ Susannah rushed from the room in tears.
‘Susie!’ Jack called, but she ignored him. ‘Now look what you’ve done.’ He glared at Harry and John.
‘What?’ Harry said. ‘All I did was say I’m hungry. It’s not too much to ask for a decent meal, is it?’
Jack sighed. ‘I suppose it’s not. I’d better go and settle her down, though. Blast it, I’m hungry too! Have you got any more of those biscuits, Amy?’
‘Plenty, Pa,’ said Amy. ‘I’ll get you some more.’
Jack did not seem to be in any great hurry to soothe his wife; in fact the four of them spent a pleasant evening together. Amy noticed that Susannah’s name was not mentioned.
*
But Susannah could not be ignored for long. Next morning she came out while Amy was cooking breakfast. ‘Oh, you’ve already started.’
‘I like to have it ready when they come in,’ Amy said apologetically. ‘And I didn’t know when you were getting up. They’re always hungry after milking.’
‘I don’t want to hear about how hungry they are. Out of my way, I’ll finish this. You can set the table.’
The men looked at their plates apprehensively when they saw that Susannah had been involved with breakfast, but appeared relieved when they saw the pile of bacon and eggs. ‘Good meal, Susie,’ said Jack.
‘Susannah,’ she corrected him. ‘I’m glad you all like it.’ She smiled sweetly around the table.
5
September – December 1881
‘I popped over to see Arthur this afternoon,’ Jack said at dinner on Saturday night. ‘I… ahh… mentioned you to him.’ He looked awkward, and Amy wondered how her uncle had reacted to the news of his older brother’s sudden marriage. ‘So they’ll all be looking forward to meeting you tomorrow,’ he said, looking brighter.
‘I’ll have to make sure I don’t disappoint them, won’t I?’ Susannah said with a superior smile. It was obvious she did not think impressing country folk would be difficult.
Sunday morning got off to a bad start for Amy. After breakfast she put on her mourning dress and the bonnet she had trimmed and lined with black crepe, then sat in the kitchen with her brothers, waiting for Susannah to finish her toilette. Susannah came in on Jack’s arm looking as though she were dressed for a ball; or so Amy thought. The bodice of her dress was stiff silk brocade trimmed with velvet, and the skirts were of heavy bronze silk formed into broad pleats. Her hat was made of bronze velvet trimmed with bronze and dark red ostrich plumes.
‘That dress is beautiful!’ Amy gasped. She reached out to touch the brocade, then recollected herself and pulled her hand back.
To her dismay, Susannah’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. ‘Why are you wearing black?’
‘Because I’m in mourning for my grandmother,’ said Amy.
‘Not any more you’re not. You can’t be in deep mourning when your father’s just got married—it looks as though you’re mourning that.’ She looked at Amy as if daring her to admit that very thing.
Amy turned to her father for support. ‘But Pa, it’s only been six months since Granny died—I should wear this for another six months yet.’
Jack looked troubled. ‘No, I think your ma’s right, Amy. You can’t go around in black when you’ve just got a new mother. You can wear an arm band instead, that would be all right.’
‘You’re not wearing your arm band any more,’ Amy said, noticing its absence for the first time.
‘Of course I’m not—not with a new bride. But you can wear yours for a bit longer if you want. Hurry up and get changed, girl, we haven’t got much time.’
Amy went off to her bedroom, determined not to cry even though she felt betrayed. She hunted through her chest of drawers for the previous winter’s good dress, and finally found it, rather creased, at the bottom of a drawer. She shook it vigorously to get some of the creases out, then quickly put it on.
To her dismay, she found that she had grown enough during the intervening months for the dusky pink woollen dress to become a little too short, as well as uncomfortably tight under the arms. But it was her only good winter dress, apart from the now-forbidden black one, so she had no choice but to wear it.
Susannah frowned when Amy came back into the kitchen. ‘That’s rather shabby.’
‘It’s the only one I’ve got,’ Amy said, still fighting back tears.
‘Oh. Well, it can’t be helped, then. You’ll have to get another one, though.’
‘I’m not sure how we’re all going to fit,’ Jack said, looking round at his expanded family, when John had brought the buggy around to the gate.
‘I’ll ride,’ Harry said just a little too eagerly, and he went off to fetch another horse. ‘Don’t wait for me to saddle up,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘I’ll catch you up—I’ll be faster than you, anyway.’
The church was small, holding around ninety people in its eight rows of pews when it was full; today the congregation was about fifty strong. It had been built fifteen years earlier, and Jack still occasionally referred to it as the ‘new’ church. Walls, floor and ceiling were all made of broad kauri planks the colour of dark honey, as were the pews, and with the morning sun coming through the high, narrow windows behind the altar (they were of clear glass; Ruatane did not run to stained glass windows) the church felt warm and cosy after the cold drive into town. That meant in summer the church could get unbearably hot, especially when the sermon was particularly long.
They arrived at church just as the first hymn was being sung, and took their pew as quickly as possible. Lizzie’s father did not approve of ‘pew-wandering’, as he called it, so Lizzie could not come and sit with them, but Amy saw her craning her neck to look. Amy noticed heads turning to stare at her father’s new bride, and the volume of the singing wavered briefly. No wonder people were looking, Amy thought. The only other person in the congregation who dressed anywhere near as stylishly as Susannah was Mrs Leveston, the wife of the Resident Magistrate; as Mrs Leveston was short, grey-haired and rather plump there was no real competition.
After the service most of the congregation seemed to feel obliged to rush over and speak to the Leiths outside the church. Susannah smiled graciously at them all, and clearly enjoyed the admiring looks given her clothes. Lizzie came over with her family and gave Susannah an appraising glance, then pulled Amy off to one side.
‘Well,’ Lizzie said. ‘That’s a surprise, and no mistake! I could hardly believe it when Pa said Uncle Jack had come home with a wife—and I didn’t expect anything like her.’ She looked at
Susannah again, and Amy realised that Lizzie was, for once, almost at a loss for words.
‘I didn’t expect it either,’ said Amy.
‘What’s she like?’ Lizzie asked, turning back to Amy with an eager expression.
‘She’s…’ Amy began, then found she was struggling. How could she sum up all Susannah meant in a few words? ‘She’s twenty-five, she’s from the city… she’s not used to us yet… she gets upset quite a lot.’
‘Why? What’s wrong with her?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Amy. ‘I… I don’t think she likes me very much.’
‘She doesn’t sound very nice. She’s got small eyes, anyway, and that pointy chin! And she’s skinny.’
‘She doesn’t eat much,’ Amy said, remembering the argument over the chops. ‘She doesn’t seem very happy at home.’
‘I don’t see why not,’ Lizzie said. ‘She’s managed to get a husband, and she must have just about given up. Twenty-five! She looks even older than that.’ She cast a disparaging look at Susannah. ‘I’ll have to get Ma to come over and visit her soon.’
‘Why? So you can have a better look?’
‘Yes,’ Lizzie said simply.
Lizzie had to wait a few days before she could make her visit. Monday was washing day, and for the first time Amy decided there might be an advantage to Susannah’s presence: sharing the washing would be a definite improvement.
She had her doubts when Susannah started a stream of complaints. ‘Carry water from a barrel!’ she said, looking utterly disgusted, when Amy commented on how lucky they were that the rain barrel was full so that they did not have to go all the way to the well to fill the copper and the rinsing tubs. ‘We’ve had running water for three years at home.’
‘Have you?’ Amy said, wide-eyed with awe. ‘That must be wonderful.’
‘Yes, it is—it was, I should say.’ Susannah looked downcast. She carried a bucket or two, wandering along morosely, while Amy scurried back and forth with the bulk of the water.
Sentence of Marriage Page 6
