‘He did! He did say it!’ Thomas protested through his sobs.
‘There’s no need for you to copy your brother’s rough habits. Stop that crying. Do you want me to tell Papa all the naughty things you’ve been doing? He’ll give you a strapping if I do.’
‘No, don’t tell Papa,’ Thomas pleaded.
‘Why doesn’t she leave the kid alone,’ Harry muttered.
Susannah turned on him. ‘You stay out of it. Teaching my child filthy language!’
Harry glared at her. ‘It’s true. She is a lazy bitch,’ he said to the room at large.
‘Do you see the treatment I get?’ Susannah demanded of Jack. ‘And you left me alone with these two.’
‘Shut up, the lot of you,’ Jack growled. ‘Can’t I eat my dinner in peace? Harry, watch your language at the table.’
‘That’s rather weak, after what he said to me,’ Susannah complained.
‘You shouldn’t have slept in, should you? I told you not to. Stop bawling, Tom, Papa’s too tired to give anyone a hiding tonight. I don’t want to hear another word out of anyone till I’ve finished eating.’
Amy was relieved at the silence that followed. It was obvious that the family had been getting on about as badly as possible. At least her father’s presence would stop them from being too openly aggressive.
She rose to clear the dishes when the meal was over, but she had only picked up her own plate when Jack spoke.
‘Leave those, Amy. You can hardly keep your eyes open, you’d better get off to bed.’
‘I don’t mind doing the dishes, Pa.’
‘I said leave them,’ Jack said shortly. He stared at Susannah as if expecting her to argue, but she contented herself with a resentful look down the table at him.
It was blissful to sink into her own familiar bed with its soft sheets. Amy stroked the crocheted bedspread she and her grandmother had worked together, then she lay back enjoying the darkness. Her bedrooms in Auckland had never been completely dark; nor had the nights been as quiet as this one. She could hear the hooting of a morepork in the distance, and the occasional lowing of a wakeful cow, but there was no noise of carriages clattering or people shouting, and no distant hints of gaslight.
Amy woke to find the early morning sun streaming through her window, and realised she had forgotten to close the drapes. She looked around the room to reassure herself that she really was home, then dressed and went out to the kitchen. She was astonished to find Susannah already there, in her dressing-gown and with her hair loose.
‘Oh, I thought you’d still be asleep.’
‘I’m not allowed much sleep these days,’ Susannah grumbled. ‘I have to get up at the crack of dawn. I thought you’d sleep in this morning.’
‘I want to get strong again, and I won’t unless I do some work. I can make breakfast if you want to have a sleep.’
Susannah considered the idea, then shook her head. ‘No, I’m awake now. But I wouldn’t mind getting dressed if you’d carry on while I’m gone?’
‘All right.’
‘I’ll only be a minute.’ Susannah disappeared into the passage.
Amy found everything took her twice as long as she was used to. She had to make repeated trips to take the dishes to the table, now that she did not have the strength to carry many at once. Lifting the leg of bacon down from its hook left her out of breath. She was leaning on the bench trying to recover from the exertion when her father came in.
‘What are you doing, girl?’ he asked in amazement.
‘Getting breakfast on. I’m sorry, I’m a bit slow this morning, but it’ll be ready soon.’
Instead of answering, Jack strode to the passage door. ‘Susannah!’ he roared. ‘Get out here.’
‘I’ll be there in a minute,’ Susannah called back. ‘I’m just putting my hair up.’
‘You get your lazy backside here right now or I’ll haul you out by your bloody hair!’
There was a moment’s silence, then Susannah practically ran up the passage and into the kitchen. ‘What are you screaming at me like that for?’ she said indignantly, but Amy noticed that she stayed well out of Jack’s reach.
‘Pa, I was only helping Susannah,’ Amy tried to explain. ‘Susannah was up before me this morning, but I wanted—’
‘Listen to me, both of you,’ Jack interrupted. ‘Amy’s been ill, Susannah, you know she has. She’s still not right, anyone with a bit of sense could see that. And until she’s got her strength back I don’t want to see her doing any heavy work. That includes hefting great legs of bacon around the kitchen. You just take it easy, Amy, get back into things slowly. You understand me? Both of you?’
‘Yes, Pa.’
‘You mean I’ve got to carry on doing everything by myself?’ Susannah said.
‘That’s right. Until the girl’s properly well again, it’s up to you to look after things. Have you got any complaints to make about that?’
‘It wouldn’t do any good if I had, would it?’
‘No, it wouldn’t,’ Jack agreed.
After breakfast, Amy sat on the verandah with a book of poems in her lap. She tried to rouse some interest in the story of the Lady of Shalott, but the memory of her little, blanket-wrapped bundle kept intruding. She looked up from the book just in time to see Lizzie striding determinedly towards the kitchen door.
‘Lizzie, I’m here,’ Amy called. Lizzie changed direction to rush up to the verandah. She dropped onto the seat beside Amy and they embraced.
‘I’ve missed you,’ said Lizzie.
‘I’ve missed you, too. I wish I could have written to you, but I just couldn’t.’
‘I know.’ Lizzie studied her closely. ‘You look awful.’
Amy gave a little laugh. ‘I can rely on you not to spare my feelings, anyway. Everyone else keeps telling me how well I look.’
‘No, you’re really pale, and you’ve got thin. You haven’t been sleeping very well, have you?’
‘Not till last night,’ Amy admitted.
‘You’ve got horrible shadows under your eyes. Still,’ she said brightly, ‘you’ll come right now you’re home. Of course you look awful, you’ve been ill.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Amy said fiercely. ‘I’m sick of everyone saying I’ve been ill. I thought I could trust you not to pretend. I haven’t been ill. I had a baby. Do you hear me? I had a baby!’
‘Shh,’ Lizzie warned. ‘Someone will hear you.’
‘They all know. Even though everyone pretends she never happened. She did happen, Lizzie. Oh, I wish you could have seen her.’ Amy closed her eyes to see again that serious little face staring up at her, then opened them to look at Lizzie. ‘I had a little girl. The most beautiful baby you’ve ever seen. My little girl. So tiny, so perfect. She had dark hair, and big, blue eyes that looked as if they knew everything.’
‘Amy, you’re going to upset yourself, going on like that.’
Amy flashed an angry look at her cousin, and saw that Lizzie was reluctant to meet her eyes. ‘I’m embarrassing you, aren’t I? I’m sorry, I’ll stop. I just thought you’d let me talk about her. No one else will.’
‘I think it’s better if you don’t talk about it, Amy.’
‘All right, I won’t talk about her.’ They all want to pretend you never happened, Ann. They want me to forget about you. I’ll never forget you. ‘We’ll talk about whatever you want.’
What Lizzie seemed to want to talk about were the everyday things that had happened during Amy’s absence. Amy had soon been brought up-to-date on all the doings of the Waituhi Valley and Orere Beach, as well as much of Ruatane, from the opening of the new cheese factory down to the new ribbons on Martha Carr’s bonnet, which were in a shade of pink of which Lizzie did not approve. Lizzie had just launched into the life story of the valley school’s new teacher when Amy interrupted her.
‘You haven’t mentioned Frank much, Lizzie. Nothing’s wrong, is it?’
‘No, everything’s fine. There’s nothing new
to tell, that’s all.’
‘Tell me old things, then. I want to hear about Frank. Have you set a date for your wedding yet?’
‘Sort of. Well, yes, we have really. We already knew it was going to be April, but I’ve decided to make it as near my birthday as possible. Pa said we had to wait till I’m eighteen, but I’m not going to wait any longer than I have to.’
‘And where are you going to have it? What about your dress?’
‘I don’t want to go on about all that stuff, Amy.’
‘Why not?’ Lizzie looked down at the ground and said nothing. ‘You’re scared of upsetting me, aren’t you? Scared you’ll remind me I’ve spoiled my chances of a flash wedding like you’re going to have? Don’t be. I want to hear about what you’re going to do, Lizzie. Don’t worry about me. I had my fun.’
‘Amy!’ Lizzie protested. ‘That’s an awful thing to say when you’re only sixteen.’
‘It’s true. You always used to be a great one for facing facts, don’t look so horrified when I do it.’
‘You’re still going to go through with it? Marrying Charlie?’
‘Of course I am. Lizzie, we’ve been over all this before and nothing’s changed. It’s the only way to make things right for everyone, so I won’t bring shame on them any more. Pa’s so pleased about it, he keeps talking about my “big day” coming up. I’ve said I’ll go through with it, and I’m not going to let him down. I’ve hurt him enough.’
‘You could still change your mind. Especially now you’re not… you know.’
‘Now I haven’t got my baby any more, you mean?’ Amy fought back tears with difficulty. ‘So it would look as though I’d lied and said I’d marry Charlie just so I’d have an excuse to get rid of her? As if I wanted to get rid of Ann. I gave her your name, you know. Ann Elizabeth, I called her. I suppose you don’t like having a bastard named after you.’
Lizzie was quiet for some time. ‘I have upset you, haven’t I?’ she said at last. ‘I didn’t mean to, Amy. I’m just not very good at talking about all this.’
‘I’m easily upset just now. It’s because I’m so tired.’
‘You’ll be better soon, when you feel well again.’
‘Yes, that’s right, Lizzie. I’ve been ill, haven’t I?’
*
When Amy woke the next morning, she fretted over whether she should go out to the kitchen to help with breakfast. She decided to wait in her room until she was sure Susannah would have things well under way. An hour after waking, she went out to find her stepmother half-heartedly punching at some bread dough.
‘Do you want me to do that?’ Amy asked.
‘Not if it means your father’s going to abuse me over it.’
‘I could do it sitting down. Pa wouldn’t go crook about that, I don’t think.’
‘Hmm, that’s not a bad idea. Everyone looks down their noses at my bread, anyway.’
‘You have to…’ Amy began, then thought better of telling Susannah that the bread should have a good fifteen minutes’ hard kneading, not the two or three slaps Susannah was obviously making do with. ‘What you put into bread is what you get out of it,’ her grandmother had always said. Even sitting down, working at the bread soon had Amy’s arms trembling with the unaccustomed strain. But the thought of bread that would not wear out her jaw was as appealing as the chance to be of some use.
‘Taking it easy, are you?’ Jack said when he came in and saw Amy sitting at the table. ‘That’s good.’ He ignored the glare Susannah turned on him.
Later that morning, after helping Susannah with some baking, Amy had just dusted the parlour and was trying to decide what other work was light enough for her to be allowed to do when Susannah came into the room. ‘You’ve a visitor,’ she said brightly. She ushered Charlie Stewart through the doorway. ‘Now, why don’t you take your fiancé out to the verandah, and I’ll bring some tea and biscuits out to you. Take your apron off, dear.’
Amy stared dumbly at the stern figure before her. Susannah had to give her a small shove before she responded. ‘Yes, come out here,’ she said, pulling her apron off and handing it to the waiting Susannah. She led the way through the parlour door and onto the verandah.
Charlie sat down and Amy took the chair opposite him, from where she studied the floorboards rather than meet his eyes. ‘I thought I’d come and see how you are,’ Charlie said after an awkward silence.
‘That was nice of you. Thank you, Mr Stewart.’ Amy forced herself to raise her gaze to meet his. He was staring at her in a way that she found disturbing. It reminded her just a little of how Jimmy had looked at her.
‘You’d best be calling me by my name,’ Charlie said. ‘ “Mr Stewart” will sound foolish from my wife.’
His wife. ‘I’ll try. It might take me a while to get used to doing that.’
‘Your pa says you’re not too well yet.’
‘I got really worn out in Auckland. I’m getting better now I’m home.’
‘Good. You’ve not got much colour in your cheeks.’
‘I’ve been inside so much, out of the fresh air.’
‘Here we are,’ Susannah said, bustling out with a tray. ‘I’ll leave you in peace to have a chat. Now, you must try some of these biscuits, Mr Stewart. Amy made them herself. She’s a very good cook.’
Charlie did not comment on the biscuits, but he managed to demolish most of them without any apparent difficulty. ‘You don’t eat much,’ he said, looking at Amy’s empty plate.
‘I’m not doing much work just now, so I don’t get very hungry.’
‘That’s fair enough.’ He looked hard at her. ‘You’re getting better, you say?’
‘Yes, I’ll be quite well again soon.’
‘Good.’ He finished his tea and stood up. ‘Well, I’ll be on my way.’
‘Goodbye, Mr Stewart.’ Charlie turned and looked at her. ‘I’m sorry, I mean Charlie.’
‘Goodbye.’
That wasn’t too bad. He was quite nice, really. Well, he wasn’t horrible, anyway. Amy tried to ignore the way she was shaking with relief at being alone again.
35
December 1884 – February 1885
As the days wore on, Amy made slow progress in returning to her old strength. She took short walks every day, and each day she extended her range a little, but it was more than a week before she could get so much as halfway up the hill behind the house. Even then she had to stop partway to sit on a stump.
She managed to get just high enough to see beyond the mouth of the valley and catch a glimpse of the steamer on its way to Tauranga. She stood and watched the little boat. It’s full of people going to Auckland, Ann. I don’t suppose I’ll ever go there again. I’ll never see you again.
She had to pick her way carefully down the hill with tears blurring her vision, but her eyes were clear again by the time she reached the house. Susannah had started preparing lunch; Amy thought she looked hot and flustered.
‘Can I help you with anything, Susannah?’
‘Humph! I could certainly do with a bit of help, but I don’t seem to count for anything around here. No one cares if I wear myself out trying to do all the work.’
‘I want to help, I just get tired.’
‘I know. All I hear is “look after Amy, she’s still not well.” I don’t know what would happen if I decided to be ill. I might get ill, too, having to do everything by myself.’
‘Please let me help you with something, Susannah. I know, I’ll shell these.’ Amy picked up a pile of peas and a bowl to put them in. She sat at the table and started on the peas, hoping Susannah would forget her irritation, but her stepmother had warmed to her subject.
‘You certainly manage to get a terrible fuss made of you. I didn’t have people worrying over me for months after I had my babies. I had to start work again after a couple of weeks. I don’t remember your father telling everyone to treat me as if I might break.’
‘I don’t want people to make a fuss of me. I can’t he
lp it if Pa keeps worrying about me. Please stop it, Susannah.’ Amy’s voice cracked a little.
‘It’s just ridiculous, the way he goes on about you.’ Susannah punctuated her words with the crash of pot lids. ‘Anyone would think you were the first girl ever to have a baby. At your age, too, it would have been easier than for a grown woman. Your bones are still soft. Anyway, you had the chloroform to make you sleep, I don’t know why you’re still carrying on as if you’d really been ill.’
‘I didn’t!’ Amy wailed.
Susannah seemed surprised at the interruption. ‘You didn’t what? What are you talking about?’
‘I didn’t have chloroform.’
‘No? What did they use, then?’
‘Nothing! She wouldn’t give me anything.’ The words came out in gasps as Amy relived the agony.
‘Are you telling me you didn’t have anything to stop the pain?’ Susannah said slowly.
‘She said she wouldn’t waste chloroform on me because I’m a bad girl. She wanted me to remember it. So I wouldn’t do it again.’ Amy’s shoulders heaved with dry sobs.
Susannah sank heavily onto the chair beside her. ‘I didn’t know. Amy, I swear I didn’t know they’d do that to you. That woman must be mad. She shouldn’t be trusted with girls.’
‘I thought I was going to die. The—’ Amy stopped and took a gulp of air, ‘the baby wouldn’t come out. There wasn’t room. I had to push and push, and I couldn’t any more.’ She licked her dry lips to moisten them. ‘Then the woman said she’d bring a man to pull my insides out with bits of metal if I didn’t push.’ She gave a convulsive shudder at the memory. ‘So I had to push. I thought I was going to die. I thought I was being ripped in half.’
‘Shh, Amy, that’s enough. It’s a horrible, horrible thing that happened, but it’s all over. You should try and forget about it. Talking will bring it all back to you.’
‘And then she was there. My baby. My beautiful little girl. All warm and soft and nuzzling up to me. She lay in my arms and trusted me. She trusted me! And I gave her away. They just took her one day. I never said goodbye to her.’
Sentence of Marriage Page 46
