A Second Chance (47 page)

Amy gazed at the little creature in her
arms. Vivid blue eyes were studying the world with an expression
that suggested it had yet to prove itself satisfactory. The baby’s
head was crowned with a blazing mop of hair.

‘She’s got red hair!’ Amy said in delight
and astonishment. ‘Fancy her getting Charlie’s red hair!’ She
planted a careful kiss on top of the baby’s head. ‘Can I take her
out to show Dave? Only if Beth’s not going to wake up for a bit,
though—I should be here when she does.’

‘Beth won’t wake for some time yet,’ said
Richard. ‘Yes, by all means go and see the new father, and set his
mind at rest. Don’t let him in here, though—better that he waits
until we’ve been able to make Beth more comfortable.’

Amy carried the precious bundle out to the
parlour, where David and Frank sat in the small circle of light
cast by the lamp. David erupted from his chair at the sight of her,
and took a step forward.

‘She’s going to be all right, Davie,’ Amy
said, anxious that he should not have to worry a moment longer.
‘Beth’s safe. And look!’ She stepped into the lamplight and lifted
the baby to show an awed David. ‘You’ve got a daughter!’

Beth opened her eyes to find a sea of faces
looming over her, and a warm weight pressed just below her chest.
Pain nagged at the edge of her awareness, but she was too weary to
give it any attention.

The faces resolved into David’s, Aunt Amy’s,
and her father’s; Richard and the nurse seemed to be there, too,
but the lamplight was too dim for her to be sure.

She looked down to see what it was that
nestled against her, small and soft and warm. Huge blue eyes looked
into hers, from a little face crowned with red hair.

‘See what a lovely baby you have?’ That was
her Aunt Amy’s voice. ‘You’ve got a little girl, Beth. You’ve got a
daughter.’

Beth stared into those unfocussed eyes as
she slowly unravelled the meaning of her aunt’s words. It was all
over. She was alive, and the most beautiful baby there had ever
been lay in her arms. Her very own baby.

Hot tears welled up in her eyes and spilled
unchecked down her cheeks. Her chest heaved with sobs till she was
gasping for breath. The sobs hurt; everything hurt. But it didn’t
matter. Nothing mattered except her baby.

Aunt Amy was shooing the others out of the
room, even Richard. She put an arm around Beth’s shoulders and held
her, making little wordless soothing noises until the sobs
eased.

Beth felt herself being lifted forward
slightly, just enough for her aunt to place another pillow behind
her shoulders. A handkerchief appeared in front of her, and her
eyes and face were gently wiped. It was a relief to be rid of the
blurring of tears, because it meant she could see her baby
properly. Aunt Amy was saying something about red marks—don’t worry
about the marks on her face, they’ll fade. As if a few silly little
marks mattered. As if they could stop her baby from being
beautiful.

Her nightdress felt cool and crisp against
her skin. She seemed to have had a fresh one put on her while she
had been asleep. The buttons down the bodice were being opened, and
her aunt was nudging at Beth’s arms—no, she mustn’t take the baby
away, Beth wanted to tell her, but before she could make her mouth
form the words, she realised that Aunt Amy was just moving Beth’s
arms to lift the baby a little higher.

‘There won’t be anything there yet, but
this’ll help the milk come in,’ her aunt said. She brought the
tiny, questing mouth close to one of Beth’s breasts.

The baby nuzzled at her, licking at her
nipple. It felt funny and strange and lovely. How clever her baby
was, to know just what to do straight away. Beth looked up at her
aunt, wanting to say this aloud, but she could not seem to get the
words out.

Aunt Amy smiled at her and nodded. ‘I know,’
she said.

Beth looked back down at her baby. She was
going to stay awake and watch her for whatever was left of the
night. She felt as if she never wanted to close her eyes again, for
fear of missing a moment’s opportunity to study this wondrous
being.

But her eyelids were drooping, refusing to
obey her, and she felt her arms slackening their grasp. Aunt Amy
was helping, holding the baby in place with her own arm under
Beth’s.

‘You can go to sleep, Beth,’ Aunt Amy
murmured close to her ear. ‘Baby will still be here when you wake
up. It’s all right.’

And it was all right. Everything was all
right now. The baby had let go of Beth’s nipple, but she was still
pressed close against her, warm and soft and immeasurably
comforting. Beth let her eyes close.

*

She would have to stay in bed for one more
month, Richard told her. They all seemed to think she might make a
fuss about it, but it hurt so much to do anything, even to be
washed and have a fresh nightdress put on her, that it was easy to
agree to whatever meant she could move as little as possible.

Amy looked after both Beth and the baby
during the daytime, but if David was in the house when the baby
needed to be fed, he assigned himself the task of carrying her to
Beth. He would sit on the bed and watch her feeding, and when she
had finished he would take his turn at cuddling her before putting
her back in the cradle. After the first few days, when Beth had got
used to the idea of letting anyone but herself hold her baby, she
found she enjoyed watching them together, the baby tiny in David’s
big hands. It was almost as nice as cuddling her herself. As moving
became less painful, she would sometimes nestle against David while
they held the baby between them. That, Beth thought, was the best
thing of all.

At night, Beth found that no matter how
deeply she had felt herself to be sleeping, the moment the baby
stirred she was wide awake. The same did not apply to David, who in
spite of his good intentions would, if left alone, have slept until
the little whimpers turned to full-blown wailing, but Beth soon
discovered that a sharp jab of her elbow in David’s side solved
that problem.

When the baby was just over a week old, and
Beth was finding herself less inclined to fall asleep without
warning, she had David call Amy in one afternoon so that they could
ask her opinion.

‘We can’t think of a name,’ Beth told her.
‘Well, not one that someone in the family hasn’t already got. It
has to be something nice. Not too fancy, though, or people will
make fun of it.’

Rather to Beth’s surprise, her aunt had a
suggestion at once.

‘What about Margaret?’ she asked.

‘That’s quite nice,’ said Beth. ‘What made
you think of that one? Is it from one of your books.’

Amy shook her head. ‘No, it was the name of
your Uncle Charlie’s mother. She died when he was just a little
boy. When Alexander was on the way, I told Uncle Charlie I’d name
the baby after his mother if it was a girl. But of course I had
another boy, and then after Alexander… well, there weren’t any more
babies to name.’

‘Margaret,’ Beth said thoughtfully. ‘It’s a
bit long, though, and I wouldn’t want people to call her Maggie. I
don’t like that much. Not Meg, either—we had a dog called that
once.’

‘Well,’ said Amy, ‘one of the books I read
at Sarah’s had a girl called Meg in it. She had a baby girl, and
they called her Margaret after her mother, but the family called
her Daisy. I think it’s a sort of play on words—there are those
little daisies called marguerites.’

‘Daisy.’ Beth tried the word out in her
mouth. ‘She looks like a little flower, don’t you think? With her
pretty face, and her hair so bright around it.’

‘Of course she does,’ said Amy.

‘What do you think, Davie?’ Beth asked.

‘I don’t know about that looking like a
flower business,’ David admitted. ‘But Margaret sounds all right,
especially if we can call her Daisy for short.’

‘All right, that’s decided,’ said Beth.
‘She’s to be Margaret Amy.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing her
aunt’s eyes light up with pleasure.

*

As the month wore on, and Beth found herself
gradually less likely to be met by a stab of pain every time she
moved, she began to look forward to being allowed out of bed. It
would mean she could start looking after Daisy herself, instead of
having to watch as her aunt tended the baby. Aunt Amy’s friend
Sarah had sent the most beautiful layette from Auckland; her aunt
had spread out the tiny dresses and other garments on the bed for
Beth to admire, but had suggested they wait until Beth was up and
about before using the layette. Beth longed to put those pretty
things on her baby with her own hands.

She also longed to go outside again. She had
spent the entire summer trapped indoors, and now autumn was half
over. The thought of being out in the fresh air, feeling the
sunshine on her upturned face, and going about with David as he
checked the cows, was enticing. Her Jerseys would be calving in a
few months; Beth wanted to see for herself how they were
faring.

Once she had allowed herself to look forward
to such freedom, she became more and more frustrated at how long
she still had to wait. The days seemed be dragging at an absurdly
slow pace.

‘I’m feeling really well,’ she insisted to
Richard whenever he called. A few lingering pains in places she
preferred not to talk about with Richard did not seem reason enough
to be trapped in the house. ‘Couldn’t I get up now?’

But every time she asked, Richard would say,
‘I think we’ll wait the full month. It’s not much longer now,’ and
David and Amy would both say she had better do what Richard said.
It did not seem fair to have them all siding against her, even when
she secretly admitted to herself that they might be right.

At last came the day when Daisy was a month
old. Richard listened to Beth’s chest, asked her some questions
about how she was feeling, then nodded his head. ‘Yes, I think you
can get up tomorrow,’ he announced. Beth cast a look of triumph at
David. ‘I do want you to take things gently, though,’ Richard went
on before Beth had had the chance to voice her delight. ‘You’ve
been confined to bed for a long time now, you’ll find you tire
easily at first. Don’t try to do too much.’

‘She won’t,’ David answered for her. ‘I’ll
keep an eye on her. I want you to get back to your old self again,
Beth, not wear yourself out.’

Richard gave David what struck Beth as an
odd sort of smile; it seemed almost sad. ‘Dave, could I have a word
with you before I leave?’ he asked.

‘All right,’ said David. ‘I’ll walk you out
to your gig, then.’

Beth heard the gig rattling away a few
minutes later, but it was some time after that before David came
back into the bedroom. The look on his face made her catch her
breath. He closed the door behind him, sat on the edge of the bed,
and told her what Richard had said.

*

Frank was checking the fences in a paddock
near the road when he saw Richard approaching.

‘You’ve been to see Beth, have you?’ he
asked. ‘She’s looking good now—Daisy’s coming on well, too.’

‘Yes, they’re both doing well,’ Richard
said, though he sounded unconvinced by his own words.

‘You want to come up to the house for a cup
of tea? Lizzie’ll have the kettle on.’

‘No, thank you, I’d better be on my way.
Please make my excuses to Lizzie. Frank, how old is Dave?’

‘Eh?’ Frank said, startled by the unexpected
question. ‘He’s a year younger than Maudie, I think.’

‘Nineteen, then. It’s a heavy responsibility
for a boy of nineteen.’

‘Having a wife and kid already, you mean?
Well, yes, it is. But Beth’s a sensible girl, she’s a real help to
him.’

‘Yes, of course she is, but I rather think
there are matters that he feels are his responsibility alone. If
you can spare the time, I think it would be a good idea for you to
pay him a visit in the next day or so. He could do with a father’s
advice just now, and I don’t think anyone could be better fitted
than you to give it.’

‘I might pop over tomorrow, then. What’s up
with him?’ Frank frowned, taking in Richard’s grave expression.
‘There’s something you’re not letting on about, isn’t there?
Something to do with Beth.’

‘There are things I can’t speak of, Frank. I
have to respect the privacy of those involved—yes, even when it’s
family,’ he said, seeing the protest on Frank’s lips. ‘But Beth’s
quite well at the moment—in fact I’ve just told her that she can
get up and about tomorrow—and Daisy’s a picture of health. Beyond
that, I’d rather leave it up to Dave to decide just what he wants
to discuss with you.’

There was clearly no point in trying to
press Richard for more. Frank took comfort from Richard’s
assurances that Beth and Daisy were both well, and resolved to
visit David the very next morning.

*

Frank found David in one of the sheds,
sanding down a flat piece of timber. Four long, thin lengths of
wood were leaning against a bench.

‘What are you up to there, Dave?’ Frank
asked.

There was a weary set to David’s mouth and
eyes; not at all surprising in the father of a small baby, but
signs of strain that had not been there a few days before.

‘I’m making a sort of table thing. It’s so
Beth’ll be able to dress Daisy and change her without having to
bend down. She’s not meant to bend over in case it hurts her.’

Frank studied David’s carpentry, impressed.
‘Eight kids, and I never thought of anything like that. That’s a
good idea.’

‘I want to look after her,’ David said, as
if to himself.

‘Of course you do.’ Frank seated himself on
a sturdy-looking stack of wood to watch David at work. ‘I was
talking to Richard yesterday,’ he said, careful to sound casual.
‘He was on his way back from here.’