Mud and Gold (12 page)

Washing was becoming more and more of a
burden, especially when there was not enough water in the barrel
and she had to fetch it from the well. Edie described the baby as
‘A difficult little fellow’ when she paid Amy a brief visit on her
way home from town one day; according to her the child was lying
awkwardly, which meant it pressed uncomfortably against Amy
whenever she bent over or twisted around.

‘You’re a nuisance,’ Amy murmured to the
intruder in her womb one day in her sixth month as she struggled up
from the well with a heavy kerosene tin of water for rinsing. ‘You
make everything so hard.’ Bending over the washing was now so
difficult that she had to stop every few minutes and walk around
with her hands braced against her back. That meant the task took
even longer than usual.

She did her best to get lunch ready on time,
but she barely had the chops in the pan before Charlie came in. He
had been ploughing all morning, and the moment she saw his face Amy
knew he was tired and irritable.

‘Where’s my lunch?’ he demanded.

‘It’ll be ready in a few minutes. I’m a bit
slow today, I’m sorry.’

‘You lazy bitch! I expect my meals ready on
time, woman!’

His hand took Amy by surprise as it swung
out and caught her a slap on the side of her head. She stumbled and
made a grab for a chair, missed it and managed to catch the edge of
the table. A violent burst of kicking from inside her womb took
Amy’s breath away. She stood gripping the table.

‘What’s wrong?’ Charlie asked, seeing her
panting for breath. ‘Is it the child? Has he started coming?’

‘Yes, it’s the baby, but it’s not coming
yet,’ Amy said when she got her voice back. ‘It got a fright when
you… when I tripped then, and it’s complaining.’

She saw the wild-eyed look of fear on
Charlie’s face. On an impulse, she took hold of his hand and placed
it on her belly. ‘Here, you feel.’

The baby obliged with a powerful kick. ‘I
felt it!’ Charlie said in wonder. ‘I felt my son!’

He kept his hand pressed firmly against Amy
until the baby quietened, then he helped her into a chair and sat
opposite her. ‘For God’s sake don’t keep aggravating me. I don’t
want to do you any harm, but if you push me…’ He rubbed a hand
across his forehead. ‘I’ve waited a long time for this child. I
don’t want anything to go wrong now.’

Amy could not help but be moved by the
intensity in his voice. ‘I’m sorry, Charlie. I don’t mean to annoy
you, but I honestly can’t help being slow. It’s the baby—it makes
me clumsy, so I can’t move as fast. Aunt Edie says she thinks it’s
a big baby, too, so I’ll get worse, I’m afraid. And it keeps me
awake at night with all that kicking, so I’m tired, and that makes
me even slower.’

‘Kicks a lot, does he?’ Charlie asked,
looking absorbed.

‘An awful lot. Really hard, too. Aunt Edie
says that means it’s a big, healthy baby.’ Edie had also said,
after studying Amy’s abdomen, that judging by her shape she was
probably carrying a boy, but Amy was anxious enough about Charlie’s
reaction if she were to have a girl without making things even
worse by building up his hopes.

‘More than the other fellow’s?’

‘What?’ Amy asked blankly.

‘Does he kick more than your bastard
did?’

I thought I wasn’t allowed to talk about
her
. But Charlie had raised the subject, and he obviously
expected to be answered. ‘Yes,’ Amy said quietly. ‘Much, much
more.’

‘Good.’ Charlie looked smug. ‘I suppose it’s
natural you’re slow, then. Take your time over lunch.’

While they were eating, Amy studied
Charlie’s face. He looked tired, but she thought he had frightened
himself over losing his temper. It seemed a sensible time to try
for a favour. In any case, she was tired of struggling.

‘Charlie, I can’t really manage any more.
The washing’s just too hard for me like this, and it’s going to get
harder.’

‘What do you expect me to do about it?’
Charlie demanded indignantly. ‘Get you a servant?’

Despite his tone, Amy could see he was
anxious. ‘I think—no, I’m sure I could do it if I only had a copper
and tubs. Please could you get me one?’

‘You cost a lot of money, you know that? I
bought a proper range before we got wed so you’d be able to cook
decent meals. Then you wanted a wire clothesline, not to mention a
new rain barrel. Now you want a copper?’

‘I’m sorry I’m such a nuisance, but… well,
I’m scared something will go wrong if I have to keep bending all
the time. Aunt Edie said I shouldn’t, and she knows all about
babies.’

‘Did she? Hmm. It’d mean a bricklayer to
make a proper chimney for it and set it in place—that wouldn’t come
cheap. I’ll have to think about it.’

Charlie picked up his newspaper, signalling
that the conversation was at an end, and Amy tackled her food with
a sense of relief. He was going to buy her a copper; she was quite
sure of it.

*

After her initial indignation at Ben’s
having left such a debt, Lizzie was quite unconcerned over his
disappearance.

‘One less for me to cook for, anyway,’ she
said. ‘I did think his room looked a bit empty when I cleaned it
up. I’ll give it a real sort out now we know he’s not coming
back.’

‘I hope he’s all right. Ben’s not much good
at mixing with people.’

‘Oh, for goodness sake! He’s a grown man,
not a child. Don’t be so stupid, Frank.’

She
was
getting worse. ‘Don’t call me
stupid, Lizzie. I don’t like it when you do that.’

‘Don’t
be
stupid then. I don’t know
what you’re so upset about. Ben didn’t worry about you, did he?
Just took off and left you to run the farm by yourself.’

‘I wish he’d told me he was going,’ Frank
fretted. ‘It’s pretty bad when I’ve driven my own brother
away.’

‘Driven him away? What rubbish! You didn’t
make him go.’

‘He wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t got
married. He’d still be here.’

‘But I wouldn’t be, Frank. Would you rather
have that?’

‘Of course I wouldn’t. Ben’s not much use as
company, and you’re… come here.’ Frank reached out and pulled
Lizzie onto his lap. She put her arms around his neck and nestled
obligingly against him. ‘You’re neat. But Ben’s the only family
I’ve got. I can’t just forget about him.’

‘I’ll be your family now. Me and the babies,
when they finally start coming.’

‘No sign of it yet?’

‘No. I suppose two months isn’t long,
though. Ma just laughed and told me to be patient when I moaned
about it.’

Frank kissed her hair. ‘It’s not for want of
trying, anyway,’ he murmured in Lizzie’s ear.

*

When he thought back over the years, Frank
recalled that often whole days had gone by without more than two
words being spoken by Ben. His brother had never provided much in
the way of conversation, while Lizzie did more than her share. He
realised now that he had often been lonely with only Ben for
company; no one could be lonely with Lizzie around.

If only she wasn’t so bossy. She told him
what clothes to wear, what time to go into town for supplies, even
how to hold his knife and fork. If he tried remonstrating with her
she either looked hurt and said she was only trying to help, or
told him not to be so silly.

He began to worry that she would start
bossing him in front of other people; most of all that she might do
it in front of her father. She had come close to it a few times.
Frank dreaded to think how Arthur would react to
that
. Once
or twice when he was sharpening his razor he looked thoughtfully at
the strap and tried to picture himself following Arthur’s advice.
He didn’t think things were that desperate yet. Then again, by the
time they were that desperate perhaps Lizzie would be beyond taking
any notice of him at all. Or perhaps she was already beyond it.
Frank was unwilling to make the trial.

One Tuesday in August Frank was lingering
over his afternoon tea while Lizzie did the ironing. She gave a
sudden yelp.

‘I can hear a few drops of rain on the roof,
and I’ve still got some things on the line from yesterday. Can you
give me a hand getting them in?’

They raced out to the clothesline together
and started grabbing at the clothes, but the stray cloud passed
overhead and the sun returned.

‘That’s good,’ said Lizzie. ‘Now, I didn’t
leave an iron on the table, did I? Oh no, I think I might have! I’d
better run back.’

‘I’ll get the rest in,’ Frank said. ‘It’ll
only take a minute.’

He was reaching for the last sheet when he
glanced down the hill and saw that two riders had halted on the
road to look up at the house. He recognised them as Arthur and Alf,
and wondered if they were going to drop in for a visit on their way
back up the valley, but they started their horses trotting and
disappeared from sight.

Frank thought nothing of the incident until
he and Lizzie visited her old home for dinner a few days later. It
was Arthur’s birthday, and he was more generous than usual about
beer. He even broke open a bottle of whisky to share with Frank and
Bill.

Despite his father-in-law’s generosity,
Frank began to sense disapproval in Arthur’s manner. Arthur was
certainly more reserved than usual with him, and several times
Frank thought he saw Alf smirking. Frank drank rather more beer
than he had intended, as well as several whiskies, in an attempt to
bolster his courage.

‘How many drinks have you had, Frank?’
Lizzie asked, glancing over from the couch where she had been deep
in conversation with her mother.

‘Leave him alone, Lizzie,’ Arthur said.

‘I just—’

‘Lizzie!’ Arthur raised his voice slightly,
and Lizzie subsided. How did he do it? Frank wondered. How did
Arthur get Lizzie to be so respectful? She never told Arthur he was
being stupid. He poured himself another whisky.

‘I think it’s time we went home,’ Lizzie
said a few minutes later. ‘It’s starting to get dark.’

‘Have another beer first, Frank,’ Bill
suggested.

‘No, he’s had enough,’ Lizzie said firmly.
‘Hurry up and get your coat, Frank, I want to get going.’ She left
the room to fetch her cloak.

Frank stood up to obey, conscious of an
unpleasant thickness in his head.

‘Yes, hurry up, Frank,’ Alf echoed,
grinning. ‘You might have some more washing to hang out.’ He broke
into a laugh.

‘Shut up, Alf,’ Arthur growled.

‘But you said—’ Alf began indignantly.

‘I told you to shut up. If he wants to make
a fool of himself it’s his affair.’ Arthur looked at Frank and
shook his head. ‘You’ve made a rod for your own back, Frank, but
that’s your look-out. You can’t say I didn’t warn you.’

Lizzie prattled away without seeming to
notice Frank’s silence as they rode down the valley together. He
paid no attention to her words, but her voice was too insistent to
be ignored. It was like a mosquito whining away in his ear, on and
on without a rest, a background to his uncomfortable musings.
Arthur thought he was a fool. The whole family did. Soon the whole
town would. Everyone would be laughing at him, not just Alf. Maybe
they already were.

Lizzie was still going strong when they went
into the house after turning their horses into a paddock.

‘Do you want a cup of tea before we go to
bed? I think you should, a hot drink would be good for you after
all that beer.’

‘No.’

‘I’ll make one. You shouldn’t have drunk so
much, Frank, you’ll have trouble waking up in the morning. Don’t do
it again.’

‘I don’t want a cup of tea.’

‘Stop being so silly. I’m making a cup of
tea and you’re going to drink it.’

‘I’m
not!
’ Frank was dimly surprised
by the unfamiliar sound of his own voice raised in a shout. He was
even more surprised to find that he had taken hold of Lizzie’s
bodice with one hand and was shaking her by it. ‘You’re turning
into a real bitch, you know that? I’m sick of you nagging at me,
Lizzie. I’m sick of you telling me what to do—bossing me in front
of everyone as if I was a little kid. It’s to stop. Do you
understand?’ He glared at her. There was barely an inch in height
between them; Frank was grateful that the slight difference was in
his favour.

Lizzie’s mouth hung open in amazement, then
shut like a trap. Her eyes flicked to Frank’s right; he stopped
shaking her to follow their movement. He saw his own fist waving
ineffectually at nothing in particular; he dropped it to his side,
and let go of Lizzie’s bodice. She stared back at him, white-lipped
with what he at first thought was fear but soon realised was
tightly controlled rage. It took all Frank’s self-control not to
quail before her look and apologise. Lizzie turned on her heel and
left the room, slamming the passage door behind her.

Frank sat at the kitchen table until his
head stopped spinning quite so alarmingly, then made his rather
unsteady way after her. The bedroom was in darkness; Frank did not
bother to light the lamp. He undressed, leaving his clothes on the
floor, and climbed into bed, fully intending to take his pleasure
with Lizzie. But once he was between the covers it seemed too much
like hard work. He rolled onto his side and went to sleep.

He woke next morning with a throbbing head
and a dry mouth. When he stood up he groaned at the stabbing pain
behind his eyeballs. Lizzie was already up; Frank found her in the
kitchen in front of the range, banging pots and dishes with a noise
that seemed to echo in his skull. When he sat down at the table she
put his plate in front of him and made to leave the room.

‘Where’s your breakfast?’ he asked.

‘I’ve already eaten.’ Lizzie closed the door
and left him alone.

It was the same at lunch-time: Frank came
into the kitchen and found a single place set at the table, with
Lizzie’s empty plate on the bench. Again Lizzie served his meal and
left the room. At dinner time she sat at the table and ate with
him, but apart from an ‘Amen’ at the end of Frank’s grace she did
not say a word.