Mud and Gold (18 page)

June 1886

Frank lay in bed wondering what had woken
him so abruptly out of a sound sleep. His head had somehow slipped
off the pillow, and he slid slowly into a more comfortable
position, careful not to disturb Lizzie. She was not sleeping well
now that she was so big, and she needed her rest.

He had barely got his head back on the
pillow before a sharp jolt shook the bed and set the windows
rattling. Frank felt Lizzie awake with a start.

‘What is it? What’s happening?’ she cried
out in alarm.

Frank slipped his arms around her. ‘Shh,
Lizzie, it’s all right. It’s just an earthquake.’ He held her close
while the bed slowly stopped shaking.

‘It gave me a fright. I was having such a
good sleep, too.’

‘Mmm, it was quite a strong one. Never mind,
try and go back to sleep.’

‘It took me ages to drop off,’ Lizzie
grumbled. Frank felt her wriggling around, trying to find a
comfortable way to lie. She stopped moving, and Frank listened to
the sound of her breathing, wondering if she had fallen asleep
again.

He had almost nodded off himself when
another tremor rolled them both into the centre of the bed. The
windows rattled loudly and the bedstead creaked and groaned under
them until the shaking stopped.

‘That was even worse,’ said Lizzie. ‘I
thought the bed was going to fall apart.’

‘Nah, this bed’s pretty strong—look what it
put up with for a year.’ Frank grinned into the darkness. The bed
had had a quiet time for the previous few months since Lizzie’s
bulk had become too daunting, but the memories of pleasure were
still vivid. He reached an arm across Lizzie and gave her a careful
squeeze. ‘Don’t worry, it won’t fall apart.’

Lizzie wriggled again. ‘I won’t get back to
sleep now. Oh, I’m so uncomfortable tonight—even worse than
usual.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s my back. It’s really aching.’

‘Roll over.’ Frank helped Lizzie heave
herself onto her side, then slid his hand slowly down her back.
‘Here?’

‘No, lower—oh, that’s the spot.’ He rubbed
Lizzie’s back through her nightdress, and she made little noises of
pleasure. ‘Mmm, that feels good.’

‘This fellow playing up tonight, eh?’ Frank
slid his hand over Lizzie’s belly and patted it, enjoying the feel
of the firm, warm flesh through the fabric.

‘Who says it’s a fellow? Rub my back some
more.’

‘Bossy,’ Frank teased. He nuzzled his way
through Lizzie’s hair and planted a soft kiss on her neck as he
began to rub her back once again.

‘You’re good at that. I suppose husbands are
some use.’

‘Useful for making babies, anyway.’ A soft
pattering stole Frank’s attention. ‘Hey, it’s raining.’

‘So it is. That’s good, isn’t it?’

‘Mmm. The ground’s been getting really dry
lately.’

The noise on the iron roof grew louder. When
Frank had soothed the ache out of Lizzie’s back, he put his arms
around her and pressed his own body against hers. ‘It’s cold
tonight. It’s a good night for cuddles.’

‘It’s always a good night for cuddles,’
Lizzie said drowsily. The next earthquake was so slight it almost
seemed to be rocking them to sleep.

‘Frank?’ Lizzie’s voice had an oddly
strained note in it that penetrated Frank’s slumber abruptly. The
night seemed deeper than before. As he dragged himself back into
wakefulness Frank realised he had been asleep for some time.

‘What’s wrong? Was it another quake?’

‘No.’ Lizzie’s hand reached out in the
darkness and clutched at the sleeve of Frank’s nightshirt. ‘It’s
the baby. I think it’s started coming.’

‘What? But—but it can’t be. It’s not time
yet. You said not for another couple of weeks.’

‘I know, but I think it is. You’ll have to
go and get the nurse.’

‘Now? It’s the middle of the night,
Lizzie.’

‘I can’t help that!’ Lizzie spoke sharply,
but Frank could hear the nervousness in her voice. ‘Hurry up!’ She
rolled over and pushed at him.

‘Hey, hey, calm down, Lizzie—don’t shove me
out of bed,’ Frank said, wishing he felt calmer himself. He slipped
an arm behind Lizzie’s shoulders and held it firmly in place when
she tried to push it away. ‘Are you sure it’s the baby?’

‘Yes! Well, not
sure
. What else could
it be, though? I felt a pain right around my back—oh, there’s
another one! Ow!’ Lizzie gave a yell, followed by a long, low moan.
‘That was worse. It’s working its way around to the front now.’

‘Well… how long will it take?’

‘How should I know? I’ve never had a baby
before.’

‘You must have some idea. Hasn’t your ma
told you anything about it?’

‘Not that sort of thing. She just told me a
bit about how it would feel, not all the ins and outs. I don’t
know—wait a minute, I’m sure Amy said it took hours.’

‘Hours? How many? Two? Three?’

‘I don’t know! Stop asking stupid questions,
just go and get the nurse.’

‘Lizzie, it’s going to take me well over an
hour to get a nurse here. Maybe two hours—it’s dark out there, I
won’t be able to go fast, you know. I can’t leave you alone all
that time. I think I’d better go and get your ma first, then I’ll
try and get into town.’

‘Yes! Go and get Ma—please go and get her,
Frank.’

‘Do you think you can hang on that
long?’

‘I… I think so. You won’t take long, will
you? Please don’t take long.’

‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’ Frank rolled
back the covers, shivering when he felt the chilly night air. He
fumbled for the matches lying on the dressing table and lit the
lamp. The clock beside the lamp showed three o’clock. Lizzie’s face
in the lamplight was white and full of fear. Frank crossed to the
bed and put his arm around her. ‘Will you be all right on your own,
Lizzie?’

‘If it’s not for long.
Please
hurry,
Frank.’ Lizzie bit her lip, and Frank could see the beginnings of
tears in her eyes. He forced himself to turn away from the sight;
he knew he would not be able to leave her if he saw her get any
more upset.

Frank dressed quickly, stopping for a few
seconds when a small earthquake made the room tremble. He lit a
candle from the lamp and carried it out to the kitchen. Catching
sight of his face in the hall mirror, he saw that it was almost as
white as Lizzie’s. He went out the back door to the porch, where
his hat and coat were hanging above his boots. The noise of the
rain on the roof was louder out here, and Frank gave a groan.
‘Hasn’t rained for weeks—now it’s got to start again the night
Lizzie’s having the baby,’ he muttered under his breath as he
shrugged on his coat.

There was a kerosene lantern hanging in the
porch. Frank lit it and placed it on the porch floor while he
pulled on his boots and reached for his hat. The night was black;
there must be a heavy bank of cloud feeding the rain. Just catching
a horse was going to be hard, let alone making his way up the road
in the pitch darkness. The horses would be in a state with all
those earthquakes, too; he could hear them snorting and whinnying
nervously. He wouldn’t be able to go faster than a walk; even
fetching Edie was going to take close to an hour at that pace.

Frank stood at the top of the porch steps
and peered uneasily into the gloom. There was something strange
about that rain. The air seemed to have a close, stuffy feel about
it instead of the freshness rain usually brought; there was even a
hint of sulphur. He stretched his hand out into the night air,
expecting to feel cool wetness.

How could water feel rough against his skin?
His fingers felt gritty when he rubbed them together. Frank drew
back his hand and saw it was covered with a coarse dust. A sick
realisation came to him: it wasn’t rain at all. It was ash.

Fear so intense that it left a bitter,
metallic taste on his tongue sent a shudder through Frank, so
strong that for a moment he thought it was another quake. What was
going on out there? Why was the earth being convulsed while ash
fell from the sky?

‘And, lo, there was a great earthquake; and
the sun became black as sackcloth of hair.… And the stars of heaven
fell unto the earth.’ Words half-remembered from a lesson in church
crept unbidden into Frank’s mind. Was this the end of the
world?

‘Frank?’ Lizzie’s voice came in a wail down
the passage. ‘Where are you? It hurts, Frank.’

The sound brought Frank back from the edge
of panic to a sense of his responsibilities. He had to look after
Lizzie. He couldn’t go out into whatever was happening in the
world; if ash was falling, maybe fire would soon shower from the
sky. If that happened he had no way of being sure the house would
protect them, but he knew it would mean certain death to anyone
caught outside. That included his stock, but he could not risk
himself to try and get the animals into shelter, even if he had had
the barns to hold them. If he was injured there would be no one to
look after Lizzie.

He pulled his boots off and left them lying
in the porch with his hat and coat dropped heedlessly on top of
them, stopping only to put out the lantern. Another quake struck
when he was barely inside the kitchen door, and he stumbled against
one wall as he hurried up the passage to the bedroom.

Frank rushed into the room and crouched
beside the bed. He reached out and stroked Lizzie’s face, not
speaking until he was sure he could make his voice sound calm. She
must not know how frightened he was. ‘I can’t get out, Lizzie. Not
till daylight, anyway.’

‘Why not? You’ve got to go out—you’ve got to
get the nurse for me.’

‘I can’t. There’s something really funny
going on. That’s not rain you can hear on the roof—it’s ash.’

‘Ash? How can it be ash?’

‘I don’t know. It’s like all the hills are
on fire, except it’s pitch black out there. Don’t worry, Lizzie,’
he said quickly, seeing a new fear grow in her face. ‘It won’t hurt
us here. We’ll be safe inside the house.’ He silently prayed he was
telling the truth. ‘But I can’t go out in that—I’d never get the
horse to move, it’d just go mad and throw me. And if that ash turns
hot… well, it’d burn me up where I stood.’

‘I want Ma. I want Ma!’ Tears spilled out of
Lizzie’s eyes. Frank sat on the bed and held her close until her
sobs quietened. ‘You mustn’t go out. I can see that. But I’m
scared, Frank.’

Frank had never seen Lizzie frightened of
anything. Now she needed him to be strong, and the knowledge made
him brave. ‘Don’t be scared. I’ll look after you.’

‘What about the baby?’

‘Maybe nothing’ll happen for hours and
hours. The minute it’s light I’ll go out—the horses won’t be so
frightened in daylight, and I’ll be able to see if it’s safe or
not.’ He did not voice his fear that there might not be any
daylight under that thick pall of ash, or any morning at all if it
really was the end of the world. Or perhaps they would both be
dead, burned alive by whatever unnatural flame was producing that
ash. But there was no sense letting himself think like that.
Whatever was going on outside was beyond his control; within this
room he could still do some good.

‘What say it does? What if the baby comes
before you can get out?’

‘Then we’ll just have to manage by
ourselves.’

‘How can we? We don’t know anything about
it. Frank, I don’t really know what happens. Ma just said the nurse
would tell me what to do, and it was nothing to be frightened of.
She said the nurse would give me something to stop it hurting
before it got too bad. I don’t know how they get babies out.’

Unlike Lizzie, Frank had often had occasion
to put his hand up the back end of a cow, helping reluctant calves
into the world. ‘I think I do. I can figure it out if I have
to.’

‘How do you know? You’re not even a
woman.’

‘It can’t be that different from cows—’

‘I’m not a cow!’ Lizzie flung at him.

‘Of course you’re not. You’re my wife.
You’re the most important thing in the world to me, and I’m not
going to let anything happen to you.’

‘Am I really the most important thing in the
world to you?’ Lizzie had forgotten her fear for the moment. She
rested her head on Frank’s shoulder.

‘Yes, you are.’ He held her close in
silence, his mind racing. He had seen cows die in calving. And from
time to time he had heard of women dying, sometimes leaving tiny
babies behind. He had a vague idea from something his mother had
once said that Amy’s mother had died that way. If anything happened
to Lizzie… he could not bear to think of it. Losing Lizzie seemed a
far worse disaster than anything else the world could do to him.
‘We can manage if we have to, Lizzie, but it’ll be better if we can
wait for the nurse.’ He disentangled himself and tucked the covers
in on her side of the bed. ‘I think you should lie still and try to
stay calm—that might slow things down.’

‘All right,’ Lizzie said meekly. That small,
frightened voice did not sound like his wife.

‘Are you warm enough?’

‘No. I want a cuddle.’

Frank unbuttoned his trousers and stepped
out of them before climbing into bed beside Lizzie; keeping the
rest of his clothes on would save a valuable minute or two when
daylight finally came. If it came. He put an arm under Lizzie’s
shoulders and guided her head on to his chest, then stroked her
hair with his other hand. ‘Is that better?’

‘Much better. Keep holding me like
this.’

‘I’ll hold you all night if you want me
to.’

Lizzie’s body jerked. By the lamplight Frank
saw her face twisted with the strain of holding back a cry. He
kissed away a tear that had escaped from under her tightly closed
eyelids, and waited until he felt the tension slip away from her.
Lizzie had not made a sound.

‘Are the pains really bad, Lizzie?’