Mud and Gold (19 page)

‘Not
really
bad—I’m just being a big
baby. It’s because I’m scared of what’s going to happen later when
it starts hurting a lot.’

‘You’re not a baby. You’re brave. You didn’t
even yell out with that last one.’

Lizzie took hold of his hand and raised it
to her mouth to kiss. ‘I feel a lot braver with you cuddling
me.’

As the long night dragged on Frank held
Lizzie close, murmuring comforting noises and kissing her softly
when she tensed in pain. Sometimes Lizzie dozed off for a few
minutes between contractions, but Frank remained wakeful, trying to
decide just what he would do if he had to deliver the baby himself.
He wondered if he should look to see if there was any sign of it
trying to make its way out, but he suspected that would distress
Lizzie, and perhaps even hurt her. Although he knew his way well
enough by feel he had never seen what Lizzie looked like down
there, and this was probably not the right time to force that on
her. No, it was safer to make do with trying to give her comfort by
holding her, and hope desperately that he would be able to get help
for her in the morning.

The lonely hours of silence gave him time to
think about what might be going on outside. As he thought it over
he was able to view things more calmly, especially when the
earthquakes became less frequent and then stopped altogether. Ash
in the sky: what could that mean? In his mind Frank pictured the
view from the front verandah, down the valley and out to sea. White
Island on the horizon, with its permanent cloud hovering above,
sometimes bigger, sometimes smaller, but always there, even when
the island itself was invisible. White Island was a volcano, he
knew that, and he remembered that Miss Evans had said the cloud
above it was ash, because the island was always on fire.
Erupting
, they called it in the newspapers.

That must be it, he decided. White Island
was having a huge eruption, far bigger than any within living
memory. The island was thirty miles off the coast; it couldn’t
possibly burn them up from there. The worst it could do was make a
terrible mess, and perhaps keep the sky dark when the sun rose.
Frank let out a deep sigh of relief. Now all he had to worry about
was whether he would have to deliver the baby or could leave it to
someone who knew what they were doing.

At first Frank thought it was wishful
thinking when the darkness of the room seemed to lessen, but when
the outline of the window took shape he knew morning had come at
last, and had brought daylight with it. He disentangled himself
from the sleeping Lizzie, trying not to disturb her, but she woke
as soon as he moved and grasped his sleeve, trying to keep hold of
him.

‘Let go, Lizzie,’ he said softly. ‘It’s
light outside. I’m going out to get your ma now. I won’t be
long.’

Lizzie rubbed her eyes and sat up to watch
Frank pulling on his trousers. He gently pushed her down against
the pillows. ‘Lie still till I get back.’ He tucked her in and
planted a kiss on her forehead before he left the room.

His coat and hat were still lying in an
untidy heap in the porch on top of his boots. Frank reached for the
coat, then stopped to stare in amazement at the scene below the
steps. Everything around him was the same dull grey colour, as if
an artist with only one hue in his palette had slashed it
carelessly over the landscape. Trees, hedges, grass, all had the
same soft-edged hazy appearance, and although there was no longer
any ash falling a lowering sky closed the world in with a darker
grey pall. Frank put on his coat and hat then pulled his boots on
before stepping down into the greyness. An inch of his boots
disappeared into the ash as he walked, and small clouds of dust
rose around him.

The sombre colour invited silence, but
instead Frank heard the mournful lowing of cows as they searched
fruitlessly for grass. The doleful sound coupled with the eeriness
of the grey-covered landscape seemed like a portent of death, and
it made Frank shudder. Then he remembered Lizzie pressing close to
him; trusting him. He walked faster, then broke into a run towards
the horse paddock. No sense thinking about death when he was
responsible for seeing that a birth went smoothly.

Belle let herself be caught without trying
to run away; she almost seemed to want Frank’s company. But she
shied and rolled her eyes when he put on her saddle, and she
performed an awkward sidestepping dance when Frank mounted her. Her
ears went flat against her skull and she tried to rear, but Frank
held the reins firmly and dug his heels in mercilessly, forcing her
into a fast trot and then a canter. The horse’s hooves threw up
clouds of ash, coating both horse and rider in grey dust, but Frank
ignored it as best he could. The picture of Lizzie lying alone and
frightened in the big bed was far stronger than any discomfort from
the rising ash. Belle’s hooves thudding in the canter’s triple time
made a background to his thoughts. Lizzie waiting for him. Lizzie
relying on him. Lizzie bearing his child.

*

The horse hung her head miserably when Frank
at last took off her tack and let her out into the paddock. As soon
as he had gasped out his news to Edie, and had seen her tell Alf to
catch and saddle a horse for her, he had wasted no time in setting
off for town to fetch Mrs Parsons. By the time he had led the way
back home, with the nurse following on her own horse, Belle had
been stumbling with weariness, and Frank had had to let her finish
the ride at a walk.

Mrs Parsons had thrust her horse’s reins
into Frank’s hand and made her own way to the house without waiting
to be shown in. Frank found Edie’s horse tied hastily to a fence by
its bridle, and he saw to all three horses before following the
nurse. The bedroom door was closed, but Frank opened it and went in
without hesitation, only to be greeted by an indignant shout from
Mrs Parsons.

‘Mr Kelly, what do you think you’re doing?
Get out of here at once.’

Frank only had time for a brief glimpse of
Lizzie lying on the bed with the covers pulled back and her
nightdress up around her waist before Mrs Parsons came up to him
and pushed him towards the door.

‘But I want to see Lizzie,’ Frank protested,
at the same time giving way before Mrs Parsons’ onslaught.

‘Can’t Frank stay?’ Lizzie called
plaintively from the bed.

‘Certainly not! What a ridiculous idea.’ The
nurse glared at Frank as she gave him a final shove through the
doorway. ‘Keep out of the way, please. Surely you have some work
you should be doing?’ She shut the door firmly on him.

Frank sat miserably in the kitchen,
wondering what to do next and listening to the faint cries he could
hear from the bedroom, but it was not long before Edie came out to
join him.

‘How is she? Is she all right?’ Frank asked,
half rising from his chair.

‘She’s just fine,’ Edie said. ‘She was a bit
frightened when I got here, but we’ve been having a nice little
talk and she’s quite happy now.’

‘I’ve been that worried about her. I thought
I mightn’t be able to get you in time, and—’

‘I know, Frank. Lizzie told me what you
thought.’ Edie gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder before
sitting down at the table. Her serene smile contrasted with her
slightly bedraggled appearance. Frank had fetched her before she
had had time to pin her hair up properly, and wisps of fair hair
had escaped to twine around her face. As well, she seemed to have
mismatched the buttons and buttonholes of her bodice in her hurry
to put on a warm dress for riding.

‘Frank,’ she said gently, ‘it’s natural you
were worried about Lizzie, what with it being your first, and
coming a bit before its time, too, and you did the right thing to
rush and get me. But nothing’s going to happen before this
afternoon, dear—maybe not till tonight if the little one decides to
take its time.’

‘Tonight?’ Frank repeated. ‘You mean it’s
going to be hours and hours yet?’

Edie nodded, a soft smile playing around her
lips. ‘They don’t come all in a rush as a rule. Especially not
first babies.’

‘I’ve been pretty stupid, haven’t I?’

‘Of course you haven’t, dear. You didn’t
know any better. The two of you are as innocent as a couple of
babies yourselves.’ Edie leaned across the corner of the table and
gave Frank a conspiratorial grin. ‘Anyway, if you hadn’t rushed up
to our place in such a panic, yelling your head off that I’d better
come right away, Arthur might have thought to tell me I had to get
home in time to make his lunch.’

‘Perhaps you should go home,’ Frank said,
trying not to look disappointed. He knew Lizzie wanted her mother
with her, and Edie’s placid presence was a comfort to him.

‘Stuff and nonsense! It won’t hurt them to
get their own lunch for once, and I want to be here to see my
grandchild into the world.’

‘But I don’t want to get you in trouble.’
Edie’s rear was well padded, but Frank did not want to be
responsible for getting it strapped.

‘I won’t get in trouble. Arthur’s bark’s
worse than his bite. Of course if he’d told me I had to be home by
such and such a time I’d have to do as he said, and quite right,
too.’ Edie stated this as an unarguable fact, one she accepted
without question, and Frank wondered briefly how she could have had
so little influence on her daughter’s nature. ‘You don’t live with
a man for twenty-two years without finding out how to keep him
happy.

She rose from her chair. ‘Lizzie’s quite
comfortable now, and Mrs Parsons is seeing to her. Would you like
me to make you a cup of tea? You must be ready for a drink.’

‘I didn’t have any breakfast,’ Frank said,
noticing his grinding hunger for the first time.

‘Didn’t you? Of course you didn’t, poor boy,
you’ve been rushing about since daybreak. You sit right there and
I’ll make you something.’

After he had eaten the huge plateful of
bacon and eggs that Edie produced, Frank wandered about the farm
doing his work, all the time listening anxiously for a cry from the
house. He gave Belle a nosebag of oats to salve his conscience for
his rough treatment earlier. He fed out hay to the unhappy cows
stamping their feet in the ash-covered paddocks, and milked the two
who were still in milk. Then he walked around the paddocks looking
for any damage, but the wild, earthquake-filled night had left no
sign except the ash. Being smothered by ash was not going to do the
grass any good, Frank knew, and he was vaguely aware that he might
have a problem finding enough grazing for the animals later in the
year, but his mind was too full of Lizzie for any other worries to
take root.

When he heard Edie’s voice he ran to the
house, but he arrived panting to find that she had only called him
for lunch. Edie ate her own lunch hurriedly, then went off to sit
with Lizzie, giving Mrs Parsons the chance to eat. The nurse looked
so stern that Frank was reluctant to question her, but he plucked
up his courage to ask how Lizzie was.

‘There’s nothing to worry about, Mr Kelly. I
know my work,’ Mrs Parsons said briskly, in a tone that did not
encourage further questioning. She looked at Frank’s downcast face
and seemed to take pity on him. ‘Your wife’s asleep. I put her
under the chloroform a few minutes ago. I don’t think it’ll be much
more than two hours or so now.’

It seemed a very long two hours. Frank
hovered about in the passage for some time. Then he stacked the
dishes on the bench and began to wash them, but he dropped a plate
when he thought he heard a noise from the bedroom. After he had
picked up the broken pieces of china he sat at the table, idly
fingering a corner of the tablecloth. He dropped the cloth guiltily
when he saw the deep creases his twisting fingers had left in
it.

He had just decided to go outside for a
while and try to find something, anything, to do when the bedroom
door opened and he heard Edie softly calling him. He started up the
passage at a run, but Edie put her finger to her lips and Frank
went the rest of the way on tiptoe.

‘What’s happened? Is she all right?’ Frank
asked, but one look at Edie’s face told him that all was well.

‘You’ve got a daughter, Frank,’ Edie said,
beaming with happiness. ‘You can come in and see them, just for a
minute.’ She opened the door wide for him. He walked over to the
bed, holding his breath in anticipation.

Lizzie lay back against the pillows. Her
hair hung lank, much of it plastered to her scalp with
perspiration. Her face was shiny and flushed with exertion, and her
mouth could manage only a crooked smile. ‘You look beautiful,’
Frank told her. And he meant it.

Tucked into the curve of Lizzie’s arm was a
tiny, blanket-wrapped bundle. Lizzie could hardly keep her eyes
open, but they were shining with delight. ‘Look, Frank,’ she said,
slurring her words as if her mouth would not quite obey her. ‘Isn’t
she lovely?’

Frank carefully turned down the top of the
blanket and looked at his daughter. The baby’s unfocussed gaze
wandered about the room; then, as if she suddenly became aware of
her father’s presence, Frank found those blue eyes trained on him
with what seemed a rather disapproving expression.

‘She looks as though she’s going to tell me
off,’ he said, a bubble of relieved laughter welling up inside him.
‘She’s going to take after you, Lizzie.’ He carefully put his arms
around both wife and daughter.

‘Careful, Frank, don’t squash her,’ Lizzie
warned.

‘I won’t squash her.’ Indifferent to his
audience, Frank lowered his face to Lizzie’s and planted a soft
kiss on her waiting mouth.

June – December 1886

Malcolm’s eyelids were drooping, and Amy
laid him gently in his cradle. It was a relief to straighten up
without his weight dragging at her; at seven months he was a
sturdy-limbed child and big for his age. But it seemed to make
Malcolm more contented if she carried him around as often as she
could whenever he was awake. She was determined to be a good mother
to him, and if that meant balancing him on one hip while she
stirred a pot of soup, collected eggs, pulled carrots out of the
garden, or performed any other tasks that could be done, albeit
awkwardly, one-handed, she would manage somehow. Amy almost
welcomed the difficulty. It was all part of trying to make up for
the guilt of not having wanted Malcolm.