Mud and Gold (24 page)

Malcolm flung himself off the branch,
chortling with delight at the new game. ‘Oof!’ Amy exclaimed as she
caught him. ‘You
are
heavy, aren’t you? Shall we do it
again?’

‘Yes!’ Malcolm said.

They played the game for several minutes.
Amy was so busy catching Malcolm that she did not notice Charlie
come up to stand beside her.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

Amy turned with Malcolm in her arms. ‘Oh!
You gave me a start. I’ve just been playing with Mal. I’ll set
lunch out now.’

‘Mama!’ Malcolm complained, stretching out
his arms towards the tree.

‘No, it’s time for lunch, Mal.’
Don’t
start grizzling, please
, she begged silently. ‘One more time,
just to show Papa.’ Malcolm leaped once more into her arms,
giggling happily, then Amy grasped him firmly and walked beside
Charlie to where she had left the basket of food.

‘He wasn’t frightened to jump out of that
tree,’ Charlie said.

‘Oh, no, Mal isn’t frightened of anything.’
Amy did not point out that Malcolm was too young to have the sense
to be frightened.

‘Good.’ Charlie sat down heavily against the
base of a tree and watched Amy spread a cloth and set out the
food.

‘You’ve done a lot,’ Amy said, handing him a
large slice of pie on a plate.

‘Hell of a lot to go,’ Charlie said through
a mouthful of pie. His hand shook a little as he held the plate;
Amy realised he was almost too weary to keep a grip on it. His
forearms were criss-crossed with scratches, some of them oozing
blood, from the tough, scrubby plants.

‘It’s hard work, isn’t it?’ she asked.

‘Bloody hard,’ he answered shortly.

Amy held Malcolm on her lap and fed him,
then ate her own lunch. When Charlie had finished he pushed his
plate away and made to rise. ‘I’d better get back to it,’ he said,
then slumped against the tree trunk with his eyes half-closed. ‘In
a minute.’

Amy thought of the dusting, Malcolm’s
napkins to be washed, and the tins that needed to be filled with
baking. ‘We’ll stay here a while, then,’ she said. ‘Mal and I will
keep you company for a bit.’

Charlie said nothing. Amy tidied the remains
of lunch away into the basket and settled herself on the grass.

They were half shaded by the tall tawa
Charlie was leaning against, and the dappled sunlight warmed her
without being uncomfortably hot. Malcolm soon became drowsy from
his games of the morning followed by a good lunch. He snuggled into
the crook of Amy’s arm for a few minutes, then crawled over to his
father. Charlie roused himself to put his arm around him. Malcolm
laid his head on Charlie’s chest and went to sleep.

‘Mal’s always happy when he’s with you,’ Amy
told Charlie. ‘That’s what he likes best.’

Charlie gave a grunt that she thought
contained a note of happiness. He patted his son on the arm and
closed his own eyes.

‘There’ll be another baby in the spring.’
Until the words were out Amy had not known she was about to say
them. And there it was, her secret told, just like that. But it
seemed so natural to tell him, just now when the three of them were
at peace together.

A look of calm satisfaction spread across
Charlie’s face, though he did not open his eyes. ‘Good,’ he
murmured, drawing Malcolm a little closer.

Amy watched them, taking pleasure from the
sight.
Charlie loves Mal so much. He’s a good father, he really
is
. She studied Charlie, noting the lines of weariness etched
on his face.
He’s been overdoing it a bit this morning. I wish I
could tell him to take it easier, but he’d only growl at me—maybe
hit me. No
,
I don’t think he’d hit me today. He’s not in a
bad mood.

His hair’s got greyer since we got
married
.
It’s nearly all grey now. I wonder how old he
is
. She knew Charlie’s age must be on their marriage
certificate, but that was shut away in one of his drawers, and she
would never dare go poking among his private things.
Not as old
as Pa, I don’t think. He’s quite old, though. He must be well over
forty. It must be hard for him to do all the farm work by
himself
. She looked at Malcolm, sound asleep pressed close to
his father’s side.
I’m glad Mal’s going to be big and strong.
He’ll be able to help Charlie. I hope the new baby’s another
boy
.

She slid her hands down until they rested on
her belly, where the new life was taking shape inside her.
Charlie’s pleased about the new baby—not excited like he was
with Mal, but he’s happy about it. I’m glad I’ve told him
.

Amy rolled onto her side to get a closer
view of Charlie’s face.
He does look tired. He works so hard, no
wonder he gets grumpy. He’s hard-working and he’s a good father.
That’s quite a lot, really. He’s not such a bad husband. I think
maybe he trusts me a little bit more now, too. I just wish he’d
like me. If only I could please him properly—if only I could really
be a good wife, he’d like me then. I wish I knew how
.

For a moment she was tempted to reach out
and smooth the lines of weariness from Charlie’s forehead, but she
let her half-raised hand drop back into her lap, fearful of
annoying him.
I wonder what it would be like to snuggle up to
him like Mal is
.
Maybe it’d be like when I used to have
cuddles with Pa, before Susannah came
. She smiled wistfully at
the memory of sitting on her father’s lap with his strong arms
around her.
His beard’s like Pa’s, I bet he could do nice tickly
kisses. I miss those. If he’d just give me a nice, soft kiss I
wouldn’t be frightened, I’m sure I wouldn’t
.

She edged a little closer to Charlie, hardly
aware of what she was doing.
A nice kiss, and then he might put
his arms around me and squeeze—not too hard, just so’s it was a
real cuddle. He might even say he liked me. I wonder… I wonder if
he’d like it if I kissed him?
She pondered the idea.
Maybe
it’s not right for women to do that. Jimmy used to say he liked me
being like that—he said I wasn’t to be aloof just because that’s
how ladies should behave. But Charlie calls me a whore because of
what I did with Jimmy
. Taking the initiative seemed too
risky.

She leaned even closer.
He’s in quite a
good mood, really, especially now I’ve told him about the baby.
Maybe he really will give me a nice kiss. I think I’d like that—I’m
sure I would. A nice, tickly kiss and a big cuddle
.

Amy’s lips were parted slightly, ready for
the kiss she had almost convinced herself she was going to receive.
She breathed a little faster at the thought of being held in strong
arms, pressing her face against a broad chest. When Charlie
suddenly opened his eyes she smiled dreamily at him and tilted her
face up a little.

‘What have you got that dopey look on you
for?’

It was like having a dash of cold water
flung in her face. Amy turned away and looked at the ground in
front of her feet. ‘Have I? I’m sorry, I didn’t know.’

‘Well, I can’t sit around here all day, I’ve
work to do.’ He disentangled his arm from the sleeping Malcolm.
‘Bloody arm’s gone to sleep,’ he muttered, shaking it. ‘Haven’t you
got any work to do, woman?’

‘Yes, I have. Lots and lots.’

‘Get on with it, then. I know what your
trouble is,’ he said, sounding self-satisfied. ‘It’s because you’re
broody. Makes you stupider than usual.’

Amy gathered up her basket and her sleeping
child without a word, not trusting her voice to be steady.

‘And see you go straight back to the house,’
Charlie called after her. ‘Don’t go wandering about the place.’

It’s hard to wander with a great lump of
a child on one hip
. ‘I’ll go straight home,’ she called back,
not turning her head.

He doesn’t even trust me to walk up to
the house without getting in trouble. I’m not stupid, I’m not!
She kicked at a small piece of wood in her path.

Amy looked up the hill before her, with the
tiny cottage on its far side. She glanced over one shoulder to see
Charlie watching. The hills on either side marked the boundaries of
her small prison. Malcolm dragged at her like a dead weight, then
stirred and began to grizzle at having been disturbed.

My life. This is what I’ve made of it.
People used to say I was clever. Charlie’s right about me—I must be
the stupidest woman that ever lived
.

February – August 1887

Frank gave the fence post a nudge with his
foot, and at once regretted it when a large chunk of wood flaked
off one side. Arthur was right: this section of fence was
half-rotten and needed replacing.

He felt a mild irritation at Arthur; why did
his father-in-law have to go poking around the farm finding work
for him to do? He had plenty to keep him busy; too much, he
sometimes thought. During the first months of their marriage Lizzie
had helped him with the morning milking, but she had stopped that
as soon as they had realised she was pregnant; the baby was far too
precious to risk losing. Frank had not suggested that she start
helping again; Lizzie had enough to do with Maudie to look after as
well as all her cooking and cleaning. She always seemed to be
working; even in the evenings when he could relax with a newspaper
Lizzie would be sewing and mending. Frank grinned to himself as he
reflected that however busy she was Lizzie could usually be
persuaded into an early night.

He wiggled the fence post warily. No, it
would hold for a bit longer, he decided. It would probably be all
right until winter, when he’d have more time to do maintenance.
Arthur had said he’d better get on and fix it or the cows would get
through, but Arthur was inclined to be a worrier. If he did start
mending the fence that afternoon, by the time he got back from
milking Maudie would already be asleep, and he would not have the
chance to play with her.

Frank turned his back on the sagging fence
and went off to round up the cows. He did his best to ignore the
weed-choked drain he was walking alongside. Arthur had said he’d
better clear out that drain before winter, too. Arthur was fond of
giving advice, and Frank was happy enough to listen to it. That
didn’t mean he had to do everything Arthur said straight away. He
had better ways of spending his time now.

He rushed through milking, knowing that
Arthur would disapprove of that, too. But it wasn’t going to kill
the cows if he didn’t get every drop of milk out of them. Carefully
stripping each cow for the last few drops took too long. It was all
very well for Arthur, with two sons big enough to help him. Frank
had already half-decided to sell all the calves born that year; he
had too many cows to milk as it was. He had a feeling the last milk
cheque had been a bit lower than usual, but that was nothing to
worry about. They had the farm and they had plenty to eat; what
more did they want?

The delicious smell of his dinner wafted
through the open kitchen door to meet him as he walked up to the
house.

‘Boots!’ Lizzie called when he stepped onto
the porch.

‘You always say that,’ Frank said with a
grin, placing his boots neatly outside the door.

‘You always forget if I don’t.’ Lizzie
offered her cheek for a kiss without leaving off stirring a pan of
gravy. She held Maudie in her free arm. ‘You’re a bit early.’

‘I got through milking pretty fast. I wanted
to come and see my girls.’

‘Make yourself useful, then—you can take
this girl and keep her entertained.’

There was nothing Frank wanted more. He took
Maudie from Lizzie and sat at the table with his little daughter on
his lap. Maudie giggled and waved her arms about as he bounced her
gently on one knee.

‘Have you been a good girl, Maudie? Did you
miss Papa today? You were asleep when I came in for lunch.’

‘She slept till two o’clock, then she woke
up a bit grumpy. I had her out here for a while but she started
playing up. I put her back to bed and shut the door on her till she
stopped bawling.’

‘Playing up for Mama, eh?’ Frank tried to
look stern at Maudie, but it was difficult to frown when she was
giving him a wide smile, showing her two teeth. ‘It’s no good
trying that on, Maudie. Mama’s pretty good at getting her own way.’
He hoisted Maudie high in the air, making her squeal with
delight.

Lizzie stood watching the two of them.
‘She’s going to be pretty good at getting her own way, too.
Especially with you.’

‘Yes,’ Frank agreed. ‘She’s neat.’ He
lowered Maudie to his lap and planted a soft kiss on her
forehead.

Lizzie chattered away about the details of
her afternoon as she finished getting dinner ready, then she took
the chair next to Frank. ‘It’ll be ready in ten minutes or so, when
those peas are cooked. Give her here, I’ll see if she wants a feed
before I put her down.’ She unbuttoned her bodice and held out her
arms for Maudie. ‘Look at you with all that around your face.’ She
wiped the dribble from Maudie’s chin with a corner of her apron
before putting the baby to her breast. ‘I think you’ve got another
tooth coming through.’

The baby sucked for a minute or two, then
lost interest and gazed around the kitchen, waving her arms
aimlessly. ‘No, she’s not very hungry,’ Lizzie said. She closed her
bodice and stood up with Maudie against one shoulder. The little
girl looked over Lizzie’s shoulder at Frank and stretched out her
hands towards her father. She gave a small cry of frustration at
being tightly held.

‘Does she have to go yet, Lizzie?’ Frank
asked. ‘Couldn’t she stay out here with us a bit longer?’

‘I’m going to dish up in a minute.’

‘I’ll hold her. I can eat my dinner with
Maudie on my lap.’

‘All right, as long as you don’t drop any
food on her.’ Lizzie put Maudie back on Frank’s lap, where the
little girl laughed delightedly.