Mud and Gold (53 page)

It was delightful to chat away about old
times with Bill, bringing to life again years in which, looking
back, it seemed to Amy that she had never known what unhappiness
was.

‘Remember how I used to talk you into giving
me half your lunch when you’d just started at school?’ Bill said.
‘I kept telling you I’d forgotten mine, and you believed me.’

‘I think I gave you the whole lot once or
twice,’ Amy said, smiling. ‘I must have felt sorry for you.’

‘I liked those little cakes your granny used
to put in with your sandwiches. I had to be careful Lizzie wasn’t
around when I was getting them off you, though.’

‘Lizzie figured it out before long, of
course,’ said Amy.

‘Yes, and she said she’d tell Miss Evans if
I didn’t cut it out—heck, I think she might even have said she’d
tell Pa.’ He grinned at Amy. ‘You kept giving me the odd cake,
though.’

‘I got Granny to put in extra so I’d have
some for you.’

‘You always were a soft-hearted little
thing,’ Bill said. ‘And Lizzie was always good at making everyone
do what she thought they should. You’ve neither of you changed
much, have you?’

Amy glanced over at Charlie, and saw him
looking at her with a face like thunder.
What have I done wrong
now?

She looked away. Even if there was to be a
reckoning later for whatever transgression she had committed, right
now she was enjoying herself. It was a joy to relive those long-ago
days when they had all been playmates together. For a few hours she
could forget what she had made of her life, forget what she had to
go home to, and pretend to be a little girl laughing with her
cousin, not a care in the world.

‘Lizzie’s been a mother hen to us all since
she was little,’ Amy said. ‘What would we do if she changed? No one
to boss us around and tell us when we’re wrong. Do you remember the
school picnic when we all went down the coast on that old
wagonette, and a wheel fell off when we were just leaving to come
back?’

Bill snorted. ‘That’s right. Lizzie had us
all organised in no time—the biggest boys to lift up the wagonette,
other fellows to have a go at putting the wheel back on, then when
that didn’t work she sent out the two fastest runners to bring
someone back with tools.’

‘And the older girls had to look after the
little ones, and see they didn’t wander off. She had it all worked
out. Miss Evans just laughed and said she might as well have stayed
home, Lizzie had everything in hand. No wonder she’s so good at
running a house.’

‘She’s got a good man,’ said Bill. Amy saw
him glance at Charlie. There was a moment’s awkward silence before
Bill went on.

‘Remember that time Lizzie talked us into
coming down here so she could give Frank those pies?’

‘Oh, that was so
funny
,’ Amy said.
‘Frank standing in the back doorway looking like he wished the
ground would open up and swallow him. Then you and me sitting in
that dusty parlour trying not to laugh out loud while Lizzie got a
cup of tea organised and Frank trailed around after her like an
orphan calf.’

‘Frank never had a chance, eh?’ Bill looked
over at Frank, who was sitting on the far side of the verandah with
a drowsy Maudie sprawled on his lap. ‘I don’t think he regrets it.
Hey, do you remember those New Year picnics we used to have when we
were little? There was so much food! And it always seemed to be hot
and sunny. I wonder why the summers seemed longer then.’

‘Because we hadn’t lived so long,’ said Amy.
‘Remember how the food tasted better, too?’ And so they continued
their agreeable series of ‘do you remembers’.

It was the pleasantest evening Amy had spent
in a long while, and she was quite sorry when the time came to go
home. The evening had drawn in, more food had been brought out and
eaten, and the beer had all been drunk. Charlie had had more than
his share of it.

Amy retrieved her boys from a pile of
children asleep in a corner, and the four of them set off in the
soft darkness. A huge yellow moon hung low in the sky, shedding
ample light to see their steps by.

Malcolm was buoyed by the novelty of being
up at such an hour, and he chattered away as they walked, but
within a few minutes David was stumbling with drowsiness. Amy
picked him up to carry the rest of the way. He nestled against her
side, winding his arms around her and burying his head with its
thick, dark curls into the curve of her neck. She could soon tell
from his breathing that he was fast asleep.

She became aware that Charlie’s silence was
from something more than just tiredness and having drunk too much.
She remembered the black looks he had been casting at her, and
wondered what trouble was brewing. Perhaps if she could get him
home and into bed quickly enough, he would forget whatever had
upset him. She noticed his steps were a little unsteady, and hoped
he wasn’t too drunk to make it back to the house; tempting though
it might be to leave him in a ditch, the consequences did not bear
thinking about.

They got home without incident, and Charlie
sat at the kitchen table while she put the boys to bed. Malcolm was
still full of the excitement of the day and insisted he wasn’t
sleepy, but a warning growl from Charlie, who heard his protests
from the kitchen, settled him. Amy could see that he would be
asleep within minutes.

David did not stir as she carried him to his
own bedroom, tucked him in and kissed him softly on the cheek.
Malcolm had been refusing kisses from her since he was younger than
David was now, and she dreaded the day when David would announce
that he was too grown-up for kisses and cuddles.

Amy returned to the kitchen to get things
ready for morning. She would be up late making bread for the next
day; that would be the price of her pleasant evening, but well
worth paying.

Charlie had brought out some beer for
himself and was downing it by the mugful. He would have trouble
getting up in the morning, Amy thought, but she was not foolish
enough to tell him so. At least all that beer on top of a hard
day’s work in the hay paddocks made it unlikely he would disturb
her rest when she at last had the chance to go to bed.

He finished a bottle and sat, still silent,
staring at her as she kneaded the bread.

‘Don’t wait for me, Charlie,’ Amy said,
working away at the dough. ‘I’ll be a while yet. You go to bed if
you like.’ Silence. She looked at him, then looked away from his
black stare. He stumbled over to the dresser, got something from
inside it, and sat down again.

‘Would you like me to get you a cup of tea?’
Amy offered. When she turned to face him, she saw that he had
brought some whisky from the dresser and was taking swigs of it
straight from the bottle. Her heart sank; whisky always put Charlie
into the foulest of moods. He was concentrating on his bottle for
now, so she turned back to her kneading and hoped he would ignore
her.

Amy caught his movement out of the corner of
her eye and assumed he was walking back to the dresser. When she
felt his hands on her shoulders she gave a small cry.

‘Charlie, you frightened me.’ She tried to
still the trembling of her hands by gripping her apron, twisting
the cloth between her fingers. He turned her round to face him,
still with his hands on her shoulders, lowered his head and crushed
his mouth against hers, grinding her lips against her teeth. His
breath stank of beer and whisky, and his beard rasped at her. She
tried without success to suppress a shudder. He drew back. Still he
said nothing, and still he stared at her with the same black
intensity.

‘Please, Charlie,’ Amy said, struggling to
make her voice calm, ‘it’s very late, and I’ve got to finish this.
Please, couldn’t it wait? You go to bed, and I’ll come along as
soon as I can. Please?’

He made a sound in his throat like a growl,
and gripped her shoulders more tightly. Again Amy shuddered.

‘Why do you shrink from my touch?’ he
snarled. ‘Any man but your lawful husband, is that it?’

‘I’m sorry, Charlie, I didn’t mean to annoy
you. I’m tired, and I said the wrong thing. I’ll come to bed now if
that’s what you want.’

‘And what do
you
want, you dirty
little bitch? To crawl into bed with any other man who’ll have
you?’ He shoved her away from him; she staggered, but kept her
feet.

‘I don’t know what you mean—of course I
don’t want anyone else. Please don’t call me those names.’

‘Slut!’ He gave her a slap that made her
ears ring. ‘I’ll call you whatever I like. You think you can make a
fool of me right under my nose with other men and then come over
all dainty and coy when I touch you. Tired! Who’s tired you out?
I’m not blind—I can see what you’re up to.’

‘Please
tell me what I’ve done
wrong,’ Amy begged. ‘I don’t know what I’ve done.’

He lashed out again, this time with his fist
closed, and caught her a blow on the cheek. The crack of his fist
against her cheekbone was like a gun going off beside her head. She
fell to the floor, catching herself with one hand. He grabbed her
by the arm and hauled her to her feet, then pulled her higher so
that her face was close to his, forcing her to stand on tiptoe. Her
head ached and her heart was pounding. She had never seen him so
angry before.

‘I saw you playing up to the men tonight,
flashing your eyes and smirking and giggling. You were just about
sitting on that Bill’s lap. You wanted to get into his trousers,
didn’t you?’ He shook her. ‘Didn’t you?’ He hit her across the
mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Or have you already been
there?’

He let go of Amy suddenly, and she fell back
a few steps. She felt the wall against her back, hard and cold.
I will not cry out
.

‘He’s my
cousin
,’ she pleaded. ‘He’s
like my brother.’

‘That wouldn’t stop you, would it? If it
wears trousers you’re after it. I saw you hanging around your fancy
man from the city that summer—right here on my farm you were
throwing yourself at him when he was meant to be making hay. You
opened your legs quick enough for him. Until he got sick of you and
left you with a swollen belly.’ Amy put her hands over her ears to
shut out the dreadful words and turned away, but he stepped forward
and caught hold of her hands, pushing them back down against her
sides, then took a handful of her hair and jerked her head back,
forcing her to look up at him.

‘You liked it with him, didn’t you?’ he
hissed. ‘You enjoyed tumbling in the hay with him. Didn’t he
believe it was his brat you were carrying? How many men were
there?’ He tugged at her hair.

‘Just one,’ she whispered. He pulled her
head back further and spat in her face. Amy forced down a rush of
nausea. Still tightly gripping her hair so that she couldn’t move,
he hit her again across the lips. She tasted salt from the blood
filling her mouth.

‘You hung around him like a bitch in heat.’
A slap across the cheek. ‘You yelled and panted for him.’ A blow to
the side of her head. ‘But you shrink away from
me
.’ His
voice rose in a howl of rage and anguish as he lashed out again,
and at last Amy understood what enraged him. She had hurt his
pride, and he was making her pay.

Now she could no longer distinguish words
through the roaring in her ears, but she could hear his voice as
though it were coming from a great distance. She prayed that he
would not wake the children; with each blow she willed herself to
think of her boys. She would not cry out; she would not disturb
them and have them come in to the room and see this. She would bear
it in silence until he tired of his sport. If she screamed it would
only inflame him more. Surely he would stop soon. His hands must be
hurting by now.

He swung out again. Her head reeled with
dizziness and nausea. Perhaps he would stop if she fainted. But she
could not will herself to faint.

His fist slammed against the side of her
head, catching the edge of her eye with the knuckles, but she
sensed that his left arm was tiring. Its grip on her hair loosened,
and at the same time the force of his forearm lashing across her
face knocked her to the floor and sent her skidding into a leg of
the table. Through the roaring she heard a rattling noise above her
head, and felt something wet on her shoulder. It was whisky from
Charlie’s bottle. He snatched at the bottle before it tipped
completely over, and held it high in front of him.

She could only see out of one eye now. She
watched him with his bottle, and for a moment she thought he was
going to smash it over her head. But instead he cradled it to his
chest like a baby. He gave her a savage kick in the stomach,
thudding her spine against the table leg, then turned and lurched
out of the room. She heard the thump of his steps go erratically
out of the room, then for a time the world went dark.

*

Amy felt the floor’s cool solidity. The
roaring in her ears had faded, and she lay motionless, empty of
everything except the relief of being alone and in total silence.
At last her mind began working again, forming fragments of emotion
into coherent thoughts. He despised her for what she had done
before she married him. Because she had given herself to another
man, and borne that man a child. A sob convulsed Amy as she thought
of her little girl. She thrust the memory aside; she did not have
the strength for it tonight.

But it was more than her shame, as she had
been taught to call it, that had enraged him. It was because he
knew his very touch repelled her, and she barely endured his
demands, while he knew, too, that she had gone willingly to another
man.

She had been soiled, but Charlie had taken
her. That was the bargain: he had got a young wife from a good
family; a wife who was obedient, would work for him
uncomplainingly, and would bear his children. In return she had
gone to a husband who was meant to give her a home, protect her,
and give her back her respectability. She had kept her side of the
bargain faithfully; only now had it been borne in on her that she,
too, might have some rights.