Mud and Gold (56 page)

‘Worry? That bastard I gave you to does this
to you, and you tell me not to worry! How long’s this been going
on?’

‘This was the first time—the first time like
this, anyway. And Pa,’ she said, clutching at his hand, ‘it’s the
last time, too. Nothing like this is ever going to happen
again.’

‘Damned right it’s not! You’re coming home
with me right now. I never should have let you go in the first
place.’ He stood and held out his hand to help her rise. ‘Come on,
girl.’

Amy closed her eyes for a moment, gathering
strength. How easy it would be to take the offered hand, how easy
to run away. But the battle had to be fought, and it was her battle
with Charlie, no one else’s. Only if she lost would she flee.

‘No, Pa. I’m staying here. He’s still my
husband, and he’s the father of my sons.’

‘I can’t leave you here with him!’ Jack
protested.

‘Yes, you can. I’ll be all right.’ She stood
up slowly so as not to jar her cracked ribs. ‘Pa, it’s not going to
happen again. I promise you that.’

‘You can’t know that. You can’t know what
he’ll do.’

‘I do know.’ Her voice rang with certainty.
‘I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t sure it was true. Have I ever lied
to you?’

‘Never,’ he admitted. ‘But, girl—’

‘Grandpa!’ David cried out in delight as he
burst through the doorway and flung himself at his grandfather. ‘I
seed you coming! I runned real fast—faster than Mal. Mal and Papa
are coming. Mama looks funny, eh? Mama falled down on her face. Are
you having lunch with us, Grandpa?’

‘No, Davie,’ Amy said. ‘Grandpa’s going home
now. Aunt Susannah and Aunt Sophie have cooked lunch for
Grandpa.’

Jack looked helplessly at her. ‘I can’t do
it, girl. I can’t leave you here.’

‘You have to,’ Amy insisted. ‘I’ll be all
right. I promise.’

‘What’s wrong, Grandpa?’ David asked,
looking in confusion at Jack’s stricken face. ‘Are you crying?’

‘Shh, Davie, Grandpa’s all right. Don’t
upset the little fellow, Pa,’ she urged quietly. Jack opened his
mouth to argue, then shut it again.

Amy took his hand and led him to the door.
‘Go home, Pa, and try not to worry about me. It’s like Davie said—I
fell on the floor and got hurt. That’s nothing to get upset about,
is it? I’ll come and see you when I don’t look so awful.’ She
offered the less bruised of her cheeks for a kiss; her split lip
was still too tender for caresses.

Jack went obediently through the back door,
just as Charlie appeared around the corner of the house with
Malcolm. Amy stood in the doorway, holding her breath as the two
men stared at each other.

It was Jack who broke the silence. ‘My girl
tells me she fell down and got hurt,’ he said coldly. ‘An accident,
I suppose you’d call it? I don’t want my daughter having any more
accidents like that. If she did I’d have to do something about it.
Do you understand me?’

Charlie looked away before he answered. ‘I
can’t help accidents. She’ll be more careful now, I’ve no doubt.
There’ll maybe be no more accidents after this.’

‘There’d better not be,’ Jack said. He cast
a last helpless glance at Amy before turning his face toward
home.

Charlie watched Jack’s retreating back, then
turned to Amy. ‘You didn’t tell him.’ He sounded confused.

Amy leaned against the door frame for
support, aware of the weakness of her body now that the immediate
need for strength had passed.
That was hard. Poor Pa, I wish he
hadn’t seen me like this
. ‘I didn’t need to. He knows. Lunch is
nearly ready,’ she went on in a determinedly light tone for the
benefit of the children. ‘You might as well come to the table.’

‘There’s a buggy coming up the road,’
Charlie said, shading his eyes as he peered in the direction of the
rattling noise that Amy now noticed for the first time. ‘It’s Kelly
and his brood.’

‘Is the whole valley going to come and see
me today?’ Amy said wearily. ‘Charlie, can you make sure Frank and
the children don’t come inside? You won’t be able to keep Lizzie
out.’

She retreated to the relative privacy of the
kitchen, and had time to sit down facing away from the door before
Lizzie came up to the house.

‘It’s only me,’ Lizzie called from the
doorstep. ‘We’re on our way to Ma’s for lunch, I just dropped in to
see how you are. Charlie said you were a bit crook this morning, I
wondered—’

‘Lizzie,’ Amy interrupted, still facing away
from her cousin. ‘I don’t want you to make a fuss. It’s not as bad
as it looks.’ She twisted around in her chair, wincing at the pain
of the movement, and saw Lizzie’s puzzled expression turn to
shock.

‘Amy, what’s he done to you?’

‘I know I look awful. You should have seen
me the morning after he did it.’ She managed a small laugh. ‘It’ll
get better.’

‘Why, Amy? You look as though he tried to
kill you or something.’

‘No, he didn’t want me dead. He just wanted…
well, never mind what he wanted. That’s all over now.’

Lizzie knelt in front of Amy’s chair and put
her arms around her. ‘I didn’t know he treated you like this. I
knew he hit you sometimes, I’ve seen the bruises. But like this!
Oh, Amy, what can I do? How can I help you?’

Tears had begun to tumble down Lizzie’s
face. She clung to Amy as if she wanted to comfort her, but it was
Amy who stroked Lizzie’s hair and whispered soothingly in her ear.
‘There’s no need. It’s over, Lizzie. I’m not going to let him hurt
me again.’

‘How can you stop him?’

‘Don’t worry about that. That’s between me
and him.’ Amy took Lizzie’s face in her hands, enjoying the feel of
soft flesh that had never known a cruel touch. ‘Now, Lizzie, I want
you to forget all about how awful I look. In a few weeks I’ll look
the same as I ever did, so there’s no need to make a fuss. I do
want you to do something to help me, after all.’

‘What?’ Lizzie asked. ‘What can I do?’

‘I want you to go up to Aunt Edie’s and act
like nothing’s wrong. Don’t let anyone see you’re upset—I don’t
want the whole valley talking about what’s happened. I want you to
go now, Lizzie. You’ve got Frank and the children waiting out
there, they’ll be wondering what you’re up to. Help me up, I’m a
bit clumsy just now.’

Lizzie helped her to her feet, and let Amy
lead her to the back door. ‘Off you go now, Lizzie. I won’t come
out the door or Frank will see me.’

Lizzie hovered uncertainly in the doorway.
‘You’re sure you’ll be all right by yourself?’

‘Quite sure. Hurry up, Lizzie.’ Amy
submitted to a kiss, painful though it was. ‘Now, you go off and
have a nice lunch.’

‘I’ll come and see you next week.’

‘Only if you promise not to get upset.’

*

Frank turned with relief from his awkward
attempts at making conversation with Charlie when Lizzie appeared
through the doorway.

‘You right, Lizzie?’ he said as she climbed
into the buggy and took Beth onto her lap. ‘We’ll be off, then,
Charlie. See you tomorrow at the factory.’

‘Don’t talk to him,’ Lizzie hissed under her
breath.

Frank glanced at her in surprise. ‘What’s
wrong? Hey, have you been crying?’

‘No,’ Lizzie muttered. ‘I’m not crying now,
anyway. Drive faster—I want to get away from here.’

Frank urged the horses to a gentle trot.
‘What happened? Is Amy really sick?’

‘She looks
awful
,’ Lizzie wailed.

‘Is Aunt Amy sick?’ Maudie asked from the
rear seat, sounding frightened. Joey babbled away in the private
language no one but his mother and big sister could understand, but
it was clear enough that he was about to start crying at the
thought of his much-loved aunt’s being ill, and little Beth picked
up enough of her mother’s distress to let out a whimper of her
own.

‘Settle down, you lot,’ Lizzie said. ‘Aunt
Amy’s not sick. She hurt her face, and she looks a bit funny. Mama
got a fright, that’s all.’

The children were easily reassured, but
Frank looked at Lizzie in concern. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked under
his breath.

‘I’ll tell you later,’ she murmured.
‘There’re too many ears flapping here.’ She gestured towards
Maudie.

Lizzie’s façade slipped from time to time
over lunch, and Frank saw her brush an occasional tear away when
she thought no one was watching. He kept an eye on the clock,
anxious to get home and find out what had so upset her as soon as
they could politely leave.

‘You look a bit down in the mouth today,
Lizzie,’ Arthur remarked. ‘What’s the matter, cat got your
tongue?’

‘Nothing’s wrong with me,’ Lizzie snapped.
‘Mind your own business.’

‘Here, you keep a civil tongue in your head,
my girl,’ said Arthur. ‘Frank, why don’t you keep your wife in
line?’ he added, forgetting to keep up the haughty manner he was
still trying to use with Frank.

‘Lizzie, don’t talk to your pa like that,’
Frank said. Lizzie cast an anguished look at him, rushed from the
table and went out the back door. She was back a few minutes later,
only her swollen eyes betraying her lapse.

Arthur glanced from Frank to Lizzie,
frowning, but he said nothing until he and Frank were sitting on
the verandah after lunch while Lizzie helped her mother with the
dishes. ‘You boys go and see to Frank’s horses,’ he told Bill and
Alf.

‘Don’t worry about that, there’s no need,’
Frank said.

‘Yes, there is—that bay of yours hasn’t got
much condition on her. Spending all your time looking after your
fancy cows, are you? Give them a nosebag each, Bill. Ernie, you go
too.’

Arthur waited till his sons were out of
earshot before turning back to Frank. ‘Now, Frank, you’ll say it’s
none of my business, but Lizzie’s my daughter and I’m making it my
business. There’s such a thing as being too hard on a wife, you
know.’

‘Eh?’ Frank said in blank astonishment.

‘It’s not natural to see Lizzie in such a
misery. You want the girl to have a bit of spirit. Respect, that’s
one thing, but having her scared half out of her wits… well, that’s
not right.’

‘But Pa, I haven’t—’

‘All right, Frank, that’s enough,’ Arthur
interrupted. ‘I’ve said my piece, I’ll say no more. I think you
know what I mean.’

‘I suppose so,’ Frank said dubiously.
Whatever had upset Lizzie, he was quite sure he was not
responsible.

At last it was time to go home, and he
trotted the horses all the way. He unharnessed them while Lizzie
got the children out of their good clothes, put Beth down for her
afternoon sleep and sent the two older children outside to play. By
the time he got back to the house, she was alone in the
kitchen.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

Lizzie collapsed into his open arms,
dissolving into sobs. ‘Oh, Frank, if you’d only seen her.’

Frank patted her back. ‘Seen what? What’s
wrong with Amy?’

‘He’s beaten her. Poor little Amy. And I
can’t do anything about it!’

Frank held her in silence for a few moments,
wondering what he could say to soothe her. ‘It’s none of our
business, Lizzie,’ he said carefully. ‘I know you think he
shouldn’t have done it, but… well, some men do give their wives a
slap sometimes, love. It’s nothing for you to upset yourself
over.’

Lizzie pulled away and glared at him. ‘Do
you think I don’t know that? I’m not talking about a slap or
two—Lord knows he’s given her plenty of those over the years. She’s
usually got a bruise somewhere, though she never says anything
about it. Never like this, though. Her face is all cut and
bruised—she’s bruised all over, I think. You can see it hurts her
just to move. He’s had a real go at her with those horrible great
fists of his—fought her as though she was a man instead of little
Amy who never hurts anyone. Her face, Frank—you can hardly
recognise her, it’s so black and swollen.’

‘What the heck’s he done that for?’ Frank
said in astonishment.

‘How should I know?’ Lizzie shot back. ‘How
am I meant to know what a man like that thinks?’ Her face crumpled,
and she let Frank enfold her in his arms again.

‘Poor old Amy, eh?’ Frank tried without
success to fathom why any man, let alone one with a sweet-tempered
wife like Amy, would want to beat her as savagely as Lizzie had
described. ‘She’s such a little thing, too. She’s not very
strong.’

Lizzie’s voice came muffled from where she
had laid her head on his shoulder. ‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d
seen her today. I was the one crying like a baby, she just sat
there all calm and quiet. It was like she was looking after me, not
the other way around. Amy’s strong, all right. She’s stronger than
any of us.’

March 1891

Amy’s injuries slowly healed as the weeks
passed. Her bruises faded from livid purple to a dirty yellow; the
swelling of her black eye subsided until the injured eye no longer
looked half the size of its mate; and her split lip closed up,
leaving a red scar that would fade in time to be barely noticeable.
Her ribs seemed as painful as ever, but that injury was not
visible.

The healing of her wounds was accompanied by
a return to strength not confined to her body. The weariness of
spirit that had grown in Amy as a response to years of rough usage,
broken nights, and nothing to look forward to but more of the same,
more pain and more dead babies, began to lift, and to be replaced
by a tiny thread of conviction that things might be otherwise.

To sleep properly at night, a deep sleep not
disturbed by a hand snatching at her nightdress or a heavy body
heaving itself onto hers, was blissful, and she wallowed in the
luxury of it. After years of having to spend every night lying flat
on her back for Charlie’s convenience, even when he had beaten her
buttocks raw, she indulged herself trying out different positions
to sleep. On her front, on either side, her head on two pillows or
on none, changing position a dozen times if she wanted instead of
lying very still so as not wake Charlie; Amy tried them all, until
at last she decided the way she liked best was to lie on her side
right in the middle of the bed and curl her knees close to her
chest so that her body made a half circle. It was the way she had
slept as a girl, she remembered now, in the days before she had
known anything of men.