Mud and Gold (60 page)

‘The poor thing. I don’t suppose you could
mend it for her?’

‘Yes, I could do it quite easily. I’ve got
plenty of buckles, too. It’s a matter of getting her gig here,
though—she hasn’t got time to stand around waiting for me to do it
after school, she’s got to get home.’

‘I know!’ Lizzie said with a burst of
inspiration. ‘Why don’t we have her to stay the night? Then you’ll
be able to fix the reins for her and she’ll have a rest from doing
that long drive. You can pop down to the school this afternoon and
tell her to come and stay tomorrow.’

Thus decreed by Lizzie it could not fail to
happen. A grateful Miss Radford arrived the next evening to find
herself bustled inside by Lizzie while Frank took charge of her
horse and gig.

Lily Radford was a tall, slender woman in
her late twenties. She had a not unattractive, though very pale,
face under her severely scraped back light brown hair, but the fine
lines that years of poring over exercise books by candle light had
etched prematurely around her eyes gave an impression of weariness
and disappointment. But when she smiled, as she did at Lizzie and
the three staring children, a kind nature and a wry sense of humour
showed through.

‘It’s very good of you to have me, Mrs
Kelly, and very kind of your husband to repair the harness for
me.’

‘No trouble at all,’ Lizzie assured her.
‘There’s five of us, one more makes no difference. You don’t mind
sleeping with Maudie, do you? I can put her in with Joey if you’d
rather have the bed to yourself.’

Maudie had no intention of missing out on
her full share of the novelty of having a stranger in the house. ‘I
want to sleep with Miss Radford,’ she said. She hung onto the
teacher’s arm and looked up at her with her most winning
expression. ‘I can, can’t I?’

‘It’s your bed, dear, I wouldn’t dream of
putting you out of it.’

‘See?’ Maudie said triumphantly to her
mother.

‘Don’t you go wetting the bed, then. She
probably won’t,’ Lizzie added to Lily, seeing her expression. ‘She
hasn’t done that for months.’

‘Oh, good,’ Lily said.

She begged Lizzie to let her help prepare
the meal, despite Lizzie’s protests that Lily must have work to do
for the next school day.

‘But I wouldn’t normally get back to Mrs
Lawler’s for another hour, and I don’t have to see to the horse
tonight, either. Anyway, I haven’t done any cooking for… oh, I
don’t know how long. It’d be a nice change—if I won’t be in your
way?’

By the time Frank came in for dinner the two
women were on first name terms and were chatting away merrily. He
smiled at the sight of Lizzie enjoying herself with someone new to
organise.

After he had finished his meat and
vegetables, Lizzie placed a lemon pudding before him. ‘Hey, this is
nice,’ Frank said.

‘Lily made it,’ Maudie piped up.

‘Miss Radford to you,’ Lizzie said, waving
her serving spoon in Maudie’s direction. ‘Lily made this lovely
pudding, Frank. You’re a good cook, Lily.’

‘Not really,’ Lily said with a smile. ‘I’m
terribly out of practice. Mother was a wonderful cook, though she
had to learn rather late in life, and she taught me. I never get
near a kitchen now.’

When the dishes were done Lily cuddled
little Beth until it was time for the children to go to bed, but
she refused Lizzie’s invitation to join her and Frank in the
parlour, instead fetching the exercise books she had to work on and
setting them out on the kitchen table.

‘I’ll make sure Maudie goes on the pot
before she goes to sleep, you shouldn’t have any trouble with her
in the night. Don’t stay up too late, you’ll wear your eyes out
doing all that,’ Lizzie said.

‘I’m all right, this is a lovely bright lamp
you have here,’ Lily assured her.

Maudie did not disgrace herself, and Lizzie
had enjoyed Lily’s company so much that it was not long before she
invited the teacher to stay a whole weekend on the farm.

‘She’s nice,’ Lizzie whispered when she and
Frank were alone in bed. ‘I thought she’d be a sour old biddy. It
doesn’t seem right, her being an old maid. She’s twenty-eight, poor
thing, not much chance of getting a husband now.’

‘Found out how old she is, eh? Trust you. I
suppose you know all her business.’

‘I found out a few things, just from being
friendly. Let’s see, she was born in England, her parents came out
here when she was a little thing, her father died when she was…
three, I think she said. She’s got no brothers or sisters, and her
ma died nine years ago. She started teaching when… are you
listening, Frank?’

‘Eh? Sort of. I think I nodded off for a
minute. Hey, I was worried about Orange Blossom this morning, she
looked a bit lame.’

‘You and your precious cows! What’s wrong
with her, anyway?’

‘Nothing, I think she was just a bit stiff.
She was right as rain this afternoon.’ He smiled into the darkness
at the thought of his beautiful Jerseys. ‘Good old Orange
Blossom.’

‘Such fancy names they’ve got, eh? Orange
Blossom and Countess and Golden Dawn.’

‘Don’t forget Duke William. I bet he’s
looking forward to getting to work come summer.’

‘We’ll have to think of some more names when
the calves arrive. It’ll be harder than finding names for
babies.’

‘Yes, fancy names for the Herd Book. None of
your old “Patches” or “Brownie” for those calves.’

‘I hope that bull of yours is up to the
job.’

‘He’s up to it,’ Frank said confidently.

‘I don’t know, he’s not very big—hey, what
are you up to?’

‘What do you think?’ he murmured in her ear
as he slid her nightdress higher.

‘I don’t know why I feel sorry for Lily,
having no husband,’ Lizzie complained unconvincingly. ‘At least she
doesn’t have to put up with—’ Frank’s mouth on hers silenced her.
The way she slipped her arms around him gave the lie to her
pretended irritation.

Lily’s weekend visits became more frequent.
She and Lizzie had little in common, but a genuine friendship was
growing between them, and Frank was happy to see it. He knew that
Lizzie still fretted at times over what she saw as her failure to
settle Amy’s life properly, and if she enjoyed feeling she was
doing Lily some good then he would cheerfully encourage her.

When Lizzie invited Amy for afternoon tea
one Saturday while Lily was visiting, Amy was in two minds whether
or not to accept. It would be a pleasant change to see a face other
than Charlie’s across the table, but spending time with a woman who
had managed to do what Amy had dreamed of might be a little hard to
bear. Just as she had determined to go after all, Charlie decided
to be difficult over whether or not he would let her. By the time
he finally said she could, it was so late that she had to walk at a
near-trot all the way to Frank’s farm, with David scurrying beside
her as fast as his little legs would carry him.

‘Now, you and Lily will get on well,’ Lizzie
said when Amy arrived. ‘You’re interested in some of the same
things. Amy used to be a teacher, too.’

‘Were you, Mrs Stewart?’ Lily said. ‘I
didn’t know that.’

‘No, I wasn’t.’ Amy sat down and gathered
David onto her lap. ‘I was going to, but… well, it didn’t work out.
I just helped Miss Evans for a while, that’s all.’

‘You’re lucky,’ Lily said. Amy looked at her
in astonishment.

‘Don’t you like being a teacher?’ she
asked.

Lily pulled a face. ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t
particularly enjoy trying to beat knowledge into children who’d
rather be just about anywhere than sitting in school. Forcing
grammar down their throats isn’t going to help them milk cows or
rear babies, and that’s all most of them are ever going to do—oh,
I’m sorry, Mrs Stewart, that sounds terribly snooty. It’s not how I
mean it. There’s more value to the world in milking cows and
bringing up children.’

‘Is there? I suppose you’re right, but… I
don’t know, sometimes it doesn’t seem much to do with your life.
Not that I don’t love my boys.’ She squeezed David. He nestled
against her, tired out by his brisk walk and content to be held in
her arms. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without my Davie.’

‘So this is Malcolm’s brother.’ Lily did not
quite manage to hide a grimace. ‘He doesn’t look much like
him.’

‘They’re as different as chalk and cheese,’
said Lizzie. ‘Davie’s a lovely child, and Mal’s just like his pa—a
right little—’

‘Lizzie! Don’t talk about Mal like that,’
Amy remonstrated.

‘Suit yourself,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’m going to
change Beth’s nappy, that’ll give you two a chance to talk about
schools and things for a minute.’

‘Mal’s not really a bad boy,’ Amy said,
wishing there was more conviction in her voice. ‘He’s very lively,
and he likes his own way.’

‘He certainly does,’ Lily said. ‘I’ve never
known a five-year-old as… determined… as your son. I’m afraid I’m
not managing to teach him much. Actually I’m not teaching him
anything at all, except how to put up with being smacked on the
hand with a ruler.’

‘He wouldn’t take any notice of that,’ Amy
said ruefully. ‘Not with what he gets from his father. He’s always
been better behaved for men, anyway.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t do anything about not
being a man,’ Lily said. ‘I don’t like using a strap on the little
ones, but I must say Malcolm tempts me. When will this boy start
school?’

‘Next August my Davie’ll turn five.’ Amy
stroked David’s cropped hair, silently grieving for the lost curls.
‘I’ll miss having him around all day.’ She smiled at Lily’s dubious
expression. ‘Don’t worry, Miss Radford, Davie really is very
different from Mal. He’s a lot more like my little brothers.’

‘Tom and George? Now they
are
nice
children. Poor little Tom, though, I hate having to hit him when he
gets things wrong. You can see he feels dreadful about it, but…
well, it’s just the way it’s done. I can’t let Thomas get away with
making mistakes just because I like him more than I do most of the
others.’ She snorted. ‘As if it matters whether he knows how to
parse a sentence properly. It’s what they pay me for, though.’

‘Miss Radford, why…’ It was hard to find a
way to ask the question that did not sound rude. Amy trailed off
awkwardly.

‘Why am I a teacher?’ Lily prompted.
‘Certainly not from any sense of vocation. Sheer necessity, Mrs
Stewart. There aren’t many jobs a poor woman with pretensions to
gentility can take. Father didn’t leave anything to us beyond what
Mother called “good breeding”, and that doesn’t pay the rent.
Mother had an annuity that used to be sent out from Home, but it
was only during her lifetime, and I always knew I’d have to provide
for myself one day. I have a sort of uncle—he’s a cousin of
Mother’s, I think, but not a very close one—he paid for me to go to
secondary school. A proper school, too, not some trumped-up dancing
class teaching young women deportment and a word or two of French.
He paid for my piano lessons, too. I had two years at the school,
that was enough to get me a pupil teacher’s job. By the time Mother
passed away I already had my teaching certificate, so she knew I’d
be able to support myself in some sort of decency. She didn’t know
how much I hated it.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Amy said, wishing it didn’t
sound so inadequate.

‘I suppose you’re wondering why I didn’t get
married,’ said Lily.

‘No, not really. It’s… well, it’s not
exactly the easy way out either, Miss Radford.’ Amy had not meant
to be so blunt, but Lily’s frankness made her lower her own
guard.

‘I suppose not. I think perhaps it depends
on the husband.’

‘You’re right,’ said Amy.

‘Mother had rather grand ideas, you see. She
always thought I’d marry a professional man. She conveniently
didn’t notice that I never went anywhere I was likely to meet such
men.’ Lily sighed. ‘Poor Mother, she was always saying we were sure
to get invited to a ball at Government House one day and I’d meet
what she called a “suitable” man there. Of course we never did. And
if I ever did get an invitation, say if one of the other pupil
teachers’ mothers asked me to dinner, Mother would never let me go.
“I’m sure they’re worthy people, Lily, but they’re not quite our
type, dear.” I heard that so many times I just stopped asking her,
and of course people stopped inviting me. The classroom, the house
and the shops, that’s where I spent my days. And I’m afraid I’ve
never had the sort of face that turns men’s heads.’ She smiled
wryly. ‘Well, that’s all past now, anyway. I’m much too set in my
ways to put up with a husband, and I’m sure I’d make a dreadful
wife.’

Lizzie came back into the room. ‘You two
talking about husbands? I thought you’d be on about books and all
that nonsense. Here you go,’ she said, plumping Beth on Lily’s lap.
‘She smells a bit sweeter now.’

Beth laid her head on Lily’s chest and
smiled up at her. Lily planted a soft kiss on the little girl’s
forehead. ‘She’s a dear child. Marriage does have its
compensations, doesn’t it, Mrs Stewart? Little ones like these
two?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Amy agreed. ‘Do you read much,
Miss Radford?’ she asked, hardly daring to hope that she might at
last have found someone she could talk about her beloved books
with.

‘You must call me Lily, or you’ll make me
feel terribly old—though I am years older than you, aren’t I?’

‘I’d like to do that—and you should call me
Amy.’

‘Thank you, I will. I don’t think I’ve read
a book from beginning to end in years, Amy. Just exercise books
till I want to throw them on the fire.’

‘You’re very good with children, Lily,’
Lizzie put in. ‘Beth just loves you.’

‘It’s easy to be good with them one at a
time,’ Lily said, stroking Beth’s soft baby hair. ‘It’s when you’ve
fifteen or twenty of them to try and keep under your thumb. Oh,
Lizzie, I didn’t tell you—I had a letter from the inspector this
week, he said they’re going to do something about that Irish family
who never send any of their children to school. They’re going to
make them—that’ll be another five or so children next term.’ She
rolled her eyes at the thought.