Mud and Gold (78 page)

‘To get her out of sight. Aunt Susannah told
Amy she was so dirty and ruined that no one would ever want her—no
one but Charlie, anyway. She got it into Amy’s head that it’d make
Uncle Jack happy if she married Charlie. So she did. And she’s been
paying for it ever since.’

They lay together in silence while Frank
absorbed the enormity of what Lizzie had told him. Amy was always
gentle and kind. And she loved Lizzie almost as much as Frank did
himself; that in itself would be reason enough for him to be as
fond of her as if she were a sister. ‘And I made her think about
all that again today,’ Frank said. ‘I wish I could say sorry.
That’d only make it worse, though, wouldn’t it?’

‘Yes, it would. Pretend you still don’t
know, Frank.’

‘I don’t know how she’s borne it, all these
years. That ratbag deserting her like that. And having her baby
taken off her—that must be hard on a woman. And she didn’t even
want to marry Charlie, then he goes knocking her around. She must
be tougher than she looks.’

‘She is. She’s the strongest person I
know.’

April – December 1894

With a combination of bribery and reminders
of the wrath he would face from his father if he failed his
Standard One examination again, Amy managed to cajole Malcolm into
letting her give him occasional lessons all through that year.
Though she racked her brain to make the lessons interesting, she
could not raise any spark in him of her own love of books for the
sake of the window they opened on the wider world. It did not
surprise her; she had never been able to discern anything of
herself in Malcolm.

But Amy could see that the sporadic lessons
were doing some good. By hunting through her books and Charlie’s
newspapers for any references to horses, she had managed to teach
Malcolm to recognise an increasing range of words. She taught him
writing by having him copy out the names of all the farm horses on
sheets of paper she saved from the wrappings of their weekly
supplies. When he had written them out neatly enough she helped him
nail the decorated sheets onto the boys’ bedroom wall. And the
simple arithmetic that was all he would need to pass his
examination she taught by writing out several different prices of
horses from newspaper advertisements and showing him how to compare
the amounts.

It was the best she could hope to achieve
with Malcolm, and Amy tried to be satisfied with it. David could
not be left out of these lessons; in fact he entered into them with
enthusiasm, and it was soon obvious that he would have no trouble
at all passing his Standard One test that year. He had caught up
with his brother despite the two years between them, and there was
a strong chance that he would eventually pass Malcolm at
school.

Not that Malcolm would mind if his younger
brother did pass him; except that his father would make him mind,
Amy reflected. Malcolm hated school; she almost had to push him out
the door on school mornings, and he would usually come home
scowling and full of complaints about whatever Miss Metcalf had
tried to make him do.

Which made it all the more suspicious the
day Malcolm came home half an hour after David and grinning smugly.
When quizzed by Amy, David had said that he did not know where
Malcolm was, but he would be home soon; pressed further, David had
begun to look distressed, and Amy had left him in peace, guessing
that he had been sworn to secrecy.

‘Where on earth have you been all this time,
Mal?’ Amy demanded when Malcolm finally swaggered through the back
door.

‘At school,’ he said, eyeing her boldly.

‘You haven’t been at school till after
half-past-three, have you? Dave’s been home for ages.’

‘I didn’t tell on you, Mal,’ David said.

‘Shut up,’ Malcolm said, directing a scowl
at his younger brother. ‘Anyway, you can’t stop me doing what I
want,’ he told Amy.

‘It’s not me you have to worry about. Mal,
you mustn’t go wandering off by yourself. You know how wild your pa
would be if he found out—you’re just lucky he hasn’t come up for
his afternoon tea yet. I know you like to go off riding—well, you
just can’t on school days. Come on, hurry up and put your working
clothes on before your pa gets here.’

She took his arm to hurry him through the
house, but Malcolm shook her hand off.

‘I can get changed by myself,’ he said. ‘I
don’t need you hanging around me.’

‘I want to see that you don’t muck about.
Hurry, Mal.’ She gave him a push to send him on his way, and
followed closely on his heels as he went through the kitchen and
parlour, then out the front door to his bedroom, David trailing
along in their wake. ‘There’s a funny smell on your clothes, too.
You’ll have to wear a clean shirt tomorrow, and you haven’t got
many left till wash day.’

Ignoring Malcolm’s protests that he would
rather do it by himself, Amy unbuttoned his shirt while he undid
his trousers. She sniffed at the shirt and frowned. The smell was
familiar, but not one she associated with Malcolm.

Realisation came abruptly. Amy grabbed at
his arm and pulled him towards her. He was too taken aback to pull
away before she had got a good whiff of his breath.

‘Mal!’ she said in horror, ‘you smell of
beer! You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?’

‘You leave me alone,’ Malcolm said. He took
a step away and glared at her.

Amy took hold of his shoulders and gripped
them hard as he tried to wrench himself free. She had to resist the
urge to slap him. ‘Listen to me, Malcolm. You might think it’s
grown up and clever to drink beer, but it’s not. Drink is a
terrible, terrible thing. Men go… well, sort of mad when they drink
a lot. They don’t know what they’re doing, and they do things they
didn’t mean to. And it’s too late afterwards to wish they
hadn’t.’

‘Pa drinks,’ Malcolm said.

‘Yes, and look how grumpy he gets when he
has a lot to drink.’

‘He’s always grumpy.’

‘He’s a lot worse when he’s drunk,’ said
Amy. ‘I don’t want you to be like that.’

‘Des says that’s the only time his Grandpa
isn’t grumpy, when he gets drunk. His Grandpa never belts them when
he’s got some whisky, and he sings songs about Ireland.’

‘What about his pa, Mal?’ David asked. ‘Does
he get grumpy like our pa?’

‘Des hasn’t got a pa.’

David looked confused. ‘Why not? Everyone’s
got a pa.’

Malcolm shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Des says he
never had one.’

‘So you’ve been out with that Des Feenan,
have you?’ Amy pursed her lips. ‘Did you sneak off from school with
him?’

‘Huh! I never went to school today. I just
left Dave there and went off and met Des and his brother. They
pinched some beer off Des’s Uncle Mike and they let me have a bit
of it. It was nice.’

‘Mal wouldn’t take me,’ David said
plaintively. ‘He said I was too little.’

‘At least you had that much sense, Mal.
Don’t you dare take Dave off with that boy. And you shouldn’t be
going yourself, either. For goodness sake, don’t you want to get
out of Standard One this year?’

‘You said you could teach me enough so I’d
pass.’

‘I can’t do miracles. You’ve got to do a bit
of work yourself. You haven’t let me help you for a couple of
weeks, and if you won’t even go to school you’ll never pass.’

‘I’ll go sometimes,’ Malcolm muttered. He
looked away from her and said grudgingly, ‘We can do some reading
tomorrow if you want.’

‘We’d better, if I’m ever going to get you
through that exam. Mal, I wish you wouldn’t hang around with those
Feenans. And drinking beer with them! I didn’t think you’d be so
stupid.’

‘They’re fun. And I don’t have to do what
you say. You’re just a silly—’

Amy put a hand over his mouth. ‘Don’t call
me names, or I just might tell your pa what you’ve been up to. Just
because he drinks doesn’t mean he wants you to when you’re not even
nine yet. And I’m not that bad word, either. I’m your mother, and
you shouldn’t talk to me like that.’
At least I know who
fathered my children, not like those Feenan girls
.

There was little time to waste on trying to
convince Malcolm of the folly of what he had done. She put a clean
shirt on him and began buttoning it up while Malcolm pulled on his
old trousers.

‘You must have spilt half that beer down
your front, from the smell of you. Better than drinking it, I
suppose, but the smell lasts longer. It’s quite strong,’ she
fretted. ‘Your pa might notice it.’ She stopped her buttoning
abruptly. ‘I’ll have to see he doesn’t.’

She hurried from the room, and returned
moments later with a small bottle of lavender water that Lizzie had
given her for her birthday the previous year. She had the stopper
out and had sprinkled the perfume liberally over Malcolm before he
had time to take a step backwards.

‘Pooh, that stinks!’ he complained.

‘So do you. I’m covering up one stink with a
nicer one.’ She flung some of the perfume over her bodice and put
her arms around Malcolm, resisting his attempts to pull away. ‘Hold
still a minute and let me give you a cuddle.’

‘Ugh,’ Malcolm said, trying to twist out of
her grip. ‘I don’t want to.’

‘I don’t care. I’ll do my best to keep you
out of trouble, Mal, but I’m not going to tell lies for you.’

Amy barely had the boys dressed in their
work clothes and in the kitchen ready for their father when Charlie
came through the back door.

‘Stinks in here,’ he said, sniffing the air
with a look of distaste.

‘It’s my scent,’ Amy explained airily,
pouring his tea.

Charlie screwed up his face. ‘You’ve no need
to choke everyone else with that crap.’ He sniffed again. ‘Come
here, boy,’ he said, taking hold of Malcolm’s arm and pulling him
closer. ‘You smell of it too!’

‘That’s my fault,’ Amy said. ‘I was giving
Mal a cuddle before—I know I’m not really meant to cuddle him, but
it was only a little one—and I got my scent all over him. It’s a
bit strong, isn’t it?’

‘You’ve no call to go making a fool of the
boy like that,’ Charlie grumbled. ‘He’ll likely be frightening the
cows away with that stink.’

‘I hope not,’ Amy said, trying to sound
properly concerned. ‘Never mind, it’ll wear off.’

She stood on the back doorstep and waved
them off, relieved that Malcolm had the sense to be walking on the
far side of David from his father. It was worth using half her
bottle of perfume if it could protect Malcolm from his father’s
wrath, but she wished he would not keep straining her
inventiveness. The thought of Malcolm’s sampling beer at his age
left her feeling nauseated; how many of his father’s other habits
was he going to inherit?

Maybe Mal will grow out of all this
silliness
, she tried to convince herself. But Amy had no skill
at lying, least of all to herself.

*

Jack Leith’s sixtieth birthday provided an
excuse for the entire Leith family to gather together that
December, for the first time since Bill and Lily’s wedding three
years before. The clan had expanded substantially in those three
years. Arthur’s namesake grandson was now two years old, just a few
months younger than Harry and Jane’s Robert and Frank and Lizzie’s
Mickey, and four weeks the junior of John and Sophie’s Andrew.
Robbie had a little brother now, though it would be some time
before eight-month-old Donald was much of a playmate for him.

The prestige that went with having the
newest baby of all belonged to Lizzie, with little Daniel barely
six months old. The baby gurgled cheerfully as he was passed around
the verandah from lap to lap, showing the placid temperament all
Lizzie’s children seemed to be blessed with, at least during
babyhood.

Amy felt herself the odd one out as she
watched the other women with their babies. She was the youngest of
them all, but David was over seven years old and had long ago left
babyhood behind.
He doesn’t even call me Mama any more
, she
thought wistfully.

Her thoughts were shaken out of their
fruitless course when Lizzie plumped Danny onto her lap. Amy took
full advantage of the opportunity to feel a warm, plump little body
pressed against hers, and to smell the sweet, milky odour of the
baby as she kissed him and stroked his hair.

When they had all talked long enough to
catch up on any newsworthy events that had happened in the few days
since most of them had last seen one another, Amy helped Susannah
and the other women carry dish after dish of food outside. The men
spread rugs under a small group of trees near the house, while the
children raced about excitedly at the sight of their delayed
lunch.

A picnic lunch was the most sensible way to
cope with a family group that numbered sixteen adults plus their
assorted children, but the informality of the occasion seemed to be
troubling Susannah. Something was annoying her, anyway, Amy could
see. Susannah’s lips were pressed together in an even thinner line
than their usual one, and she glared at anyone who spoke to her.
Even the normally imperturbable Sophie looked somewhat cowed, as
though she had received a tongue lashing from Susannah that
morning.

‘My goodness, you look down in the mouth
today, Susannah,’ Edie remarked. Amy tried to make herself
inconspicuous as she squeezed past her aunt, who was taking up a
good deal of the free space in the passage. ‘Whatever’s wrong with
you? And on a happy day like this, too,’ Edie chided mildly.

‘Happy, is it?’ Susannah said, a wounded
note in her voice. Amy decided to lurk in the safety of the
kitchen, where she could peek at the two women through the door
jamb, until Susannah finished talking to Edie. It was better to be
accused of listening at keyholes than to give her stepmother a
fresh target for her complaints. ‘Perhaps you wouldn’t think it was
quite so wonderful if you’d been up since daybreak making food for
that horde out there. And after the night I’ve had. I hardly had a
wink of sleep. Not that I expect anyone to be very concerned about
me, of course. No one ever is.’