Mud and Gold (82 page)

‘Frank, don’t ramble on. Tell me the story
so it makes sense, not just bits and pieces like that.’

‘All right.’ Frank read ahead, then looked
up from the paper to check that Lizzie was still listening. ‘It’s
about this woman down south somewhere—Winton, the place’s called,
I’ve never heard of it.’

‘Neither have I,’ said Lizzie. ‘It can’t be
much of a place.’

‘No. Anyway, she had all these babies at her
place—not her own, other people’s babies. She was meant to be
looking after them, but apparently she was doing them in and
burying them in the garden.’

‘She didn’t! Does it really say that,
Frank?’

‘It sure does. They’re going to hang her, it
says. Well, they’ll have a trial first, but it sounds like she’s
guilty, all right. That’ll be the first time they’ve ever hanged a
woman in New Zealand.’

‘She must be mad or something. What were
people doing, leaving their babies with a madwoman?’

Frank shrugged. ‘I suppose they didn’t know
she was crazy. It says in the paper there’s a lot of women doing
what she did—not killing the babies, just looking after them for
money. Baby farming, they call it.’

‘Looking after them for money?’ Lizzie
frowned. ‘Why would anyone pay that woman to look after
babies?’

Frank glanced down at the paper again.
‘Well, it says the mothers were mostly girls with no husbands. This
Minnie Dean woman would find people to adopt the babies, and the
mothers would give her money to look after their babies until
someone adopted them. Maybe she got sick of looking after them all.
They think there’s a lot of these baby farmers around—they say the
government’s going to do something about it. It’s awful, eh?’

He raised his eyes from the newspaper, and
was startled to see that Lizzie had gone pale.

‘Hey, don’t get upset,’ he said, reaching
across the table to take hold of her unresponsive hand. ‘I didn’t
mean to worry you, reading that stuff out. It’s probably a load of
rubbish, anyway—you know what the papers are like.’

Lizzie’s first words when she recovered her
voice startled Frank. ‘Saddle up one of the horses for me.’

‘Eh? What do you want me to do that for? You
haven’t even finished your pudding yet.’

‘Now, Danny shouldn’t wake up for half an
hour or so as long as you don’t go making too much noise. You can
put Mickey down as soon as he finishes his pudding—hurry up,
Mickey, don’t play with your food,’ she exhorted the
three-year-old. She took hold of his bowl and began spooning food
into his mouth, talking to Frank as she did so. ‘Give Danny some
bread and milk when he wakes up, that should keep him quiet till I
get home. I might be a while, but you’ll just have to wait till
Maudie’s back from school to look after the little ones before you
can go out on the farm.’ She looked over her shoulder and frowned.
‘Don’t just sit there, Frank! Hurry up and get that horse ready for
me.’

‘Where are you going?’ Frank asked.

‘Use your head! How do you think Amy’s going
to feel about all this?’

‘All what? You mean that story in the paper?
What’s it got to do with Amy?’

‘Don’t be so stupid! Of course it—’ Lizzie
stopped abruptly, and pulled a face. ‘No, I’m the one who’s being
stupid, not you. I never did tell you the ins and outs. You know
that trouble of Amy’s before she got married? Well, she tried a few
times to talk to me about it when she first came home from
Auckland. I used to just shut her up. I thought she was upsetting
herself more, thinking about it all the time.’

‘That’s probably right,’ said Frank.

‘Maybe. I’m not so sure now. Anyway, she
told me that when she was in the nursing home some woman came to
see her. Aunt Susannah had arranged it, apparently. The woman came
and talked to Amy, then later she came back and took the little one
away. She told Amy she took little ones like that—you know, with no
fathers—and found people to adopt them. Uncle Jack gave her money
to do it for Amy’s.’ She looked seriously at Frank. ‘Now do you see
why I’ve got to go up and see her?’

‘You think the woman was like the one in the
paper?’ Frank asked, shaken.

‘I don’t know. But I know what Amy’ll be
thinking.’

*

Amy felt hands gripping her arms, shaking
her. Her eyes gradually focussed on the figure leaning over her.
Lizzie? What’s Lizzie doing here?

‘Poor love.’ The distress in Lizzie’s voice
drew Amy into full awareness of her surroundings. She found that
she had slid from her chair on to the floor and was slumped against
one leg of the table, the newspaper still clutched in one hand.
‘Come on, get up,’ said Lizzie. ‘I’ll help you.’

Amy’s body seemed to have gone limp, but
Lizzie managed to lift her onto the chair. ‘There, that’s better,
isn’t it?’ Lizzie said.

‘She’s dead,’ Amy said bleakly. ‘They’ve
killed her. They’ve cut her throat and buried her in the ground. I
gave her away, and now she’s dead.’ She collapsed against Lizzie’s
encircling arms, her body racked with sobs.

Lizzie held her close and made crooning
noises. When the flood of tears began to subside, she eased her
grip.

‘You don’t know that, Amy. You’ve no reason
to think anything awful happened to her. Just because there was one
mad woman down south, it doesn’t mean they’re all like that.’

‘No, I don’t know,’ Amy said. ‘I don’t know
if she’s dead or alive, or if she’s being looked after, or
anything. I gave her away. That tiny little thing, all soft and
trusting, and I gave her away to a woman I’d never seen
before.’

‘It was because you wanted the best for
her—that’s why you did it. You wanted her to have a good home.’

The kind rationality in Lizzie’s voice
stabbed like cruelty. ‘The best for her? To be murdered and thrown
in someone’s garden like a bit of old meat?’ Amy fought for a
moment against Lizzie’s embrace, then went limp, too weak to
struggle.

‘I could bear it, you see,’ she said, her
voice muffled against Lizzie’s shoulder. ‘I could bear not being
allowed to keep Ann as long as I could think about her, and imagine
them making a fuss of her. How she’d be dressed in pretty clothes
and have fancy dolls and things, and how they’d love her. I thought
they’d love her nearly as much as I did. I do love her,’ she
whispered. ‘And now I don’t know if she’s dead or alive. I don’t
know if I can bear it.’

‘Amy, don’t. You’ll make yourself ill or
something.’

‘I can’t help it. I keep seeing her lying on
my lap looking up at me, then lying all still like she’s dead.’ Amy
gave a violent shudder, and made an effort to calm her voice. ‘I’ll
come right in a bit, Lizzie—I’ll have to, won’t I? I can’t sit
about feeling sorry for myself all day. You go off home now, I’ll
be all right.’

‘No, I’m going to take you home with me for
a bit,’ Lizzie said, suddenly decisive. ‘Just so you can have some
peace and quiet.’

‘I can’t,’ Amy said, shaking her head.

‘Yes, you can.’

‘Lizzie, I can’t just wander off with you
like that—it’s lovely of you to worry about me, and I’m sorry I
haven’t been very grateful, but I’ve got to stay here. I’ve baking
to do, and I’ll have to start getting dinner on in an hour or so.
The boys’ll be home in a while, too, and they’ll be after something
to eat. And Charlie’ll want his afternoon tea, I’ve got to make
something for that.’

‘Too bad,’ Lizzie decreed. ‘They can look
after themselves for once. Now, don’t you start arguing with
me.’

She stood up and began bustling around the
kitchen, gathering biscuits from several tins and piling them onto
a plate. ‘See, there’s plenty of biscuits left. And Charlie must
know how to make a pot of tea, for goodness sake! You’ll have time
to get dinner on after you’ve had a little rest at my place.’

The thought of escaping briefly from
Charlie’s house, with its constant reminders of his brooding
presence, was cruelly tempting. ‘I can’t, Lizzie.’

‘Why not? What excuses are you going to drag
out now?’

‘How can I go and ask Charlie when I’m in
this state?’ Amy said. ‘He’ll want to know what’s wrong with me,
and I couldn’t bear talking to him about it.’ Belatedly she
recalled the promise he had extracted from her on their wedding
night.
And I’m not allowed to talk about Ann, anyway. He’d hit
me if I told him
.

‘Don’t tell him, then. You won’t be gone for
long—just leave him a note or something.’

Amy shook her head. ‘I can’t do that. I’m
not allowed to leave the farm without asking.’

‘That nonsense of his! Why on earth does he
make you do that all the time?’

‘Because I’m a bad woman, Lizzie,’ Amy said,
her slender self-control threatening to slip away as she spoke.
‘I’m bad and I can’t be trusted. I’m the sort of woman who’d give
away her baby to someone she’d never seen before.’

‘Stop that,’ Lizzie said sharply. ‘I won’t
listen to that sort of talk. Now, don’t you worry about him—I’ll
ask him myself.’

‘You’d better not—you’ll get him in an awful
mood if you’re rude to him. Charlie’s not like Frank, you
know.’

‘I’m never rude to Frank! No, I’ll sort it
out with His Lordship—don’t worry, I’ll be as meek and mild as
anything.’

‘You?’ Amy said dubiously.

‘Yes,’ said Lizzie. ‘I saw him from the road
as I came up, he’s not far away. You get your cloak and boots on,
and by the time you’re ready I’ll be back.’ She hurried from the
house, leaving a dazed Amy to obey her.

*

Though Lizzie was capable of playing a wide
variety of roles when the need arose, meekness was one she was
rather rusty on. But she did her best.

‘Charlie, is it all right if I take Amy down
to my place for a little while?’ she asked. ‘She’s taken a bit
poorly, I want to get her sorted out.’

‘What’s wrong with her?’ Charlie asked, his
eyes narrowing.

‘Oh, just a woman’s problem.’

Charlie looked blankly at her. ‘What does
that mean?’

His ignorance took Lizzie aback. ‘It’s…
well, you know… things women get wrong with them. Things to do with
their insides and all that.’

Charlie grunted. ‘Some nonsense of hers.’
But Lizzie was pleased to see that he looked discomforted by the
reference to women’s ‘insides’.

‘So you won’t mind if I take her home for a
bit?’ she pressed. ‘Just an hour or so.’

Charlie considered for a few moments, then
said, ‘All right. See you get her back in time to get the meal on,’
he called after Lizzie’s retreating form.

*

‘You’re sure he said I was allowed?’ Amy
asked as she accepted Lizzie’s leg-up onto the horse.

‘He said you can stay as long as you
like.’

The outrageous suggestion shocked Amy into
disbelief. ‘He did not say that, Lizzie!’

‘Well, he should have,’ Lizzie said briskly.
‘He said you could come with me, that’s all you need to worry
about.’ She clambered onto the saddle and they set off at a lively
walk.

Amy leaned against Lizzie’s back, content to
do as she was told. But when they passed the school a fresh wave of
guilt assailed her.

‘I shouldn’t be wandering off like this,’
she fretted. ‘I should be there to get the boys their milk and
cakes.’

‘Rubbish,’ said Lizzie. ‘They’re not babies,
they’re capable of finding the milk jug. Why do you have to be
there to wait on them?’

‘I want to look after them. I gave my baby
away to a stranger—at least I can try and be a good mother to the
boys.’ She loosened her hold on Lizzie’s waist, ready to slide from
the horse. ‘Let me down, I’m going back.’

‘No, you’re not,’ said Lizzie. ‘Hold on
tight.’ She gave the horse a sharp flick with her riding crop,
along with a hard kick, and the startled beast broke into a canter.
Amy gave a yelp of alarm, flung her arms around Lizzie and held on
desperately as she was shaken and bounced on the horse’s bare rump
all the way to Frank’s farm.

She slid to the ground and leaned against
the horse’s heaving flanks, rubbing her own tender rump. ‘That was
a mean trick, Lizzie—cantering with me stuck behind you.’

‘I had to do it, you were being silly.
Anyway, you’re here now. Let’s get you inside, then you can have a
lie-down.’

Amy pushed an unruly lock of hair away from
her face, aware of how much had escaped from its pins. Her fingers
touched the stickiness of dried tears, and she knew how red and
swollen her face must be. ‘I must look a fright—what’ll Frank think
when he sees me in this state?’

‘I’ll tell him you’re not well. Don’t worry
about him, men never take notice of that sort of thing.’ Lizzie
took hold of Amy’s arm and led her into the house.

Frank was sitting at the table, attempting
to add up a column of figures while he balanced Danny on one knee.
Mickey sat opposite them, his face wreathed in smiles as he crammed
jam tarts into his mouth.

‘What are you doing out of bed, Michael
Kelly?’ Lizzie demanded. The little boy’s grin disappeared when he
saw his mother’s expression.

He turned to his father for support. ‘Papa
said I could.’

‘He said he wasn’t sleepy,’ Frank said,
looking guilty. ‘I put him in bed and told him he had to stay
there, but he started bawling, and that woke Danny up, then they
were both bawling. So I thought I’d better get them up. He’s been
pretty good—aw, heck, Mickey, look at that stuff all over your
face! Sorry, Lizzie, the cakes were keeping him quiet and I sort of
forgot to watch him. Nice to see you, Amy,’ he added as an
afterthought. Amy could see that he was avoiding looking closely at
her tear-streaked face.

‘Right,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’m going to get that
belt. If anyone who’s meant to be in bed is still in this kitchen
by the time I get back…’ She let the statement hang in the air as
she led Amy up the passage and into the front bedroom.