Mud and Gold Page 55

  ‘It’ll be no problem making the payment to the bank this year, that’s one thing,’ he said. ‘But I was already pretty happy about that, the milk cheques have been good this last year.

  ‘No, I think I’ll put most of it into doing the place up a bit. That cow shed of mine’s not fit for the Jerseys, it’s time I built one with a decent concrete floor like that dairy advisor fellow told me about.’

  ‘Do you know how to do concrete?’

  Frank shrugged. Right now he felt as though he could do anything. ‘I’ll figure it out. I’ll ask a few people, there must be someone around here who’s done concrete.’

  ‘Pa’ll say you’re mad. He’ll say there’s nothing wrong with a dirt floor in a cow shed.’

  ‘Your pa said I was mad to buy the Jerseys.’

  ‘I know. Pa’s a real know-all, I’m glad you don’t take any notice of him.’

  Frank savoured the thought of telling Arthur what the bull had sold for. ‘You know, I’d only ever thought about how much money I’d get from milking the Jerseys. I’d never really thought about being able to sell them. Maybe in a year or so when I’ve built the herd up a bit I’ll be able to sell the odd heifer. Not for anything like thirty pounds, of course, but those girls’ll be worth a bit. Especially if… no, that’s a mad idea.’

  ‘What?’ Lizzie prompted.

  ‘Oh, that Jackson fellow said I should take a couple of the Jerseys up to Auckland. They have a really big show up there, he says, much bigger than the Ruatane one. He said my cows are as good as any of the ones they show up there.’

  ‘Of course they are,’ Lizzie agreed at once.

  ‘He reckons if they won a prize up there I’d be able to sell them easy as anything. I won’t do it, of course.’

  ‘Why not?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Why shouldn’t you?’

  ‘I couldn’t do that! Heck, I’ve never even been to Tauranga! Go all that way without you—we couldn’t take the kids, and Mickey’s too young to leave.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t go. Who’d look after this place while you’re away?’

  ‘Lizzie, you couldn’t!’ Frank protested. ‘Not run the farm as well as look after the house and all the little ones.’

  ‘I wouldn’t try doing the farm work. What’s the point of having all those brothers if they’re never any use to me? Pa’s got more sons than he knows what to do with, he can lend us one for a few days. No, two,’ she corrected herself. ‘One to do the work here, with me keeping an eye on him to see he does it properly. And another one to see you behave yourself in Auckland.’

  ‘Your pa would never lend me your brothers. He’d think it was a mad idea, racing off to Auckland,’ Frank said, forgetting that he had thought it a mad idea himself a few minutes before.

  ‘Not when you tell him how much money you’ve got for that bull,’ Lizzie answered smartly. ‘That’ll knock him back a bit.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Frank allowed. ‘I don’t know, I don’t think I want to go, really. Anyway, it’s not for months yet, forget about it for now. Hey, doing up the cow shed isn’t going to take anything like thirty pounds. I thought I might slap a new coat of paint on the house, too, smarten it up a bit. I might even fix the verandah roof where it’s saggy. Would you like that?’

  ‘As long as I can keep those kids out of the paint. Yes, it’d be good, the place does look a bit scruffy on the outside.’

  ‘Mmm. Hey, when did you last have a new dress?’

  ‘I made this one just last month.’

  ‘No, not a plain dress for every day like that, a really fancy one.’

  ‘What do I want fancy dresses for? I’ve got one dress that’s good enough for church, that’s all I need. For anything special I’ve got my wedding dress. Frank, you’re not getting silly ideas, are you?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s a silly idea for you to have nice things. I haven’t seen you in a really nice dress since… I don’t know when.’

  ‘So you think I’m like the house, eh? A bit scruffy on the outside?’

  ‘Well… the outside doesn’t match up to the inside, anyway. I think you need a new dress, Lizzie.’

  ‘Rubbish. I told you, I’ve got my wedding dress for when I need anything flash.’

  Frank digested this for a moment, then frowned. ‘I haven’t seen your wedding dress for a while. You don’t seem to be wearing it.’

  ‘I haven’t been anywhere flash.’

  ‘What about little Arfie’s christening? You just wore the same dress you wear every Sunday.’

  ‘Oh, stop going on about it,’ Lizzie said. She seemed to be avoiding his eyes. ‘If you want to spend some money, Maudie could do with a new pair of boots.’

  ‘She can have some, then. But you’re going to have a new dress, Lizzie Kelly.’

  ‘No, I’m—’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ Frank interrupted. ‘I’ve decided you are. I know why you’re not wearing your wedding dress these days, too.’ Lizzie shot him a look that spelled danger, but he ploughed on regardless. ‘It doesn’t fit any more, does it?’

  Lizzie scowled at him. ‘I can’t help it, it’s all these babies. Every time I have one I seem to slip on a bit more weight. I don’t need you throwing off at me about it.’

  ‘Hey, I don’t mind.’ Frank took hold of her hand and persuaded her on to his lap, then slipped his arms around her and squeezed. ‘There, you see? I can still get my arms around you no trouble. I don’t want you any skinnier than that—I like plenty to cuddle.’

  ‘I can’t fit my dress any more,’ Lizzie muttered. ‘Amy still fits her wedding dress.’

  ‘Amy’s too skinny. Anyway, she’s got to fit it—her miserable old so-and-so of a husband probably wouldn’t buy her a new one. Your husband says you’re to have a new dress.’

  ‘It’s just a waste of money. Oh, I suppose I could make a new one—I saw some cheap cotton the other day in town, it looked quite nice.’

  ‘No,’ said Frank. ‘Nothing cheap. A really flash dress, like your wedding dress.’

  ‘Silk, you mean?’

  ‘Is that flash? All right then, silk.’

  Lizzie shook her head. ‘No, I’m not wasting money on a silk dress. Cotton’s good enough. I’ll—’

  ‘How about doing what you promised for a change, Lizzie?’ Frank interrupted, speaking as sternly as he was capable of.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I remember hearing you promise to… what was it? “To love, cherish, and to obey”? How about doing some obeying?’

  Lizzie opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. ‘All right,’ she said, though Frank found her sudden docility less than convincing. ‘What colour, then?’

  ‘I don’t know, what colour do you want?’

  ‘No, you have to say. I don’t want a new dress at all, remember?’

  ‘Well…’ He looked at her eyes staring boldly back at him and admired their colour. ‘Blue,’ he announced.

  ‘Right. What sort of material?’

  ‘Silk. I already said that.’

  ‘But what kind of silk?’

  ‘Are there different kinds?’ Frank asked with a slight sinking feeling.

  ‘Oh, yes, lots of them. Silk satin, silk crepe, silk—’

  ‘Heck, I don’t know about that stuff. You pick a nice kind.’

  ‘Frank, if you’re going to get all bossy on me,’ Lizzie said in a voice of irreproachable sweetness, ‘you’ve got to do it properly. You’ll have to tell me exactly what sort of material, and then what style you want. I don’t trust myself to choose, I might do it wrong.’

  Frank let his arms drop to his sides, leaving Lizzie perched awkwardly on his lap. ‘You know, sometimes I wish I’d taken your pa’s advice about teaching you how to behave. Here you go pretending to do as you’re told, and you’re just getting your own way as usual. How the heck am I meant to know what sort of material? All right then, forget about the dress and suit yourself. You always do.’ For a moment he considered pushing her off his l
ap, but he could not quite bring himself to. Instead he pretended to ignore her; this took some doing, with her very tangible presence making itself felt on his knees.

  Lizzie looked at him in apparent astonishment, while Frank kept up what he hoped was a dignified silence. The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile, and she nestled against him.

  ‘Taffeta,’ she announced.

  ‘Eh? What are you on about now?’

  ‘Silk taffeta. That’s what I want. A blue silk taffeta dress, all stiff and nice. That’ll hide the cuddly bits.’

  Frank gave in and put his arms around her again. ‘Lizzie, you’re an annoying old chook sometimes, you know that? You’ve got to have your own way, don’t you?’

  ‘Well, now I’ve had a chance to think about it, maybe it’s not such a waste as all that, not when you’ve got that money you didn’t expect to. I didn’t like you getting all bossy on me, that’s all.’

  ‘Silly of me to try, really. You’re so good at it, there’s no need for two bosses in the one family.’

  ‘I am not,’ said Lizzie. ‘One of us has got to be sensible, I don’t see how that makes me bossy.’ She let herself be cuddled for a few minutes, then extricated herself from Frank’s embrace and went to finish washing the dishes. ‘Make sure you save a bit of money after you’ve done all this stuff with cow sheds and silk dresses,’ she remarked over her shoulder. ‘You’ll need it.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For that trip to Auckland, of course!’

  *

  All that year, Amy followed with interest the increasingly intense discussions in the newspapers over the question of whether women should be allowed to vote. Her reading was of necessity often several days out of date, as she had to wait until Charlie had discarded his newspaper before she got a chance for more than a glance at it, but if a particular issue discussed the suffrage question she usually had advance warning in the disgusted mutterings she would hear as Charlie worked his way slowly through the paper.

  ‘Those interfering bitches, trying to poke their noses in to stop a man having a drink when he pleases,’ indicated that there was some news about the temperance movement.

  ‘There’s some useless men out there, don’t know how to keep their wives in line.’ That was equally likely to mean more temperance news or an item on women’s suffrage.

  ‘Those politician fellows are all half mad. They surely can’t be that stupid.’ That was a sure-fire clue to news about the voting question; and as the year wore on, though the exact phrasing varied, it was an opinion Charlie expressed more and more often.

  It was early in September when Charlie looked at his newspaper and flung it down in disgust. ‘Mad buggers in Wellington! They’ve bloody well done it!’ Amy knew better than to make any comment, but after that introduction it was no surprise when she gathered up the discarded paper and found that the Legislative Council had at last passed a Bill for women’s suffrage.

  She studied the details, lost in admiration of the women who had worked so hard, and the men who had had the sense to support them, then tidied the paper away and got on with her work. But while her hands were busy all the rest of that afternoon, she set her mind to work on a more subtle task: how she would persuade Charlie to let her vote in the November election.

  Even if he had not been so vocally opposed to the very idea of women’s franchise, Charlie seemed to think she was little better than a simpleton, and therefore not worth wasting the privilege of a vote on. It would be of no use merely to ask him; she would have to make him want to let her vote. Amy bided her time as the election drew nearer, observing Charlie’s mood carefully, and in the meantime she read everything she could get her hands on about the candidates for the Bay of Plenty electorate. She fully intended to cast her vote intelligently.

  A few days before the deadline for voter enrolment, Charlie still seemed to be grumbling as much as ever.

  ‘They’ll be giving votes to the cows and horses next,’ he complained one day. ‘Might as well do, for all the use votes are to a pack of meddling women.’ That was not a good opening, and Amy let it rest.

  On his return from the factory next day, Charlie came into the kitchen and sat down at the table muttering under his breath. ‘They’re mad, the lot of them,’ he announced.

  ‘Who is, Charlie?’ Amy asked as she poured his tea.

  ‘Those men. The lot of them.’ He took a gulp of tea, then put the cup down heavily. ‘They’re letting their women vote!’

  He obviously expected her to look surprised, and Amy did her best. ‘Are they really? What, all the other men?’

  ‘Aye, pretty much the lot of them. That uncle of yours—you know what he came out with? “Edie’s got more sense than some men I could name.” ’ Amy could imagine her uncle saying it, and the look he would have cast at Charlie as he made the remark; Arthur’s sentiment had clearly been lost on Charlie.

  He made a noise of disgust. ‘Henpecked lot of fools. They’ll regret it,’ he said sententiously. ‘Women should learn to keep their place. Give them an inch—no good will come of it.’

  ‘Have another biscuit,’ Amy said, pushing the plate towards him. He took two biscuits, then studied her narrowly.

  ‘You needn’t think you’re voting.’

  ‘Oh, no, I can tell you don’t think it’s right for women,’ Amy said, careful to sound unconcerned. ‘It’s a shame, though. It’s not fair on you, really.’

  ‘Eh? What are you blethering about?’

  ‘Well, it’s not fair when you think about it. I mean, here you are sticking up for what you think’s right, and you’re worse off than all the others.’

  ‘What’s this crap? Talk sense, woman.’

  ‘Those other men. They’ll tell their wives who to vote for—Lizzie was saying just the other day she’d asked Frank how she should vote—so it’s like the husbands will all get two votes.’ She raised her eyes to look straight into his. ‘But you’ll only get one.’

  Charlie leaned back in his chair and slowly digested this idea. ‘Two votes each,’ he muttered. ‘The cunning buggers.’

  Amy kept silence, careful not to interrupt the process of his thoughts. He was still muttering under his breath when he left the kitchen, but she smiled to herself when she was safely alone. He had taken the bait.

  She had to wait until the eve of the enrolment deadline to be certain. Charlie rose to put out the lamp, making Amy hastily bundle up her sewing for the night, then remarked as he bent over it, ‘I’m taking you into town tomorrow to sign up for the voting. I’ll not be missing out on my rights—there’ll be two votes from this farm.’

  ‘Just as you say, Charlie,’ Amy said, turning her head aside to hide her smile.

  *

  On election day Ruatane had a festive air when Charlie drew the gig to a halt and tied the horse to a hitching rail a block from the court house. It was no use trying to find a closer hitching place; the main street was full of people milling about, coming in and out of the court house or standing around talking to friends and neighbours.

  At first glance Amy thought women far outnumbered men, but as they worked their way through the crowd she realised that the numbers were roughly equal. It was simply that the men, universally dressed in black or grey, were overshadowed by their womenfolk parading in dresses of every shade, their clothes in many cases decorated with ribbons in the suffragist colours of purple, gold and white.

  And what an array of dresses there were! Amy had never seen so many women in the one place all obviously wearing their best clothes. She did not feel at all out of place in her wedding dress complete with her special hat.

  ‘Now, do you think you can remember what I told you?’ Charlie asked her yet again. ‘You’re to vote for Burton. Can you remember that?’

  ‘Yes, I think I can manage,’ Amy said, trying not to allow her irritation to show. He had catechised her on the subject all the way into town, making her repeat the name of his chosen candidate every few minutes.
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  ‘They’ll give you a bit of paper, and you’re to mark the one you want…’ Charlie looked around disapprovingly at the women laughing and joking near him. ‘You’ll maybe get in a muddle, trying to find your way around the bit of paper.’

  ‘I can read, Charlie,’ Amy said in a tightly controlled voice. ‘Perhaps they’ve made it easier this time, anyway, with all the women voting.’

  Sarcasm was always lost on Charlie. ‘Aye, they maybe have.’

  ‘There’s Frank and Lizzie! Oh, and Harry and Jane are over there.’

  Lizzie spotted Amy at the same time, and ploughed through the crowd towards them, her new taffeta dress swishing as she walked. ‘This is fun, eh?’ Lizzie said, eyes sparkling. ‘All these people! I’ve cast my vote,’ she said, full of self-importance. ‘You know, just like Mr Seddon said.’ She looked around at the sea of faces. ‘Nearly everyone’s here. Jane said Aunt Susannah didn’t want to come, she says it’s not ladylike to vote, so Jane and Sophie left all the kids with her! I bet that put her nose out of joint. Lily’s here somewhere, come and see—’

  ‘You didn’t come here to gossip, you came for the voting,’ Charlie interrupted. ‘Come on, woman, we’ve not got the whole day to waste.’ He pushed ahead of Amy, clearing a path, and she followed in his wake with the children close at her heels.

  Charlie waited for her at the top of the courthouse steps. ‘That wife of Kelly’s will have put the name out of your head with her prattling. They’ll all have voted for William Kelly, I’ll be bound.’

  ‘Lizzie says she thinks he might be a cousin of Frank’s father,’ Amy said.

  ‘Aye, I’ve heard that rubbish. He’s a Liberal, I know that. I’m not voting for a Liberal—that’s Seddon’s lot.’

  A few steps more and they were inside the courthouse, where a man stood ready to issue them with papers and direct them to booths. ‘Now, you’re to vote for Burton. Can you remember that?’

  ‘Yes, Charlie. Mr Burton.’

  Charlie reached into a pocket of his jacket. ‘I maybe should write it down on a bit of paper for you.’