Mud and Gold Page 61

  Photographing Jack and Susannah with Jack’s five children was the next task. ‘I want my girl on this side,’ Jack instructed, patting the right arm of the chair Thomas had carried out from the parlour for him. Amy sat down, took her father’s hand in hers and squeezed it. Jack seemed to have put whatever it was that he and Susannah had been arguing about out of his mind. It was good to see her father happy, though Amy could not help but notice how deeply the lines on his forehead and around his eyes seemed to have been etched in the last few years. The knowledge that her father was growing old sent a pang through her, but she thrust it down. Today was a day for celebrating, not for thinking mournful thoughts.

  ‘John, you stand here,’ said Jack. ‘You’re the oldest. Harry, you stand beside Amy, and the little fellows can sit on the grass in front of me.’ Susannah stood behind the chair, resting her hand lightly on Jack’s shoulder, and Mr Hatfield took several shots so as to be sure of success.

  ‘What about one with the kids?’ Harry said, beckoning Jane over.

  Jack agreed, declaring that he wanted a picture of himself with all his descendants. Sophie and Jane retrieved those of their children old enough to walk and lined up for the photograph, and David ran over to stand beside Amy when he saw his cousins lining up.

  ‘Do you want him in it?’ Jack asked Amy, flicking his hand in Charlie’s direction. Charlie settled the issue by refusing to participate, and no one seemed disappointed at his absence.

  Malcolm eyed the group dubiously and looked reluctant to join in. ‘You ask him, Pa,’ Amy said when her attempts at cajoling met with a defiant look. ‘He doesn’t take any notice of me.’ She tried to ignore the disapproving sniff from Susannah.

  ‘Come on, Mal,’ said Jack. ‘We can’t have a photo without you. You’re the most important fellow here.’

  ‘Am I?’ Malcolm asked, drifting a little closer. ‘Why?’

  ‘Come and sit by me and I’ll tell you,’ Jack encouraged. ‘I might even have a toffee in here somewhere.’ He patted his jacket pockets.

  ‘Pa!’ Amy protested. ‘Mal doesn’t need lollies, not after the feed he’s just had.’ She could not help laughing at the sight of Malcolm letting himself be tempted by the mention of sweets.

  Malcolm came over to sit by Jack’s feet, close to Thomas and George. ‘That’s the boy,’ Jack said. ‘Now, you know why I’ve got to have you in my birthday picture?’ Malcolm shook his head. ‘Because you’re my oldest grandchild, that’s why!’

  Jack slipped the promised toffee into Malcolm’s hand, too engrossed to see that all trace of laughter had been wiped from Amy’s face. He’s not. He’s not your oldest grandchild. Ann is. My little girl—my little Ann. Everyone pretends you never happened.

  It took Amy some time to get her feelings sufficiently under control to manage a shaky smile for the camera. As soon as the photographs were finished she walked away from the rest of the group to get what privacy she could. She wanted to run away into the bush, to hide from everyone and fling herself down beside the Waimarama to weep in solitude. But Charlie would follow her, intent on retribution; she was not allowed to ‘wander’. Instead she pretended to study with interest the climbing rose that trailed up one side of the house, reaching out a hand to stroke the small pink blooms that she could see only through a blur of tears.

  ‘They’re pretty, aren’t they?’ Frank’s voice close behind her made Amy jump. ‘We’ve got some like that at our place.’

  Amy blinked rapidly to clear the tears, and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes before turning to face Frank. He was leading Mickey by one hand, steadying the two-year-old’s attempts to run.

  ‘I had to take Mickey around the back,’ Frank said. ‘All that lemonade he’s been drinking.’

  Amy nodded, swallowed to clear the lump in her throat, and knelt to straighten Mickey’s clothes, which Frank had left twisted at the front after pulling the little boy’s drawers closed. ‘That’s better, isn’t it, Mickey.’ She gave him a kiss before standing up.

  ‘Thanks, Amy, I didn’t notice that,’ said Frank.

  ‘Lizzie’s left you in charge of him, has she?’

  ‘Mmm, just for a bit. She’s gone inside to give Danny a feed. Boy, can that kid drink! He wants feeding all the time. Lizzie says he’s slowing down now, though. It’s a good thing, too—I reckon Lizzie was a bit more tired with him than she’s been with the others. She’s all right now, but it took her a while to come right. She had that trouble with sore legs, too, before Danny arrived. Of course, he was a big baby,’ Frank added proudly. ‘The biggest of them all.’

  ‘Yes, he was,’ Amy agreed. ‘More like one of my babies. He’s growing well, too.’

  ‘He sure is. He’s taken it out of Lizzie, though. I think she should have a bit of a rest before the next one.’

  Amy was more touched that Frank trusted her enough to share such a personal thought than embarrassed that he should do so. She was about to rest her hand on his arm and say something reassuring when she saw Charlie look up from his seat near the beer barrel and stare at her through narrowed eyes.

  She was too weary to think of some polite excuse; the truth would have to do. ‘I’m sorry, Frank, I can’t talk to you by myself—I’ll get in trouble if I do.’ She walked away before he had the chance to reply.

  Amy almost collided with Thomas and George as they ran from the house wearing their everyday dungarees.

  ‘Watch out, you two.’ She lifted her arms as if to fend off an attack. ‘Now, how did you talk Mother into letting you put your old clothes on?’

  ‘We didn’t,’ George said. ‘Tom asked Pa, and he said we could.’

  ‘But he said to keep out of Mother’s way, so we’re going down to the creek,’ Thomas added. ‘You want to come?’

  Amy glanced over at Charlie, who seemed to have once more lost interest in her now that she was only talking to children. It was tempting to let the boys’ enthusiasm drive out her dark mood. ‘I wouldn’t mind a paddle. I’d better not, though. Uncle Charlie’s starting to look a bit tired, we might have to go home soon.’

  ‘Come and see our tree house first, Amy,’ said Thomas. Amy let herself be tugged over to a large puriri that had been left standing for the sake of the small amount of shade it gave the lower part of the garden.

  She admired the rough platform the boys had made in the tree, but refused all attempts to persuade her to climb up for a better look at it.

  ‘Ladies don’t climb trees,’ she told them. ‘Not in their good clothes, anyway,’ she added, remembering her first clumsy attempts at rigging a clothesline.

  The boys slithered down the trunk and dropped to the ground beside her. ‘I’m going to have to stop calling you my little brothers soon,’ Amy said, noticing how much they had grown in the last few months. ‘You’re taller than me now—even you, George. Sit down with me a minute before you go rushing off to the creek—you won’t make me feel so little if we’re sitting down.’

  ‘Where’s Ma?’ Thomas asked, looking anxiously over at the guests.

  ‘She’s talking to Lily, see? Don’t worry, she won’t think of looking for you for a bit. And don’t forget you’re meant to say “Mother”.’

  ‘Only when she can hear,’ George said with a scowl in his mother’s direction.

  The three of them sat down with their backs against the broad trunk. ‘Have you two had a falling out with Mother?’ Amy asked.

  ‘Sort of,’ said Thomas.

  ‘Her and Pa had a big row last night,’ George volunteered. ‘It was about us.’

  ‘Mother wants to get rid of us, and Pa doesn’t.’

  ‘Of course she doesn’t!’ Amy protested. ‘You mustn’t say such things!’

  ‘She does,’ said George. ‘She wants to send us away.’

  ‘Pa won’t let her, though,’ Thomas said. ‘He says he wants us here with him.’

  ‘You two have been listening at the bedroom wall again, haven’t you?’ said Amy. Both boys refused to m
eet her eyes. ‘That’s how you’ve got such a silly idea in your heads. Now, why would Mother want to send you away?’

  ‘To school,’ Thomas said. ‘She wants us to go to Auckland, to a special school.’

  ‘A grandma school,’ George put in.

  ‘It’s not a grandma school,’ said Thomas. ‘It’s a word like that, but it’s not grandma.’

  ‘It is,’ George insisted. ‘Mother says we could live with Grandma and Grandpa and go to a grandma school.’

  ‘A grammar school, I think she must have said,’ Amy suggested. ‘The Church of England Grammar School. That’s in Auckland.’

  ‘Yes, that’s it!’ said Thomas.

  ‘Mother said that’d cure us of being rough farm boys,’ said George. ‘She said a grammar school would teach us to be young gentlemen.’ He pulled a face at the prospect.

  Thomas looked puzzled. ‘Pa got really wild then. He said, “Did your brother go there?” That’s Uncle Jimmy,’ he explained to Amy, not noticing her sudden change of expression. ‘He came to stay with us once when I was real little—I sort of remember him, but George doesn’t. I think Mother said yes, but I couldn’t hear her properly. Pa said he didn’t care for what they taught boys at that school. He said he didn’t mind if people called his sons rough, but they weren’t going to call us…’ he trailed off and looked at Amy rather shamefacedly. ‘He said some bad words.’

  ‘I’m sure he did. He didn’t know your big ears were flapping away, listening to their private talk. That’s what comes of listening at the wall, Tom. You hear things you’ve no business to.’

  The boys were not used to having Amy speak sharply to them, and Thomas’s bewildered expression sent a pang of guilt through her. ‘Oh, don’t look at me like that, Tommy,’ she said, giving the boy a quick squeeze. ‘I’m not really grumpy. Not with you, anyway. But you shouldn’t listen to other people’s business, you know.’

  ‘Isn’t it our business too?’ Thomas asked. ‘I mean, they’re talking about what they’re going to do with us.’

  ‘And then you go hearing things you don’t understand and getting all muddled about them. You’d be better off waiting till Pa tells you the whole story.’

  ‘They talked about you, too,’ George put in.

  ‘I’m sure they did.’ It would be difficult for Jimmy to be dragged into the argument without her own name coming up. ‘No, I don’t want to hear what they said about me,’ Amy said, forestalling George’s attempts to enlighten her. ‘I’m quite sure you didn’t understand it, anyway. And don’t you go listening to gossip about me, either, or I really will get grumpy with you.’

  ‘Well, anyway, we’re not going to some stupid school,’ George said.

  ‘No,’ Thomas agreed. ‘Anyone would think we’re little kids. I’m going to finish school next year, then I’ll work with Pa all the time,’ he said proudly.

  ‘Is that what you want, Tom?’ Amy asked.

  ‘Of course,’ said Thomas.

  ‘You wouldn’t like to go to a High School and learn lots of interesting things?’

  ‘Pa knows all sorts of stuff about the farm and all that. That’s what I want to learn.’

  ‘Me too,’ George put in. ‘Only I have to wait two years,’ he added, screwing up his face. ‘She won’t be able to tell us what to do once we’re working.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Thomas.

  Amy studied their avid expressions. ‘That’s what you really want, is it? To help Pa on the farm?’ They both nodded vigorously. She gave them each a hug. ‘That’s good, then. It’s good when people get to do what they want.’

  *

  Frank was freed from his baby-sitting task when Lizzie returned from the house, a contented Danny in her arms. He left Mickey with her and went to get himself a mug of beer.

  He paused on the way to chat with Mr Hatfield, interrupting the photographer’s attempts to pack his equipment away.

  ‘Have you still got those pearls in your shop?’ Frank asked, keeping his voice low so that no one else would hear.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Mr Hatfield said. ‘I’m not likely to get rid of those. Sometimes I take them home with me of an evening and keep them there for a change. If you don’t see them in the window, that’s why.’

  ‘Well, don’t go selling them to anyone else,’ said Frank. ‘I’m going to buy those off you one day, you just wait. Lizzie’s going to have those pearls.’

  Mr Hatfield gave him an indulgent smile. ‘Yes, I think I could bear to part with them to you. You’d give them a good home.’

  Despite his kind words, Frank knew that Mr Hatfield thought there was little chance Frank would take him up on the offer. It would be a long time, he admitted to himself, before he would be able to afford fifty pounds for such a luxury, but he was prepared to be patient.

  Going to the beer barrel meant standing closer to Charlie than he would have chosen, but the warmth of the day and the several mugs he had downed earlier had left Frank feeling too mellow to be particularly concerned. In fact he felt ever so slightly dizzy, but the drowsiness the beer had given him was more pleasant than otherwise. When he had filled his mug it seemed too much of an effort to walk straight back to Lizzie; instead he leaned against a tree trunk, from where he had a good view of her with their two youngest children.

  It was a pleasant sight. Danny lay on a rug close to Lizzie, waving his plump little arms and legs around and chortling to himself, while Mickey rested his head in Lizzie’s lap with his eyes half closed. Lizzie stroked Mickey’s hair, her eyes darting around keeping watch on the other three children. A lock had escaped from beneath her bonnet to lie across her neck; it glinted golden in the dappled sunlight. She looked very young and, in Frank’s eyes at least, very beautiful.

  ‘So those funny-looking cows of yours are doing all right, are they?’ The voice made Frank start. He gave the merest nod of acknowledgement to Charlie. ‘Feeling pretty pleased with yourself, eh, Kelly?’

  He was feeling pleased with himself; there was no denying it. Too pleased to let Charlie Stewart annoy him.

  ‘Yes, things are going all right,’ Frank said. ‘I’m getting more cream than ever from the Jerseys. A fair few of the rest are half-breeds now, so they’re giving richer milk than the old Shorthorns. You don’t want to put your name down for one of my heifers, do you?’ he said cheekily.

  Charlie spat on the ground. ‘I’ve better things to spend my money on than dopey-looking cows.’

  ‘Please yourself,’ said Frank. ‘There’s plenty of people that do want them.’ He gave a laugh. ‘It’s a good thing I can get a bit of cash out of selling the odd animal, too! The way the family’s growing, I’m going to have to think about building on to the house in a couple of years.’

  Charlie gave a grunt that Frank took as encouragement. He went on, warming to his subject. ‘There’s things to do with the farm, too—there’s always something that needs planning. Now I’ve got the cow shed decent, I thought I might get a bit more of the bush broken in this winter. I’m trying to build up the Jersey herd as quick as I can, so I’ll need the extra pasture in a few years. I mean, I’ve got three sons now. I’ve got to think about providing for them, eh?’

  ‘You think you’re bloody clever, don’t you?’ Charlie growled.

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ Frank said, taken aback by the ungracious response. ‘I’ve sort of tried to figure out how to do things, then just done my best, that’s all. Things are working out pretty well, anyway.’ He glanced around the garden and saw Maudie re-tying Beth’s hair ribbons, which had worked loose as the younger girl ran around with the other children. Such pretty daughters he had, Frank reflected proudly. Especially Maudie, who was the image of her mother at the same age.

  That thought led Frank’s attention naturally back to Lizzie. A warm feeling flowed through him as he watched her. ‘I couldn’t do it without Lizzie,’ he said, more to himself than to Charlie. ‘It wouldn’t be worth it.’

  ‘You must need the
money, all right,’ Charlie said sourly. ‘That woman of yours looks as though she eats plenty.’

  The smile disappeared from Frank’s face. ‘You can keep your opinions on my wife to yourself, thank you.’

  But his show of irritation seemed to encourage Charlie. ‘You make sure she’s with child all the time, eh? Going on to me about how many sons you’ve got! You don’t get much pleasure out of her when she’s got a swollen belly, do you?’

  ‘You shut your mouth,’ Frank said, speaking rather louder than he had intended. He was aware of Lizzie’s attention suddenly on him as the unfamiliar sound of Frank’s voice raised in anger reached her. Amy, too, looked up from where she sat with Harry when she heard the angry voices; no doubt she had learned to be alert to such danger signs.

  ‘Don’t think I didn’t see you talking to my wife before, either. I’m warning you, Kelly, you keep your hands off her or I’ll kill you. She’s still my woman, I’ll not let any other man have her.’

  ‘I don’t want her! Don’t be such a bloody idiot, thinking every man who talks to your wife wants to take her off you!’

  ‘You wouldn’t have the gumption, would you? You didn’t have the guts to get a woman of your own—you had to wait until that one started chasing after you.’

  ‘Who asked your opinion?’ Frank demanded, genuinely angry now.

  ‘No wonder you want to keep her with child all the time. She doesn’t order you about so much when she’s got a big belly, eh?’ Charlie spoke in rapid bursts, pausing only to take gulps of air. ‘You watch out, Kelly—you think you’ve got her where you want her right now—it won’t last, you smug bastard. She’ll turn on you, you mark my words. They’re all bitches, these Leith women.’

  All other conversation had died, but Frank hardly noticed. ‘You say one more word like that about Lizzie and I’ll knock your teeth down your throat,’ he growled.