A Second Chance (15 page)

Amy looked down for a moment, gathering her
thoughts. ‘It doesn’t have to be like it was for Charlie and me.
I’m not trying to interfere, Sarah. I just don’t want you to miss
out on anything. I want you to be happy.’

‘Believe me, my dear, that’s exactly what I
want for myself. And that’s why I don’t intend to marry.’ Sarah put
down her mug and leaned back in her chair. ‘Very few women have the
luxury of financial independence. I’m fortunate enough to be in
that position, so I’ve no need to put up with the inconvenience of
a husband.’

‘But lots of women are happy with their
husbands.’

‘Are they?’ Sarah’s expression was
sceptical. ‘It seems to me that most women make a virtue of sheer
economic necessity.’

‘They really are. I know some women get
married because they have to—I suppose you could say that’s what I
did—but it’s not fair to say they all do. Frank’s always made
Lizzie very happy.’

‘Yes, well, he’d hardly dare do otherwise,
would he?’ Sarah saw Amy’s expression, and pulled a face. ‘Oh, all
right, the Kellys are an exception. And before you throw Emily in
my face, I’ll admit that she seems happy enough with Martin, and
she didn’t exactly marry to avoid being destitute.’ Her eyes grew
wide. ‘But that’s just what poor Lily did—that’s the reason she
married.’

‘Whatever do you mean, Sarah?’

‘Lily as good as told me so herself, when I
got her talking. She was struggling to manage on the pittance she
was paid, trying to put money away for when she wouldn’t be able to
work any more—and she knew her health might break down, so she had
no idea how long she’d be able to keep working. Teaching really
didn’t suit Lily, but there are so few choices for a woman in her
situation. So when Cousin Bill proposed, she snatched at the chance
of a way out.’

‘Did Lily really tell you that?’ Amy asked,
shocked.

Sarah met her eyes, then looked away. ‘Well,
not exactly. She told me about the difficulty she’d had managing,
and how worn out she’d been. I suppose the part about why she
accepted Cousin Bill is my inference. I must confess I feel rather
guilty about Lily.’

So you should, saying she only married
Bill because of money,
Amy was tempted to say, but she bit back
the retort, contenting herself with, ‘Why?’

‘Oh, I practically forgot her existence. I
was only a child when she left Auckland, but that’s a poor excuse,
given how ready I was to take advantage of our connection when it
came to seeking you out. And then I found what a difficult time of
it she’d had over the years, and what she’d had to do to cope. If
I’d only taken notice of her earlier… but it’s too late for that
now. I still wish I could do something to make her life easier.’
Sarah turned a questioning gaze on Amy. ‘I suppose it would cause
offence if I were to offer to buy her a piano?’

‘I should think it would,’ Amy said, still
fighting the urge to say more.

Sarah sighed. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Poor
Lily, with her real musical gift, reduced to snatching at chances
to play the Kellys’ piano in exchange for teaching their girls to
thump away at it. Of course it wouldn’t occur to Cousin Bill to buy
one for her.’

Sarah picked up her mug and drained the last
of its contents, while Amy searched for the right words. It did not
come easily for her to contradict Sarah, but she could not allow
this to remain unchallenged.

‘I don’t think that’s fair,’ she said
carefully. Sarah looked up, surprised. ‘Just because Bill can’t
afford to buy Lily a piano, you shouldn’t go saying he’s never
thought of it, or he wouldn’t like to. I’ve known Bill my whole
life, and I know the sort of man he is. He thinks the world of
Lily.’

Sarah raised her eyebrows. ‘Goodness, Amy,
from you that’s almost a scolding. I’ll try to be suitably
contrite.’

‘He really does, you know. I remember seeing
them together when they were courting. I could see straight away
how fond he was of Lily. And Lizzie told me about one time an awful
boy—it was one of the Feenans—threw ink at Lily and ruined her
dress. Lily came home crying over it, she must have been really
upset. Bill’s not one to lose his temper, but he went down to the
school the very next day and gave Des Feenan a seeing-to with his
riding crop.’

Sarah gave a startled little laugh. ‘How
gallant of him! I had no idea Cousin Bill could be so
chivalrous.’

‘He can when Lily’s in it. That was when he
proposed to Lily, after he saw how upset she was.’

‘This family you’ve presented me with is
full of surprises,’ Sarah said, smiling. ‘Very well, I’ll accept
that Cousin Bill is a true gentleman who worships the ground Lily
walks on.’

‘Now you’re being silly,’ Amy said, but she
smiled in her turn. ‘I don’t think Lily married Bill because she
thought she had to marry someone, either,’ she added, emboldened by
her success. ‘She married him because she wanted to.’

‘Enough,’ Sarah said, throwing up her hands
in a melodramatic gesture. ‘I concede defeat. Not of my case in
general, I’ll have you know, just as regards our immediate circle.
But putting that to one side—as is my usual habit when I’m in
danger of losing an argument, by the way—I still fail to see any
reason why I should consider marriage. What’s there to put on the
other side of the ledger against the independence and freedom that
I’d be sacrificing?’

Amy reached out to stroke Sarah’s cheek.
‘There’s children.’

Sarah took Amy’s hand in her own, and drew
it down to rest in her lap. ‘I’m afraid that seems poor
compensation to me, Amy, even with myself as a shining example.’
She squeezed Amy’s hand. ‘I can see I’ll have to take more care in
drawing up my guest lists in future, if I’m to avoid romantic
flights of fancy at my expense,’ she said, eyes twinkling. ‘From
now on, personable, unattached young men will be banned. The only
single males allowed will be elderly—and preferably
portly—clergymen.’

Beth leaned forward to take a biscuit from
the plate in front of them, then snuggled back into David’s lap. He
had a very comfortable lap, she had found.

‘I’d better go in a minute,’ she said. ‘Aunt
Lily’s coming down later to give Rosie and me our piano lesson, and
I’m meant to do some practice first. She could tell last week that
I hadn’t done any.’

‘You’re really good at it,’ said David, but
Beth shook her head.

‘I’m not, you know. I can play a couple of
things well enough for soyrees, and when Pa wants to hear me play
something of an evening, but I’ll never be much good. I’m a bit
sick of it,’ she confessed. ‘I don’t mind playing those easy ones,
especially when it’s just the family, but it’s so hard to try and
learn anything new, when I know I’m never going to get much
better.’

‘Well, I think you sound pretty good. But
you might as well tell Aunt Lily you can’t be bothered doing
lessons any more.’

‘I wish I could, but Ma wants all us girls
to learn—even Rosie, and she’s hopeless. Aunt Lily just
cringes
sometimes at how she bashes the keys. I don’t think
she’s looking forward to Kate starting when she gets big
enough.’

‘I suppose it means you can all take turns
playing for the soyrees.’

Beth shrugged, nestling more snugly against
David in the process. ‘I wish we could just have Aunt Lily playing
all the time, she’s the only one who’s any good. But Ma’s that keen
on us learning. She got the idea with Maudie—she thought if Maudie
could play the piano she’d marry someone flash. It worked, too, she
got Richard. I suppose that wasn’t just about the piano, though,’
Beth added thoughtfully. ‘But remember how Ma used to make such a
fuss at the soyrees when Richard came out? “We’re going to listen
to
Maudie
play now,” she’d say, as if it was ever such a
treat.’

‘I wasn’t around when they were courting,’
David reminded her. ‘I was still in Waihi when Richard turned
up.’

‘Oh, of course you were! I was forgetting.
You missed the wedding and everything.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I was
almost as glad as Maudie was when Richard finally proposed.’

‘Why?’

Beth pulled a face. ‘It was awful before
they got engaged—Ma made me hang around with them if they went away
from the house. Richard was nice about it and everything, but I
felt stupid walking along behind them all the time. I wasn’t
allowed to get close enough to hear them talking, so I didn’t even
get to hear any of Richard’s stories about castles and things.’

‘I didn’t know you were keen on
castles.’

‘I quite like them in stories. I don’t think
I’d want to go and see them, though. They’re all such a long way
away.’ She pressed more closely against David. ‘I like it here in
the valley best. It’s nice and quiet.’

The kitten had clambered out of its box by
the range and tottered across to the table. Beth reached down and
scooped it onto her lap. ‘Richard’s nice, and I like him all right,
but he can be a bit funny, you know?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, I wanted to give Maudie a kitten when
she went to live in town—it was a good one, too, it turned out a
really good mouser. But Richard said he’d rather not have a cat in
the house.’

‘Eh? Why not?’

‘He said cats aren’t very hy-gie-nic,’ Beth
said, carefully sounding out the unfamiliar word. ‘That means
they’re not clean. Isn’t that silly? Cats are always washing
themselves.’ She stroked the kitten, who had curled into a small
ball. ‘As soon as Richard said that, Maudie said she didn’t want
one. She’s still like that—“Richard says such and such”. Of course
she only takes notice of him when it suits her to.’

David gently ran a finger along the kitten’s
spine. ‘Just like your ma and pa, eh?’

‘Well, she probably takes a bit more notice
than Ma does,’ Beth allowed. ‘I’m glad, really, the kitten might
have got run over by a cart or something if they’d taken it. It can
get that busy in town.’

She tilted her head to look up into David’s
face; he took it as a signal to kiss her. Keeping one hand curved
protectively over the kitten, she put her free arm around David’s
neck and kissed him back.

Kissing with David, once they had moved
beyond their first cautious attempts, had been something of a
revelation to Beth. It sent a shivery feeling through her that was
unsettling, but not at all unpleasant. She now looked at her
parents in a whole new light when she saw them exchange a kiss.

‘I really have to get going,’ she murmured
when her lips were free. ‘Ma’ll go crook if I’m late.’

She moved to disentangle herself from
David’s embrace. For a moment she thought he was going to keep hold
of her; for a moment she thought she might let him. But David
released his hold, and Beth considered the consequences of coming
home later than her mother had said she should.

‘You finish this,’ she said, giving him the
last remnants of her biscuit. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ With an
effort, she resisted the urge to offer a farewell kiss.

*

Sarah liked to have the newspaper brought
into the morning room as soon as she and Amy went in there after
breakfast. After scanning the headlines together, they would turn
to the pages where the current entertainments were listed, and
discuss any that caught their attention. It was a rare day when
there was nothing at all worth considering. At least once a week
they went out to a play, a musical performance, or a lecture with
magic lantern slides presented by some learned gentleman; and
occasionally on to a supper afterwards.

Plays were Amy’s favourites among such
outings, but she found herself with a growing appreciation of
musical entertainments, beginning with a lively presentation of
“The Gondoliers” soon after her arrival in Auckland. And a
performance one evening by a Mr R. G. Knowles offered a real
novelty. Mr Knowles, a music hall artiste, presented a series of
comical talks, interspersed with songs and dancing, accompanied on
the piano by Mrs Knowles, who also performed several items on the
banjo. The items were amusing enough, but what truly caught Amy’s
imagination were the moving pictures, projected by a machine called
a Bioscope, with which Mr Knowles illustrated his songs. It was
Amy’s first experience of moving pictures, and she was fascinated
by the images, which included an exciting trip by motorcar and
scenes of the King and Queen walking about.

‘There’s talk of making moving pictures of
entire plays eventually,’ Sarah remarked when the two of them were
discussing the show late that evening. ‘Though not being able to
actually hear the actors speak would be rather limiting.’

Interesting as the moving pictures had been,
Amy agreed with Sarah that such entertainments seemed unlikely to
displace live performances.

Going to church each Sunday was an outing in
its own right, a far grander affair than Amy was used to. They went
by carriage to Evensong at the Cathedral, a lofty building lit by
candles as well as electric light, with a large and well-schooled
choir accompanied by a skilled organist who sent music soaring to
the distant rafters.

Their evenings were spent together, whether
on outings or contentedly staying in, but Amy sometimes had the
house to herself during the daytime. Sarah had obligations, Amy
found, beyond those relating to her business interests. She was on
the boards of several charitable institutions, and involved herself
less formally in the fund-raising activities of others.

‘I more or less inherited the role,’ Sarah
told Amy. ‘As soon as I came of age I felt I should make myself
available for the boards that Father had been on. And Mother was
often asked to open school fêtes and that sort of thing, so I feel
it’s only right that I do the same. She always held a garden party
in summer, too, to raise funds for the orphanage, and I continue
that tradition—it would be nice if you were here to help me host it
next year.’