A Second Chance (58 page)

*

Milly still wrote regularly, though much of
the content of her letters had changed. She had left her job at the
hotel shortly before her marriage, and was now occupied with
keeping house for her husband. He had taken a house close to the
mining town of Waihi, with a small yard in which Milly was trying
to establish a garden. She sounded contented enough, though there
were none of the affectionate remarks that might have been expected
from a newlywed. While she continued to end every letter with a hug
for Eddie, and it was clear that she missed him, she said she was
not yet ready to send for him.

Eddie had his birthday in October. Now that
he was five years old, the family had assumed Amy would send him to
school, but she found herself reluctant to. Milly kept insisting
she would be sending for Eddie ‘in a bit’, and there seemed little
point in starting him at the valley school only to have to uproot
him soon afterwards.

That was a good enough reason, but it was
only part of Amy’s decision to keep him at home. Eddie was enjoying
his lessons with her, and she was thoroughly enjoying the
opportunity to teach him.

She walked down to the school one afternoon
to consult the teacher, and was told that while a child could be
sent to school from the age of five, it was not compulsory to do so
until the child turned seven. So she continued Eddie’s lessons at
home, and wondered how long it might be before he was taken from
her.

It was Sarah’s birthday in November. Before
Eddie’s arrival, Amy had expected to be settled in Auckland well
before then, and to have been able to celebrate Sarah’s birthday
with her for the first time. Now she had no idea when she might be
able to indulge in that pleasure. Much as she was enjoying Eddie’s
company, it did not stop her from longing for Sarah’s.

A letter from Milly arrived not long after
Sarah’s birthday, containing news that came as no real surprise to
Amy
.

I’m expecting. I’ve got the morning
sickness bad this time, but people say it doesn’t last long. I
didn’t have it hardly at all with Eddie, I didn’t know it took it
out of you like this
.
Sid’s being very good,
fetching
and carrying for me, and all. He’s that pleased about the
baby.

I hope you don’t mind hanging on to Eddie
a bit longer. I can’t have him just yet
,
I’ve got to sort a
few things out first
.

Amy folded the letter back into its
envelope. It was fortunate, she mused, that Eddie did not ask
questions about his mother, now that they would have been so
difficult to answer.

There was something troubling Amy about all
this. Milly repeatedly said she would send for Eddie soon, and yet
continued to delay doing so. She was in what sounded like the most
settled home she had had since Eddie’s birth, and was no longer
having to try and earn money to support the two of them. There was
no obvious reason for her to put off sending for him. Amy found
herself having to fight against a nagging suspicion that now Milly
was carrying a legitimate child she no longer wanted Malcolm’s. The
thought seemed ungenerous, and she would not allow herself to dwell
on it.

There were other things to keep her busy.
The new house was finally ready for the family to move into in
early December. Frank brought his older boys, and Amy’s brothers
arrived with their sons, so there were many willing hands to help
with moving. Amy’s main task was to keep Eddie from getting
underfoot badly enough to have a piece of furniture dropped on him,
and to work with Beth providing morning tea for everyone. When
their helpers had gone, she and Beth spent much of the afternoon
and evening cleaning and dusting. She was worn out by the time she
was finally able to go to bed, much later than usual, but seeing
David and Beth’s delight at their smart new house was more than
worth the effort.

*

The size of Lizzie and Frank’s family had
meant that for several years now Arthur’s household had gone to
Frank’s for Christmas dinner. But this year it was clear to
everyone that making Arthur travel even so short a distance was not
to be considered. The leg he had injured several years before not
only made it difficult for him to walk more than a few steps, but
also meant it was painful for him to keep it bent for any length of
time. So buggy rides, even brief ones, were no longer possible.

None of this was discussed with Arthur
himself, who would have felt the need to insist that he was
perfectly capable of leaving the farm if he chose, and would have
made himself and everyone around him wretched in the process of
attempting to prove it. But when Christmas Day arrived, each of the
households had its Christmas dinner at home. In the evening, Lizzie
and Frank brought their family to Arthur’s for a casual meal
consisting mainly of leftovers.

After having been confined to the house the
previous Christmas, Beth was eager to spend Daisy’s first Christmas
with her family. So the five of them went to Frank’s then to
Arthur’s house that day, Amy driving the gig with Beth and Daisy,
and an excited Eddie riding beside David on the oldest and slowest
of the farm’s horses, the first time he had been allowed to ride so
far.

After their makeshift evening meal it was
still light enough for the children to be sent outside to play,
while the adults sat on the verandah. Eddie was absorbed into a
group of the younger children, but when Rosie, who had decided to
organise a complicated game of some sort, started trying to assert
what she imagined to be her authority, Eddie wandered off on his
own, exploring the unfamiliar garden. Amy kept an eye on him from
the verandah, but he showed no inclination to go out of sight.

Eddie searched under a small grove of fruit
trees, and came back to the verandah cradling something in his
hands. He clambered up the steps and over to where Beth sat next to
Amy, Daisy on her lap, and held out his hand to the baby. On it,
Amy saw, was a small blue half eggshell, obviously dropped from a
nest that spring.

Daisy’s method of exploring the world
consisted of putting everything that fell in her grasp into her
mouth, and Amy was sure the experiment would do neither Daisy nor
Eddie’s treasure much good. She retrieved the eggshell before Beth,
who was talking to her grandmother, had quite noticed what was
happening.

‘Keep it till Daisy’s a bit older,’ Amy told
him. ‘We’ll put it in your room for now.’ Eddie was gradually
acquiring a collection of such things as dried leaves and berries,
and pebbles of unusual shapes or colours. She wrapped the eggshell
in her handkerchief and placed it carefully on the arm of her
chair.

Instead of going back out into the garden,
Eddie clambered onto her lap and snuggled into place. ‘You’re
getting a bit sleepy, aren’t you,’ Amy said, seeing his eyelids
drooping. ‘I think we’ll go home soon, or it’ll be getting
dark.’

‘Do you want to hold Daisy for a bit before
we go, Granny?’ Beth asked Edie. She placed Daisy on Edie’s lap,
but kept her own arm around the baby, to stop Daisy wriggling from
the unfamiliar perch.

Edie beamed. She seemed to know who Daisy
was, though she called Eddie “Mal” whenever she spoke to him. The
first few times she had done so, Arthur had tried to correct her,
but as he struggled to remember Eddie’s name himself he soon gave
up the attempt.

Arthur looked on benignly at Daisy perched
on Edie’s lap. ‘She’s a bonny little thing. She’s not a Leith, but
there’s a lot of Leith in her,’ he announced.

Amy laughed. ‘So there is, Uncle Arthur. Two
Leith grannies, that must count for something.’

‘I’ve two great-grandchildren now. Yes,
Edie, I know you have as well,’ Arthur added when he saw Edie about
to speak. ‘Jack would’ve had two, if he’d been spared,’ he said,
his expression growing heavier as he looked from Eddie to
Daisy.

Amy held Eddie more tightly. ‘He would’ve
liked that.’

Eddie shrugged off his sleepiness and
insisted on going with David to help get the horses ready to take
them home. While they waited, Amy exchanged farewells with Lizzie.
She noticed Frank and Bill off to one side, heads close together as
they talked about what appeared to be a weighty matter.

‘Frank and Bill look so serious!’ Amy said,
smiling at their expressions. ‘They look as though they’re plotting
something.’

Lizzie looked around, checking that they
were not being overheard. ‘They are,’ she confided. ‘Don’t let on
to anyone, but…’ She leaned closer to Amy and told her the
secret.

*

Bill Leith was forty-two years old, but to
his father that merely meant he was the oldest of “the boys”, as
Arthur referred to his sons. Now that his father rarely left the
house, it fell on Bill’s shoulders to see that the work of the farm
went smoothly, as well as doing a large share of it himself. He
conducted the day-to-day business of the farm, dealing with the
factory and the general store. But his father held the chequebook,
and held it firmly.

Arthur had never felt any need to pay his
sons a wage. The farm fed and clothed them, and kept a roof over
their heads. If he was moved to be generous he would occasionally
give out a small amount of cash for the boy involved to treat
himself, but any money beyond that had to be asked for. And Bill
knew his father well enough to know what was worth asking for. The
biggest purchase he had ever successfully requested his father to
fund was Lily’s wedding ring, but what he wanted now was a good
deal more expensive.

It had started as more of a vague longing
than a settled plan, but it had been in his mind for almost ten
years now. Ever since the day he had first heard Lily play the
piano.

She had stunned him with her playing, so
unlike any music he had ever heard before. And then he had been
startled by the sight of his calm, competent wife weeping, as she
was buffeted by the abrupt rediscovery of what music meant to her.
Lily was not a woman who readily wept.

He had asked Frank how much the piano had
cost, and the answer had almost made him abandon the idea before it
was even fully formed. Almost, but not quite. Perhaps he could not
buy so smart an instrument as the one that graced Frank’s parlour,
but Lily deserved a piano of her own.

From that day, he had got into the habit of
putting aside any money his father might give him for his own use.
It accumulated, but painfully slowly. This was going to require
more money than he had ever been able to call his own, and a good
deal of patience.

He had let Frank into his confidence from
early on, making the most of what Frank could tell him about the
process of buying a piano. Though Frank could give him no advice on
what to be careful of when it came to a used piano, as Bill had
soon realised he would have to settle for. He had had to risk
asking the one person who could give him a knowledgeable answer:
Lily herself.

‘Do pianos last a long time?’ he had asked
her one day with studied casualness, when he had just picked her up
from Frank’s house.

‘If they’re properly cared for, certainly.
I’ve heard of antique pianos that are still in fine condition.’
Lily had smiled, and placed a hand on his arm. ‘Don’t worry, dear,
Frank’s piano’s not going to wear out in a hurry. Lizzie’s very
particular about not letting the children be rough with it—she
doesn’t let any of them touch it unless they’re actually
playing—and of course she keeps it beautifully clean. I’ll be able
to go on playing it for as long as I wish.’

She only had the chance to play it, of
course, for brief periods each week, and most of even that small
amount of time was in the course of teaching Lizzie’s children. But
it was a relief to be told by an expert that a piano did not have
to be new to be worthy of Lily.

He had decided it had to be a Broadwood, the
make of piano that Lily had owned until straitened circumstances
had forced her to sell it after her mother’s death, and the brand
she had recommended to Frank. He could have bought a lesser one
more cheaply, but since the whole project was as much dream as
solid plan, he felt he might as well dream extravagantly. In any
case, it seemed to him something like the difference between buying
a broken-down nag of unknown origin, and a well-bred horse with
quality lines.

When he had managed to put together a few
pounds, he wrote to the firm Frank had used, asking about the
possibility of buying a secondhand Broadwood from them. Writing
letters was not something Bill was used to doing, but he found
himself needing to become familiar with the task as his
negotiations went on. It had to be done when Lily was out of the
house but he himself was not busy on the farm, which was an extra
difficulty.

He was told that used Broadwoods were only
rarely offered, but with the estimate the firm supplied of the
price he would probably have to pay for one, delay was hardly a
problem. The company would put his details in their files, they
said, and would inform him of any suitable instrument that might
become available.

Once or twice in the intervening years he
had heard again from the music shop, when they had acquired a
Broadwood that was “almost as good as new”. Almost as good, and
almost as expensive. Bill had had to let such opportunities pass
him by.

But a few months before Christmas, he
received a letter from the firm that seemed, when he unravelled its
meaning, to offer a ray of hope. The letter was full of words with
which he had only a passing familiarity; words that he would in
other circumstances have asked Lily to decipher for him. Instead,
he read and re-read the letter several times, and when he felt he
had made it out, he took it to show Frank.