Mud and Gold (13 page)

‘Why aren’t you talking, Lizzie?’ he
asked.

Lizzie tossed her head. ‘It seems I only
give offence when I
do
speak, so I’m better to keep
silent.’

Frank tried to hide his amazement. Had he
really subdued Lizzie? Now that his headache had gone he felt
pleased with himself. There had been no need to put off
disciplining her for so long. It hadn’t been as hard as all that,
and it had had such a dramatic result. There was no nagging this
evening.

Tonight he was determined to celebrate his
victory by taking Lizzie. He climbed into bed and reached out in
the darkness to where she lay close to the opposite edge, lying on
her back. Frank felt his way down her body and found that her
nightdress had been firmly pulled down instead of conveniently
riding up to her thighs as it usually seemed to. And her legs were
closed.

Frank gave a grunt of irritation as he took
hold of her nearer thigh, but when he gave it a tug it moved
readily enough. He lifted her nightdress and clambered on top of
her.

Why was it so difficult tonight? It wasn’t
even much fun. Lizzie lay inert with her arms at her sides, not
showing any sign that she was even aware of his presence. It was
like cuddling something dead. Frank took hold of one of her
shoulders and gave it a small shake. ‘Lizzie, behave yourself.’

‘I’m not stopping you, am I?’ came an aloof
voice through the darkness.

‘You’re not exactly
helping
.’

‘I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking
about.’ Lizzie did not make another sound. Frank finished, but it
was no use trying to pretend he had got any great pleasure from his
efforts.

Well, at least it was peaceful now Lizzie
had stopped nagging. He saw now that she was not in the least
subdued; she was angry and had her own way of showing it. But the
effect was much the same.

Frank tried to convince himself over the
next few days that he was enjoying the peace and quiet. There was
no more constant stream of chatter at the meal table, so he could
eat his food in peace. In fact he generally had to eat it in
solitude, as Lizzie contrived to have her own meals before he came
in as often as not. It seemed strange to sit at the table all by
himself. He missed sharing all the little incidents of the day with
Lizzie. Their bedroom was even more silent than the kitchen, and
the nights had become rather dull, though Lizzie made no attempt to
prevent his doing whatever he wanted. Frank wondered fleetingly how
long Lizzie could keep it up, but he soon brushed that thought
aside. Lizzie was strong; she could keep it up as long as she
wanted to.

But he had stopped her from telling him what
to do. He had shown her he wouldn’t put up with being made a fool
of, and the lesson must have sunk in. She was a different woman,
really. It wasn’t like living with Lizzie at all. In fact it was
like…

Oh, God, it was like living with Ben again.
Whole days going by with hardly a word spoken. Feeling lonely while
sharing a house; while sharing a bed, even. The picture of years
dragging on like this was too stark to be borne. This wasn’t what
he had got married for. Surely it was better to put up with being
laughed at than to lose his wife.

‘Lizzie,’ Frank called as she was about to
leave the room, having placed his lunch in front of him.

She turned and looked at him. ‘What?’ she
asked haughtily.

‘Those things I said the other night… look,
it was only the beer talking. Are you going to make my life a
misery for ever over it?’

‘I’ve only been trying not to annoy you.
Can’t I do anything right?’ Lizzie gave him a hurt look, but
somehow it did not take long to turn into a smile. She sat down at
the table, and in a few minutes she was chattering away as if
nothing had happened. That night when Frank put out the lamp and
climbed between the sheets Lizzie snuggled up to him, and Frank
found he had his warm, soft wife again.

*

It seemed like wishful thinking when he
began to feel that Lizzie wasn’t being quite so bossy. Maybe he was
just getting used to it; and he would have to get used to it. He
had tried to assert his authority and had been soundly defeated;
not that Lizzie was trying to lord it over him. She was just being
Lizzie.

Frank tried to ignore his discomfort when he
had to face Lizzie’s family after church the next Sunday,
especially when he saw Alf’s superior grin and Arthur’s frown of
disapproval. Even Bill’s look of sympathy was hard to take.

‘Do you want to come for lunch today?’ Edie
asked, blissfully unaware of any tension within her family. ‘I made
a big batch of marmalade on Friday, you can take a few jars home
with you.’

‘I’d like to come, Ma,’ Lizzie said. ‘But
I’ll have to ask Frank first. Frank, dear, is it all right with you
if we go to Ma’s today? Only if you want to, of course.’ She
slipped her hand through Frank’s arm and smiled sweetly.

Frank stared at her in amazement, then
recovered himself. ‘I think that’d be all right, Lizzie,’ he said
after what he thought was due time for consideration.

‘Thank you, Frank.’ Lizzie gazed adoringly
at him for a few moments, then moved off to talk to her mother,
leaving Frank standing next to Arthur.

He allowed himself to catch Arthur’s eye,
and saw a look of astonishment slowly give way to a broad
smile.

‘That’s the way, Frank,’ Arthur said.
‘You’ve sorted her out, haven’t you? She’s hanging on your every
word now. You know, for a while there I thought you didn’t have it
in you. I certainly thought you’d left it too late with Lizzie. I’m
glad to say I was wrong.’

‘So am I,’ Frank agreed.

May – November 1885

Months before Jane Neill made her reluctant
departure from Ruatane at the end of April, she and Harry had come
to an understanding. Harry found his father harder to convince than
Jane had been that he was old enough to get married, but he had an
unexpected ally in Susannah.

‘They’re so fond of each other, Jack, why
make them wait?’ Susannah said. ‘Jane seems a terribly suitable
wife for Harry, too. She’s a farm girl, she’s used to the life, and
she looks a strong sort of girl.’

‘I don’t know, I think Harry should be
older. He’s not old enough to know his own mind.’

‘But you like Jane, don’t you?’

‘Yes, she’s a nice girl,’ Jack said. ‘I’ve
got quite fond of her, really.’

‘Well, there you are, then.
You’re
certainly old enough to judge, even if Harry isn’t. Is he going to
find a nicer girl than Jane? And she’s twenty, you know. If you
make them wait too long she might get sick of it and find someone
else. Wouldn’t that be rather hard on Harry?’

That hit home. Jack did not want to see
another of his children forced to take second best. His initial
flat ‘No—not for years’ was soon modified to ‘Maybe next year, when
you’re a bit older’, and by mid-May Harry’s pleading and Susannah’s
soft words had done their work. Jack agreed that Harry could get
married later in the year, when he had turned twenty-one.

Jack had hoped that would be the end of the
issue for a few months, but he soon found Harry was not to be
satisfied with merely sharing his bedroom with Jane. He wanted a
house of his own.

‘I don’t want Jane to have to work for
her
,’ Harry protested, softening his language from that used
when talking privately to John. ‘I’m not going to bring Jane here
just to be ordered around all the time.’

‘Don’t bring her, then,’ Jack responded
irritably, wishing the whole business was over.

‘You
said
we could get married! I’m
not going to hang around here if I can’t have Jane—I’ll go and work
for someone else. Bob Forster would have me.’

‘You’re not sloping off after I’ve fed you
for years, you ungrateful young—’

‘Jack,’ Susannah interposed, coming to
Harry’s rescue once more. ‘Just think it over before you fly off
the handle. I’m hurt, of course, that Harry begrudges me the bit of
help Jane might be, but he’d only poison her against me if she was
living in the same house. I’d have two of them giving me dark looks
all the time and making nasty remarks. And at least it’ll be one
less to cook for and clean up after if Harry has his own
place.’

So once again Harry had his way. Jack agreed
that Harry could use the quiet winter months to put up a new
cottage on the farm with John’s help whenever their labour could be
spared. Harry went to Te Puke for a few days to meet Jane’s parents
and get their permission to marry their daughter, then spent the
next few months frantically working on a tiny two-roomed cottage.
It was barely fit for habitation when September came and it was
time for Harry to pay another visit to Te Puke, this time to get
married.

Amy had had to follow the progress of her
brother’s courtship third-hand, through Lizzie’s reports, so she
was delighted when Harry visited her the day before he was to
leave. She was relieved Harry chose a time when Charlie was out on
the farm; Amy did not quite trust her brother to be tactful when
talking to Charlie.

‘I’d have had the house properly finished if
Pa had let me have more time off,’ Harry grumbled. ‘No chance of
painting it or anything, I haven’t even got the inside walls lined.
I just hope the roof doesn’t leak, some of the roofing iron’s a bit
dodgy.’

‘She won’t mind, Harry,’ Amy said. ‘As long
as you’re together, that’s all Jane will be thinking about. You can
finish the house later.’

‘I suppose so. I wanted things nice for her,
though. I want to make Jane happy.’

‘Just be kind to her. That’ll make her
happy.’

‘Mmm. That won’t be hard.’ Harry grinned. He
glanced at Amy, studiously avoiding looking at her abdomen. ‘You
all right? Keeping well and everything?’

‘Yes, I’m all right.’
Big and awkward and
uncomfortable, but I’m not sick.

‘Is he treating you right?’

‘I’m all right, Harry,’ Amy repeated.

‘Good. You tell me if he ever gives you any
trouble.’

And what good would that do?
But she
smiled at Harry. He was only trying to be kind.

‘Wish me luck, then,’ Harry said. Amy put
her arms around his neck and kissed him. They both pretended not to
notice her great swollen belly squashed between them.

*

Amy was grateful when Lizzie devoted an
afternoon one day in early October to filling Amy’s biscuit tins in
a shared session of baking. She tried to work fast enough to do her
share, but Lizzie soon noticed how uncomfortable any sort of
movement made Amy, and ordered her to sit at the table with a small
box as a footstool.

‘I’m not used to sitting around doing
nothing,’ Amy protested.

‘Well, you should be. If you can’t have a
rest when you’re in this state I’d like to know when you can.
You’re all puffy-looking, too.’

‘That happens when I get tired. Especially
when I stand up for too long.’

‘I won’t let you stand up, then. I can
finish off by myself.’

‘Don’t burn anything, Lizzie.’

‘Humph! I hardly ever burn things. I’m going
to make you some fruit pies after I’ve done these biscuits, then
you won’t have to cook any puddings for a few days.’

‘You’re very kind to me, Lizzie.’

‘You’d do the same for me. I don’t suppose
he
helps you with anything.’

‘Cooking’s women’s work,’ Amy said, trying
to make her voice light. ‘I can manage, anyway.’

‘There,’ Lizzie said, shutting the oven door
with a flourish. ‘Now I can sit down for a few minutes while those
are cooking. I’ll put the kettle on and we can try some of these
scones.’

‘We should wait for Charlie.’

‘We’ll have another cup when he comes
in.’

Lizzie buttered hot scones and poured the
tea when it had drawn, then sat back in her chair with an
exaggerated sigh. ‘I’m ready for a rest.’ She gave Amy a warm
smile. ‘Only about a month to go now, eh?’

‘Don’t talk about it, Lizzie. There’s no
sense worrying before I have to.’

‘Worry? You’re not worried about it, are
you?’

‘Having a baby’s not very easy. Talk about
something else.’

‘But it’s
natural
.’

‘So is dying, and I don’t suppose you’re in
any great hurry to see me do that?’ Amy snapped. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,
Lizzie, I don’t mean to be so sour. I’m just fed up with being in
this state, and I’m…’
I’m scared
. ‘I’m not looking forward
to what comes at the end of it.’

‘It doesn’t last very long, though, does it?
And then afterwards you’ve got a baby. Things’ll be much better
once you’ve got a baby.’

‘Will they?’ It was what all her family
seemed to believe.

‘Of course they will! I’m really looking
forward to seeing your baby. I
wish
I had one.’

I don’t want it
. ‘You will. Don’t
wish it on yourself too soon.’

‘But I
do
wish it!’ Lizzie’s face
creased in a frown. ‘Amy, I’m worried.’

‘You? What on earth have you got to be
worried about?’

‘I’m still not expecting. We’ve been married
nearly six months now, and there’s no sign of it. What do you think
I should do?’

Amy twisted in her chair to get a better
view of Lizzie’s face, and at once regretted it as a shaft of pain
went through her. ‘Be thankful,’ she said bitterly. ‘It’s not much
fun being in this state. Especially with an awkward baby like this
one.’

‘Must take after its father. But why is it
taking me so long? Amy, what if there’s something wrong with me?
What if I’m barren?’

‘Don’t talk rot, Lizzie. There’s nothing
wrong with you, anyone can see that.’

‘Why aren’t I having a baby, then? It didn’t
take you long, did it?’