Mud and Gold (14 page)

‘No. It seems a man only has to touch me and
I’m with child. I don’t know, Lizzie, I suppose some women are more
fruitful than others.’

‘You’re fruitful, anyway. You’re lucky.’

‘Am I? Nobody seemed to think so last year.’
Ann. Everyone thinks you’re something shameful, but they all
make such a fuss about this one. It’s not fair. It’s not your fault
I did wrong
. Lizzie studiously ignored her remark, and Amy
dragged her concentration back to her cousin’s worried face.
‘Lizzie, I don’t know what to tell you. Have you asked Aunt Edie
about it?’

‘Yes. Ma says six months isn’t long. She
said Bill was born on her and Pa’s first wedding anniversary, so it
took three months for them to start him, but she’s heard of people
taking a bit longer.’

‘There you are, then. And you’re so strong
and healthy, I can’t believe you’re barren.’

‘I don’t
feel
barren,’ Lizzie agreed.
‘But… well, there could be another reason.’

‘What are you talking about now? It’s just
taking a while, like Aunt Edie said.’

‘Maybe. Or maybe…’ Lizzie drifted into
silence.

Amy was tempted to try and change the
subject, but it was so unusual to see Lizzie feeling awkward that
she felt obliged to try and draw her cousin out. ‘Maybe what,
Lizzie? ‘What’s worrying you?’

‘Well, what if… what if we’re doing it
wrong?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know, what men and women do. What if me
and Frank aren’t doing it right? We’ll never have a baby if we’re
not.’

‘Lizzie! Don’t talk like that.’ Even talking
about pregnancy was preferable to this most distasteful of
subjects.

‘But how would we know if we were doing it
wrong?’ Lizzie persisted.

‘What nonsense! It’s just… well, obvious,
isn’t it? Men all know how to do it.’

‘Frank didn’t,’ Lizzie said with
conviction.

‘He must have.’

‘No, I’m sure he didn’t. He didn’t have a
clue, Amy.’

‘Really?’ Amy said dubiously.

‘Mmm. Honestly, that first time… well,
Frank’s been around animals too much. We were cuddling for a bit,
then he started sort of shoving at me. I’m sure he was trying to
roll me over onto my front. You know, like cows and sheep do it. Ma
didn’t tell me much, but she said to lie on my back, so I knew that
must be right. So when he shoved I just lay still, and after a bit
he seemed to get the idea.’

‘You shouldn’t be telling me all this,
Lizzie. Frank would be annoyed if he heard you, and anyway I don’t
like hearing it.’

‘Frank doesn’t know I’m telling you, and you
wouldn’t tell anyone else. I have to tell you, Amy. I need you to
tell me if we’re doing it right.’

‘No!’ Amy protested. ‘It’s bad enough having
to do it without having to talk about it! That’s one good thing
about being in this state—at least this great big belly stops
him.’

‘Don’t you like it?’

‘I
hate
it,’ Amy burst out. ‘Every
night before I got big I’d lie there and just shake, I was so
scared he’d do it again. It hurts me, and it makes me feel all used
and dirty. It’s the worst thing of all. You know what, Lizzie? I
hate it when he hits me, but sometimes when he does
that
to
me I wish… I wish he’d hit me instead.’ She put her hands to her
face and sobbed.

Lizzie rose from her chair and slid her arms
around Amy. When Amy quietened she heard Lizzie murmur, ‘We must be
doing it wrong.’

‘Why? Because you don’t hate it?’ Amy’s
voice came muffled.

‘Yes. I quite like it,’ Lizzie admitted.

‘I don’t think that means you’re doing it
wrong, Lizzie. It probably just means you’re a good wife.’ Amy
disentangled herself from Lizzie’s embrace. ‘You said Aunt Edie
told you what to expect, so you must know.’

‘She wasn’t much use, really. I expect she
thought Frank would know all about it, so she was just telling me
enough so I wouldn’t be scared.’

‘What did she say?’ Amy asked resignedly.
Lizzie was not to be put off, so it was better to get the subject
over with.

‘Let’s see… she said it would hurt a bit the
first time, but just to lie on my back and let him get on with it.
She reckoned it’d be all right after that—she got this silly sort
of look on her face when she said that. She started going on about
how happy it makes your husband, so that makes you happy too.’
Lizzie’s face took on a look that Amy was sure must be at least as
‘silly’ as Edie’s had been. ‘That’s true, isn’t it? It does make
them very happy.’

‘It must do,’ Amy said tartly. ‘They seem to
want to do it often enough.’

‘I know! For a while there I was so
tired!
Frank never seemed to want to sleep.’ She gave a
little laugh. ‘He’s a bit better now, but not much. He’s terrible,’
she said, a fond smile on her face.

‘That was enough, wasn’t it? You must know
whether you’re doing it right or not.’

‘I
thought
we were. It did hurt the
first time—it hurt a lot! I was ready for it, I was sure I could
keep quiet when it happened, ’cause I knew Frank would get upset if
I let on that it hurt me. Hurt a bit! It really hurt, Amy. And I
let out a yell like a pig having its throat cut. I was so annoyed
with myself. Oh, Frank was so upset. He sort of jumped away from me
and started going on about how it was all his fault, he’d hurt me,
he didn’t want to hurt me, he should have gone somewhere and found
out how—I don’t know what he meant by that. It took me ages to shut
him up and get it into his head that it was meant to hurt. Then he
said that wasn’t fair on me. So I told him that’s how he could know
it was the first time for me. I think he quite liked that.’

‘He would,’ Amy said quietly, but Lizzie was
in full flow and carried on as if she had not heard.

‘I finally convinced him it wouldn’t hurt me
again and he should have another go. It was all right after that.
But then, wouldn’t you know it? The next week what should come
along but my bleeding. Just when we’d really got the hang of it. I
asked Ma what I should tell Frank. “Just say it’s not convenient,”
she said. “He’ll know what you mean.” How on earth was Frank
supposed to know that? I said it anyway, and Frank looked all sort
of hurt. “I wish you’d just tell me if you don’t like it, Lizzie,”
he said. So then I had to tell him I was bleeding down there. What
a fuss
that
caused! Frank started going on again about how
he’d done it wrong and damaged me. I had to put my hand on my heart
and swear it was normal for women before he’d believe me.’ Lizzie
gave a sigh. ‘And the bleeding’s been coming back every month ever
since!’

Amy looked at her in amazement. ‘Frank’s
awfully sweet to you, Lizzie. You’re a very lucky woman.’
I
mustn’t feel sorry for myself. I’ve no right to
. ‘It sounds to
me like you two are doing it right. Just be patient.’

‘Couldn’t you just tell me how it’s done?’
Lizzie wheedled. ‘Just so’s I could be sure? Please?’

‘No. That’s enough about it, Lizzie.’ Amy
tried to sound firm.

Lizzie looked crestfallen. ‘Well, if you
won’t tell me I suppose I’ll have to ask Ma. I’ll have to tell her
we might be doing it wrong. I don’t want to do that, Amy. She’s
sure to tell Pa, then he’ll take Frank aside and have a talk to
him. Frank would be
so
embarrassed if Pa did that—imagine
having his father-in-law find out he’s been married six months and
still doesn’t know what he’s doing. Frank hates people laughing at
him. I sort of forgot that for a bit, but Frank reminded me.’
Lizzie sighed heavily. ‘I’ll have to ask her, though, if you won’t
tell me.’

‘Oh, for goodness sake! All right, I’ll tell
you if you’ll just shut up about it afterwards. You lie on your
back and the man gets on top of you, then he sticks that thing up
between your legs and moves about.’ Amy gave a shudder at the
memory. ‘And the next thing you know you’re the size of a house.
Are you satisfied?’

‘Yes!’ Lizzie looked delighted. ‘That’s just
what we do! And that’s really all there is to it?’ Amy nodded. ‘So
do you think I’ll have a baby soon?’

‘I expect you will, Lizzie. You’re pretty
good at getting what you want.’

*

Amy had not thought it possible for her to
become any more uncomfortable, but she continued to grow bigger and
more awkward. With the end of October the memory of Ann’s birth,
never far from her mind, became stronger, and with it the pain of
loss. She spent the second of November weeping for her little girl,
now one year old, whenever she was alone. Charlie frowned at the
sight of her red-rimmed eyes, but said nothing.

‘Don’t you dare come today,’ Amy murmured
over and over to the creature causing her such discomfort. ‘Don’t
you dare take Ann’s birthday.’

But the day passed with no sign of labour.
Another week went by before Amy felt a sharp twinge one morning
while she was cooking breakfast. She brushed it off as the baby
moving, though she had not felt it move for the previous day or
two. But the spasm was followed by another, half an hour later,
then another while Charlie was loading milk cans onto his cart.

It’s started
. Amy was sure it would
be many hours before the baby arrived, and Charlie had to get his
milk to the factory or it would spoil, so she sat quietly until she
heard the cart rattle away down the road. Then she hastily
assembled the clothes she thought she would need and wrapped them
in a large shawl, placing the whole in her drawstring bag. She put
her cloak beside the bundle; the sky looked grey and threatening,
and she might need the cloak’s shelter while Charlie took her into
town.

Charlie had refused to accept the idea of a
strange woman’s staying in his house and running the household,
even to deliver his precious child, so Edie had helpfully arranged
for Amy to stay with Mrs Coulson, a maternity nurse who
occasionally took women from particularly isolated farms into her
house for their confinements. Amy barely knew Mrs Coulson by sight.
As she carried her bundle out to the kitchen she wondered what the
nurse would be like.
She’ll probably be horrible
, she
thought with a shudder, remembering Sister Prescott’s rough
handling. A wave of pain gripped her, and she forgot about
everything else.

When Amy heard Charlie return from the
factory, she walked awkwardly to the door and called to him.
Charlie took one look at her face and ran over.

‘It’s started?’

‘Yes. I think you’d better take me into town
now.’

Amy put on her cloak, then stood and watched
as Charlie unharnessed the horse from the spring cart and let it
out into the horse paddock. He did not bother to take the empty
milk cans off the cart; they tipped over noisily as it tilted. He
caught a fresh horse and harnessed it to his new gig, then hoisted
Amy’s bundle onto the seat and helped her climb in.

It was the first time Amy had ridden in the
gig. Charlie had proudly brought it home a few weeks before,
announcing that Mr Winskill had said it was just the thing now
Charlie was a family man.

‘I’ll maybe need a bigger carriage as more
bairns come along,’ Charlie had said, ‘but this one’ll do for now.
It’ll carry you and me with a couple of little ones.’

The gig was solid enough, but Amy soon found
that its builder had not been generous with springs. It was far
bumpier than her father’s buggy. As they jolted their way along the
beach Amy’s contractions merged into the bone-shaking bumps until
the whole ride seemed one continuous labour pain. The only respite
came when the heavens opened, drenching them within moments, and
Charlie stopped to remove his own coat and place it over Amy’s head
and shoulders.

‘You’ll get cold, Charlie,’ Amy protested
feebly, but he ignored her.

The rain had turned into drizzle by the time
they pulled up in front of a neat little house with a tiny flower
garden, close to the centre of Ruatane. Amy clambered out of the
gig with Charlie’s help, and waited while he lifted her bundle off
the seat. She walked beside him up to the gate, but when Charlie
pushed it open Amy froze in fear. Suddenly she could not bear the
thought of walking up that path and into a stranger’s house to be
pushed and bullied and abused; to lie screaming on a hard bed with
no sympathy, only contempt; to abandon herself to the pain that was
surely worse than dying could ever be.

The door of the house opened, and a
wiry-looking grey-haired woman of about fifty came out onto the
verandah. ‘Mrs Stewart?’ she called. ‘Hurry up, dear, come inside
out of this wet.’ She smiled encouragingly at Amy, but Amy
remembered the smile Sister Prescott had given her under Jack’s
watchful gaze. She was sure this woman’s apparent kindness was for
Charlie’s benefit.

‘Hurry up,’ Charlie said irritably. ‘What
are you doing, standing there like an idiot?’

‘I’m scared,’ Amy whispered. She reached a
hand towards Charlie’s sleeve. At least he was familiar.

But Charlie was not someone to cling to. Amy
let her hand drop, and did not resist when Charlie took her by the
elbow and propelled her up the path.

Mrs Coulson held the door open until they
were in a small passage. She tut-tutted over Amy’s sodden
state.

‘Never mind, dear, I’ll soon have you warm
and dry. Now, Mr Stewart, off you go home. I don’t want you under
my feet.’

Amy waited for Charlie to erupt in fury, but
Mrs Coulson’s matter-of-fact orders left him dumbfounded. He
retrieved his coat from Amy’s shoulders, walked to the door, then
turned and asked, ‘When do I come back?’

‘Tomorrow morning’s soon enough. I expect
we’ll have a little someone for you to meet by then. Goodbye, Mr
Stewart.’ She gave Charlie a small shove out towards the rain and
closed the door firmly behind him, then turned to Amy.

‘Let’s get these wet things off you, my
dear,’ she said brightly. ‘Oh, what a frightened little face! Don’t
worry, we’ll soon have you comfortable.’ Mrs Coulson slipped an arm
around Amy’s shoulders, and Amy gave a shudder. She backed away
from Mrs Coulson, whimpering in fear.