Mud and Gold (44 page)

‘Mmm. That’s because he’s just a big kid
himself. But you’re right, he is good with them. I suppose
Charlie’s got Mal.’

‘Yes, he said he’d take him into town
today.’ Amy sighed. ‘Mal always gets excited when Charlie says he
can come. He gets in a real grump if he has to stay home with Davie
and me—oh, he can be a menace sometimes. Last week Charlie wouldn’t
take any of us in with him, it was one of those days when he wants
to go out by himself. Mal really played up for me. He kicked over
the bucket of dirty water when I’d just finished scrubbing, and he
knocked a whole tray of biscuits onto the floor because I told him
he’d have to wait until Charlie came home before he could have any.
Then when I gave him a smack he bit my hand—hard, too.’

‘He’s a real little brat,’ Lizzie said,
looking shocked.

‘No, he can’t help it. It’s boring for him
when he’s stuck with me, and he just loves being with Charlie.’

‘Well, he’s out of your hair this morning,
anyway. You don’t look that pleased about it,’ Lizzie commented,
seeing Amy’s worried frown.

‘Oh, I’m pleased Charlie’s taken him. But
sometimes Mal plays up when they go out… well, he usually does,
really. He behaves better for Charlie than for me, but Charlie
wants him to be perfect. He forgets Mal’s only a little boy still.
You can’t expect a four-year-old to sit quietly and wait while
Charlie’s busy at the store or down at the factory. Mal starts
running around and knocks things over, or touches things he’s not
meant to. Half the time he gets a hiding when they come home. He
still wants to go out with Charlie the next time, though—it’s
better to have a hiding than to be left with his boring old mother,
I suppose. Charlie’s very hard on Mal.’

‘Sounds like he needs it,’ Lizzie said. ‘I
bet Charlie gave him a good hiding for biting you.’

‘Well, no, he didn’t. I didn’t tell
Charlie,’ Amy admitted. ‘Mal gets plenty of hidings without me
telling on him.’ She did not divulge the fear she never quite
voiced even to herself: that Malcolm would hate her if she did not
do her best to keep him happy. The duty she owed Malcolm seemed
much heavier than anything David claimed; loving David had been
easy from the day he had been born.

‘You’ve got to be firm with children
sometimes,’ Lizzie pronounced. ‘That’s the only trouble with Frank,
he’s a bit soft. I bet he’s letting Maudie get away with murder
while I’m stuck in bed. Mind you, Mrs Parsons doesn’t stand for any
nonsense from Maudie and Joey, so she’s keeping them in line. Of
course she’s a bit bossy, really. I had to tell her off for
ordering Frank around, she’s been better since then. But she’s good
with the children.’

‘I know it doesn’t do to be too soft. I wish
Charlie didn’t expect so much of Mal, though. Mal can’t be perfect,
any more than I can.’

‘Who says you’re not?’ Lizzie said
indignantly. ‘Charlie’s got no reason to complain.’

Amy shook her head. ‘I don’t think Charlie
would agree with you, Lizzie. Never mind about me, let’s have
another look at this pretty little girl. Can I have a hold of
her?’

*

When she visited Lizzie and the newborn
Beth, Amy did not know that she herself was already carrying
another child. She had barely begun to wonder when her normal
bleeding would return when the reason for its over-long absence
became obvious; not from any of the signs of a normal pregnancy,
but from the painful spasms and heavy, clotted bleeding of a
miscarriage.

She told no one of the miscarriage except
Charlie; it was his child, and in Amy’s eyes he had the right to
know of its brief existence and death. It was difficult for her to
gauge Charlie’s response. She knew he must be disappointed at
losing another child, but he showed no more sign of wanting to talk
to her about it than he had after Alexander’s death. The only
comment Charlie made was ‘There’ll be other bairns’; and once the
bleeding from the miscarriage had ceased he set about seeing that
there would indeed be others as soon as possible.

Amy did not want to cloud Lizzie’s happiness
with her own loss, and there was no one else to share her feelings
with, her occasional hesitant requests to be allowed to visit the
‘interfering’ Mrs Coulson being curtly refused. Her ginger kitten
seemed to sense her grief, and he was more than usually
affectionate while she was mourning the loss of a child she had not
even known she was bearing. Ginger’s endearing habit of licking
away the tears Amy only let herself shed when she was alone made
them flow all the more freely.

*

Frank was unsure whether to be relieved or
concerned when Mrs Parsons finished her two weeks of looking after
the household and went home. It was a relief to have the house to
themselves again; he found Mrs Parsons rather daunting, even after
Lizzie had somewhat cowed the nurse by laying down the law to her.
But it troubled him to have Lizzie back in her round of cooking and
cleaning, with three small children to look after now, especially
when he saw how tired she was at the end of each day. She brushed
aside Frank’s concern, but it did not stop him wishing he could
make her life easier.

Lizzie stayed at home with Joey and the
month-old Beth while Frank took Maudie into town with him one day
for the weekly shopping expedition. Maudie was delighted at having
her father to herself, and Frank was glad of his daughter’s company
as she sat on his lap and prattled away. The trip into town went
almost as quickly as when Lizzie was with him.

When he had made his purchases, including
the sweets that Maudie cajoled him into buying her, Frank loaded
the supplies into the buggy then took Maudie by the hand and headed
for the Post and Telegraph Station. They were just about to cross
the road when Frank’s eye was caught by the tiny display window of
Ruatane’s watchmaker and jeweller, old Mr Hatfield.

It was some years since Frank had set foot
in the shop; his last visit to the jeweller’s had been to buy
Lizzie’s wedding ring more than five years previously. Today his
attention was caught by a shaft of sunlight glinting on the
contents of the window. In one small corner was a tray of rings,
and close beside the rings lay a box with a lining of black velvet
that set off to advantage the string of pearls it held. They glowed
warmly in the sunlight. Their creamy colour made Frank think of
Lizzie’s thick mane of hair that was slowly recovering its former
length.

‘Papa?’ Maudie tugged at his arm. ‘Can I
see, Papa?’

Frank hoisted her up so she could press her
nose to the window. ‘See the nice necklace, Maudie?’

‘Oh, it’s
pretty
,’ Maudie said, her
breath misting the window as she gazed at the pearls. ‘Is that for
Mama?’

‘Do you think Mama would like it?’ Frank
asked. Maudie nodded vigorously, still staring wide-eyed at the
window. ‘Yes, I bet she would. It’s probably too dear for me.’ He
turned away from the window, still holding Maudie, but the pearls
drew him back. He could almost see himself fastening them around
Lizzie’s neck. ‘Let’s have a better look at them. It doesn’t cost
anything to look, eh?’ Frank pushed open the door of Mr Hatfield’s
shop, setting a bell jangling as he did and making the
silver-haired proprietor look up from his high stool behind the
counter.

Mr Hatfield was something of an anomaly in
Ruatane. His precise mode of speech, and manners that would not
have been out of place in any drawing room, set him apart from
almost all the other inhabitants, and he chose to keep to himself,
not taking any part in the social life of the town. Frank could
remember hearing adults speaking over his head when he was a small
boy referring to Mr Hatfield as a ‘remittance man’. It had been
many years before his mother explained the term to Frank, so he
could understand that Mr Hatfield had been encouraged to leave
England by a family who had sent him a modest allowance ever since
to ensure that he would not come back. His mother had hinted there
was some sort of scandal behind Mr Hatfield’s family’s earnest
desire that he leave the country, but she had never elaborated, and
Frank had slowly come to realise that none of the people who
speculated on Mr Hatfield’s background had any real idea what his
past might have held. The allowance was sufficient for a man to
live comfortably on if his needs were simple, and at the same was
small enough to make it unlikely he would ever be able to save the
fare home.

Some time in the years since he had left
England, the remittance man had acquired skills as a watchmaker.
Ruatane was too small for much money to be made from such a
business, and it was well known in the town that Mr Hatfield used
his little shop as much to indulge his hobbies as to supplement his
allowance. On entering the shop Frank remembered the few times his
father had brought him into it. It had seemed a magician’s cave to
him then, the shelves lined with arcane instruments and obscure
artifacts. Today he could give a name to more of the objects. One
of Mr Hatfield’s cameras had wandered into the main part of the
shop from the small room he called a studio out the back, along
with a pile of photographs. Frank recognised a telescope on one
shelf, and assumed that some of the lenses stacked around it made
up part of the telescope’s equipment. There were lumps of various
minerals, some polished and some in their natural state. Frank saw
chunks of kauri gum among the minerals, some with insects trapped
within the clear resin. Other insects, notably a large collection
of dragonflies, were arranged in shallow boxes, each insect with a
neatly written label below it.

‘How do you do, Mr Kelly?’ Mr Hatfield said,
lowering his jeweller’s eyepiece to the workbench before he stood
up to shake Frank’s hand. ‘And this charming young lady must be
your daughter? Delighted to meet you, Miss Kelly.’

Maudie, never usually at a loss for words,
was nonplussed at being referred to in such terms, as well as being
rather overwhelmed by the unfamiliar surroundings. She clung to
Frank and pressed her face against his chest.

‘Come on, Maudie, don’t be shy. This is Mr
Hatfield—he took that nice big photo of me and Mama when we got
married. Say hello to the man,’ Frank coaxed. He persuaded her
first to peer at the watchmaker then to smile at him. She held out
her little hand and Mr Hatfield shook it very solemnly.

‘This is a funny shop,’ she told him.

‘Thank you, Miss Kelly,’ Mr Hatfield
answered as if she had paid him a compliment. ‘Is there something I
can assist you with, Mr Kelly?’

‘We want that necklace for Mama,’ Maudie put
in before Frank had a chance to answer.

‘Necklace? Are you interested in the
pearls?’ There was the hint of a smile in the look he gave Frank,
and Frank knew without being told that Mr Hatfield was sure the
necklace was too expensive for him.

‘Well, I wouldn’t mind having a look at
them,’ Frank said, trying to sound nonchalant as he let Maudie
slide to the floor.

Mr Hatfield reached into the window and
carefully lifted out the box containing the pearls. ‘Yes, rather
lovely, aren’t they? It’s a foolish fancy of mine—I think a
jeweller should have some real jewellery in his shop apart from the
odd wedding ring. I bought these on a trip to Auckland. I suppose
they’ll sit in the window forever now, but I do get the pleasure of
having something worth displaying. Here, touch it,’ he encouraged,
holding the necklace out to Frank. ‘Run your fingers over the
pearls, feel how silky they are. Like a woman’s skin,’ he said
dreamily. Frank looked at him in surprise. As far as he knew Mr
Hatfield had never been married, but from the faraway look in his
eyes it seemed the pearls conjured up an old memory.

Frank stroked the pearls softly. ‘They feel
nice. Have a look, Maudie—don’t touch, though,’ he added hastily,
seeing her sticky little fingers reaching out to grab at them. ‘How
much?’ he asked, dragging himself back to reality. Now that he had
seen the necklace up close, he was more sure than ever that it must
be beyond his means.

‘Fifty pounds,’ Mr Hatfield said, and Frank
suppressed a gasp with difficulty. ‘Yes, I know, it’s a terrible
price. It’s what I paid for them, foolish though it was.’ He
replaced the pearls in their box and put it back in the window.

‘I’m sorry,’ Frank said. ‘That’s a bit much
for me.’

‘But they’re for Mama,’ Maudie
protested.

‘No, I can’t afford them, Maudie. I’ll get
something else for Mama. There’re lots of nice things in here,
there’s sure to be something Mama would like.’ Frank looked along
the counter, wishing a gift would make itself obvious.

‘What sum of money did you have in mind to
spend, Mr Kelly?’ Mr Hatfield asked.

‘I didn’t have anything in mind,’ Frank
admitted. ‘I just saw that necklace and thought it’d be nice for
Lizzie. I want to get her something, though. Let’s see.’ He
struggled to decide how much he could afford to spend, and came to
the conclusion that he had no idea. He knew there was enough money
coming in to supply the family’s needs, including the five pounds a
quarter for the bank, but jewellery for Lizzie did not form part of
his usual shopping. ‘Something small,’ he said reluctantly.

‘These bangles are quite popular with the
young men,’ Mr Hatfield suggested, pulling a box of slim silver
bangles towards him. ‘I believe a good number of the girls in
Ruatane are sporting them. They’re one and sixpence each.’

Frank picked up a bangle. ‘It’s quite
pretty,’ he said, turning the bangle around so that its patterned
surface caught the light. ‘I think Lizzie would like it. What do
you think, Maudie? Would Mama like this?’

Maudie gave the matter serious
consideration. ‘The beads are nicer. But that’s nice, too.’

‘All right, I’ll take it,’ Frank said,
trying not to sound disappointed. Lizzie would like the silver
bangle, he was sure, and he would enjoy giving it to her. But it
was frustrating to be unable to buy her something really beautiful,
something that would make her gasp with delight. He gave a last
glance towards the window where the pearls lay. Lizzie would gasp
if he came home with something like that, all right; but it would
be with horror, not pleasure. She would scold him soundly and send
him straight back to return it, knowing as well as he did that he
could not afford such an extravagant gift. In fact, he realised,
even one and sixpence might be more than was sensible.