A Mother's Courage

by Maggie Hope

  ‘I am marrying Matthew. You will remember Matthew, the house man who works for Mr and Mrs Tait. Wish me happy, Mary, and try to come and bring little Ruth.’

  Matthew? That arrogant Tongan, the one she herself had quarrelled with so often? How could Prue marry him? Mary was thunderstruck.

  She glanced up automatically to check on Ruth. ‘Don’t wander too far, pet,’ she called.

  ‘No, Mam.’

  Prue hadn’t mentioned Morgan, but then she would know that he wouldn’t go to her wedding. Mind, he’d be fit to be hog-tied, as he called it, if he thought his sister-in-law was marrying a Tongan. Mary grinned to herself at the thought. Best not tell him then.

  The thing was, how to get over to Lakeba herself with Ruth. She wanted to go to her sister’s wedding. She would have to find a way to get there without Morgan knowing about it. Rising to her feet, she dusted off her dress and called Ruth to her.

  ‘Come on pet, we’ll go to see if there are any ships in the bay, you like ships.’

  They walked down to the quay but it was deserted; there was only Morgan’s sloop riding at anchor and apparently no one aboard her. If only she could sail a ship, Mary thought dreamily, she would take Ruth and sail away and never come back to this God-forsaken place.

  During the next few days Mary’s mind worked endlessly on the problem of how she was going to get to Lakeba and time was running short. Morgan, unusually for him, stayed around the place, drinking himself silly then rolling down to the workers’ compound, no doubt after women. She didn’t inquire; she didn’t care about that any more.

  No ship entered the bay, though she and Ruth went down every morning to check. Not until Thursday of the following week, when, as they rounded the bend in the track, they saw it, a cargo ship, and the estate workers helping to load it with cotton bales, Wilson on the quay, shouting orders. Morgan must have sold some cotton after all.

  The ship was Australian, registered in Sydney; she could see the inscription on a metal plate on the bow, half-obscured by rusty streaks. If she could only get aboard, surely the captain would take her, all the ships trading in these islands took the odd passenger. But there was Wilson to consider and she had no luggage with her though she already had a bag packed and hidden in her cupboard, just in case.

  ‘Come on, Ruth, I’ll see if the captain will let us go on board, would you like that?’

  ‘Ooh, yes, Mam.’

  The little girl took hold of Mary’s hand and trotted by her side to the gangway.

  ‘Where are you going, Mrs West?’ demanded Wilson. ‘Don’t get in the way of the workers, I want the loading finished this morning. Anyway, the child might get knocked.’

  Mary picked up Ruth and held her protectively. He was right, she couldn’t risk that. ‘Ruth wants to go on board, she likes ships,’ she said.

  ‘Aye, well, you can come back this afternoon, she’s not sailing until high tide and that’s not until six. You’ll have to ask the captain though. Now, kindly get out of the way.’ As usual, Wilson was showing her no respect at all but Mary disregarded it this time; she had more important things to think about.

  The captain was at the top of the gangway and he heard some of this exchange.

  ‘Aye, missus, bring the little lass down this afternoon, I’ll show her round,’ he called out in a strange mixture of Australian twang and Scottish. ‘A nice dainty little lass she is.’ He frowned his displeasure at Wilson and switched instantly to a friendly smile for Mary and Ruth. ‘I’ll enjoy having ye both.’

  ‘Thank you, Captain. I’ll see you this afternoon then.’

  Now she had to find a way to get her bag down here without Morgan noticing, Mary thought, as she went back up the track with Ruth skipping by her side. As they neared the house and the figure of Morgan was apparent, sprawled on a chair, a glass of brandy in his hand, Ruth stopped skipping and moved in closer to her mother.

  Mary looked down at her and her heart ached to see the anxious look that had appeared in Ruth’s eyes; her lip quivered and she stared at her father compulsively. There was no reason to warn the child not to mention going on the ship, thought Mary. She never said anything to Morgan unless he forced her to.

  Morgan grinned and sat up straighter in his chair. ‘Come and sit by me, brat,’ he said to Ruth. ‘Why you always look so blasted scared of me I don’t know. Come on now, come and sit by me.’

  ‘Leave her alone, Morgan,’ said Mary, putting a hand on Ruth’s shoulder and feeling her trembling.

  ‘Come and sit by me!’ he roared suddenly and the child jumped with fright and scuttled to do his bidding.

  ‘Morgan, don’t—’ Mary began. It didn’t happen often but occasionally he had taken it into his head to tease the child, his idea of harmless fun, she supposed.

  ‘Don’t you tell me what to do, woman,’ he growled. He got to his feet and filled his glass from the bottle on a side table. A bottle now almost empty that had been three-quarters full when she went out, Mary noticed. Dear Lord, don’t let him hurt Ruth, she prayed. I’ll kill him if he does, I will, I’ll swing for him.

  Morgan tossed the empty bottle into the bushes beneath the verandah and sat down by Ruth. ‘Now then, Ruthie, talk to your pa.’

  Ruth stared dumbly at him.

  ‘Go on, you can talk, can’t you, Ruthie?’ He prodded her in the shoulder and her tiny frame fell back against the cushions.

  ‘Don’t touch her, Morgan,’ Mary warned, starting forward. She stopped when Morgan took hold of the child and lifted her forward, thrusting her down hard on the edge of the chair. The bamboo frame must have hurt her but she didn’t cry, simply carried on staring at her father, her blue eyes wide.

  ‘Go to hell,’ he snarled at Mary. ‘This is my young’un, the only one you’ve seen fit to give me, poor brat of a female that she is. I’ll make something of her yet if I have to kill her in the attempt.’

  ‘And well you might, you’re a bloody monster, a flaming cruel sod of an excuse for a man—’

  Mary’s temper, fuelled by anxiety for Ruth, broke but her tirade was cut short as he lurched to his feet and swiped her across the head with the back of his hand, making her stagger. She kept her feet however though her head was ringing and dark patches clouded her sight. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again she saw he was back in his seat beside Ruth.

  ‘Mam! Mam!’ cried the terrified child and he turned back to her but, before he could do anything more, Mary grabbed his gun, which was propped against the wall, and swung the butt at his head. The crack as the rifle met skin and bone was loud but Mary hardly heard it; she had picked up Ruth and carried her down the steps and round the corner into the uncleared brush.

  ‘Stay still, pet, stay still,’ she whispered, her breath ragged as she tried to control her panting. If he came anywhere near he would hear it, she was sure he would.

  They must have stayed in that small hollow in the brush for hours; the sun was beginning to descend behind the hills when Mary finally moved.

  He had not come after them; perhaps she had knocked him out cold. She had to get back into the house to get her bag – there could only be an hour or two before the Australian boat sailed.

  ‘Stay here,’ she said to Ruth, ‘I won’t be long, pet.’

  Ruth whimpered softly but she nodded her assent, fear lurking in her eyes. I’ll take that look away from her, vowed Mary to herself as she cautiously crept out of the underbrush so that she could see the verandah of the house.

  Morgan had not stirred. The whole area was quiet; only Morgan’s horse, still saddled and with reins dangling, grazed quietly by the side of the house. Dear God, had she killed Morgan? Mary went to him, kneeling before him to see. His eyes were closed and he was pale under his tan, a vivid bruise on his temple where she had struck him with the rifle, some blood oozing. He didn’t appear to be breathing.

  Mary sat back on her heels, thinking furiously. She had to get away, and the cargo ship was the perfect opportunity. Wilson wou
ld not come up to the house to report to Morgan until after supper, that was his custom. There was the horse though; he would give everything away unless she saw to him.

  Fighting her fear of the animal, she managed to catch hold of the reins and tried to pull him away. He lifted his head and regarded her, then calmly went back to his grazing. He had her summed up properly, she thought savagely. Grabbing a hold of the ring close to the bit, she pulled again.

  ‘Come on, you brute!’

  Surprised as much by the tone of command as by her show of force, he followed her obediently. She took him round the back of the house to the stable and fastened him in and sped into the house by the kitchen door. The bag was in the cupboard; now all she had to do was pick up Ruth and go. She glanced once at the verandah as she went past, seeing Morgan still lying there, exactly as he was before. Then she turned away resolutely, determined not to look back. Which was a pity, for if she had she would have seen him turn his head, groan and lift his hand to the bruise at his temple.

  Ruth was still sitting where she had been left, her thin face looking even more pinched and blue shadows under her eyes.

  ‘Come on, pet,’ said Mary and the little girl ran to her. ‘We’re not just going to see the ship, we’re going for a sail on it to see your Aunty Prue.’

  As she had thought would happen, the captain was pleased to take her and Ruth to Lakeba. ‘It’s a wedding,’ she said to him. ‘My sister is getting married.’

  ‘Captain West isn’t going with you?’ he asked, but it was only with a mild interest; no doubt he thought Morgan had business elsewhere.

  ‘Not this time,’ she answered. Not ever again, she thought, feeling a stab of fear that was an actual pain in her stomach. It was not for herself but Ruth; what would happen to the child if her mother was hanged for murder? Her mind shied away from the thought.

  Still, she would be with Prue, Prue was family, and she would see Ruth came to no harm. And then there were the Taits. Francis was an upright man, he would make sure the child got what was due to her, she could depend on him and Eleanor. If she asked Eleanor she would send Ruth home to her uncle, of course she would. If the worst happened.

  A knock on the door of her cabin broke into her dark thoughts. She had been awake all night going over and over it all, she realised.

  ‘Come in.’

  It was a seaman who was acting as steward. ‘Captain says to tell you we will be docking in Lakeba in an hour or so,’ he said, poking his head round the door.

  Mary felt a surge of gladness. Thank God they had made it, now Ruth would be all right no matter what happened to her.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  A photographer had set up his studio on the main street in Bau and he had followed the wedding party to Lakeba. So Prue stood proudly in her wedding finery, first with Matthew and then surrounded by his family, uncles and aunts and cousins besides brothers and sisters. Then she stood with her own sister by her side.

  ‘Mary looks terrible,’ Eleanor whispered to Francis. In fact, Mary was hard to recognise she was so gaunt, with hollows in her cheeks where before there had been dimples. Fortunately, the bruise on the side of her head was fading; perhaps it wouldn’t show up on the photographs. Eleanor shuddered to think how she had got it; only a heavy blow could do that.

  Ruth went willingly to Eleanor while her mother posed with Prue, though she shrank away from Francis at first and wouldn’t look at the boys.

  ‘She’s shy, that’s all,’ Eleanor said to Francis William, who was fascinated by the tiny girl and wanted her to play a game with him.

  ‘She’s like a little doll, Mam,’ he said and Eleanor agreed. Ruth was far too small for her age, she looked as though she could do with a few good dinners; why, she was almost as thin as Prue had been at her age. Surely Ruth had been getting enough food? No, it was something else that was holding the child back, putting such shadows in her eyes. It bothered Eleanor, both as a nurse and a mother. Why, the child hardly spoke except to her mother, she was so painfully shy.

  She did speak once, however, when the wedding party sat down to the feast, a traditional Tongan feast with sucking pig, succulent island chicken and fish and exotic vegetables.

  Ruth was feeling a little emboldened; she saw the other children running around, laughing and shouting at each other and she saw that neither Francis nor any of the other men seemed to be angry about it. Why, Francis even smiled when John bumped into him, making him stagger to keep his balance.

  ‘Are these black bastards eating with us?’ she asked her mother. And it would happen there was a lull in the music and chattering noise and her piping voice was heard clearly around the wedding party.

  Francis William’s mouth dropped open. The doll had spoken, she had not just spoken, she had said a bad word, a very bad word.

  ‘You won’t go to heaven,’ he declared, shocked to the core.

  Ruth felt every eye upon her, blushed a fiery red and hid her face in her mother’s skirts.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Mary, almost as embarrassed as her daughter. ‘It’s just something she has heard, she doesn’t know what it means, really she doesn’t.’ She was mortified. Morgan had talked like that all the time but she hadn’t realised that Ruth had picked it up.

  ‘You mustn’t say such things, pet,’ she whispered to Ruth.

  The child lifted a woebegone face and whispered back, ‘Pa does.’

  Mary couldn’t deny it. ‘Yes, but Daddy shouldn’t say it either.’

  ‘Children who say nasty things to hurt other people should be whipped,’ observed John in exactly his father’s tone of voice when he himself was in trouble. He had never been whipped in his life but Ruth had. And she began to weep, great heartrending sobs that shook her small frame convulsively.

  ‘Boys! Come away now,’ said Eleanor, rising to her feet and taking charge. ‘Now, do you hear? As you can’t mind your own business you will have to sit at the other end, away from nice polite people.’

  It was Matthew who brought the situation back to normal. Leaving Prue, he went and sat down beside Mary and Ruth. He picked up a snowy ball of sugar flavoured with coconut and held it out to the little girl.

  ‘You like sweets, Ruth?’ he asked. She peeped at him from behind a fold in her mother’s skirt.

  He picked up another, a dark brown one flavoured with chocolate. ‘Maybe you like this better?’

  Ruth looked up at her mother and saw she was smiling encouragement. She nodded and sniffed and Mary wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.

  ‘You mean you like this one? Or this one?’ Matthew held one sweet out and then the other. Ruth pointed at the chocolate one.

  ‘You like the black one?’ Matthew managed to put just the right degree of incredulity into his voice.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ruth. She stared at the sweets and her mouth watered.

  ‘You’re sure you don’t like the white one?’

  ‘Yes, yes I do, they’re both nice,’ said Ruth a little louder. ‘But I like chocolate the best.’

  ‘Well then, I think you’d better have both,’ said Matthew and handed them over before rising to his feet and going back to the seat of honour.

  ‘The colour doesn’t matter, does it?’ he said over his shoulder. He didn’t wait for her reply and in any case, her mouth was stuffed with a gooey mass of chocolate and coconut.

  Around her, the noise had started up again, the incident over. The Tongans were far too polite and understanding of children to take offence at what Ruth had said, Mary realised. She watched Matthew as he sat down beside Prue and saw the smiling welcome she gave him. Prue would be all right, she thought. She is in love.

  There was little chance for her to speak to Prue privately before the newly-weds embarked in Matthew’s canoe for the tiny island where they were to spend their honeymoon. But, as she hugged her sister goodbye, Prue whispered in her ear.

  ‘That bloody Morgan West has done something to you, I can tell. Promise me you won’t go back to
him, Mary, promise me.’

  ‘Well—’ Mary thought briefly that she would be taken back as soon as Morgan’s body was discovered. She desperately wanted to tell Prue all about it, she felt she would lose her reason if she didn’t but how could she spoil her sister’s happy day?

  ‘At least until I get back to Bau?’ Prue was insisting and Mary nodded.

  ‘I won’t,’ she said and stood back as the canoe was launched and the couple set off in a sea of flowers. Eleanor came and stood beside her.

  ‘Come with us to Bau, Mary, you and little Ruth are welcome to stay for as long as you like. It will be lovely to have you,’ she said, slipping her arm through Mary’s. ‘If Morgan is coming for you, he can easily come on to Bau and he can stay too.’ Though I hope he doesn’t, she thought. Francis and he would argue again, she knew it.

  ‘I don’t think Morgan will come,’ said Mary. ‘But I’ll be glad to, Ruth too.’

  They sailed back to Bau with the evening tide on a soft and balmy night under a sky sparkling with stars. Francis and Eleanor sat on deck, enjoying the quiet after the noise and clamour of the wedding day, and Mary was down below persuading Ruth to go to sleep without her.

  ‘Promise me you’ll stay beside me, Mam,’ Ruth said.

  ‘I’ll stay until you go to sleep, then I’ll just be on deck.’

  ‘The bogey man might get me if I’m on my own and you won’t get down in time to save me.’

  ‘I’ll look after you, Ruth,’ said Francis William. The boys were bedded down in the top bunk.

  ‘But Daddy says that the bogey man will get me if I don’t watch out.’

  The boys thought about this in silence then John said, ‘Well, our daddy says there’s no such things as bogeymen. He says that Jesus and the angels look after us when we are asleep. He looks after all children.’

  Ruth digested this for a moment or two. ‘But you will look after me an’ all,’ she said.

  ‘Me and Francis William, both.’

  ‘You can sit up on deck, Mam,’ she decided. ‘But you’ll be at the top of the stairs, won’t you?’