Mud and Gold

by Shayne Parkinson

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Charlie.

  Jack drove off, and Charlie took Amy’s arm, digging his fingers into the tender spots he had made earlier. He marched her up the slope, making Amy half-trot to match his stride, and did not release his hold until they reached the house.

  Amy rubbed at her sore arm. ‘I haven’t got anything ready for lunch, Charlie,’ she said in a small voice, wondering just why she was in trouble.

  ‘Get on with it, then.’ Charlie glowered at her. ‘If it wasn’t the Sabbath I’d teach you not to make a spectacle of yourself with men.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to talk to him.’

  ‘You keep away from men, you little bitch. I’ll not be made a fool of. I’ll not have people saying my wife’s a whore. Whatever you were before I wed you, you’ll do as I say and act like a decent woman now. Understand?’ He shook her. ‘Understand?’

  ‘Y-yes,’ Amy stammered. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to annoy you.’ Charlie gave her a dark look and stalked inside, leaving Amy to follow in his wake.

  As she lay in bed that night struggling for breath under Charlie’s weight, Amy thought about his words. He thinks I’d do this with another man if I got the chance. He thinks I’m a whore. That must be a woman who does this with lots of men. I wish he trusted me. I wish I hadn’t been so bad.

  A more cheerful thought struck her, and Amy mentally counted days, trying to estimate when her bleeding might start. She dreaded the thought of having to explain to Charlie why he wouldn’t be able to touch her for a few days, but the relief would be worth the fearful task.

  She counted twice to be sure, then once more, but each time the sum came out the same way. Her bleeding was already a few days late.

  I’ve only had one lot since Ann was born, maybe it’s not regular yet. Or maybe I’ve remembered the dates wrong. Amy pushed back against the knowledge that was seeping into her awareness. She was with child again; Charlie’s child. I don’t want it. I don’t want it!

  *

  In early April the days were still warm, and Amy had still not told Charlie about the child on its way. Telling would make it seem a certainty, and she clung desperately to the hope that she might be wrong. She did not want to go through the misery of pregnancy and then be ripped apart again to bear this child of her degradation; the child of a union not of love, but of fear and revulsion on her part and contempt coupled with lust on his. So she ignored it, and hoped it would go away.

  *

  April had seemed safely in the distance for so long that it came as a shock to Frank when he realised the month of his wedding had arrived. Only two more weeks and he would be bringing Lizzie home with him. The thought of sharing his life and his house with Lizzie made him feel warm and comfortable; when he thought about sharing his bed with her excitement fought a war with nervousness, and each day that the wedding drew closer the two emotions became stronger.

  He knew that whatever went on in married couples’ bedrooms couldn’t be very difficult to learn; after all, people seemed to have babies all the time. But just how did they learn? He had got the impression from hay paddock jokes that most men seemed to know all about it, even the ones who weren’t married. There were always plenty of remarks about lacy drawers, and about women letting down their rigging, which he suspected referred to corsets.

  He supposed he would figure it out, given time, but what if he hurt Lizzie first, doing it the wrong way? He never, ever wanted to hurt Lizzie. And how would he know if he had done it wrong? Lizzie would have no more idea than he did; this was going to be one area where she would not try to tell him what to do. He was the man; it was up to him to know. And he had no real idea.

  Frank was so preoccupied with his weighty problem that it was some time before he noticed how strangely Ben was acting. His stay-at-home brother had taken to making mysterious trips into town; trips which he refused to discuss when asked, beyond saying he was ‘arranging a few things’. When Frank told Ben he wanted him to be his best man Ben scoffed at the idea; when Frank pressed him he swore and muttered, ‘Please yourself. Shut up about it.’ Frank didn’t mention Ben’s reluctance to Lizzie; he was sure she would say there was no point making Ben be best man if he didn’t want to, but Ben was, after all, his brother, and the only family he had. Until he gained his new wife, of course. At least Ben had stopped his complaints and threats against Lizzie’s arrival. Frank had enough to make him nervous without that.

  A week before the wedding, Frank was still none the wiser about what would happen in seven nights. His mind was full of his problem as he loaded his empty milk cans onto the spring cart after dropping the milk off at the cheese factory, so it was some time before he became aware of the conversation going on around him.

  ‘Reckon that Charlie Stewart’s got a glint in his eye these days,’ one of the men said. Frank looked up from the cart to see Charlie driving away.

  ‘Yep. Tasty little wife in his bed, that’s why,’ another voice replied. Frank looked at the speakers and saw they were Mr Carr and old Mr Aitken.

  ‘Bet he makes her squeal,’ Mr Carr commented. Squeal? How would he make her squeal? Did they mean Charlie hurt Amy?

  ‘First night, anyway. They let out a good yell then—even the ones who’ve got no need to.’

  ‘Well, my old woman reckons Charlie had a bite at that cherry a while before the wedding—reckons that’s why they got married in such a rush. So she did her screaming out in the paddock, I guess.’

  ‘You reckon? Now, how did he talk a good looker like her into rolling in the grass with him?’

  Mr Carr shrugged. ‘Dunno. But I suppose he must have—don’t see why else Jack would’ve given her to him.’ He noticed Frank looking at him. ‘Hey, Frank! Your big day’s coming up soon, eh? And your big night!’ He winked, and Frank felt himself redden.

  ‘Bet he hopes it’s big that night,’ Mr Aitken said, and both men guffawed.

  Frank smiled nervously. He climbed onto his cart and drove off as quickly as possible, hearing the laughter die away behind him. That did it. All that talk of making women scream. He was sorry for Amy if it was true, and it was easy to believe Charlie might hurt her, but Amy was not his responsibility. Lizzie was, and he had no intention of hurting Lizzie. He was just going to have to find out how to do it properly.

  When Frank went to Lizzie’s house for lunch the next day he felt brave and determined, but his boldness soon evaporated. It was only seeing Lizzie smiling across the table at him that gave him the courage to do what he intended. Lizzie trusted him; he could see it in her face.

  Lizzie suggested a walk after lunch, and she looked surprised when Frank refused.

  ‘Maybe later,’ he said, looking out the window to see which direction Arthur had taken. ‘I want to have a bit of a talk with your pa first.’

  ‘Why?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘I just… I just want to ask him some things.’

  ‘Oh, well, if you’re that keen.’ For a moment Frank thought Lizzie was going to be huffy, but she soon relented. ‘All right, I’ll do the dishes now instead of later, then we can go for a walk when you’ve finished with Pa.’

  Frank gave her a grateful peck on the cheek when he thought Edie was not looking, then hurried out the door and after Arthur.

  ‘Wait a minute, Mr Leith,’ Frank called when he was close. ‘Can I walk with you for a bit?’

  ‘Frank! I’m flattered,’ Arthur said, laughing. ‘Now, why am I suddenly more interesting than my daughter?’

  ‘I like talking with you.’

  ‘You don’t need to butter me up any more, Frank. I’ve said you can have her, and it’s a bit late to change my mind now.’

  ‘I’m not trying to butter you up—I really do like talking with you.’

  ‘Just don’t get me mixed up with Lizzie and try to kiss me.’ Arthur gave Frank a friendly slap on the back. ‘Now, what do you want to talk about?’

  Don’t muck about, Frank told himself. Come st
raight to the point. At least it wouldn’t be as hard as asking for Lizzie’s hand. Arthur wouldn’t hit him for asking this. He might laugh, though.

  ‘I… I’m really glad me and Lizzie are going to get married,’ he began.

  ‘I should hope so. Lizzie’ll make you a fine wife.’

  ‘Yes, she will. But… I’m glad I’ll be part of your family as well. That means a lot to me.’

  Arthur gave him an indulgent smile. ‘It means a lot to me, too, Frank, even if you can be a bit stupid sometimes.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Frank said absently. ‘I mean… well, I was pretty young when Pa died, so I haven’t had a father for a long time. I’m really glad you’re going to be my pa now. I sort of think maybe… can I call you Pa?’

  ‘Well, you could wait till next week! Now, I’m only joking, don’t look so crushed. Call me Pa. I’d like you to.’

  ‘Thanks, Pa. You know, I’ve been thinking, maybe my pa would be telling me some things now. I sort of wondered if… if maybe you could tell me them instead?’

  Arthur looked at him blankly. ‘What are you talking about, Frank? What things?’

  ‘Things about getting married.’ There, it was out now.

  ‘Ah. Right. You want some advice about marriage, do you?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ This was going well; Arthur had caught on beautifully.

  ‘Hmm.’ Arthur looked thoughtful. ‘Let’s sit down for a bit,’ he said when they neared a fallen log. They sat beside each other, and Arthur was silent for a few moments.

  ‘Now, Lizzie’s my daughter, and she’s a good girl really, but it has to be said—she’s bossy. All women like their own way, but Lizzie’s keener on it than most. I don’t know where she gets that from, I’ve never had much trouble with Edie, but it’s a fact. You’re going to have a bit of bother with her.’

  ‘I am?’ Frank asked in confusion. He seemed to have lost track of the conversation rather suddenly.

  ‘Unless you get things sorted out early on. That’s the secret, Frank—never let a woman rule you, and let her know you’re not going to allow it right from the start. If she thinks she can get away with her nonsense she’ll get worse and worse. The first time she tries it, you’ll have to come down hard on her.’

  ‘Ah… how do I do that?’ This wasn’t really what he needed to hear, but maybe it would be useful. It might get wearing, being told what to do all the time.

  ‘Now, mind, I’m not talking about being rough, Frank. I don’t want to see my daughter covered in bruises. I’d have something to say about it if she was, husband or no husband.’

  ‘Bruises?’ Frank echoed in alarm.

  Arthur patted him on the shoulder. ‘I don’t really need to tell you that, do I, Frank? You’re not a violent man, any more than I am. No, there’s no need to be cruel just to show a woman who’s boss. One or two hidings, that’s all it should take.’ He stopped and thought for a while. ‘Though being Lizzie, it might take three or four.’

  ‘Are… are you saying I should hit Lizzie?’ Frank asked hesitantly, hoping he had misunderstood.

  ‘Not all the time, just until she gets the idea. She’s not stupid—she’s pretty smart, come to that. She’ll catch on soon enough. After that you just need to give her a look or a sharp word if she plays up, just to remind her.’

  ‘I don’t think I could,’ Frank admitted. ‘I mean, I’m fond of Lizzie—I don’t want to hurt her.’ That reminded him of the real reason for this discussion, but Arthur was not to be diverted just now.

  ‘Of course you’re fond of her—that’s why you want to do the right thing by her. It’s not natural for a woman to rule a house, Frank. You’ll only end up both being miserable if you let that happen, you mark my words.’

  ‘Will we?’

  Arthur nodded. ‘Did you ever hear any good of a house where the woman wears the trousers? She’d make your life a misery, and you’d be a laughing-stock. It wouldn’t make her happy, either, though she might think it would. Women need a man to tell them what to do, even the bossy ones.’

  Frank chewed at his lip. ‘How would I do it?’ he asked. It was hard to imagine Lizzie meekly standing still to let herself be hit. And even harder to imagine himself doing the hitting.

  ‘It’s important to be fair, remember that. Give her a warning the first time she plays up, then the next time you let her have it. You can use your hand…’ He stopped and studied Frank. ‘Though you’re not all that much bigger than Lizzie, are you? You might have trouble making a good job of it with just your hand. No, you’d be better to use a belt or a strap. I don’t approve of using a stick on a woman, that’s too harsh.’

  Would this really be the best for Lizzie? Frank wondered. He wanted to make her happy, but… ‘Where’s the best place to do it?’

  ‘Bedroom, of course. It’s the only place private enough.’

  ‘No, I meant sort of… where on her?’

  Arthur laughed. ‘On the part with the best padding, of course! Right on the backside. You’re not aiming to damage her, remember, just make her take a bit of notice of you.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Try as he might, Frank could not picture himself taking a belt to Lizzie. She would just tell him not to be so stupid.

  ‘You’ll get on just fine, Frank, as long as you start as you mean to go on. All right? Has that been any help?’ Frank could see that Arthur was ready to stand up and move away.

  ‘Well…’ Frank said, ‘I think so—I mean, I’m sure it has, but…’

  ‘Hmm? What else do you want me to tell you about?’

  ‘I was sort of wondering… I don’t really know…’ Now the right words refused to come. Frank took a deep breath and tried again. ‘Lizzie and me are getting married next week.’

  ‘I know that, Frank. I should know, it’s going to cost me enough money.’

  ‘We’ll get married, and then we’ll go to my place.’

  ‘That’s the general idea, yes.’

  ‘That’s right. We’ll go to my place, and we’ll… well, I suppose we’ll go inside, maybe make a cup of tea or something.’

  ‘I don’t think you’ll bother with that,’ Arthur said with a knowing smile.

  ‘Maybe not. Maybe we’ll just…’ Frank trailed off and felt himself redden. ‘Maybe we’ll go straight to bed,’ he said to the ground between his feet.

  ‘I expect you will. Lord knows I’ve made you wait long enough, you’re not going to want to waste any more time.’

  Frank nudged at a clod of earth with one foot. ‘So we’ll go to bed, and then—’

  ‘Yes, yes, we don’t need all the details,’ Arthur interrupted. ‘I think I’ve got the general idea. You don’t need to ask my permission, you know.’ He peered at Frank’s expression. ‘Is something wrong, Frank? What’s on your mind?’

  ‘I don’t…’ Frank raised his eyes to meet Arthur’s, and was reassured by the friendly concern he saw there. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said in a rush, then looked down again.

  There was a long silence. ‘I see,’ Arthur said at last. ‘Well, I needn’t have worried about you two getting up to mischief, eh? So you’ve never been around the back and upstairs at the Royal Hotel, then?’

  ‘Where the whores are?’ Frank asked, shocked. ‘No, never!’

  ‘And a good thing, too,’ Arthur said quickly. ‘That’s not a fit place for married men to be going—I wouldn’t like to think of you spending your evenings there. Still,’ he looked thoughtful, ‘it’s not a bad place to find out—no, that’s enough talk about whores.’ He lapsed into silence once more, until Frank began to fear that the conversation might be over. Arthur cleared his throat and started speaking again.

  ‘The most important thing to remember,’ he said portentously, ‘is to be very gentle with her.’

  ‘Yes, right,’ Frank said, storing Arthur’s remark away. This was certainly more encouraging than talk of making women yell.

  ‘Very gentle,’ Arthur repeated. ‘Start off nice and slow, then just sort of
gentle her along a bit.’

  He was becoming disconcertingly vague. ‘Ah, what exactly should I do?’ Frank asked, desperation overcoming reticence.

  Arthur seemed reluctant to meet his eyes. ‘Well, you’ve been around animals all your life, Frank. You must have the general idea.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Frank said doubtfully.

  ‘And of course you’ve heard the men’s talk out in the paddocks? That’d tell you a bit, too.’

  Maybe it would if he could understand any of it. ‘Yes,’ Frank said miserably.

  ‘Right, then. So all you have to do is… well, you get her into bed with you, then you have a bit of a cuddle, then you… well, you just do what comes naturally.’

  If only he could be sure it would come naturally.

  ‘Remembering what I said about being gentle, of course,’ Arthur added.

  ‘Of course,’ Frank echoed.

  ‘So, you’re all sorted out now. That’s good.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Frank said, feeling that some sort of response was expected.

  *

  Amy saw Frank riding home while she was carrying a bucket of water up from the well. She waved, but Frank was obviously too absorbed in his thoughts to look away from the road in front of him.

  He’s thinking about Lizzie, Amy thought fondly. He’s going to make her a nice husband. She was right to pick him. And I thought I was so clever—I used to think Frank was boring. Serves me right.

  The bucket banged painfully against her leg, diverting her thoughts from their fruitless course. Carrying this water’s going to get hard soon, when I start getting big. If I am having a baby—maybe I’m just really, really late. I don’t know how long it takes for the bleeding to get regular again. She did her best to ignore the voice that told her she would have to face the truth soon.

  A whinny from the horse paddock startled her as she passed it. ‘Hello, Smokey,’ she called to the grey gelding. ‘Are you a bit lonely in there?’