Mud and Gold

by Shayne Parkinson

  ‘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.

  6

  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 a
nd 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?’

  ‘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.’