Susannah’s composure was shaken for a moment. She looked away. ‘Oh. Perhaps you did, I don’t remember. Of course I would have been busy with George—I was probably rather ill, anyway. Perhaps it was George who was early walking. Anyway,’ she said, continuing the attack with renewed vigour, ‘they both started talking early. They were certainly saying quite a few words by that age.’
‘Leave the girl alone, Susannah,’ Jack put in, forestalling Amy’s retort. ‘There’s nothing wrong with this boy of hers.’
‘I didn’t say there was anything wrong with him,’ Susannah said. ‘I was just saying he was slower than my children.’
‘Well, you’ve said it. Keep quiet about it now. When’s lunch going to be ready?’
‘It’s ready now. As soon as Harry and Jane decide to turn up we can all eat. If they turn up.’
‘They’ll be here,’ Jack said.
‘Humph. I thought Jane was going to come this morning and she didn’t.’
‘Harry’s stomach will tell him lunch is on. We’ll wait a couple more minutes.’
‘Well, all I can say is don’t blame me if lunch is ruined, standing on the range for so long. Is it too much to expect people to turn up on time to eat it? The meat will dry out, and—’
‘Shut up, Susannah.’
‘I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve being spoken to like that. After slaving all morning in this hot kitchen. Just because I said—’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Susannah,’ Jack interrupted. ‘Give us a rest from it.’ Susannah glared at him, but said nothing.
The ensuing few minutes’ awkward silence was broken by an oblivious Thomas. ‘I’m hungry, Mama. I want lunch.’
‘Me too,’ George chimed in.
‘Your father says you have to wait for your big brother, darlings,’ Susannah told them, casting a meaningful look at Jack. ‘We’re not allowed to talk about it, or Papa will growl.’
Jack barely suppressed a curse, then sighed. ‘I’m fed up with waiting for those two myself. Amy, how about you hop down and give them a hurry up?’
Amy looked at him in alarm. If Harry and Jane really were having an argument, she had no desire to become part of it. As if that weren’t enough, she caught Charlie’s eye and realised she would have to ask his permission in front of everyone to ‘wander’ off by herself. But there seemed no way of avoiding it.
‘Is it… is it all right if I go down to Harry’s?’ She spoke as quietly as she could, but she felt Jack’s and Susannah’s eyes on her, then saw them exchange a surprised glance. She cringed with embarrassment.
John spoke up, startling her. ‘I’ll come down with you, shall I, Amy? It won’t take long.’
Amy looked a question at Charlie, and he gave a nod of approval. She smiled at John, grateful that he had broken the unpleasant moment.
‘I’ll go too,’ Thomas announced.
‘No, you won’t,’ Susannah said, noticing the grubby state of her sons for the first time. ‘Look at the two of you! You look like nasty, rough children. I told you not to get dirty.’
‘I want to go with Amy!’ Thomas protested.
‘Well, you can’t. Come along, I’ll have to wash your faces again.’
‘Let me go with Amy, Mama,’ Thomas pleaded.
‘Don’t want my face washed,’ George said, looking rebellious.
‘Do as you’re told!’ Susannah gave each of them a sharp slap on the bottom to reinforce her words, then dragged the yelling children out of the room.
‘Have another beer, Charlie,’ Amy heard her father say wearily as she and John closed the back door on the uproar.
‘Thanks for saying you’d come with me, John,’ Amy said as soon as they were clear of the house.
‘That’s all right. I wanted to get out of there, anyway.’
Neither of them referred to Amy’s need to ask permission merely to leave the house by herself, but she knew that John had noticed. ‘I think maybe you’re the only one in the family with any sense,’ Amy said, trying to make her voice light. ‘At least you haven’t rushed and got married.’
‘Well, maybe it’s not something to rush into.’
‘Have the rest of us put you off, then?’
John looked thoughtful. ‘Not exactly,’ he said after a time. ‘I guess it’s made me… careful. I sure wouldn’t want to end up with a… with someone like Susannah.’ He gave a laugh. ‘There must be something good about it, eh? Otherwise people wouldn’t keep doing it. That Harry looks pretty smug half the time, when Jane’s in a good mood with him.’
‘Yes, he does. They’re not really like Pa and Susannah.’
‘What about you?’ John asked, with a casualness Amy suspected was feigned. ‘Are things all right with you and him?’
‘Yes, they’re fine,’ Amy said, wishing she could raise a more enthusiastic tone. ‘He loves Mal, he really does. We get on all right, as long as I’m not stupid about things. I haven’t got anything to complain about.’
‘You’re easy enough to get on with. Charlie must think he’s pretty lucky.’ If he did, Amy reflected, he hid it well.
They reached the last small stand of bush before Harry and Jane’s two-roomed cottage and came to a halt. Only a low murmur came through the open window that faced them. ‘What do we do?’ Amy asked. ‘Knock on the door?’
‘I suppose so,’ John said uncertainly.
As he spoke, they heard two voices suddenly raised in altercation. They were close enough to distinguish Jane’s soprano shrilling over Harry’s deeper tones.
‘I’d just as soon not go and knock,’ John said. ‘Maybe we could start talking loud so they’ll hear us from here.’
‘We’d have to make a lot of noise.’
‘Mmm. Let’s just wait a minute, they might stop.’
They stood and listened to the commotion Harry and Jane were making. It was difficult to think of it as eavesdropping when the contenders seemed to have no concern over whether or not they were overheard. The noise soon resolved into intelligible words.
‘How do you expect me to keep this place clean when there’s great huge puddles all over the floor every time it rains?’ they heard Jane yell.
‘A bit of water, that’s all. You’re making all this fuss over a few drops of water. Why didn’t you put something down to catch it, anyway?’
‘You’ve got a cheek saying that. How could I know the roof would leak again? It’s your fault.’ There was a sharp crash.
‘Aw, Jane, that was the last cup. Why have you got to throw things all the time? You nearly got me with that one.’
‘You’d drive a saint to it! You said you’d fixed it last week. You stamped about on the roof for long enough.’
‘I thought I had.’ Harry sounded defensive, but his volume did not drop. ‘That was a real storm last night, it must have lifted the iron.’
‘Storm!’ Jane said derisively. ‘It was a shower, that’s all. If you’d built this house properly in the first place you wouldn’t have to fix it now.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with this house! It’s a bloody good house.’
‘Don’t you use that language to me, Harry Leith. And if it’s such a wonderful house, why does the roof leak? Why does the door stick in the wet weather?’
‘Why do you moan all the time?’
‘I don’t moan! Anyway, you’d moan if you had to clean up all this water whenever it’s wet. And I’m sick of you stamping around in the house with your dirty boots all the time.’
‘I do not! Not for ages and ages, anyway.’
‘You did it yesterday! I’d just scrubbed the floor and you tramped right over it.’
‘It’s my floor. I’ll walk on it when I want.’
‘Your floor? I have to scrub it, don’t I? And I have to mop up the water when your roof leaks. Just look at these puddles. Look at them!’
‘Water, eh? You’re sick of water. You’re moaning about a couple of little puddles. I’ll give you something to moan about. I’ll
show you water.’
‘You keep away from me. What are you doing? Don’t you dare!’ Jane gave a shrill scream. They heard the sound of furniture scraping against the floor, as if Harry was chasing Jane around the room.
Amy turned to John in alarm. ‘Maybe you should stop him.’
‘Me?’ John looked at her in amusement. ‘No thanks. It’s none of my business, anyway. They can sort it out for themselves.’
‘But…’ he’s going to hit her. But John was right: it was no one else’s business what Harry chose to do with Jane. Amy wondered why on earth Jane would want to bait her husband so; surely she knew he would hit her. Amy did not want to hear Jane’s screams when he did. ‘I want to go back now, John.’
‘Why? The fun’s just starting.’
‘Fun? But he’s going to hit her.’
‘Course he isn’t! Harry’s all talk, he always has been. You should know that.’
Amy shook her head. What John said of Harry was true enough, but it did not fit her own experience of marriage.
Jane screamed again and the cottage door opened noisily. That door did stick, Amy noticed with a corner of her mind. Harry burst through the door with a loudly yelling Jane slung over one shoulder.
‘You put me down!’ Jane demanded. ‘You put me down this minute.’ She pummelled at Harry’s back with her fists, but he took no notice. ‘What are you doing? Stop it!’
‘I told you. I’m going to show you some real water. That’ll stop your moaning.’
Harry strode down the hill in front of the cottage, walking a little unsteadily under his struggling load. Amy and John saw where he was headed much earlier than Jane, whose head was upside down against Harry’s back. It was only when Harry reached the bank of the creek that Jane realised what he intended.
‘Don’t you dare! You put me down!’
‘All right,’ Harry said agreeably. He grasped Jane around the waist and slid her forward over his shoulder until her feet were almost on the ground, then he thrust her out over the creek and let go.
Jane’s yell of protest was cut off abruptly as water entered her mouth. She went right under for a few seconds, then sat up coughing and spluttering, water streaming down her face and hair on to her soaking bodice. Harry doubled over with laughter as he watched.
‘You beast!’ Jane flung at him as soon as she had her voice back. ‘Look at me—I’m wet through!’
Harry was too convulsed with mirth to speak for some time. At last he gasped out, ‘Are you wet enough now? Has that cooled you down, you little hothead?’
‘You’re horrible! Look at the state I’m in.’
‘That’ll teach you not to moan all the time. You just remember—aw, Janey, don’t do that,’ Harry said as Jane’s face crumpled. ‘Don’t start crying.’
‘I c-can’t help it,’ Jane choked out through a sob. ‘You’re annoyed with me. I hate it when you’re annoyed with me. I shouldn’t have gone on about the house, I know. I didn’t mean to. Ohh, this water’s cold,’ she said, hugging herself.
‘Get out of it, then. Hurry up, Jane, I don’t want you to get cold.’
Jane struggled to lift herself upright, then sank down heavily. ‘I c-can’t.’ Now her teeth were chattering. ‘My skirts are full of water, they’re too heavy for me to stand up. I’m so c-cold.’
Harry’s look of glee had changed to concern. He scrambled down the bank into the shallows of the creek. ‘Here, take my hand, I’ll pull you out.’
Jane stretched out her arm towards him. ‘I can’t reach. Come a bit closer.’
Harry took a few tentative steps until the water was lapping over the tops of his feet. ‘Can you reach now?’
‘Not quite.’
He took another step and perched one foot awkwardly on a rock that jutted out of the creek bed. Jane reached up and took hold of his proffered hand. As he tried to get a firmer foothold Jane suddenly yanked at his hand, pulling him off balance. Harry fell into the water beside her with a loud splash.
Now it was Harry’s turn to splutter. Jane shrieked with laughter as he sat up with his hair plastered to his head.
‘That’s fixed you! Hothead yourself. Serves you right.’
Harry glared as though he was mustering his strength to fling abuse at her, then he let out a guffaw. ‘Jane Leith, you are a hell-cat. You’re enough to drive a man to drink.’ He held out his arms and Jane pressed herself against him. They carefully stood up, supporting one another as they did. ‘Let’s get back to the house. Must be nearly time for lunch now.’
‘Oh! Oh, Harry, we’re meant to go up to your pa’s for lunch. I think we’re a bit late.’
‘Heck, I suppose we are. The bitch’ll make a fuss about that. Too bad about her. We’d better hurry up and get changed, though—don’t want you getting a chill. Come on.’ They climbed up the bank and made their way back to the cottage, streaming water as they went.
John took his hand from his mouth, where he had clamped it firmly to stop his laughter escaping. ‘Those two are mad. They were made for each other.’
‘They’d drive anyone else mad, I suppose,’ Amy said. She was unsure whether to laugh or cry at the sight of Harry and Jane with their wet arms around each other. ‘I’m glad he didn’t hit her.’
‘I told you he wouldn’t.’ John looked as if he were debating whether or not to ask her a question, then seemed to decide against it. ‘Let’s get back and tell Pa they’re on their way.’
Harry and Jane arrived arm in arm ten minutes after Amy and John got back to the house; Amy noticed that Jane’s hair was still damp. Jane rushed to hug Amy with the warm affection she always showed her little sister-in-law. Jane was quick to love, or, in Susannah’s case, to dislike. Amy suspected that Harry had told his wife about Amy’s dark secret and Susannah’s role in it.
Susannah was tight-lipped all through lunch, from time to time casting wounded glances at Jane, which were steadfastly ignored. Although they were both barely polite to Charlie, Harry and Jane made much of Malcolm.
‘He’s such a big, healthy baby,’ Jane said. ‘You must get a lot of pleasure from him.’
‘Jane likes babies,’ Harry said, gazing fondly at his wife.
‘You two could get on and have one of your own if you didn’t waste all your energy fighting,’ Jack said. Jane blushed and looked to Harry for help.
‘Jack! Don’t be so coarse,’ Susannah reproved.
‘We will,’ Harry said. ‘There’s no rush. I’ll have to build an extension in a year or two, I suppose. That shouldn’t be too much trouble—I know all about building houses now. I made a really good job of my house,’ he said, warming to his subject. ‘I reckon it must be the best house around here.’
‘It’s all right when it doesn’t rain, dear,’ Jane said with deceptive sweetness. ‘When the roof doesn’t leak, and the door doesn’t stick.’
‘Don’t you start on that,’ Harry said. ‘There’s nothing wrong—’
‘Now, you two,’ Jack broke in. ‘There’ll be no fighting in this house.’ Harry and Jane subsided, and Jane lowered her eyes with a suitably meek expression, but not before Amy had seen her poke her tongue at Harry for the briefest of moments.
Amy carried a sleepy Malcolm in her arms for the first part of their walk home later that afternoon, but Charlie took the load from her when they were out of sight of the house.
‘What did she mean, saying the boy’s slow?’ he demanded. ‘There’s nothing wrong with him, is there?’
‘Nothing at all,’ Amy said. ‘Anyone can see he’s healthy and normal—he’s much bigger than most children his age. Susannah likes to make trouble, that’s all. She’s always been like that, you just have to ignore her. Pa tries to.’
Charlie looked relieved at her words. ‘They’re mad in that house. They let the women carry on with a lot of nonsense—especially your pa’s wife. All that back talk, and he let her go on and on and never even corrected her.’ He did not seem to want a reply, so Amy said nothing.
‘You behaved all right,’ he added.
‘Thank you,’ Amy said, grateful for the small sign of approval.
‘They’ve no idea how to handle women. No idea at all. No wonder he let you run wild. Look what that led to.’
*
The New Year came in warm and dry, and all the haystacks were safely finished before January was half over. One evening a few days after haymaking was finished Charlie announced, ‘I’ll be away over the back of the farm tomorrow.’
Amy looked up from the shirt she was sewing for him. ‘What are you going to do over there?’ Charlie did not usually spend much time in the wild area of the farm that nudged up against the bush.
‘There’s a couple of paddocks that are full of scrub. They were cleared once, a long while before I bought this place, but they were half-wild again by the time I got here. I’m going to break them in properly.’ He glanced towards the bedroom, where Malcolm was asleep in his cradle. ‘I’ll be needing the extra grazing when I build the herd up—can’t have wasted land. I’ve the boy to think about, you know.’
Amy thought it would be more sensible for Charlie to leave the heavy work of clearing scrub till the cooler weather of autumn, but she did not offer unwanted advice. ‘I’ll bring your lunch down if you like, that’d save you coming home for it.’
Charlie grunted an acknowledgement and turned his attention back to his newspaper.
Next day while Malcolm had his morning sleep Amy used the peaceful time to prepare lunch. She had just lifted a large, golden-crusted meat pie out of the oven when she heard Malcolm crying a complaint.
‘I’m coming, Mal,’ she called. She slid a tray of jam tarts into the range and closed the door on them before hurrying into the bedroom.
Malcolm was struggling to get out of his cradle, but as soon as he leaned against one side the cradle would tilt on its rockers, making him fall flat on his bottom again. The indignant look on his face made Amy smile. She knelt and lifted him out before his cries could turn into roars.
‘You mustn’t try and climb out by yourself, Mal. You have to wait for Mama, or you’ll hurt yourself. You’re getting too big for a cradle, aren’t you? We’ll have to ask Papa to make you a little bed.’ And anyway, there would be another baby in the cradle by the end of the year.
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