Mud and Gold

by Shayne Parkinson

  This was too much. With a cry of rage, Thomas threw himself at the older boy, the force of his unexpected assault knocking Bobby flat despite the difference in height and weight. He was on Bobby’s chest and pummeling him with clumsy blows before Bobby recovered enough to roll Thomas over and push him hard against the ground, winding him and giving Bobby the chance to get back on his feet. George tried to grab Bobby round the knees, but a shove from Bobby knocked the four-year-old sprawling.

  ‘You leave my brother alone!’ Thomas screamed, scrambling to his feet and making an awkward attempt to swing a punch at Bobby, which the older boy easily warded off.

  Susannah and Marion rushed from the verandah and dragged the combatants apart before they could engage again.

  ‘You wicked boys!’ Susannah slapped her sons across the side of the head, her cheeks crimson with rage. ‘Rolling in the dirt like… like common little brats.’ She slapped them again and shook them by their collars.

  ‘Now, don’t get upset, Susannah. It’s Bobby’s fault, he was teasing them,’ Marion said, glaring at her son.

  ‘I wasn’t! I only said—’

  ‘I heard what you said,’ Marion interrupted. ‘Teasing those little boys—they’re visitors, too. Bob!’ she called. ‘Come here and sort your son out. Fighting like that—on a Sunday, too.’

  ‘Two against one, though, Marion,’ Bob pointed out, walking towards them without any apparent hurry.

  ‘And he’s twice their age, so that evens it up,’ Marion retorted.

  ‘That’s true enough,’ Bob said. ‘Come on, Bobby, you and I are going to take a little walk.’

  Bobby watched his father approaching and glanced around quickly as if weighing his options. He slipped from Marion’s grasp and took to his heels, disappearing around the side of the house.

  ‘The little brat!’ Marion said, the amusement in her eyes matching Bob’s. ‘Never mind, his stomach will drive him back before long, you can sort him out then.’

  ‘Yes, he’ll keep,’ Bob agreed.

  ‘Don’t take any notice of what my silly son told you,’ Marion said to Thomas and George. They looked up at her, both whimpering quietly from their mother’s slaps. ‘He’s just jealous because he hasn’t got such nice clothes. Don’t be too hard on them,’ she said, turning to Susannah. You can’t expect them to just take it when a bigger boy makes fun of them.’

  ‘I do expect them to behave properly,’ Susannah said, a spot of red still showing in each cheek. ‘They should behave like young gentlemen—especially you, Thomas. You’re old enough to be looking after your little brother, not teaching him to be rough and coarse. Look what you’ve done to your clothes!’ Thomas’s trousers had a large rent in the seat, and his left sleeve was flapping loosely where it had been ripped out of the armhole. George had managed to do no worse than get dust all over his own suit. ‘Ruined! Just ruined, and Grandmama only sent them at Christmas. You’re a horrible little monster. You know what Papa’s going to do with you when we get home?’

  She knelt down to spell out whatever the awesome punishment was to be in a voice too low for Amy to catch, but her words had the desired effect. Both boys began to howl.

  ‘I can’t stand the sight of you,’ Susannah said, rising to her full height. ‘Go and stand by the buggy till we’re ready to leave. And stop that silly noise. Hurry up!’ She gave them both a push towards the buggy. The boys ran off together, still sobbing.

  ‘They’re just being boys, Susannah,’ Marion said, a look of concern on her kindly face.

  ‘I think it was my boy who started it, really,’ Bob added.

  ‘I expect better of my sons,’ Susannah said, making her stately way back to the verandah. ‘They have to learn. I’m bringing them up to take a proper place in the world, not behave like animals.’ She took her seat near Amy once again.

  By this time Jack had wandered over to talk to Amy, and they had both witnessed the scene between Susannah and the little boys.

  ‘Those children misbehaved terribly, Jack,’ Susannah said. ‘I’m very disappointed in them, showing me up in company like that. You’ll have to punish them later.’

  ‘You’ve already made a pretty good job of that,’ Jack said ruefully, looking over at the little boys sitting in the shade of the buggy with an arm around each other’s shoulders and tears running down their faces.

  ‘Nonsense! I told them you’ll give them a good thrashing as soon as we get home, then I’m going to put them straight to bed without any dinner.’

  ‘A thrashing just for a bit of rough and tumble? They’re boys, Susannah. You’ve got to expect them to get into scrapes.’

  ‘They disgraced me, and I won’t tolerate that. I told them you’d thrash them, Jack. They’ll never learn to do as I say if you go against me—that would just teach them to play us off against each other. You do see that, don’t you?’

  Jack sighed. ‘Yes, I see it. Well, we’d better get on home, then. No sense making the little fellows worry about it any longer than they have to.’

  ‘We’ll leave when I’ve finished my tea,’ Susannah said, reaching for the cup she had abandoned to interrupt the fight.

  ‘I’ll have a bit of a walk, then. I need to stretch my legs,’ Jack said, rising slowly. Amy was sure it was to escape from the sight of the unhappy little boys.

  ‘Can I come with you, Pa?’ she asked. ‘Davie’s getting a bit restless, a walk will settle him.’ Jack smiled an invitation. Before she walked down the steps Amy took care to catch Charlie’s eye so that he could see she was with her father.

  ‘I’ve got soft, girl,’ Jack said as soon as they were out of earshot. ‘I’ve no appetite for beating children. Must be getting old, eh?’

  ‘You’re not old, Pa,’ Amy protested. ‘Anyway, I’m soft too, and I’m only nineteen. I hate it when Charlie hits Mal, even though I know he needs it.’

  Jack smiled at her. ‘You’re like your ma. “Don’t be hard on them, Jack, they’re not really naughty,” she used to say—even with Harry, and he could be a real little brute. Hard to believe he’s the same boy,’ he said, looking back at Harry hovering solicitously around Jane, adjusting a pillow behind his wife’s shoulders.

  ‘I don’t think Granny ever got very soft. She gave me plenty of hidings. I always deserved it, though—I didn’t always think so at the time, I suppose.’

  Jack glanced towards the little boys just before he and Amy walked behind a shed, cutting them off from sight. ‘I don’t know, it’s different with the little fellows than it ever was with the other two. Harry especially—he needed twice the hidings John did, and when he knew he was going to get one he’d say “I don’t care,” and try to stare me out. Then after I’d given him a couple of whacks he’d be bawling and saying he was sorry, he’d never do it again. You could feel you were doing the boy some good. George isn’t too bad, nothing bothers him for long, but Tom… as soon as he knows he’s in trouble he looks up at me with tears in those big eyes of his and says “I’m sorry, Papa, I didn’t mean to be naughty.” He means what he says, too, you can see it in his face. I feel like giving the poor little fellow a hug instead of a hiding—of course I can’t do that. Susannah’s right, it’s no good her saying one thing and me saying another.’

  ‘I know, Pa. I know just what you mean,’ Amy said fervently.

  ‘Well, she should have finished that tea of hers. Let’s head back to the house.’

  Jack and Susannah left soon afterwards, and Amy could see that Charlie would soon be ready to go. She would have liked the chance to spend a little time with John, but Martha Carr was still chattering away, so Amy made do with saying a brief goodbye to him in front of the Carr sisters.

  ‘That’s a pretty dress, Sophie,’ Amy said, stroking the wide lace around Sophie’s cuffs. The dark green of the dress minimised Sophie’s overly buxom figure, and set off her pale skin nicely.

  ‘Thanks,’ Sophie said, smiling vaguely at Amy.

  ‘I chose that material,’ Martha p
ut in. ‘Sophie can never decide anything. I always have to help her choose things.’

  Amy doubted that Sophie ever had the chance to decide for herself, but she made a noncommittal murmur as response. ‘Bye bye, John, see you next Sunday.’ She turned to hurry after Charlie, who was already making for the gig with Malcolm at his heels.

  ‘I’d better be off, too. I’ll walk you to the gate,’ John said, rising from the bench.

  ‘Are you going, John? Ma, John’s going,’ Martha said anxiously, but Mrs Carr had already moved to intercept him.

  ‘It’s been lovely seeing you today, John,’ she gushed. ‘You young ones getting on so nicely together. You know, we hardly ever see you to talk to—I know!’ she said, as if the idea had only this moment struck her. ‘Why don’t you come for tea one night? You’d enjoy a good meal, wouldn’t you?—oh, not that Susannah’s not a good cook, I’m sure, but a change does no harm, does it? My girls are both fine cooks, though I say so myself. Martha does a wonderful roast dinner. These long summer evenings, you’d have plenty of time to get home before it was too dark.’

  Amy wondered how John would manage to extricate himself from Mrs Carr’s invitation without being rude. She caught his eye for a moment and almost thought she saw him wink, then he turned a wide smile on Mrs Carr.

  ‘That’d be nice, thanks.’

  Mrs Carr did not waste time pressing home her advantage. ‘What about this Wednesday night?’ she pounced.

  ‘All right. I’ll see you on Wednesday.’

  ‘We’ll all look forward to it. Won’t we, girls?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Martha agreed. Sophie just smiled.

  ‘What are you up to, John?’ Amy asked when they were out of earshot. ‘You know what Mrs Carr’s after, don’t you?’

  ‘No. What?’ John asked, feigning innocence. He grinned at her. ‘I’d have to be pretty dopey not to catch on. I don’t mind playing along with it, though—might get a decent meal out of it, anyway. I wonder if they make bread you don’t have to break your teeth to get into?’

  ‘I expect so. Do you… do you like Martha, John?’

  ‘She’s all right.’ John gave her a wicked grin. ‘Ask me again after I’ve tried her roast dinner!’

  13

  April – August 1888

  Amy and Lizzie were so deep in conversation over their teacups when Frank opened the back door that they hardly looked up at his entrance.

  ‘Well, he’s never got much to say for himself, I suppose he thinks she could do the talking for him—she’s pretty good at that,’ Lizzie said. ‘Not down there, Frank, put that baking powder on the top shelf.’

  Amy waited until Frank went outside again before she replied. ‘Like you and Frank, you mean? That’s what everyone said about you two, you know. That’d be all very well if she talked sense. It’s just chatter. You’d think it’d drive him mad.’

  ‘Some men like not having to think for themselves—not that I’m saying Frank’s like that. Just because he doesn’t make a big song and dance about himself, people think he’s a bit dim. Frank’s not dim at all.’

  ‘Neither is John. He just keeps his mind to himself. I don’t think Martha would let him keep anything to himself, though.’

  ‘Do you really think he might want to marry her?’

  Amy frowned thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know. When I ask him why he keeps going there all the time he just grins and says it’s the good food.’

  ‘Hmm. John’s so quiet, Martha might have to propose to him herself.’

  ‘That’s what people said—’

  ‘I know,’ Lizzie interrupted. ‘And I’ll have you know it’s not true. Frank proposed all by himself, I hardly had to push him at all.’

  ‘Mmm, I bet he even thought it was his own idea.’

  ‘He still does.’ Lizzie answered Amy’s smile with a grin of her own.

  ‘Who are you two old gossips pulling to bits?’ Frank asked as he came back into the house and closed the door behind him.

  ‘John. And we’re not pulling him to bits, just discussing his future,’ Lizzie said. ‘Here, Maudie, go to Papa.’ The little girl slid off what was left of Lizzie’s lap and ran across the kitchen to Frank. He lifted her high in the air before sitting down with her on his knee.

  ‘Him and Martha, eh? Mr Carr was saying the other day that his wife’s had her eye on John for a while. It smells nice in here.’

  ‘Amy’s done a big lot of baking for me, she’s filled up all the tins,’ Lizzie said. ‘It takes me all my time just to do the ordinary cooking now I’m such a lump.’

  Amy slipped David from her lap and onto the floor. ‘I’ll get you a cup of tea, Frank.’ She brought him the cup, along with some biscuits to sample, then sat and took up her own half-full cup again.

  ‘Nice biscuits,’ Frank said through a mouthful. ‘I saw Charlie at the store with Mal, by the way, I don’t think they’ll be far behind me.’

  Amy put her cup down at once, rattling it noisily against the saucer. ‘I’d better go,’ she said, taking off the apron she was wearing and hanging it behind the door. ‘Come on, Davie, Papa will be here in a minute.’

  ‘Stay and finish your tea,’ Lizzie protested. ‘He can wait for a bit. Oh, he can come inside and have a cup if he wants, if I stay this side of the table he won’t be able to see much of me. We can all pretend not to notice I’m the size of a house.’

  ‘No, it’s all right, Lizzie, I don’t want to keep him waiting or he won’t let me come again. I was lucky he dropped me off today. Bye bye, Lizzie. Take care of her, Frank.’ She kissed Lizzie and Maudie, scooped David up off the floor, and was half way to the door when they heard the rattle of gig wheels approaching. ‘There he is,’ Amy said, flustered by her hurry.

  ‘Amy!’ They heard Charlie’s voice from outside.

  ‘Coming, Charlie,’ she called from the doorway as soon as she had it open. She was off down the steps at a run.

  *

  ‘Boy, she went like a scalded cat,’ Frank said, looking after Amy in bemusement. ‘She sure jumps when Charlie says to.’

  ‘Ooh, that man,’ Lizzie said, pursing her lips in irritation. ‘He expects her to just drop everything when it suits him. Sometimes I’d just like to… oh, never mind him. Did you hear any news in town?’

  ‘What sort of news?’

  ‘Oh, you know—anyone having babies, or getting married or anything.’

  Frank shrugged. ‘I don’t know, I didn’t really talk to anyone, just picked up the stuff and came home.’

  ‘Frank! Honestly, I never get to hear anything. Amy’s not much use, he doesn’t let her talk to anyone when they go to town. Here’s Maudie and I stuck here getting sick of one another, and you don’t even bother to fetch any interesting news for me.’

  ‘I was in a rush to get home to you,’ Frank said, letting Lizzie’s reproaches wash over him. ‘I was too busy thinking about my girls to bother listening to a lot of gossip. Anyway, I thought it looked a bit like rain, so I was trying to hurry.’

  ‘Humph! Well, did you get all the stuff I told you to?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘What about those cloves?’

  ‘Oh. Sorry, Lizzie, I forgot about them. I had to get some nails and stuff for the fence, and that drove those things out of my head, I suppose. I’ll get them next week.’

  ‘Frank Kelly, you’re hopeless,’ Lizzie scolded. ‘I only asked you to get half a dozen things. Next time I’ll write you a list and pin it to your shirt if you’re not careful. How could you forget the cloves when I reminded you just as you were going out the door? I said—’

  ‘Hey, what about a bit of respect for your old man?’ Frank interrupted her tirade with a grin.

  ‘What about my old man using the brains God gave him? It doesn’t matter, I’ve still got a few cloves left. Your tea looks a bit stewed, shall I make a fresh pot? I wouldn’t mind another cup.’ Lizzie made to rise ponderously.

  ‘I’ll make it,’ Frank said, getting up a
nd putting Maudie on his chair. He brushed aside the thought of the fence repairs he had promised himself he would start on that morning; an extra few minutes sitting with Lizzie and Maudie was much more appealing. If he was lucky, that rain the sky had threatened as he rode home would start soon; then he would have to leave the fence for another day. ‘I don’t want you falling over, not the shape you are—if you once started rolling you’d be out the door and down the hill before I could stop you.’

  ‘And whose fault is it I’m in this state?’

  ‘Well, I’ll admit to a share in it. Amy’s right, I should look after you. Poor old lump,’ he teased.

  ‘Old lump,’ Maudie echoed.

  ‘Shh, Maudie! We’ll have to start watching what we say in front of her, Frank, she’s a real little parrot.’

  ‘Mmm, I don’t want her repeating some of the things you call me in front of your pa.’ Frank carried the teapot over to the table and took a seat close to Lizzie. ‘He’d give me a real talking to if he knew you don’t treat me with proper respect.’

  He leaned across Lizzie’s bulge and planted a light kiss on her mouth, then glanced down to see Maudie trying to clamber onto his lap. He helped her up and gave her a squeeze. Was that respect, the way Amy acted around Charlie? he wondered. Running around like a frightened rabbit in case she annoyed him? If that was respect, Frank decided, then he’d just as soon do without it.

  *

  Joseph Arthur Kelly came into the world early in May, with no volcanic eruptions to mark his birth or terrify his parents. Frank had thought he could not possibly be any happier; with the birth of his son he found he had been wrong.

  ‘He’s amazing,’ Frank said, watching Lizzie struggle to get a fresh napkin on the six-week-old Joseph. The baby was red-faced with anger as he flung his tiny limbs around, roaring in protest at the unwanted interference. ‘Look at him kicking!’

  ‘I’ve been feeling him kicking for months, don’t tell me about how strong he is,’ Lizzie retorted. ‘He’s strong-willed, anyway. I thought Maudie was bad for wanting her own way. Keep still, you little wretch—oh, don’t say he’s going to do that again when I’ve just got the last mucky nappy off him—ugh, he’s peeing on my hand! Don’t just stand there looking, help me! If I move my hand I’ll get the lot in my face.’