Mud and Gold

by Shayne Parkinson

  ‘There’s no hope for him?’ Charlie asked.

  Mrs Coulson shook her head. ‘No. There’s nothing I can do for a baby that small except keep him warm and comfortable.’

  Charlie stared at Amy lying small and still on the bed. ‘How is it with her?’

  ‘I don’t know. We’ll hope for the best, but I won’t be sure till morning. If the bleeding gets worse things won’t be good. If she does pull through, the poor child’s going to be very weak for a while.’

  ‘What brought it on? Why did she have the boy ahead of time?’

  Mrs Coulson stared hard at him. ‘I thought you might be able to tell me that, Mr Stewart.’

  He looked blankly at her. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Her belly’s covered in bruises. That’s what knocked the baby about so that he decided to come out too early. I’d like to know how she got them.’

  She heard Susannah give a sharp intake of breath, but Charlie looked puzzled. ‘Bruises?’ he repeated. ‘How would she have got bruises?’ He frowned in thought. ‘When I found her she was on the kitchen floor,’ he said slowly. ‘There was a chair tipped over beside her. She maybe fell on that.’

  Well, for all the harshness she was sure he inflicted on the girl, Mrs Coulson could see he was not guilty of that atrocity. The news of Amy’s bruises had clearly come as a surprise to him. ‘I see,’ Mrs Coulson said. ‘Yes, that must have been it. Poor child.’

  Charlie looked at her through narrowed eyes as he belatedly took in her meaning. ‘Did you think I’d done it to her? Kicked my own child out of her?’

  Mrs Coulson stared back at him. ‘You’d be surprised what some men do to their wives, Mr Stewart. At least I hope you would.’ She could see Susannah looking at Charlie with horror in her eyes. And it would do Susannah Leith no harm, Mrs Coulson thought, to consider just what this man she had forced onto her stepdaughter might be capable of doing to the girl.

  ‘You’ll want him baptised?’ Mrs Coulson asked.

  ‘Aye. I’d best go and fetch the minister.’

  ‘Yes, you’d better. We might need him for your wife as well. But the child mightn’t live that long, Mr Stewart,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘If I think he’s slipping away too fast I’ll say the words over him myself. The Lord will listen to me as much as He would to the minister. What do you want him called?’

  Charlie stood over his tiny son and reached out to touch him, pulling his big, clumsy hand away when it was still inches from the baby’s face. ‘Alexander.’ He must have had the name picked already, Mrs Coulson knew. ‘And John—that’s for her pa. Alexander John.’ He turned and left the room.

  ‘I should go home,’ Susannah said. ‘I like to keep an eye on Sophie when she’s getting dinner on. I’ll stay if you need me, though.’

  ‘I think I can manage without you, thank you,’ Mrs Coulson answered shortly.

  Susannah took a few steps towards the door, then turned back to Mrs Coulson.

  ‘Do you really think he kicked her?’ she asked.

  Mrs Coulson grimaced. ‘As it happens, I don’t. It was my first thought, but I don’t think he would have been able to lie that well. Anyway, the man’s besotted with the idea of having sons—he wouldn’t have risked damaging one of them. He thumps her freely enough the rest of the time, I’m quite sure. You do know that, I suppose.’

  ‘I… I saw a bruise on her face once. She must have annoyed him. I warned her—I told her when she married him she’d have to try hard to please him.’

  ‘Oh, she does that all right,’ Mrs Coulson said grimly. ‘She breaks her little heart trying to please him. And he’s breaking her body to give him sons.’

  Susannah moved close to the bed to look at the baby. ‘So tiny,’ she murmured. ‘Such a pretty baby. Poor little thing.’ She seemed reluctant to look at the unconscious Amy, but her gaze was drawn to the pale face that had scarcely more colour than the white nightdress below it, her cloud of dark hair spread out on the pillow around her. ‘Amy’s not going to die, is she?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Mrs Coulson stroked the pale face, then studied Susannah’s troubled expression. ‘I don’t think she will,’ she said. ‘Not this time, anyway. There’s still enough strength left in her to bear this. She must have been a healthy girl before she married him. No, this time I think she’ll pull through. Maybe the next time, too, and maybe even the time after that. But one of these years it’ll be too much for her. One day the bleeding will be too bad, and I’ll have no way of stopping it when it is. I’ll watch her die in front of me, her lifeblood soaking into a heap of rags. That little body of hers can’t put up with too many more of that man’s babies ripping it apart.’

  ‘It’s men,’ Susannah said, her voice shaking. ‘They’re just… they’re like animals. It’s all they think about. And women have to suffer.’

  Mrs Coulson stared coldly at her. ‘Do they?’ Who was Susannah Leith to go setting herself up as an expert on suffering? That frame of hers was big-boned enough, for all she carried so little flesh on it, and her husband was little more than average in build. She showed no sign of having been damaged by the mere two children she had borne. ‘Some women certainly do.’ She tried to will herself to keep silent, but her hurt and indignation were stronger than her self-control. ‘Mrs Leith, if you couldn’t stand seeing that pretty little face looking back at you across the table every day, couldn’t you have found a better husband to bully her into taking?’

  Susannah’s expression tightened into anger. ‘No, I couldn’t,’ she snapped. ‘He was the best I could do for her. She brought it on herself.’

  ‘Did she? She must have committed some dreadful sins to deserve this.’ She turned her back on Susannah, lifted the sheet and began mopping up the fresh blood pooling between Amy’s thighs. The noise of the door closing told her she was alone with Amy, and with the baby whose cries were already dying away.

  *

  It was late the following afternoon before Amy struggled up through the darkness into consciousness.

  ‘How do you feel, darling?’ Mrs Coulson asked.

  ‘My head’s all thick.’

  ‘Wake up slowly, dear. I’ve kept you under for a long time, I kept spooning laudanum into you as soon as you stirred. There was no sense letting you wake up straight away.’

  I’m alive. Pain hovered at the edge of Amy’s awareness, not touching her for the moment but ready to bite when the numbness faded. ‘My baby’s dead, isn’t she?’

  ‘He, darling. Another boy. I’m sorry, sweetheart, we lost him.’

  ‘A boy?’ Amy frowned in confusion. ‘I thought it was a girl. They took her away.’

  ‘He’s with the angels. The poor little fellow struggled hard, but he’s where there’s no pain now.’

  ‘Dead. My baby’s dead.’ The words fell flat and heavy in the air between the two women.

  Mrs Coulson sat down on the bed and slipped her arm around Amy. ‘Come on, darling, have a good cry.’

  ‘I’m not allowed to make a fuss about it. My baby’s gone.’

  ‘Who says you can’t make a fuss? Don’t try and be brave, dear. There’ll be time for that when you’ve got the tears out of the way.’

  Amy shook her head. ‘I knew I couldn’t keep my baby. They told me I’d have to give her away. What’s the use making a fuss? It doesn’t matter how much I love her. They’ve taken her away. I’m not allowed to keep her. It’s better if you don’t love them.’

  ‘You’re a bit muddled in the head, aren’t you? I think I’d better leave you by yourself for a bit.’ She patted Amy on the arm and stood up. ‘I won’t tell your husband you’re awake yet. There’ll be no one to see whether you’re being brave or not.’

  But when she heard the door close, Amy lay dry-eyed and stared at the ceiling. There was a small gap between two of the boards that she could not remember having seen before. It held her eyes as her thoughts wore a groove in her awareness.

  My baby’s dead. There’s no us
e crying over it. I knew I couldn’t keep her. I knew he’d die.

  *

  When Frank told Lizzie about Amy’s premature labour and the loss of her baby, Lizzie’s immediate response was distressed helplessness at being confined to the house by her own pregnancy. That reaction lasted less than a minute; Lizzie did not take easily to feeling helpless.

  ‘I’ve got to go and see her,’ she announced, the determined set of her jaw giving Frank a sinking feeling. They were about to have an argument, and he was probably doomed to lose it.

  ‘But Lizzie, you can’t go up there. You don’t want to see people now you’re big.’

  ‘It’s not “people”, it’s Amy. I’ve got to go and see her.’

  ‘I don’t think you should. You might do yourself harm if you go rushing around like that. And you might get upset if you see her.’

  ‘Don’t talk rubbish—how would it do me any harm going for a little ride in the buggy? Anyway, I’ll get a lot more upset if I’m stuck here thinking about Amy instead of being able to help her.’

  ‘I don’t know, I don’t want you wearing yourself out. Amy’s got plenty of people looking out for her, she doesn’t need you.’

  ‘She hasn’t, Frank. How would you like to be stuck in a house with Charlie if you were feeling miserable? Aunt Susannah will be hanging around, too, and she’ll make Amy feel even worse. I’m going up there myself.’

  ‘No, I don’t think I should let you.’

  Lizzie gave him an obstinate look. ‘How are you going to stop me?’

  ‘Lizzie, don’t go making it hard. I don’t want to row over this. I’m not taking you and that’s that.’ He put all the authority he could muster into his voice, but Lizzie did not appear in the least cowed.

  ‘If you won’t take me, I’ll walk.’

  ‘You can’t walk way up there in your state!’

  ‘Drive me, then. That’s your choice, Frank.’

  ‘Lizzie!’ But Frank was sensible enough to know when he was beaten. He went outside and harnessed the horses to the buggy while Lizzie got the children ready for their unexpected outing.

  They pulled up in front of Charlie’s cottage after a trip punctuated by resentful looks from Frank and an occasional toss of the head from Lizzie. ‘You’d better wait outside,’ Lizzie said. ‘No, Maudie, stay with Papa. You’ll have to keep hold of Joey, Frank, or he’ll try and get away.’ She plumped Joey on Frank’s lap and climbed down from the buggy before Frank had time to help her.

  *

  ‘Mrs Kelly,’ Mrs Coulson said, looking up in surprise from a small pot of milk she was warming on the range. ‘I didn’t think you were still out and about.’

  ‘I’m not meant to be. I wanted to come and see Amy.’

  Mrs Coulson frowned in concern. ‘It might upset her, you know. Seeing you swelling and healthy when she’s just lost her own little one.’

  ‘Oh.’ Lizzie looked crestfallen. ‘I didn’t think of that. Maybe I shouldn’t have come, then.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know.’ Mrs Coulson thought for a few moments. ‘I think perhaps it’ll do her more good than harm. She’s very fond of you, she’s always talking about you and your husband. You might get her to let go a bit, she won’t do it for me.’

  ‘Let go? How do you mean?’

  Mrs Coulson sighed. ‘She’s determined to be brave. She keeps going on about how she mustn’t make a fuss. Do you know, it’s nearly a whole day since I let her wake up and the poor girl still hasn’t shed one tear over the baby.’

  ‘Really? Poor Amy. Right, I will go and see her,’ Lizzie said resolutely. ‘Is that milk for her? I’ll take it.’ Mrs Coulson poured the warm milk into a mug, and Lizzie carried it off with her.

  *

  Amy looked up at Lizzie’s approach and felt something close to a smile flit across her face.

  ‘Hello, Lizzie. However did you talk Frank into letting you come out?’

  ‘I’ve got my ways. How are you?’

  Amy looked down at her hands and toyed with the edge of the blanket. ‘I’m all right. There’s no need for people to fuss over me.’

  ‘We fuss over you because we love you. I do, anyway, and I think that nurse does too.’ Lizzie put the mug down on the chair within Amy’s reach and sat on the bed. She leaned forward and kissed Amy’s cheek. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly.

  ‘Don’t be. I’m all right. I’m not making a fuss, am I? I’m not talking about him. That’s what everyone wanted me to do last time, just pretend it never happened.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with mourning your own baby, Amy.’

  ‘What’s the point? It won’t bring them back. I’ve had four children and I’ve lost two of them. I’ve still got the other two, haven’t I? So why should I go bawling over the lost ones? Talk about something else, Lizzie.’

  Lizzie kept up the losing battle for a quarter of an hour, but Amy’s determination was stronger than hers. At last she rose a little ponderously. ‘I’d better go. Joey’s probably peed in his nappy by now, and Frank’s going to go on enough at me about coming up here without Joey bawling for him.’

  Amy nodded. For a moment she was tempted to ask Lizzie to bring Joey in to see her; she had grown very fond of the little boy while tending him during Lizzie’s illness. But some instinct warned her it would be hard to cling to her stubborn composure if Joey started winding his chubby little arms around her neck and giving her his soft baby kisses. She turned her face away from Lizzie and stared at the blank wall.

  *

  ‘Did you do any good?’ Mrs Coulson asked when Lizzie came back out to the kitchen.

  ‘No,’ Lizzie said, pursing her lips in frustration. ‘She won’t let herself go. I don’t know what to do for her.’

  ‘Hmm. I don’t think she’s going to come right in herself till she grieves properly. He could do it easily enough.’ Mrs Coulson made a vague gesture to indicate the absent Charlie. ‘If he’d show her a bit of affection she’d melt, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Might as well try and get blood out of a stone.’

  ‘Exactly. And I’m going home tomorrow. I hate leaving the girl in this state, but her husband’s not that pleased to have me here. Young Mrs Leith, the red-headed one, was over today, she said she and the other young Mrs will bring over meals and do the cleaning till our girl’s well again. They seem capable enough, so she’ll be all right there. I just wish I could get her out of this state she’s in.’ Mrs Coulson frowned in thought. ‘It’s very odd, the way she’s taking this. She hasn’t lost any children, has she? I haven’t seen her since little Davie was born. Did she miscarry a baby before this one?’

  ‘No. Amy hasn’t miscarried any babies.’ The slight emphasis she placed on ‘miscarried’ struck Mrs Coulson as curious.

  ‘She’s been saying some strange things about this baby. Something about not being allowed to keep him. She keeps saying she’s not allowed to make a fuss, but I’m sure no one’s said that to her. I haven’t let her husband in to see her except when I’m there, and no one else would tell her that—I don’t know that even he would, come to that. Sometimes she seems to think the baby was a girl, too, even now she’s not muddled in her head. What do you think’s making her talk like that?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know, Mrs Coulson,’ Lizzie said, answering rather too quickly. ‘I’d better be going now.’ Something in her manner made Mrs Coulson look at her sharply. Oh, yes she did. Lizzie Kelly knew something, all right.

  Lizzie left the room, and Mrs Coulson stared after her thoughtfully. Was there more to Amy’s semi-conscious ramblings than she had assumed? Whatever the guilty secret Jack Leith’s family was hiding, Amy’s cousin knew as much about it as anyone.

  ‘None of your business,’ Mrs Coulson muttered to herself. ‘Don’t poke your nose into other people’s affairs.’ But her eyes kept drifting towards the door that led to where Amy lay, while her mind turned over half-formed conjectures.

  *

  Frank was walking around Am
y’s little garden, steadying Joey with one hand and matching his pace to the little boy’s uncertain steps while Maudie clung to Frank’s free hand.

  ‘Hurry up, Frank, I want to go now,’ Lizzie called as she clambered into the buggy.

  ‘So you’ve had enough outings for today?’ Frank said when he had unhitched the horses and started down the track. ‘I thought you might want me to take you into town while you’re about it, so you could run up and down the street for a bit.’

  ‘Don’t be so silly.’ Lizzie frowned in thought and did not speak again for some time. Frank shot her a look that was meant to be stern and was met with a glare in return.

  Maudie sat between her parents and looked wide-eyed from one to the other. At last she could contain herself no longer. She tugged on Frank’s sleeve until he looked down at her. She beckoned to him to lower his head before she spoke in a hoarse whisper.

  ‘Have you been naughty, Papa?’ she asked, glancing apprehensively at her mother.

  ‘No, Maudie,’ Frank replied in an equally audible whisper. ‘Mama’s been naughty.’ Lizzie looked straight ahead, pretending not to hear either of them, but Frank saw her eyes flick in their direction.

  ‘Oh!’ Maudie tried to take in the magnitude of this idea. ‘Are you going to give her a smack?’

  ‘I don’t know, love,’ Frank said solemnly. ‘It depends if she keeps on being naughty or not.’ A toss of her head was the only response Lizzie made.

  Lizzie gathered up the children as soon as they had reached home and Frank had lifted the three of them to the ground. She was about to take them into the house when Frank reached out for her arm.

  ‘Go inside, Maudie,’ he told the little girl. ‘Go on, don’t be nosy,’ he added, giving her a small push when she showed more inclination to stay where she was.