Mud and Gold

by Shayne Parkinson

  ‘She wouldn’t suit Harry,’ Amy said daringly.

  ‘Cheeky!’ Jane pulled a face at her. ‘You’re right, my grumpy old husband wouldn’t like her at all. Poor old Sophie, though, she has to put up with Madam breathing down her neck all day long. Sophie never seems to mind. If it was me it’d be a different story. Honestly, that Susannah! She used to go on about Harry when I first came to live here—you know, making nasty little remarks the way she does. She called my Harry bad tempered,’ Jane said indignantly. ‘What a cheek! I gave her a piece of my mind, she never tried that again. Ooh, Harry hates her.’

  ‘That’s my fault, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Rubbish! She’s just a… well, she’s what Harry calls her.’

  Malcolm was already standing by the door waiting impatiently. ‘Hurry up, Mama. I’m sick of this,’ he complained.

  ‘Shh, Mal! Say thank you to Aunt Jane for having you.’

  ‘No.’ Malcolm yanked at the door and hauled it open with difficulty, then disappeared through it.

  ‘The door sticks,’ Jane grimaced. ‘Harry’s had dozens of goes at fixing it—he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but he won’t ask anyone else. At least the roof doesn’t leak any more, it used to, did you know?’

  ‘I think I remember hearing that,’ Amy said, smiling at the memory.

  ‘Yes, I finally managed to get Harry to fix it when we found it dripping water on Dolly’s cradle.’

  ‘I’m sorry Mal was rude, Jane. He always plays up for me.’

  Jane dismissed Amy’s apologies with a wave of her hand. ‘Don’t worry. Boys are more trouble than girls, just look at Harry! Oh, don’t those two look sweet,’ she exclaimed. Amy looked past Jane to see Dolly and David taking turns rocking a miniature cradle that Harry had made for his daughter’s doll. ‘Why don’t you leave Davie here while you go up to the house? It’s nice for Dolly to have someone to play with. Oh, you can leave Mal too if you want,’ she added without any great show of enthusiasm.

  ‘No, I won’t saddle you with him, he’d wear you out. Thanks, Jane, I shouldn’t be long with Sophie.’

  She hurried off to catch up with Malcolm, who was swinging on Harry’s gate. ‘Come on, Mal, we’re going to see Aunt Sophie now.’

  ‘I want to see Tommy and Georgie.’

  ‘They mightn’t be home from school yet. You can see Grandpa, though. And I bet Aunt Sophie’s got some yummy cakes to eat, she makes nice things.’

  ‘Don’t want to see Aunt Sophie. Where’s Grandpa?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mal, I suppose he’s working somewhere. We’ll find him after I’ve had a little talk with Aunt Sophie. Look, there’s Uncle John,’ she said, glad of the distraction.

  John waved when he saw them, and waited for them to catch him up. He greeted Amy with a kiss and grasped Malcolm around the middle, turned him upside-down and held him wrong way up until the four-year-old squealed in delight. ‘I was just popping up to see how Sophie is,’ he said. ‘She was looking a bit down at lunch-time. She’ll be pleased to see you, it’ll take her mind off things.’

  ‘She must be getting worn out,’ Amy said as she walked beside John, Malcolm scampering around them.

  ‘Well, she doesn’t say much, but she’s puffing and blowing a lot. Do you think I should tell her to have a lie-down or something?’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ said Amy. ‘It’s not so easy to do that once you’ve got little ones to look after, but she should try and get the weight off her feet when she can. Have her legs been aching, or anything like that?’

  John had just begun to reply as he held the door open for Amy and walked into the kitchen close at her heels, but the words died on his lips. Sophie was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor as vigorously as her massive bulk would allow, her face red with exertion.

  ‘What are you doing, Sophie?’ John asked.

  Sophie looked at him in mild surprise. ‘Scrubbing,’ she answered simply.

  It took John only a moment to recover from his shock. ‘Not any more, you’re not. Come on, Soph, up you get.’ He prised the scrubbing brush from her grip and dropped it into the bucket, then helped Sophie upright and eased her onto a chair. He sat down next to her and took one of Sophie’s hands in both of his. ‘You shouldn’t be doing that stuff,’ he told her, concern in his face.

  ‘But it’s Thursday. I always scrub on a Thursday,’ Sophie said, glancing guiltily at her bucket.

  ‘Amy, tell her she shouldn’t,’ John appealed.

  ‘John’s right, Sophie,’ Amy said, taking a seat on the other side. ‘It’s not good to do heavy things like that. You’ve got enough to do just moving yourself around.’ If Sophie had been plump before she got with child, she was huge now. It was hard to believe she could expand much more in the six weeks she still had to wait till full term. Her chest was heaving as she sat and struggled for breath, and Amy wondered if she would have been able to get up off the floor without John’s help.

  ‘You don’t want anything to—’ Amy began, then remembered Malcolm’s presence. ‘Why don’t you go outside for a bit, Mal? Tommy and Georgie have got a lovely big swing out the back, much better than yours at home. You go and play on that.’ Malcolm weighed up the idea for a moment, till the attractions of a swing won against the dubious amusement of listening to adults talk over his head. ‘You don’t want anything to go wrong with the baby,’ Amy went on when Malcolm had gone. ‘It’s no good wearing yourself out.’

  ‘The floor’s dirty,’ Sophie said uneasily.

  ‘Let it stay dirty, then. You can always give it a sweep, you don’t have to bend for that.’

  John watched Sophie anxiously until her breathing steadied. ‘I didn’t know you were doing this stuff, Sophie. From now on you just leave it all. I don’t want you hurting yourself.’

  ‘But…’ Sophie’s brow furrowed in thought. ‘There’s the water,’ she announced. ‘We’ve got to have water.’

  ‘Sophie!’ said Amy. ‘Have you been carrying water up from the well?’

  ‘It hasn’t rained for a bit, there’s none in the barrel,’ Sophie said apologetically. ‘I’ve got to get it from the well. I make lots of trips, ’cause I can only carry two buckets at a time.’

  Amy turned to her brother. ‘John, that’s really heavy, hauling buckets of water all that way. You mustn’t let her do that.’

  She saw John’s concern turn into something sterner. ‘Where’s Susannah?’ he asked. ‘What’s she doing, letting you do this stuff by yourself?’

  ‘Having a lie-down,’ Sophie answered, nothing more than acceptance of the fact in her voice.

  ‘A lie-down!’ John echoed.

  ‘Yes. She likes a lie-down in the afternoon. She loosens her stays.’

  ‘I’d like to throttle her with her bloody stays,’ John said, his eyes smouldering though he did not raise his voice.

  ‘She asked if I’d mind cleaning up while she had a rest. I don’t mind scrubbing and doing that other stuff,’ Sophie said, staring at John’s angry face in confusion. ‘I always scrub on a Thursday.’

  ‘Shh, Sophie, it’s all right,’ John soothed. ‘You leave it to me, I’ll get things sorted out.’ He disentangled his hands from Sophie’s, stood and made his way towards the passage door.

  Amy got up and followed him halfway up the passage, leaving Sophie at the table. ‘John, don’t do anything silly.’

  ‘I’m not going to do murder, Amy, don’t worry.’

  John hammered on the bedroom door, waited a moment, and when there was no response hammered even louder.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Amy could hear a slight nervousness in Susannah’s response, despite the muffling of the door. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want a word with you, Susannah.’ John rattled the door handle, but made no attempt to turn it.

  ‘You can’t come in,’ Susannah called. ‘Wait a minute, I’m not dressed.’

  There was the sound of rapid movement within the room, then Susannah opened the door
a fraction and peered around it, clutching her dressing-gown closed with her free hand. ‘Well?’ she said, managing to maintain a certain haughtiness despite the indignity of the situation. ‘What are you making such a fuss about?’

  ‘What the hell do you mean making Sophie do all the work while she’s in this state?’ John demanded. ‘There’s the poor girl hardly able to drag herself around, and you’ve got her on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor!’

  ‘I didn’t tell her to do it! I just told her to tidy things up a bit. How was I to know she’d start scrubbing? I don’t see that I can be blamed if the girl’s silly enough to do that sort of thing.’

  ‘She’s good-natured and willing, and you’ve ordered her about ever since I brought her home,’ John shot back. ‘Who did you think was fetching the water? Did you think it came up from the well by itself?’

  ‘Why should I have to do everything? It won’t do her any harm to fetch a bit of water. She’s carrying far too much weight, that’s why she gets tired. It’ll do her good to get a bit of exercise.’

  ‘Exercise!’ John spat the word. ‘My poor Sophie making herself ill, and you’re sitting on your backside doing nothing.’

  ‘Don’t use such language to me! It’s none of your business how I spend my time. Go away.’ Susannah made to close the door, but John interposed his body in the doorway, pushed the door open and went into the room. Amy crept further down the passage so that she could see into the bedroom.

  ‘It’s my bloody business all right when I see my wife working like a servant for you, you lazy bitch!’

  ‘How dare you speak to me like that! Get out of my bedroom. Go on, get out of here.’ Susannah made a little movement of her hands as if she were about to push John away, then appeared to think better of it and instead took a step backwards. ‘Get out,’ she repeated, but Amy heard a tightness in her voice that revealed fear. ‘Where’s your father? I want to speak to him.’

  ‘Never mind about Pa. This is between you and me. I won’t put up with it, Susannah. I won’t let you treat Sophie like that. You’ve been a bitch to my sister, you’re not going to be a bitch to my wife. You’re going to do your share.’ He took a step towards Susannah. ‘You’re going to—’

  He was interrupted by a shrill scream from Susannah. ‘Don’t touch me! Get away from me!’ She scurried across the room so that the bed was between them, letting her dressing-gown gape open as she ran, revealing the top of her camisole with the corset pressing against it. ‘Go away!’ she cried.

  Amy rushed into the room and made a grab at John’s arm. ‘John, you mustn’t. Leave Susannah alone. Come out of here.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Amy heard a voice from the passage, and turned to see Jack standing in the doorway. ‘I could hear you lot shouting from halfway up the hill, and Sophie’s in the kitchen saying you’re all killing one another.’

  ‘Jack, tell him to leave me alone,’ Susannah said, still wild-eyed but no longer terrified now that her husband had appeared. ‘He burst in here and started abusing me—he used the most awful language—he’s gone quite mad.’

  ‘What are you doing, boy?’ Jack asked. ‘Susannah, you’re not even dressed properly.’ Susannah looked down at her gaping dressing-gown and snatched it closed, tying it hastily. ‘You’ve no business in here,’ Jack told his son.

  ‘That bitch should—’

  ‘There, you see?’ Susannah demanded. ‘He’s doing it again—in front of you, too. Make him stop. Make him go away.’

  ‘That’s enough of that talk, boy,’ Jack said. ‘Will one of you tell me what the hell is going on?’

  John took a deep breath and spoke more calmly. ‘I came up to the house to see how Sophie was—I thought she looked a bit weary this morning. I got here and found her on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor because she,’ he shot a venomous look at Susannah, and she glared back, ‘told her she should clean the place up. I got Sophie talking, and I found out she’s been doing all the work—’

  ‘She has not!’ Susannah interrupted, but John went on as if she had not spoken.

  ‘While Susannah’s done nothing. Sophie’s been hauling the water every day! The state she’s in, Pa, and she’s been doing that. And then I find out this b… this woman’s having a lie-down, if you please!’

  ‘Is this true, Susannah?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Why shouldn’t I have a lie-down? I’ve the most awful headache. And I’m not going to haul water like a servant! If he doesn’t want Sophie to do it he can fetch the water himself. I don’t see why Sophie can’t help me with the work, no one ever gave me much help when I was in her condition.’ Tears started from her eyes. ‘You dragged me to this awful place. You expect me to work like a slave—you want me to be like some rough farm girl. Now you won’t even stand up for me against them all. Everyone’s against me. You all hate me!’

  ‘No one hates you, Susannah,’ Jack said wearily.

  ‘I do,’ John put in. ‘She’s caused nothing but trouble since the day—’

  ‘No one asked for your opinion,’ Jack interrupted. ‘And you can treat my wife with a bit of respect. There’s no need to come bursting into my bedroom when she’s barely decent.’

  ‘No,’ John said. ‘She doesn’t deserve respect.’

  ‘I’m your father, boy. I expect you to do what I say. Get out of here.’

  ‘I’m going.’ John made to leave, then turned back to his father. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have come in here after her, I’ll grant you that. But I’m not going to put up with how she’s been treating Sophie. If you won’t make her do her share I’ll… well, it just won’t get done. And that’s that.’

  ‘Right, you’ve said your piece. Out you get.’

  ‘Come on, John,’ Amy encouraged. She pulled at his arm. ‘Are you coming, Pa?’

  Jack turned to look at Susannah, who had sunk into a chair, weak with relief. ‘Not just yet.’

  ‘Leave me alone, Jack,’ said Susannah. ‘My nerves are in a dreadful state. I’ll have to close the curtains and lie down in the dark until my head stops throbbing.’

  ‘That’ll have to wait,’ Jack said. ‘We need to have a talk first, Susannah.’

  Susannah shot him a resentful look. ‘I thought at least you might take my part—though goodness knows you never have before. I suppose you’re going to abuse me now, like your brute of a son.’

  ‘No, I’m not going to abuse you. Out you get, you two,’ he said over his shoulder to John and Amy, who were looking at him from the doorway. ‘This is private.’ He closed the door firmly on his audience.

  *

  That was a funny sort of visit, Amy mused as she made her way home with her sons. I’m sure we never used to fight all the time before Susannah came. I don’t think I’ve ever seen John in such a state.

  Charlie was late home from town, as he often was after his solitary outings. Amy gave the children most of their dinner before he came home. He was so late that she had time to get the bread dough mixed and kneaded for the morning baking after getting Malcolm and David ready for bed. By the time Charlie finally arrived, she had the boys sitting at the table in their nightshirts, hair brushed and faces washed as they waited for their father’s arrival and the chance to eat their pudding.

  ‘Did you have a nice time in town?’ Amy asked as she dished up the food.

  ‘Passable,’ he answered. ‘These two behave themselves?’ he asked, glancing at his sons. The boys, to Amy’s relief, had been tired out enough by their outing to sit quietly at the table, according to Charlie’s rules for the behaviour of children.

  ‘Yes, they were both good boys,’ said Amy.

  She studied Charlie as he ate, trying to gauge whether or not he was drunk. He smelt of beer and more than a whiff of gin, but she soon decided he was sober, much to her relief. He went through to the parlour when he had finished eating. Amy stacked the dishes on the bench while the boys finished off the last of the pudding.

  ‘Time for bed, you two,’ she said
. ‘Come and say good night to Papa.’ She picked up David and carried him into the parlour, while Malcolm went in ahead of her.

  ‘Good night, Papa,’ Malcolm said. Amy smiled to see him thrust out his hand to have it shaken. Malcolm was always so eager to seem grown up.

  ‘’Night, boy,’ Charlie said, shaking the outstretched hand. He watched Malcolm go off to his bedroom with a look of satisfaction, and Amy did not distract him for a few moments.

  ‘Kiss Papa good night,’ she said, carrying David over to his father’s chair. She leaned across Charlie to bring David within kissing distance, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the unpleasant smell thus brought so close to her. It was the smell he usually carried home from town, and Amy had never quite managed to make it out. There was the beer and gin she had already noted, along with an acrid smell of sweat that surprised her when she considered it. He seemed to have worked up as much of a sweat on his outing as he did when working on the farm, and although Amy had never spent an afternoon drinking in a hotel she did not think it would be a place of great exertion.

  But there was another element in the blend, one she could not identify; no, two of them. Both seemed familiar, and one made her shudder a little, at an unpleasant association that she could not grasp hold of. What was that smell?

  David pressed his lips to a part of his father’s cheek not covered with beard, but he screwed up his little face as he did so. ‘Pooh! You smell funny, Papa.’ He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, then opened them wide and smiled at having solved the riddle. ‘You smell like a lady!’

  ‘Stop talking rubbish,’ Charlie growled. ‘And that’s enough of all this kissing me like you were a baby.’

  He made to push David from him, but Amy had already snatched the child away. She turned from Charlie, knowing that her face would betray what she had just realized.

  ‘Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings.’ That had been one of her grandmother’s sayings, usually uttered when Amy came out with something unexpected. The missing elements of that smell were now so obvious that she wondered at her stupidity in not recognising them before. Beer and gin, that was easy. And sweat; he had been working hard, all right, though not at any honest labour. But now she knew what made up the whole: cheap perfume that accentuated rather than hid the smell that had made her shudder. It was the smell of their bed after Charlie had mounted her.