Mud and Gold

by Shayne Parkinson

  ‘I’ll make sure Maudie goes on the pot before she goes to sleep, you shouldn’t have any trouble with her in the night. Don’t stay up too late, you’ll wear your eyes out doing all that,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘I’m all right, this is a lovely bright lamp you have here,’ Lily assured her.

  Maudie did not disgrace herself, and Lizzie had enjoyed Lily’s company so much that it was not long before she invited the teacher to stay a whole weekend on the farm.

  ‘She’s nice,’ Lizzie whispered when she and Frank were alone in bed. ‘I thought she’d be a sour old biddy. It doesn’t seem right, her being an old maid. She’s twenty-eight, poor thing, not much chance of getting a husband now.’

  ‘Found out how old she is, eh? Trust you. I suppose you know all her business.’

  ‘I found out a few things, just from being friendly. Let’s see, she was born in England, her parents came out here when she was a little thing, her father died when she was… three, I think she said. She’s got no brothers or sisters, and her ma died nine years ago. She started teaching when… are you listening, Frank?’

  ‘Eh? Sort of. I think I nodded off for a minute. Hey, I was worried about Orange Blossom this morning, she looked a bit lame.’

  ‘You and your precious cows! What’s wrong with her, anyway?’

  ‘Nothing, I think she was just a bit stiff. She was right as rain this afternoon.’ He smiled into the darkness at the thought of his beautiful Jerseys. ‘Good old Orange Blossom.’

  ‘Such fancy names they’ve got, eh? Orange Blossom and Countess and Golden Dawn.’

  ‘Don’t forget Duke William. I bet he’s looking forward to getting to work come summer.’

  ‘We’ll have to think of some more names when the calves arrive. It’ll be harder than finding names for babies.’

  ‘Yes, fancy names for the Herd Book. None of your old “Patches” or “Brownie” for those calves.’

  ‘I hope that bull of yours is up to the job.’

  ‘He’s up to it,’ Frank said confidently.

  ‘I don’t know, he’s not very big—hey, what are you up to?’

  ‘What do you think?’ he murmured in her ear as he slid her nightdress higher.

  ‘I don’t know why I feel sorry for Lily, having no husband,’ Lizzie complained unconvincingly. ‘At least she doesn’t have to put up with—’ Frank’s mouth on hers silenced her. The way she slipped her arms around him gave the lie to her pretended irritation.

  Lily’s weekend visits became more frequent. She and Lizzie had little in common, but a genuine friendship was growing between them, and Frank was happy to see it. He knew that Lizzie still fretted at times over what she saw as her failure to settle Amy’s life properly, and if she enjoyed feeling she was doing Lily some good then he would cheerfully encourage her.

  When Lizzie invited Amy for afternoon tea one Saturday while Lily was visiting, Amy was in two minds whether or not to accept. It would be a pleasant change to see a face other than Charlie’s across the table, but spending time with a woman who had managed to do what Amy had dreamed of might be a little hard to bear. Just as she had determined to go after all, Charlie decided to be difficult over whether or not he would let her. By the time he finally said she could, it was so late that she had to walk at a near-trot all the way to Frank’s farm, with David scurrying beside her as fast as his little legs would carry him.

  ‘Now, you and Lily will get on well,’ Lizzie said when Amy arrived. ‘You’re interested in some of the same things. Amy used to be a teacher, too.’

  ‘Were you, Mrs Stewart?’ Lily said. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t.’ Amy sat down and gathered David onto her lap. ‘I was going to, but… well, it didn’t work out. I just helped Miss Evans for a while, that’s all.’

  ‘You’re lucky,’ Lily said. Amy looked at her in astonishment.

  ‘Don’t you like being a teacher?’ she asked.

  Lily pulled a face. ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t particularly enjoy trying to beat knowledge into children who’d rather be just about anywhere than sitting in school. Forcing grammar down their throats isn’t going to help them milk cows or rear babies, and that’s all most of them are ever going to do—oh, I’m sorry, Mrs Stewart, that sounds terribly snooty. It’s not how I mean it. There’s more value to the world in milking cows and bringing up children.’

  ‘Is there? I suppose you’re right, but… I don’t know, sometimes it doesn’t seem much to do with your life. Not that I don’t love my boys.’ She squeezed David. He nestled against her, tired out by his brisk walk and content to be held in her arms. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without my Davie.’

  ‘So this is Malcolm’s brother.’ Lily did not quite manage to hide a grimace. ‘He doesn’t look much like him.’

  ‘They’re as different as chalk and cheese,’ said Lizzie. ‘Davie’s a lovely child, and Mal’s just like his pa—a right little—’

  ‘Lizzie! Don’t talk about Mal like that,’ Amy remonstrated.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’m going to change Beth’s nappy, that’ll give you two a chance to talk about schools and things for a minute.’

  ‘Mal’s not really a bad boy,’ Amy said, wishing there was more conviction in her voice. ‘He’s very lively, and he likes his own way.’

  ‘He certainly does,’ Lily said. ‘I’ve never known a five-year-old as… determined… as your son. I’m afraid I’m not managing to teach him much. Actually I’m not teaching him anything at all, except how to put up with being smacked on the hand with a ruler.’

  ‘He wouldn’t take any notice of that,’ Amy said ruefully. ‘Not with what he gets from his father. He’s always been better behaved for men, anyway.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t do anything about not being a man,’ Lily said. ‘I don’t like using a strap on the little ones, but I must say Malcolm tempts me. When will this boy start school?’

  ‘Next August my Davie’ll turn five.’ Amy stroked David’s cropped hair, silently grieving for the lost curls. ‘I’ll miss having him around all day.’ She smiled at Lily’s dubious expression. ‘Don’t worry, Miss Radford, Davie really is very different from Mal. He’s a lot more like my little brothers.’

  ‘Tom and George? Now they are nice children. Poor little Tom, though, I hate having to hit him when he gets things wrong. You can see he feels dreadful about it, but… well, it’s just the way it’s done. I can’t let Thomas get away with making mistakes just because I like him more than I do most of the others.’ She snorted. ‘As if it matters whether he knows how to parse a sentence properly. It’s what they pay me for, though.’

  ‘Miss Radford, why…’ It was hard to find a way to ask the question that did not sound rude. Amy trailed off awkwardly.

  ‘Why am I a teacher?’ Lily prompted. ‘Certainly not from any sense of vocation. Sheer necessity, Mrs Stewart. There aren’t many jobs a poor woman with pretensions to gentility can take. Father didn’t leave anything to us beyond what Mother called “good breeding”, and that doesn’t pay the rent. Mother had an annuity that used to be sent out from Home, but it was only during her lifetime, and I always knew I’d have to provide for myself one day. I have a sort of uncle—he’s a cousin of Mother’s, I think, but not a very close one—he paid for me to go to secondary school. A proper school, too, not some trumped-up dancing class teaching young women deportment and a word or two of French. He paid for my piano lessons, too. I had two years at the school, that was enough to get me a pupil teacher’s job. By the time Mother passed away I already had my teaching certificate, so she knew I’d be able to support myself in some sort of decency. She didn’t know how much I hated it.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Amy said, wishing it didn’t sound so inadequate.

  ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I didn’t get married,’ said Lily.

  ‘No, not really. It’s… well, it’s not exactly the easy way out either, Miss Radford.’ Amy had not meant to be so b
lunt, but Lily’s frankness made her lower her own guard.

  ‘I suppose not. I think perhaps it depends on the husband.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Amy.

  ‘Mother had rather grand ideas, you see. She always thought I’d marry a professional man. She conveniently didn’t notice that I never went anywhere I was likely to meet such men.’ Lily sighed. ‘Poor Mother, she was always saying we were sure to get invited to a ball at Government House one day and I’d meet what she called a “suitable” man there. Of course we never did. And if I ever did get an invitation, say if one of the other pupil teachers’ mothers asked me to dinner, Mother would never let me go. “I’m sure they’re worthy people, Lily, but they’re not quite our type, dear.” I heard that so many times I just stopped asking her, and of course people stopped inviting me. The classroom, the house and the shops, that’s where I spent my days. And I’m afraid I’ve never had the sort of face that turns men’s heads.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Well, that’s all past now, anyway. I’m much too set in my ways to put up with a husband, and I’m sure I’d make a dreadful wife.’

  Lizzie came back into the room. ‘You two talking about husbands? I thought you’d be on about books and all that nonsense. Here you go,’ she said, plumping Beth on Lily’s lap. ‘She smells a bit sweeter now.’

  Beth laid her head on Lily’s chest and smiled up at her. Lily planted a soft kiss on the little girl’s forehead. ‘She’s a dear child. Marriage does have its compensations, doesn’t it, Mrs Stewart? Little ones like these two?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Amy agreed. ‘Do you read much, Miss Radford?’ she asked, hardly daring to hope that she might at last have found someone she could talk about her beloved books with.

  ‘You must call me Lily, or you’ll make me feel terribly old—though I am years older than you, aren’t I?’

  ‘I’d like to do that—and you should call me Amy.’

  ‘Thank you, I will. I don’t think I’ve read a book from beginning to end in years, Amy. Just exercise books till I want to throw them on the fire.’

  ‘You’re very good with children, Lily,’ Lizzie put in. ‘Beth just loves you.’

  ‘It’s easy to be good with them one at a time,’ Lily said, stroking Beth’s soft baby hair. ‘It’s when you’ve fifteen or twenty of them to try and keep under your thumb. Oh, Lizzie, I didn’t tell you—I had a letter from the inspector this week, he said they’re going to do something about that Irish family who never send any of their children to school. They’re going to make them—that’ll be another five or so children next term.’ She rolled her eyes at the thought.

  ‘Feenans? Those bog Irish?’ Lizzie said in disgust. ‘Waste of time making them come to school, half of them’ll end up in jail anyway. They’ll drive you mad, Lily.’

  ‘As bad as that?’ Lily asked Amy and Lizzie both nodded. ‘Ah, woe is me,’ she said, putting on a tragic face. ‘I sometimes wish I was a washerwoman married to a street sweeper.’ She laughed at her own attempt at melodrama. The other two women laughed with her, and the children joined in with giggles despite having no idea what the women were talking about.

  *

  ‘It’s such a shame about Lily,’ Lizzie said more and more often to Frank over the next few weeks. ‘She’s so nice, it’s not right that she’s an old maid. She’s very lonely, too. And she’s so good with the children, I bet she’d love to have some of her own. I blame her mother, not making sure Lily was properly settled.’

  Frank made noncommittal noises of sympathy when Lizzie ran on in this vein. He could not raise much interest in Lily’s prospects, and thought it was none of their business in any case, but it was in Lizzie’s nature to try and organise the lives of those around her, and when she was in full flight it was as much use trying to curb her as to dam the creek when it flooded.

  But Lizzie gradually stopped railing against what she saw as Lily’s cruel fate of spinsterhood. Frank thought she had resigned herself to her own inability to do anything about it. As he later reflected, that just showed that even after knowing her for so many years he could still be very wrong about Lizzie.

  He thought little of it when Lizzie remarked one evening after supper, ‘I bet Bill would love to have a look at the Jerseys.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ The thought of showing off his precious Jerseys to an interested audience held great appeal.

  ‘Mmm. Well, it stands to reason, doesn’t it? He helped you get them out here the day they arrived, he’d like to see how they’re getting on. Just because Pa makes smart remarks about the Jerseys doesn’t mean Bill agrees with him. I think you should ask Bill to come around some time.’

  ‘Maybe I will.’

  ‘Yes, that’s a good idea, Frank. You’ll probably see him at the factory tomorrow, tell him to come for lunch on Saturday.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be Saturday, does it? Friday would do.’

  ‘No, it’s got to be Saturday,’ Lizzie insisted. ‘Saturday will suit just right. Tell him to get here a good bit before lunch, so we won’t be in a rush. And you’ll have time to show him the cows, too.’

  ‘That’s what he’s coming for, isn’t it?’

  ‘Mostly,’ Lizzie said, a rather smug smile playing about her mouth.

  Frank studied her in amusement. ‘You’re plotting something, aren’t you? You’ve got that look on your face. What are you up to?’

  ‘You’ll see,’ was all Lizzie would say. ‘You just tell Bill to come on Saturday, that’s all I need you to do.’

  Frank invited Bill for the following Saturday as he had been instructed. It was only when Lily arrived on Friday night straight from school to spend the weekend with the Kellys, as she so often did now, that realisation of just what Lizzie was up to dawned on him. ‘Does Bill know Lily’ll be here?’ he asked Lizzie in the privacy of their bedroom.

  ‘Not if you didn’t tell him,’ Lizzie said. She gave a small giggle. ‘It’ll be a nice surprise for him.’

  As Frank lingered over his morning tea the next day, he thought Lizzie seemed oddly restless. She kept finding reasons to go over to one of the kitchen windows and peer out down the track. After one of these darting visits to the window she turned to Lily.

  ‘I’ve just had a thought,’ Lizzie said, somewhat breathlessly. ‘I need some figs. Do you mind picking me some?’

  Before Lily had a chance to say whether she minded or not, Lizzie had thrust a basket into her hands and practically pushed her out the back door.

  ‘Now, mind you pick plenty,’ Lizzie said. ‘Take your time, there’s no need to rush back. You might have to climb a little way up the tree, just in the low branches. It’s easy enough to climb. No, Maudie, you can’t go and help Aunt Lily,’ she said, restraining the eager child by one hand. ‘I want you to help me in here for a bit.’

  She closed the door on Lily and smiled at Frank, her eyes dancing. ‘Bill’s coming up the road.’

  ‘Is he? I’ll go down and meet him. We might as well go out and take a look at the cows right now.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ Lizzie said. ‘You can bring him straight up here. There’ll be plenty of time for looking at cows later.’

  Lizzie insisted that Bill sit down and have a cup of tea as soon as Frank ushered him into the kitchen, but just as she seemed about to pour it she remarked in a tone of studied casualness, ‘Bill, how about you just pop out and help Lily with those figs? She’s probably got a basketful now, and it’ll be a bit heavy.’

  ‘Who’s Lily?’ Bill asked.

  ‘You know—Miss Radford, the teacher. Didn’t Frank tell you she’s staying the weekend with us? Hurry up, you can have your tea when you and Lily get back.’

  Bill went outside, and Lizzie scurried over to the kitchen window opposite the one that had held such fascination for her earlier.

  ‘What are you up to with all this fuss about the figs, Lizzie?’ Frank asked, wandering idly over to stand beside her.

  Lizzie craned her neck to see the tree that stood s
ome distance from the house. ‘Lily will have climbed a little way up it—yes, she’s a couple of branches up.’ She gave a small giggle. ‘She’s going to get a shock when she looks down and sees Bill.’

  Frank followed Lizzie’s gaze and saw Lily a few feet up the tree, standing on a broad branch. She had hitched her dress up halfway to her knees to make climbing easier, unaware that she had an audience.

  ‘Hey, Lily’s showing a bit of leg, eh?’ he remarked with a grin.

  ‘Maybe you’d better not look—make sure you don’t look at her legs, anyway,’ Lizzie said, not turning away from the window.

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ said Frank.

  They watched as Bill approached the fig tree. When he got close enough to see Lily clearly he hesitated, then stepped forward and looked up into the tree for a few moments before speaking. Although they could not hear what was said, they saw Lily give a start and almost let go of the basket. Bill reached up and took it from her, then helped her clamber down.

  ‘That’s just right,’ said Lizzie.

  ‘That was a bit mean on Lily, wasn’t it? She’ll be embarrassed now.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. She’ll forget about being embarrassed soon enough.’

  ‘Why did you want Bill to catch her like that?’

  ‘Lily needs a bit of help, that’s all. She’s not all that pretty, but I noticed the other day when she was showing me some new stockings she had on that she’s got a nice pair of legs. I’m just helping her show her best features off.’

  Frank laughed. ‘You’re a wanton little hussy, Lizzie.’

  They watched as Bill and Lily began to walk back to the house. ‘Oh, good, I thought she might be a bit taller than Bill, but she’s about the same height,’ Lizzie said. ‘She’s two years older than him, but you’d hardly know. Don’t you go telling Bill Lily’s twenty-eight, not till things have got on a bit further. She looks quite pretty just now, don’t you think?’