Sentence of Marriage

by Shayne Parkinson

  She served him breakfast and ate her own with him, then stacked their dishes on the bench while she prepared food for the men.

  ‘Where’s that lazy sister of mine?’ asked Jimmy. ‘Why isn’t she out here helping you?’

  ‘Oh, Susannah never gets up before eight,’ said Amy. ‘The babies wake her up in the night, so she gets very tired,’ she added quickly, not wanting to appear critical of Jimmy’s sister.

  ‘And what about you—don’t you get tired, getting up so early and working hard all day?’

  ‘I’m used to it,’ Amy said, a little embarrassed but at the same time flattered.

  ‘Could you show me around the farm later?’ Jimmy asked. ‘I want to see it all and learn all about it.’ He gave another of his engaging smiles. ‘As much as I’m capable of learning, anyway.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ Amy said, her cheeks pink with pleasure.

  So later that morning they explored the farm together. She showed him the cow shed and the barns, pointing out the wagons and machinery and explaining their uses. She prattled away, describing the haymaking that would soon start.

  ‘First there’s Christmas, there’s usually a party just before that with everyone there, babies and old people and all. Then Boxing Day they start getting the hay in. Everyone works together, especially with the stacking. The men go around all the farms working on the haystacks. It takes weeks to do them all. There’s often a dance after the haymaking’s finished—a real one, with music and proper dancing and no children. I’ve never been to a hay dance, but Pa said I could this year.’

  ‘Never been to one?’ Jimmy asked, surprised. He looked at her more closely. ‘How old are you, Amy?’

  ‘I turned fifteen in October,’ she said proudly.

  ‘Only fifteen? And practically running the house, and you know so much about the farm—I thought you were seventeen at least,’ Jimmy said. Amy glowed.

  They walked up the hill behind the farmhouse. They had to climb over a gate on the way, and Jimmy put his hands around her waist to lift her down from it, holding her for a moment longer than was strictly necessary when he had put her back on the ground. He was puffing from the climb by the time they reached the top, and Amy had to slow her pace so he could keep up with her.

  The day was brilliantly fine. From their vantage point they could see down the length of the valley to the broad sweep of the bay spreading out on both sides into the haze of distance.

  ‘Don’t you love the view?’ Amy said. ‘I feel as though I can see the whole world from here. I look out and pretend I can see all the way to America.’

  ‘Yes, it certainly is a lovely sight. I suppose you can see all over the farm from here. Where does your property end?’

  Amy dragged her gaze away from the inviting distance to point out the northern and southern boundaries. ‘Uncle Arthur’s farm starts beyond that row of trees there. On the other side, over here, Ch… I mean Mr Stewart’s farm starts just where you can see that bend in the creek. You can’t really see the other boundaries, one’s over there in the bush, and the last one’s on the far side of this hill. Oh, look!’ she said excitedly, pointing down the valley at the blue ocean sparkling in the sun. ‘There’s the steamer just turning in towards the harbour. It’s come from down the coast, and it goes all the way to Tauranga, then there’s another boat that goes to Auckland. Oh, you know that, don’t you?’ she trailed off, feeling foolish. ‘You came down on it just yesterday.’

  ‘Yes, and I’m not a particularly good sailor, I’m afraid,’ Jimmy said, wincing at the memory. ‘Don’t let that calm sea fool you—the wind can whip it up quick as a flash. I must admit I’m not really looking forward to the trip back.’

  ‘You’ll have to stay for ages, then,’ Amy said, flashing him a smile. ‘I hope you won’t get bored, though—it’ll seem dull here after Auckland.’

  ‘I’m not finding it dull at all, with you looking after me,’ Jimmy said, smiling back. ‘And I think I’ll stay here for quite a while. Perhaps I could go with you and your brothers to that dance you were telling me about?’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ said Amy.

  She glanced at the sky; the angle of the sun told her the morning was nearly over. ‘I need to get back to the house, there’s lunch to get on,’ she said, reluctant to end the moment. ‘You can carry on looking around by yourself if you like.’

  ‘No, I’ll wait until you’re not so busy,’ Jimmy said, to her delight. ‘I’ll come down with you. I’d better spend some time with Susannah now, anyway.’

  Susannah was bustling around the kitchen when they got back to the house.

  ‘James, there you are!’ she exclaimed. ‘I wondered where you’d got to. Oh, how nice of you to keep Amy amused.’ Amy felt her cheeks burn at being referred to as if she were a small child who needed entertaining. ‘James and I want to talk now, dear, perhaps you could just finish things off for me here? That’s a good girl. Come along, James, we’ll sit on the verandah.’

  Susannah swept off, dragging Jimmy in her wake, leaving Amy to make the lunch; she soon found Susannah had barely started on it. That Susannah! she thought angrily. Jimmy was being so nice, and he wouldn’t want anything to do with her if Susannah made him think she was just a baby. She took her frustration out on the vegetables, and when the family assembled for lunch they found the eyes of the potatoes had been gouged out with particular savagery.

  After lunch Jimmy went off with the men to move some stock, while Susannah and Amy worked on their weekly baking. The silence between them was even stiffer than usual, but they were busy enough with chopping, mixing, rolling and baking for the scene to appear companionable to anyone who didn’t know them. Little Thomas played at their feet, from time to time begging for currants and scraps of dough, while Georgie had his afternoon sleep.

  When the last batch of scones was in the oven Susannah sighed, took off her apron and hung it on a hook behind the kitchen door.

  ‘I’m so tired, and it’s too hot to be in here, anyway. Clear things up, please, Amy—I’m going to have a lie-down while George is asleep. Keep an eye on Thomas for me, would you?’

  Amy gave a curt nod in acknowledgment. When she had put the kitchen in order she took Thomas out to the garden and picked some peas for the evening meal while the little boy played in the dirt, making hills and roads. He laughed in delight as he kicked down the highest of his hills, and Amy could not help smiling with him. He was a sweet child.

  When the men came up from milking, John and Harry were each carrying two pails of milk while Jimmy and Jack had one large pail each. Jimmy’s face was red and shining from the exertions of the afternoon, but he looked cheerful. Jack put his milk can down on the grass, picked Thomas up and threw him in the air, making the child chortle with glee.

  ‘We’ll make a farmer of this lad yet,’ Jack said, slapping Jimmy on the back. ‘He’s got a good touch with the cows.’

  Jimmy smiled in reply. ‘No, I don’t think I’m really cut out for a farmer, but it certainly is a good, healthy life. A month or two of this’ll clear the smut of the city out of my lungs.’

  ‘These two cans are for butter,’ Jack explained to Jimmy, indicating the large pails. ‘Take them to the dairy, would you? Amy will show you where they go, won’t you, girl?’

  She would, and gladly. Jimmy walked beside her to the cool, dark room a short way from the house, and poured the pails full of milk into a wide, shallow dish she pointed out to him.

  ‘When are you going to make it into butter?’ Jimmy asked as they walked back to the house.

  ‘First thing tomorrow, before the day gets hot. If the weather’s too warm the cream froths up in the churn and makes an awful mess, and the butter can take hours to come, so at this time of year I start it around six o’clock.’

  He raised his eyes heavenward in mock horror at the notion of starting work so early, then broke into a chuckle, and Amy laughed with him. She seemed to be doing a lot more laughing since Jimmy had arrived.r />
  The next morning when she went out to the dairy, she was astonished to find Jimmy there before her.

  ‘I still didn’t manage to get up early enough for milking,’ he said, ‘but I thought I could watch you make the butter, if you don’t think I’ll be in the way.’

  ‘Of course not—I’d like to have you here. I haven’t got all that much to make today, I made the extra for selling on Tuesday.’

  ‘Selling?’ Jimmy repeated. ‘You mean you have time to earn money for the family as well as all the work you do around the house? You keep this whole place going single-handed, don’t you?’

  ‘Not really.’ Amy smiled at the outrageous suggestion. ‘There’s money from potatoes and maize, and we sell calves for meat. Pigs sometimes, too. The butter and cheese I make only fetches a few shillings a week, but it all helps. I enjoy doing it, really.’

  ‘You’re quite a girl, aren’t you?’ Jimmy said, and Amy felt a warm glow from his admiration. She had never thought of herself as anything special.

  Jimmy watched as she carefully skimmed off the cream that had formed overnight and put it into a churn. She cranked the handle until it was turning over steadily. The turning of the churn was a rhythmical motion that took strength but not much concentration, and left her mind free to wander. Amy was used to doing a lot of her thinking during her twice-weekly butter making, but today she had Jimmy to talk to instead.

  ‘Granny always said the more you try and hurry butter or men, the more of a muddle things get into,’ Amy said, smiling at the memory. ‘She was right about the butter, anyway. You just have to be patient.’

  Jimmy watched her turn the handle for some time, then asked if he could try. He was clearly surprised at the effort needed to work the churn. He grunted away at it for a few minutes, then Amy gently pushed his hands off the handle.

  ‘Let me,’ she said. ‘It takes a bit of getting used to.’

  Jimmy sat down heavily on a bench against the wall, took a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and mopped his brow.

  ‘It certainly does. You must be strong, for all you look so small and dainty.’

  Amy was unsure whether this was a compliment or not. Being dainty sounded nice, but being strong was not particularly ladylike.

  ‘I suppose we seem a bit coarse to you,’ she said wistfully, ‘after all the fine people you mix with in the city.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Jimmy got to his feet and walked over to her. ‘Not you, anyway—there’s nothing coarse about you, little lady.’ He stood looking down at Amy with such an openly admiring stare that she felt a blush creeping up her face. She lowered her eyes from his gaze, aware of a surge of pleasure mixed with embarrassment; she tried to hide her awkwardness by turning the churn furiously. For once she was disappointed that the butter came quickly.

  Jimmy helped her turn the butter out onto a marble slab, and she began working away at the mass with a pair of butter pats.

  ‘This takes ages,’ she warned, ‘and you’re probably getting bored, anyway. Don’t feel you have to stay here with me.’ Please don’t go away, she begged silently.

  ‘I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be,’ he said, again fixing her with that disconcerting stare.

  So Jimmy stayed with her while she worked at the butter, removing every trace of buttermilk from the mass and afterwards washing and salting it. He carried the shallow dish of skimmed milk to the pig sty, with Amy at his side, and poured it into the trough. They leaned over the rails and laughed at the pigs’ excitement as the animals pushed their snouts noisily into the milk. Back at the dairy Jimmy poured the buttermilk into one of the milk cans. This time Amy insisted on helping, so they put one hand each on the handle and carried it between them.

  ‘What do you use the buttermilk for?’ Jimmy asked.

  ‘Haven’t you ever tasted buttermilk?’ He shook his head. ‘Well, you’re in for a treat, then. Buttermilk’s lovely, especially on a hot day. I’ll pour you a mug when we get this inside, and you can see how you like it, then I might make some buttermilk scones later if I have time.’

  Jimmy’s hand slid along the handle as they walked, so that it rested against Amy’s. She held hers very still, savouring the contact. When they reached the kitchen and lifted the pail onto the table he gave her hand a tiny squeeze, so slight that she was not sure whether it was deliberate. She poured him the promised mug of buttermilk, and he pronounced it delicious.

  ‘What are you going to do now?’ he asked.

  ‘Make you some breakfast first of all!’ Amy said with a laugh. ‘I left plenty keeping warm on the side of the range before I went down to the dairy, but those greedy pigs must have eaten it all when they came back from the cow shed—they haven’t left us any! Then I’ll do the rugs, Friday’s my day for cleaning them, and after lunch I’ll sweep the floors and wash some of the windows.’

  As she spoke she cut slices of bacon and placed them in a frying pan. The big loaves of bread had finished baking while she was in the dairy; she put them on the table to cool, then cooked eggs to go with the bacon. She set the kettle on the range, then sat down with Jimmy to eat. The house was quiet; Susannah had not yet appeared, and her father and brothers had gone off somewhere on the farm after breakfasting. It seemed very cosy with just the two of them.

  ‘It makes me tired just hearing about your day,’ Jimmy said. ‘How do you clean the rugs?’

  Amy pointed to a carpet beater standing ready against the wall.

  ‘I hang them over the clothesline and give them a pounding with that. It really gets the dust jumping,’ she said with housewifely pride.

  ‘Oh, yes, I’ve seen Mother’s servant use one of those on our rugs. I thought you might have some special country method!’

  ‘No,’ said Amy, ‘I suppose dirt’s dirt, in the country or the town.’

  Susannah chose that moment to appear on the scene. She poured the tea and sat down at the table with them, refusing Amy’s offer to cook more food for her.

  ‘No, my head is just too bad this morning. I’ll just have some tea.’

  ‘No wonder you’re so thin,’ Jimmy remarked, startling Amy.

  Susannah gave him a disapproving look. ‘Don’t make personal remarks, dear. I do hope you’re not picking up rough country manners.’

  Jimmy smiled at her, and Susannah’s expression softened. ‘Hurry up and drink your tea, James,’ she said, putting down her own empty cup. ‘I thought it might be rather nice if you took me into town this morning, but you’ll have to get changed first.’ She walked towards the door into the passage, not waiting for Jimmy’s reply. He rose to follow.

  ‘Are you coming, Amy?’ he asked.

  ‘No, Amy can look after the boys for me,’ Susannah answered for her. ‘George shouldn’t need another feed for a few hours, give him some boiled water if he seems hungry.’

  ‘All right,’ Amy said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the irritation out of her voice. She did not particularly want to go into town with Susannah, but she resented being ordered about by her in front of Jimmy.

  Later that morning Amy rolled up the heavy rugs and dragged them out to the yard. When she had them slung over the clothesline she closed her eyes and pretended it was Susannah before her, rather than a set of blameless rugs. She wielded her beater more vigorously than usual.

  Jack came up behind her while she was lost in the task. ‘You’ll wear that carpet out if you pound it like that,’ he said, making Amy jump. He patted her on the shoulder. ‘You’ll wear your arms out, anyway. Where’s your ma?’

  Amy wondered for a moment if he had guessed her thoughts, but his face held its usual bluff expression. ‘Gone to town.’ She left the rugs in peace while she went to make lunch for him.

  Susannah and Jimmy were out till well into the afternoon. The following day Amy and Susannah were busy all morning with cleaning the kitchen, and Amy spent much of the afternoon giving the rest of the house a thorough dusting and polishing the furniture, so she had little chance to talk to
Jimmy. But all that Saturday she hugged to herself the thought of going to church the next morning and showing him off to everyone she knew, especially Lizzie.

  On Sunday morning Amy took her good dress out of the wardrobe and looked at it critically, hoping it was smart enough. She had made it out of pink and white striped cotton, with a deep flounce around the hem and a white lace collar. She had been delighted with it the previous summer, but now when she put it on and tweaked the collar in front of the mirror she wondered how it would look to Jimmy, who must be used to seeing women in the latest fashions.

  Well, it was the only smart dress she had, and it would have to do. At least her boots were stylish, the finest Ruatane’s shops could offer, even if they did not compare with any of Susannah’s. They were of fine brown kid leather, and as she did them up with her buttonhook she admired them all over again. She pinned the cameo brooch her grandmother had given her below her left shoulder, tied a pink ribbon around her hair, then gave the folds of her dress a final shake.

  Jimmy looked wonderful, and Amy had to make herself look away when she realised she was staring. He was wearing light-coloured trousers of a much slimmer cut than she was used to seeing, a white shirt with a high starched collar, and a striped tie. His short jacket and waistcoat were dark, and he had a gold watch chain across the front of the waistcoat, with a smart silk top hat completing the effect.

  Jack laughed when Jimmy appeared.

  ‘Oho, a fine swell we have here! Careful when you sit down, lad, you don’t want to split those trousers!’ John and Harry laughed with him, and Amy felt embarrassed and annoyed at the same time. She flashed Jimmy a silent plea, begging him to understand that she wasn’t part of the laughter. He smiled at her in return, rewarding her with an admiring glance at her own appearance.