Sentence of Marriage

by Shayne Parkinson

  ‘I thought you’d keep an eye on her. That’s why I sent you—and why I let you stay two weeks.’

  ‘Do you begrudge me a holiday after three years? I did what I could, I went to see the nursing home, and the woman who’ll arrange the adoption. And I left my address with the landlady, she would have contacted me if there’d been any trouble.’

  ‘I wanted you to check up on Amy.’

  ‘Shh,’ Susannah hissed, but it was too late.

  ‘Amy?’ Thomas said, looking around. ‘Where Amy gone? Want Amy.’

  ‘Now you’ve done it,’ Susannah said. ‘He grizzled for Amy the first few days until I managed to take his mind off her—Mother thought it was quite strange for him to be pining so much for his sister. I had a lot of trouble getting him off to sleep at night. Amy’s not here, Thomas, do be quiet.’

  ‘Want Amy!’ Thomas complained, and George joined in. ‘Amy!’ the two little boys chorused.

  ‘Stop it!’ Susannah snapped. ‘Papa will smack you if you don’t be quiet.’

  ‘Settle down,’ Jack warned them, but he made no move to hit either child. He had no intention of punishing them for missing Amy as much as he did. ‘Here, I got them some lollies in town.’ He passed a paper bag to Susannah. She looked rather disapprovingly at the toffees, then sighed and gave the little boys one each. They were soon sticky-faced and happy.

  ‘So now we just have to wait, do we?’ Jack said when they had turned off the road and on to the beach.

  ‘Yes. The nursing home will send us a cable when it’s all over.’

  Jack grimaced. ‘I wish she didn’t have to be left with strangers. I don’t know if this Auckland thing was such a good idea.’

  ‘She’ll be all right. The landlady seemed quite a motherly type, she’ll take Amy under her wing.’

  Jack was lost in his thoughts as they drove along the beach, with Susannah quieting the children every few minutes by giving them another toffee. He hardly noticed when he turned the buggy away from the beach and up the familiar valley road.

  Susannah looked around the farm with a new awareness when they reached the boundary. ‘Five hundred acres really is quite big, isn’t it? All Father’s friends seemed very impressed.’

  ‘It’s the same size it’s always been,’ Jack said shortly, his mind still on Amy.

  ‘I know, but I hadn’t really thought about it. I suppose I’d got used to it. It’s only when you’re talking to people, and you say “five hundred acres” and see how impressed they look, that you realise what a big farm it is. Some of my friends said they’d like to come down for a visit.’

  ‘Tell them not to bother. I haven’t got any more daughters to be ruined.’

  ‘Jack! What a terrible mood you’re in. You’re not a bit pleased to see me, are you?’ Her voice trembled a little, and Jack wavered between guilt and irritation.

  ‘I’m pleased to see you,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’m just thinking about my girl, that’s all.’

  ‘Don’t worry about her, I’m sure she’ll be just fine.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Jack muttered, more to himself than to her.

  ‘Well, I suppose I’d better start getting dinner on,’ Susannah said when she had unpacked and tidied herself and the children up. ‘I’m quite hungry after that long trip. How has that girl been managing? Has she been feeding you properly?’

  ‘Yes, Lizzie’s not a bad cook. She talks too much, but she gets a good feed on the table.’ Jack mused on the last two weeks. It had been something like the old days, when Lizzie had often come to stay with Amy. No Susannah, no dark silences from Harry. No little boys, either, though he had missed them. Yes, a lot like the old days. Except that Amy was missing.

  ‘She doesn’t seem to have done any cleaning,’ Susannah said, running a finger along the dresser and wrinkling her nose at the dust she picked up.

  ‘I suppose she had her own work to do at home. She still had to help her ma, and it was good of Edie to spare her at all to get the meals on for us. She took our washing home with her on Sundays and brought it back ironed.’

  ‘Humph! I’ll have a lot of catching up to do, getting things straight again.’ She sighed heavily.

  Susannah was sleeping soundly when Jack woke next morning. He dressed quietly so as not to disturb her, before joining his sons in the cow shed.

  The three of them worked up their usual hearty appetites. When they walked into the kitchen Jack looked around the empty room in confusion, wondering why there was no welcoming aroma of bacon and eggs. But the range was cold and the pans were empty; there was nothing but a pile of last night’s unwashed dishes on the bench.

  ‘There’s no breakfast,’ John said in amazement.

  ‘She’s still in bed,’ Harry added in disgust.

  ‘She must have slept in a bit,’ Jack said, trying to hide his annoyance. ‘She’s probably just coming now.’

  He stomped down the passage and into his bedroom, to find Susannah sound asleep. He shook her shoulder, not roughly but enough to make her stir.

  ‘Ohh, go away,’ Susannah said drowsily. ‘I’m so tired.’

  ‘Susannah, wake up.’ Jack gave her another shake. ‘There’s no breakfast! The range hasn’t even been lit.’

  ‘It’s so early. I’m still asleep. Can’t you do it?’ She tried to pull the sheet over her head, but Jack tugged it out of her hand. He swept the covers right off, revealing Susannah’s legs up to the thighs where her nightdress had ridden up.

  That got a reaction. ‘What are you doing?’ She pulled her nightdress down over her legs and cast a resentful look at Jack through half-closed eyes.

  ‘Helping you wake up. For goodness sake, Susannah, you’ve got three hungry men in the house waiting for you. We’ve been up and working for a couple of hours already—you can’t lie in bed all day.’

  ‘But I’m so tired after that long trip. And I’m not used to getting up so early—no one gets up before eight at home in Parnell.’

  ‘I expect that servant you’re always on about gets up earlier than that. And you’re not in Parnell now. Hurry up and get dressed.’ He sat down on the bed and waited.

  ‘I wish I was still there,’ Susannah muttered, but she clambered out of bed and staggered over to the wardrobe. ‘Do you have to sit there?’ she asked, poised to unbutton her nightdress.

  ‘I don’t want you going back to sleep.’ Jack did not add that he had no wish to face his sons with the news that they would have to wait for Susannah to get dressed before even the preparations for breakfast could start. ‘I can sit in my own bedroom, can’t I?’

  ‘You’re putting me off, looking at me like that,’ Susannah complained, making no move to take off her nightdress.

  ‘I won’t look, then.’ Jack turned his face towards the window, and wondered how a woman who had borne him two children could still behave as though she had never lain with a man. Well, he had no intention of ever again giving her the chance to accuse him of forcing her. He tried not to think about those smooth, white thighs of hers; or her breasts, surprisingly full for a woman as thin as Susannah.

  There were black looks from John and Harry when Jack at last brought Susannah out to the kitchen, but Harry still maintained his stony silence towards his stepmother. The bacon was a little underdone when the meal was finally set before the men, but by that time they were all so hungry that they were grateful for anything. After the bacon and eggs they devoured one of the loaves Lizzie had brought over the previous day, along with some of Amy’s marmalade. Then the men went off to get on with their much-delayed work while Susannah took herself back to the bedroom to do her hair and get her sons up.

  Susannah’s cheerful mood had not survived her return by many hours, and Jack felt a slight regret at its loss, but he shrugged it off. She had her work to do, and it was no use her making a fuss about it.

  Lunch and dinner appeared on the table at the proper times, but Jack was not going to risk a repeat of the first morning’s performance. Next day he
made no attempt to get up quietly, and as soon as he had dressed he gave Susannah a firm shake.

  ‘I’m going out now,’ he said. ‘You’d better get breakfast on soon.’ Susannah gave a grunt and rolled further away. ‘Susannah!’ he said more sharply. ‘Wake up.’

  Susannah opened her eyes a fraction. ‘But it’s not even light yet,’ she protested. ‘I don’t need to start for ages.’

  ‘If I leave you lying in bed you’ll go back to sleep. I want to see you sitting up before I leave this room.’

  ‘It’s a ridiculous time to wake up.’ Susannah sat up in bed and glared at him. ‘I’m awake. Are you satisfied?’

  ‘I’ll be satisfied if you’ve got breakfast on the table when we’ve finished milking.’

  To his relief, breakfast was ready for them when they came back, and this time it was well-cooked. It was only when the bacon and eggs had been eaten that he realised something was missing from the table.

  ‘Where’s the bread?’ he asked.

  ‘There doesn’t seem to be any,’ Susannah said. ‘I think you ate the last of it with dinner yesterday.’

  ‘But… but I want some bread,’ John said, frowning in confusion. There had always been bread before.

  ‘Well, you can’t have any, can you?’ said Susannah. ‘Goodness me, you’ve had plenty to eat without filling up on bread.’

  ‘There’s no bread, Pa,’ Harry said, looking accusingly at Susannah.

  ‘I know that,’ Jack said shortly. ‘Shut up about it.’

  But when his sons went out, Jack remained behind. ‘Why isn’t there any bread?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know, I just didn’t think of it. Anyway, when did I have the time for that sort of thing yesterday?’

  ‘You should have done it last night. You haven’t done the dinner dishes, either,’ he added, looking at the greasy pile on the bench.

  ‘If you’re going to make me get up before daybreak I’ve got to go to bed early, haven’t I? You can’t expect me to sit up half the night doing dishes and baking. And I’m busy all day looking after the children.’

  ‘Well, you’d better get on and bake some now. We’ll want it with lunch.’

  ‘No,’ Susannah said, her lower lip protruding slightly.

  ‘What do you mean, “No”?’

  ‘I can’t bake it.’

  ‘Why not? You can’t be as busy as all that.’

  ‘Because I don’t know how. Don’t look at me like that.’

  ‘Are you telling me you’ve never baked a loaf of bread in your life?’

  ‘I never had to. We always bought it at home. The baker’s boy came to the door.’

  Jack stared at her in amazement. ‘You mean that in the three years you’ve lived here you’ve never so much as once made the bread?’

  ‘Amy always did it. I had plenty of other things to do, looking after the children and cooking meals.’

  ‘Cooking? You never cooked breakfast, did you? You always left that for Amy as well. I thought you were running the house. Damn it, I gave you authority over things—the lady of the house, I called you. I put you in charge of Amy. And all the time she was doing the work. She’s been making the bread every day, and I never even noticed!’ Jack shook his head over his own obtuseness.

  ‘Do you begrudge the bit of help Amy gave me? I was with child all during the first two years, how could I manage all that work as well?’

  ‘You’re not with child now, I know that for a fact. And you’d better get some bread made.’

  ‘I can’t! I don’t know how!’ Tears were welling in Susannah’s eyes, but Jack refused to be moved.

  ‘You’ll have to learn, then. Go over and see Edie, she’ll show you how. There can’t be that much to it.’ He glanced at the bench, where flies were crawling over the dirty dishes. ‘You’d better do those dishes first.’

  Susannah glared at him. ‘Don’t talk to me as though I was a servant.’

  ‘Servant? Yes, that’s what you accused me of wanting, isn’t it? A nursemaid for Amy—well, she’ll be off your hands altogether soon enough. You won’t have her help then, either.’

  ‘She’s always been more trouble than help.’

  ‘Has she? Then you won’t mind managing without her. What was it? A nursemaid, an unpaid servant, and what else? Something else unpaid?’

  ‘Don’t bring all that up again, Jack.’

  ‘Listen to me, Susannah. I’ll tell you what I do expect of you. I expect you to keep the place decent and get reasonable meals on the table. That and look after the little fellows. That’s all I ask of you. Understand? Nothing else. That’s not too much to ask, is it?’

  ‘It’s enough,’ Susannah muttered.

  ‘Maybe. But it’s not too much. So get on with it.’

  *

  Amy hoped the days would start going faster when she had got used to her life in the boarding house. But even after weeks had passed, there still seemed to be the same number of hours in each day, and each of her waking hours dragged.

  She came to know the room intimately, from the details of the pattern on the rug down to the tiny nicks in the paint of the windowsill. The window looked onto the blank wall of a house much the same as the one she was in. If she opened it and leaned out, all she could see was a hedge behind the boarding house in one direction, with the barest glimpse of a large windmill beyond it, and the front fence in the other.

  There was absolutely nothing she needed to do. That was the hardest thing of all to get used to. Mrs Kirkham brought her meals in on a tray, and collected the tray when she had finished. That was the only time Amy saw another human being. If she had wanted, there was nothing to stop her lying in bed all day. But although getting out of bed became more and more of an exertion, she made herself get up, get dressed and tidy the bed. At least it filled in the first ten minutes of the day, and let her feel a tiny bit useful.

  At first Amy tried to keep track of the days, but each was so much like the one before that she had to give up the attempt. She knew when it was a Sunday, because she could hear church bells ringing, but she lost count of Sundays after the first few. She wished she could write to Lizzie, but that would have meant begging paper and money for postage from Mrs Kirkham. She could tell the landlady was reluctant to have any more to do with her than she had to.

  Even walking around the room became an effort, as her bulk increased and her muscles grew weaker from lack of use. For a time Amy tried to count out ten circuits of the room every morning and afternoon, but gradually it began to seem a better idea to spend the day just sitting by the window, looking at the wall or the hedge or the fence.

  Amy was watching the shifting patterns of sunlight on the blank wall one day when Mrs Kirkham came in with her lunch. She still felt awkward at being waited on, but that was a tiny part of her discomfort.

  Mrs Kirkham, as usual, made a small effort at conversation. ‘It’s getting warmer lately.’

  ‘Yes,’ Amy agreed.

  ‘Not long till summer, really. It’ll be November before long.’

  ‘November—will it? What’s the date today, Mrs Kirkham?’

  ‘The sixteenth.’

  ‘Of October?’

  ‘Yes. It’s Thursday.’ She looked anxiously at Amy. ‘There’s nothing special about the date, is there? I thought you weren’t due till November. Around the tenth of November, your aunt said.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right—that’s what she told me, anyway. No, it’s just that…’ She trailed off. She was quite sure Mrs Kirkham would not be interested in knowing that Amy had turned sixteen three days before.

  ‘Didn’t you even know what month it was?’ Mrs Kirkham asked, frowning slightly.

  ‘No. Every day’s the same, you see.’ Amy tried to smile.

  ‘Would you like a paper to read?’

  ‘Yes, please!’ Amy said, hoping she didn’t sound too eager.

  Mrs Kirkham disappeared, and was soon back with a New Zealand Herald. ‘It’s yesterday’s, I’m afra
id. Still, I expect you’re not too worried about that.’

  Amy would have been happy with a paper ten years old. She devoured the newspaper from cover to cover, even reading all the tiny advertisements for grazing and stock feed. It was the happiest waking half-hour she had spent since she had arrived in Auckland.

  After that Mrs Kirkham brought her a newspaper with breakfast every day, along with an occasional ladies’ paper. Amy only wished she could have had more than an hour or so’s worth of reading to help the day along. The chair became too uncomfortable after another week or two, and she took to sitting on the bed all day, though she still made the effort to get dressed every morning.

  Amy woke early on the first of November, and was annoyed when she realised it was barely sunrise. That meant it was only about five o’clock, so it would be two hours or more before Mrs Kirkham came in with her breakfast. Two hours to lie in bed, too uncomfortable even to toss and turn.

  She felt more uncomfortable than usual this morning, with a dull ache low in her back. When she twisted around to try and find a better way to lie, the discomfort seemed to spread out. The pain became sharp for a few seconds, then to Amy’s relief it faded away. She lay very still, hoping to drift back to sleep, and she had managed to fall into a light doze when the ache returned. Again it lasted barely a minute, but Amy was thoroughly awake by now. It was no use even trying to sleep if she was going to be disturbed every few minutes. The baby had chosen an awkward time to be active this morning.

  She got up, put on the green dress, and made the bed, interrupted in the task by another wave of pain. Then she drew the curtains and sat by the window in the sunshine to re-read one of Mrs Kirkham’s magazines. She almost knew the articles off by heart now.

  But it was hard to concentrate when every twenty minutes or so the ache would spread across her back again. Each pain did not last long, but while it was there it took all her attention. She put the magazine down in disgust, and by the time Mrs Kirkham brought her breakfast Amy was pacing the floor, her hands braced against her back.