A Second Chance

by Shayne Parkinson

  ‘I didn’t want it… afterwards. It didn’t feel like it belonged to me any more. So I gave it to the baby. I asked the woman who took the baby if she’d look after the brooch for me, and give it to Ann’s…’ New mother. ‘To the people who were going to have Ann. A for Amy and A for Ann, too. I wanted to give her something, and that was the best thing I had. And it seemed like it belonged to her. I didn’t know if they’d even let Ann have the brooch, but I hoped they would.’

  She smiled at Frank and Lizzie. ‘And they did let her have it. They told her it had been mine, and that I’d given it to her. She’s still got it—she showed it to me. That’s how I know she’s my little girl.’

  There was a long silence when she had finished speaking. Amy watched their faces as Frank and Lizzie weighed up what she had told them. It was Frank who spoke first.

  ‘Well, it sounds true enough to me. Don’t you reckon, Lizzie?’

  ‘It’s… yes, I suppose it does,’ Lizzie said, still looking mildly stunned. ‘Yes, it must be.’

  Amy laughed aloud at their serious expressions. ‘Look at you two! You’d think I’d told you there was going to be a war or something. Aren’t you pleased for me?’

  They both appeared to give the matter solemn consideration. ‘It’s a lot to take in, all at once,’ Frank said. ‘But… well, it’s about time you had things come right for you, Amy. Yes, we’re pleased all right. Aren’t we, Lizzie?’

  ‘I’ll say it’s a lot to take in,’ Lizzie said. ‘I suppose it’s like getting someone new in the family. It’ll take me a while to get used to the idea. I used to think she was a bit odd,’ she said, with the air of one being scrupulously honest. ‘She’s got some funny ways about her. But she was that sensible about letting me know I should get Dave back home for you. I said then that the girl had a good head on her shoulders. It must’ve been being brought up by those people in Auckland that made her a bit funny.’

  Lizzie nodded sagely, pleased to have found so clear a reason for Sarah’s supposed strange ways. ‘Yes, that’ll be it. But there’s plenty of you in her too, Amy. That’s reason enough to be pleased.’

  She enfolded Amy in a hug, careful not to crush Benjy in the process, and Frank leaned across to put an arm around Amy’s shoulders. The three of them sat locked in a shared embrace, Amy basking in the warmth of their affection.

  Lizzie detached herself first, and Frank returned to his chair. ‘Now, about this going to Auckland,’ Lizzie said. ‘It’s a different story, with her being family and all. It’s only natural you want to go up there and see her. You’d better get on with it before the weather gets bad, I know Frank’s said the boat can be awful in the rough weather.’

  ‘I’d like to go soon,’ Amy said. ‘I promised Sarah I’d go as soon as I’d got Charlie’s headstone organised, and it’s meant to come by the end of the month. But there’s Dave to see to, that’s the only thing.’

  Now Lizzie was on ground she felt firmly in command of. ‘Don’t you worry about that—I’ll see to all that business. Beth’ll be the best one to look after him, I think. Now, let’s see, getting his meals on, that’ll be the main thing.’

  ‘Are you sure you can spare Beth?’ Frank said doubtfully. ‘I want you to have your trip and all, Amy, I just don’t want Lizzie to go wearing herself out, trying to do too much.’

  ‘Oh, don’t start fussing,’ said Lizzie. ‘Don’t take any notice of him, Amy, you know what he’s like for worrying over me. I’ll still have Maisie, and Beth won’t be up there all the time. Anyway, it’d do no harm for me to take more notice of what those girls get up to with the work, I’ve been leaving them to their own devices a bit much since Benjy came along.

  ‘Beth can go up there of a morning, after we’ve got the breakfast things sorted out here,’ she went on. ‘That’ll give her plenty of time to tidy things up at your place before she gets Dave’s lunch on. She might as well have her lunch up there with him. Then she can do a few more jobs and get his dinner on before she comes home, and Dave’ll be able to dish it up for himself. I’ll tell Beth to make things she can just leave on the range for him, stews and suchlike. She can do roasts and chops for their lunch. Yes, that’ll be no bother at all.’

  ‘It’s very good of you,’ said Amy. ‘I couldn’t really go otherwise.’

  ‘Well, we’re family, aren’t we?’ Lizzie said. ‘Now, you just get on with thinking about your trip. We’ll see that Dave’s well looked after while you’re away. There’s no need for you to worry about anything.’

  *

  David carried Amy’s luggage, which consisted of a case borrowed from Frank and a hat box that Maudie had lent her, onto the Waiotahi and stowed it in the ladies’ cabin.

  Packing had not taken Amy long. She was wearing her only warm mourning dress, covered by a blue cloak that was dark enough to do service as mourning, and the other clothes that had seemed worth bringing had not filled the case.

  The one garment she owned that she considered truly elegant was more than twenty years old; she had worn it as a wedding dress, but before that she had worn it the night she had lain under the stars with Jimmy. It was old, and suffused with painful memories, but the fabric was of such quality and she had looked after the dress so carefully that the years rested lightly on it. She could not wear the blue silk as mourning, but it would at least allow her to be well-dressed within Sarah’s house if the need arose. For outings beyond the house, her warm black dress would have to do. A plain work dress and the small amount of underwear she possessed made up the remaining contents of the case.

  She and David rejoined the little group assembled on the wharf to see her off. John had appeared unexpectedly, arriving in his usual quiet, unobtrusive way. He had muttered vaguely about having to be in town that morning anyway, but Amy suspected that he had come in specially to farewell her.

  Frank and Lizzie were there, Lizzie clutching Benjy to her and casting an occasional suspicious glance at the sailors as they finished loading goods onto the Waiotahi, as if she half suspected they might steal the baby if she did not watch him closely. But this claim on her attention did not hinder her from giving Amy the benefit of her advice.

  ‘Now, you be sure and take care of yourself on that boat. Don’t go standing too near the edge if it’s rough. And watch those fellows,’ she added in a lower voice, plainly still none too impressed by the sailors. ‘Oh, and make sure you don’t get off at Tauranga by mistake. Frank, how will she know it’s Tauranga and not Auckland?’

  ‘She’ll know. Anyway, you’ve got to change boats at Tauranga. Someone will point out the right boat to you, Amy, don’t worry.’

  ‘I’m not a bit worried,’ Amy assured him. And it was true; she faced the voyage with bright anticipation. ‘Don’t worry about me, Lizzie, I won’t get lost.’

  ‘Well, you just be careful who you talk to,’ Lizzie said, clearly unconvinced. ‘Especially once you get to Auckland. All those people there,’ she said, shaking her head disapprovingly. ‘There’ll be thieves and goodness knows what sort of rogues, keep an eye on your things. The roads, too,’ she said, seizing on a fresh idea. ‘They’ll be busy as anything—didn’t you say the roads get busy there, Frank?’

  ‘There’s a lot more carts and buggies and things than we’re used to in Ruatane,’ Frank agreed.

  ‘You see?’ said Lizzie. ‘So watch yourself crossing the roads. Oh, and have you got Miss Millish’s address written down? You never know, if you get lost when you’re up there and have to ask someone the way, they mightn’t even know where she lives with Auckland being such a big place.’

  ‘I know the address by heart.’

  ‘You should write it down anyway. It’d be a terrible place to get lost in.’

  Amy suspected that, at least for the moment, Lizzie had completely forgotten that Amy had made one other trip to Auckland, long ago. Though there had been little enough chance for her to get lost during that stay, confined as she had been to first boarding house then nursing home. />
  ‘You stick close to Miss Millish, anyway,’ said Lizzie. ‘She’ll see you don’t get lost.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll stick close to her, all right,’ Amy said, and smiled. That, she knew, would be an easy promise to keep.

  The sailors seemed to be making their final preparations; it would not be long before the boat sailed. Amy was thinking of boarding when her younger brother appeared.

  ‘Tommy!’ she said in delight, taking hold of his arm and standing on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here!’

  ‘I sneaked off for a minute.’ Seeing her look of alarm, Thomas grinned and squeezed her arm. ‘I didn’t really. Mr Callaghan said it was all right for me to come and see you off. I thought I’d better wait till it got a bit quiet, though, then everyone seemed to come into the bank at once. I thought I might have missed you.’

  ‘You nearly did,’ Amy said, glancing at the boat. ‘I’m glad you came, though. I was just thinking about you.’ Thinking about that other trip to Auckland, with all its dark memories. Thomas had been with her on that voyage, though Amy was unsure whether he remembered it. As a little boy of two years old he had been more like her own child than a brother, and he had cried miserably when Amy was left at the boarding house, while Thomas and his baby brother were swept off by their mother to stay with her parents. Looking back, Amy found it hard to believe that she had actually been upset at parting from Susannah. Only the fear of being left alone among strangers could have roused such a feeling in her.

  ‘Mother said she’d try and come along too, to see you off,’ Thomas said.

  Amy gave a guilty start at having Susannah mentioned aloud when she had just been recalling unpleasant memories of her stepmother.

  ‘Oh, there’s no need for her to put herself out.’ Amy wished her lack of any desire to see Susannah did not sound out quite so clearly.

  ‘Well, she did say she felt as if one of her headaches might be coming on. You know how she gets those. But she sent her best wishes.’

  ‘Did she really, Tommy?’

  ‘Yes, she did.’

  Amy studied the firm set of his expression and decided that, surprising though it was, it must be true. Susannah wished her well. Perhaps she had been thinking of that other trip, too. Amy stored away the unexpected well-wishing as a good omen for the journey.

  Just as Lizzie had begun interrogating Amy as to whether she had enough clean handkerchiefs with her, the Waiotahi’s captain approached them.

  ‘Excuse me, ma’am, we’ll be sailing shortly,’ he told Amy. ‘If you wouldn’t mind coming aboard, I’d be most obliged.’ He tipped his hat to Amy and Lizzie and went back to the boat.

  Amy found herself enfolded in a hug and kissed by each of her well-wishers in turn. David had hung back till last, and he hugged her more tightly than any of the others, almost squeezing the breath out of her. Now, when the time for reconsidering was long past, for a brief, painful moment Amy wondered if she was doing right to leave him alone.

  ‘Take care, Davie. I hope you’ll be all right on your own.’

  ‘Of course I will, Ma. Don’t you go worrying—you just get on with having a good time.’

  ‘Don’t worry about Dave, he’ll be quite all right,’ Lizzie put in. ‘Beth and I will see to that.’

  Amy held on to David’s arm, only releasing him when she reached the gangplank. She stood on the deck, clutching the handrail with one hand and waving as the boat slipped away from the wharf. Lizzie shook her head at her and gestured that she should move back from the edge of the deck, but Amy pretended not to understand.

  When her arm grew tired she gave up waving, but made no move to leave her place. She stared back at the wharf as it shrank in on itself. Even when it was no more than a shapeless grey smudge in the distance she still imagined she could make out the figures standing there.

  The boat crossed the bar, mercifully smooth this morning. A tongue of land cut the wharf off from Amy’s view, and there was no longer any use peering back towards Ruatane.

  She carefully picked her way around to the starboard side, her steps made clumsy by the unfamiliar motion of the boat. The ocean opened out before her, an unruffled grey-blue, the distant outline of White Island diamond-sharp in the morning light. Amy shaded her eyes and stared out towards the horizon and the island floating on it, and blinked against the brightness. In the east, the sun was shining.

  *

  Beth had learned early in life that the noblest creature in creation was a mother; more specifically, her own one. As she had grown up, her imagination had broadened until she could conceive of a person of more consequence than her mother, but she had certainly never met one.

  So it was not surprising that she should have approached the task of keeping house for David with enthusiasm. This was an opportunity, albeit temporary, to run a house in her own way and to her own standards. Lizzie had said that she would check up on her daughter’s work occasionally, but Beth knew that, to all intents and purposes, for the first time in her life she would be in charge.

  Her mother, of course, was her model. Beth took it for granted that no one knew how to run a household as well as Lizzie did; it was a notion she had drunk in at her mother’s breast. And if she was to play the role of a truly excellent housewife, she was determined that David would also play his part correctly.

  On her first day at Amy’s, David came up to the house within minutes of her arrival, attracted by the promise of a morning tea.

  Beth stood in the doorway to meet him. ‘Take those boots off before you come in here,’ she said sternly.

  ‘I always take my boots off before I come inside,’ David said, startled.

  ‘Well, I don’t want you forgetting,’ Beth said, quite unrepentant.

  She made a great show of setting the tea things out nicely and making sure she gave David the largest cup the kitchen held. They lingered over their tea and biscuits, chatting about the happenings of the day and what they each intended to do for the remainder of the morning, just as Beth had seen her parents chat almost every day of her life.

  When she judged it was time for her to get on with her work, Beth shooed David unceremoniously from the table.

  ‘You’d better get out from under my feet,’ she said, standing up to begin stacking their dishes. ‘I’ve got a lot to do this morning.’

  ‘All right. I’ve got a fair bit to do myself.’ David rose from his chair and started towards the door.

  ‘Wait a minute!’ Beth said before he was halfway there. ‘You have to kiss me goodbye first.’

  ‘Do I? Why?’

  ‘Well, you just do,’ Beth said, stating the fact as one not to be questioned. ‘Pa always kisses Ma when he goes outside. So you have to kiss me.’

  ‘I suppose I kiss Ma goodbye sometimes. When I’m going to town or down to the factory, anyway.’

  ‘Come on, then.’ She tilted her face to receive his kiss, which he placed very carefully and respectfully on her mouth, somewhat awed by this new, unexpectedly self-confident Beth.

  ‘All right, off you go, then.’ She spoiled the effect with a sudden giggle.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ David asked.

  ‘Oh, I was just thinking about Ma and Pa when they say goodbye.’ She giggled again at the mental picture of her father giving her mother’s bottom a pat. ‘Pa does something else sometimes, when he thinks none of us are watching.’

  ‘What does he do? Do I have to do it, too?’

  ‘You’d better not,’ Beth said, trying to appear stern. ‘And I’m not going to tell you what it is, either.’ She smiled at his look of confusion. ‘I might tell you another day—if you promise not to tell Ma I said it. Kiss me again,’ she ordered, enjoying the sense of power.

  ‘All right.’ David obliged, with perhaps a little less reserve this time.

  Beth stood in the doorway to watch him move away. She went back into the kitchen and contemplated the pleasant notion that it was completely in her power, limite
d only by the contents of kitchen and safe, to decide what they would have for lunch. This, she reflected, was going to be fun.

  *

  The boat did not leave Tauranga till well on in the evening. Amy tried to will herself to sleep, wanting to be as fresh as possible when she arrived in Auckland.

  But sleep eluded her, and not just because a swell off the coast of the Coromandel Peninsula sent her scrabbling for the bucket thoughtfully placed near her bed by the stewardess. Even when the sea grew calm again, she lay on the mattress staring up towards the invisible ceiling of the cabin.

  There were too many reminders. The smell of the boat was the same; she had made it even more familiar now, by adding the odour of her own vomit to the mix. The noises of the engine, of sailors moving about on deck, of voices in other parts of the boat, all seemed the same as on that other voyage.

  Her hands slid down to rest on her belly, smooth and flat beneath the flannel of her outer petticoat. Then it had been hard and rounded, full of child. She had been violently ill for much of the voyage, hidden away out of sight, shut below decks even during the daytime to try and disguise her shameful condition, with no relief from the stale smells of the engines, her vomit, and the bodies of her fellow passengers.

  The voyage had been bad enough, but it paled in memory against what had come after. The journey had been made for the sole purpose of being rid of her child.

  Her fingers were digging into the flesh of her belly, the pain throwing her memories into sharper relief. Amy made herself uncurl her fingers and let her hands fall to her sides. Her eyes ached from their futile staring into the darkness. She closed them, and tried to make her body go limp.

  As she lay in her berth, the sounds of the boat faded; even the smells grew fainter. Now it seemed that she was lying in another bed, on a hard mattress, looking about her at cold, white walls. There was a cradle on the floor, creaking as it rocked, but bare and empty. A faint sound came from just outside the door. Amy was sure it was a baby crying.