A Second Chance

by Shayne Parkinson

  ‘Why?’

  Beth pulled a face. ‘It was awful before they got engaged—Ma made me hang around with them if they went away from the house. Richard was nice about it and everything, but I felt stupid walking along behind them all the time. I wasn’t allowed to get close enough to hear them talking, so I didn’t even get to hear any of Richard’s stories about castles and things.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were keen on castles.’

  ‘I quite like them in stories. I don’t think I’d want to go and see them, though. They’re all such a long way away.’ She pressed more closely against David. ‘I like it here in the valley best. It’s nice and quiet.’

  The kitten had clambered out of its box by the range and tottered across to the table. Beth reached down and scooped it onto her lap. ‘Richard’s nice, and I like him all right, but he can be a bit funny, you know?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I wanted to give Maudie a kitten when she went to live in town—it was a good one, too, it turned out a really good mouser. But Richard said he’d rather not have a cat in the house.’

  ‘Eh? Why not?’

  ‘He said cats aren’t very hy-gie-nic,’ Beth said, carefully sounding out the unfamiliar word. ‘That means they’re not clean. Isn’t that silly? Cats are always washing themselves.’ She stroked the kitten, who had curled into a small ball. ‘As soon as Richard said that, Maudie said she didn’t want one. She’s still like that—“Richard says such and such”. Of course she only takes notice of him when it suits her to.’

  David gently ran a finger along the kitten’s spine. ‘Just like your ma and pa, eh?’

  ‘Well, she probably takes a bit more notice than Ma does,’ Beth allowed. ‘I’m glad, really, the kitten might have got run over by a cart or something if they’d taken it. It can get that busy in town.’

  She tilted her head to look up into David’s face; he took it as a signal to kiss her. Keeping one hand curved protectively over the kitten, she put her free arm around David’s neck and kissed him back.

  Kissing with David, once they had moved beyond their first cautious attempts, had been something of a revelation to Beth. It sent a shivery feeling through her that was unsettling, but not at all unpleasant. She now looked at her parents in a whole new light when she saw them exchange a kiss.

  ‘I really have to get going,’ she murmured when her lips were free. ‘Ma’ll go crook if I’m late.’

  She moved to disentangle herself from David’s embrace. For a moment she thought he was going to keep hold of her; for a moment she thought she might let him. But David released his hold, and Beth considered the consequences of coming home later than her mother had said she should.

  ‘You finish this,’ she said, giving him the last remnants of her biscuit. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ With an effort, she resisted the urge to offer a farewell kiss.

  *

  Sarah liked to have the newspaper brought into the morning room as soon as she and Amy went in there after breakfast. After scanning the headlines together, they would turn to the pages where the current entertainments were listed, and discuss any that caught their attention. It was a rare day when there was nothing at all worth considering. At least once a week they went out to a play, a musical performance, or a lecture with magic lantern slides presented by some learned gentleman; and occasionally on to a supper afterwards.

  Plays were Amy’s favourites among such outings, but she found herself with a growing appreciation of musical entertainments, beginning with a lively presentation of “The Gondoliers” soon after her arrival in Auckland. And a performance one evening by a Mr R. G. Knowles offered a real novelty. Mr Knowles, a music hall artiste, presented a series of comical talks, interspersed with songs and dancing, accompanied on the piano by Mrs Knowles, who also performed several items on the banjo. The items were amusing enough, but what truly caught Amy’s imagination were the moving pictures, projected by a machine called a Bioscope, with which Mr Knowles illustrated his songs. It was Amy’s first experience of moving pictures, and she was fascinated by the images, which included an exciting trip by motorcar and scenes of the King and Queen walking about.

  ‘There’s talk of making moving pictures of entire plays eventually,’ Sarah remarked when the two of them were discussing the show late that evening. ‘Though not being able to actually hear the actors speak would be rather limiting.’

  Interesting as the moving pictures had been, Amy agreed with Sarah that such entertainments seemed unlikely to displace live performances.

  Going to church each Sunday was an outing in its own right, a far grander affair than Amy was used to. They went by carriage to Evensong at the Cathedral, a lofty building lit by candles as well as electric light, with a large and well-schooled choir accompanied by a skilled organist who sent music soaring to the distant rafters.

  Their evenings were spent together, whether on outings or contentedly staying in, but Amy sometimes had the house to herself during the daytime. Sarah had obligations, Amy found, beyond those relating to her business interests. She was on the boards of several charitable institutions, and involved herself less formally in the fund-raising activities of others.

  ‘I more or less inherited the role,’ Sarah told Amy. ‘As soon as I came of age I felt I should make myself available for the boards that Father had been on. And Mother was often asked to open school fêtes and that sort of thing, so I feel it’s only right that I do the same. She always held a garden party in summer, too, to raise funds for the orphanage, and I continue that tradition—it would be nice if you were here to help me host it next year.’

  With so many responsibilities, Sarah frequently had meetings that took her out of the house for hours at a time. Amy assured Sarah that she was quite happy to be left to her own devices, and she found no difficulty in keeping herself occupied. There was the wonderful library in Sarah’s study, of course; Amy continued her exploration of it, ploughing through weighty tomes crammed with new and often thought-provoking ideas, and then losing herself in novels and poems.

  On days when Sarah was out, Amy got into the habit of spending much of the morning in the study. The maids knew to find her there, and brought morning tea through without waiting for her to ask.

  And in the afternoons she took herself on outings; at first somewhat nervously, then with growing confidence. She began by going no further than the park a short walk from Sarah’s house. It held a weight of memories for Amy: she had sat there with her father, struggling against tears and her own weakness after having her baby taken from her. That loss had now been put wondrously to rights.

  In a quiet corner of the park was a statue of a young soldier, a monument to the men who had served in the Boer War. Amy often visited it, and sometimes left flowers at its base. The handsome young man who had served as model bore no resemblance to Malcolm, but Amy was pleased to have what felt like a memorial of her son so near at hand.

  With the park conquered, she turned her attentions further afield, and began making expeditions to Queen Street and its immediate surroundings, the city’s main commercial area. Sarah had already taken her there, but going to such a bustling place on her own was a very different experience. Amy smiled to herself at how Lizzie would scold her if she knew that Amy was being so reckless as to venture there alone.

  It was indeed a busy place for one used to Ruatane’s quiet roads. Electric trams ran up and down the street, sharing it with what seemed vast numbers of buggies and carts. Amy even saw an occasional motor car; bizarre contraptions that gave the appearance of buggies pulled by invisible horses. When she wanted to cross the road, she made sure she was surrounded by other people who appeared to know what they were doing. It was not hard to find such people; the pavements were as crowded with pedestrians as the road was with wheeled traffic.

  Amy had brought a modest amount of cash with her, along with her bank book in case she needed more, but she found little to tempt her to spend any of it. The book sh
ops were delightful to browse in, but there were more than enough books in Sarah’s study to occupy her without buying new ones. Her first visit to one of the large department stores showed her that the outfits Mrs Stevenson’s seamstresses had made were superior to anything she saw for sale there. She did not linger in the dress department, but in the drapery she purchased embroidery silks and some fine linen, to give herself something to keep her hands busy during evenings at home with Sarah. Amy was not used to letting her hands rest idle of an evening. She had a project in mind: she would embroider a set of cloths for Sarah’s dressing table, using the shades of blue she had noticed Sarah was particularly fond of. The intricate design she was planning seemed likely to take many weeks, especially since they were so often out during the evenings, but there was no need to hurry.

  On her third visit to Queen Street, Amy watched the people getting on the electric tram until she was sure she knew what to do; she then climbed aboard, paid over her penny to the conductor, and rode the tram for several blocks. The speed was disconcerting, and the swaying motion made her feel rather dizzy, but it was with a sense of accomplishment that she stepped down at the end of her ride. It would be something interesting to put in her next letter to David; though on reflection she decided it would be best not to tell Lizzie about this particular adventure.

  Amy found the busy area bounded by a few blocks around Queen Street was quite far enough to explore on her own when she felt like going further than the park, and interesting though the shops and passers-by were, it was always something of a relief to return to the peace and order of Sarah’s house, where she would generally occupy herself with writing letters for what remained of the afternoon.

  When Sarah was not otherwise engaged in the daytime, she often took Amy further afield. One afternoon in June, about six weeks after Amy’s arrival in Auckland, they paid a visit to Sarah’s friend Emily, who lived a short carriage ride away in Parnell. Amy enjoyed fussing over Emily’s pretty little daughters, while Sarah visibly made an effort to show some interest in them. When the children became noisy, Emily rang for the nursemaid and returned the little girls into her care.

  ‘I didn’t specially care for children before I had my own,’ Emily said, with a knowing smile. Sarah chose to ignore her remark.

  Before they left, Emily played and sang what she told them was Miss Farrell’s latest composition, a lively little piece with a melody that seemed to skip up and down the scale.

  ‘Goodness, that’s more cheerful than her earlier efforts,’ Sarah remarked. ‘I might almost attempt to learn that one myself.’

  ‘Oh, yes, she’s a good deal brighter than she was,’ Emily said with evident satisfaction. ‘One of the music shops is stocking the sheet music for several of her pieces now. And it’s early days yet, but things are going rather nicely regarding personal matters.’ She said it with the air of one who could be drawn to elaborate on the subject, but Sarah gave her no encouragement.

  ‘If the matters are personal, we had better not pry into them,’ she said.

  Emily met Amy’s eyes, and they exchanged a smile.

  Rather than taking the shortest route back home, Sarah directed Mr Jenson to go via Newmarket, so that she could show Amy the property she had recently purchased there. They did not stay long; although the sky was now clear, it had rained that morning, and the bare land was muddy and uninviting.

  Their way back from Newmarket took them through a part of Auckland that Amy was sure she had not previously been to with Sarah. She watched idly as the carriage rolled past a line of rather unprepossessing buildings.

  They crossed a small side road. Amy cast a glance at the new buildings it revealed, and felt a jolt run through her whole body. Without thinking what she was doing, her hand closed on Sarah’s wrist and gripped it convulsively.

  ‘What is it?’ Sarah asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Amy turned to face her. In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, ‘I think I just saw the place you were born.’

  It took Sarah barely a moment to react. ‘Jenson,’ she called. ‘Stop the carriage. Mrs Stewart and I are going to walk about a little.’

  Amy found herself helped down from the carriage and standing on the footpath almost before she knew what was happening. Sarah looped Amy’s arm through hers and looked up the side road. ‘Is it this way?’ she asked, already walking as she spoke.

  ‘I think so, if I’m remembering properly. Sarah, I didn’t mean I wanted—’

  Sarah stopped, and turned to face her. ‘I’m sorry, I’m letting myself get carried away. It’s just that… well, I know so little of my beginnings. I know I was born in Auckland, but I’ve never known quite where, and it wasn’t something I could ask Mother—if she even knew, come to that. I just thought it would be nice to know. But if you don’t want to, we’ll get straight back in the carriage and go home.’

  Sarah sounded calm, but Amy saw the spark of excitement in her eyes. She was aware of the effort Sarah had been making to avoid asking questions Amy might find painful; this inspection of her birthplace seemed a small favour to ask. ‘I don’t mind having a little look, Sarah. But don’t get your hopes up, darling—it was such a long time ago, I mightn’t be remembering properly. Somehow the look of the buildings and the way you can just see that windmill up on Symonds Street reminds me of it, but that doesn’t mean anything. This probably isn’t the right place at all.’

  But it was. Amy became more convinced of it as they approached, and when they reached the foot of the steps she was sure. The building looming above her, its windows like dark malevolent eyes, seemed just as it had on the day she had first come here. She had been hurried up those steps as fast as her bulk had allowed, her swollen belly making it impossible to see her feet, but she remembered her slow climb back down them, clutching her father’s arm as tightly as she was now clutching Sarah’s. The very cracks in the steps, and the chipped paint on the railing beside them, seemed burned into her memory.

  With an effort, Amy raised her gaze to the top of the steps. When she saw the door, she felt a rush of relief.

  ‘Oh, I think it’s deserted,’ said Sarah. ‘There’s a padlock on the door.’

  ‘It looks as if it’s been locked up for a while,’ Amy said, noting the signs of rust on the chain attached to the padlock.

  Sarah looked at Amy’s expression and smiled ruefully. ‘I gather you’re not exactly disappointed that we won’t be able to have a grand tour of the place. Ah, well, it was probably a foolish idea on my part.’ She glanced down the road to where Mr Jenson was letting the horses graze the grass verge. ‘Let’s walk to the far corner and back, since Jenson’s gone to the trouble of stopping.’

  Sarah looked about her as they strolled, running an appraising eye over the dumpy little houses with their tiny front yards. ‘All rented, I’d say. And owned by a landlord who doesn’t take a great deal of interest in his property. Most of them are sadly in need of a coat of paint, at the very least. A pity—it’s not a bad location.’

  ‘Do you own any houses near here?’ Amy asked.

  ‘Good lord, no! No, my rental property’s shops and offices, mostly. There are a few tidy little cottages Father rented out very cheaply to people he was told of who’d fallen on hard times, and I keep those up, of course, but otherwise I generally avoid residential property.’

  They reached the corner and began walking slowly back towards the carriage. ‘Were you here for long?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘About three weeks. Before that I was in a boarding house. It can’t have been all that far from here, it didn’t seem to take long in the cab, but I don’t think I’d be able to find it again even if I walked right past it. I was there nearly two months, but I don’t really remember what the outside looked like.’

  ‘A boarding house?’ Sarah frowned. ‘And you were there on your own all that time?’

  ‘It did seem a long time. It wasn’t an awful place or anything, but it was lonely with no one to talk to. I mostly reme
mber how boring it was—I didn’t have anything to do all day. I think the landlady felt a bit sorry for me towards the end, she started giving me the newspaper to read and the odd magazine. She brought me here in the cab when we knew you were arriving.’

  The path had led them back to the old nursing home. Amy glanced at it, then looked away quickly. The windows were thick with grime, and in one of them water had run through a broken pane, leaving lines in the dirt that looked like a face distorted with malice. Amy could picture Sister Prescott lurking behind that window, lying in wait for girls to torment. She could not suppress a small shudder. Sarah, with her hand on Amy’s arm, stopped at once.

  ‘Was it so very dreadful?’ Sarah asked, concern in her voice.

  Amy looked up at her, and remembered looking into those same deep blue eyes when they had belonged to a tiny baby in her arms. ‘Not while I had you with me. I didn’t care about anything except you.’

  She placed her hand over Sarah’s. ‘You were such a lovely baby. And I knew you were going to be clever, right from when you were born, just about. You took so much notice of everything. I used to talk to you all the time,’ she said, smiling at the memory. ‘Telling you all sorts of things. I thought maybe you’d remember it somehow when you were older. Silly, wasn’t it?’

  Sarah answered Amy’s smile with one of her own. ‘Perhaps you were right. Perhaps that’s why when we first met I felt as if I’d known you always.’

  She tugged gently on Amy’s arm, and they walked on. ‘If it wasn’t dreadful once you had the benefit of my company, am I to understand that it was dreadful before that? I’d like to know just how much of a nuisance I was on my arrival in the world.’

  Sarah seemed to be trying to make a joke of it, but Amy was aware of the keen interest behind her light words. She struggled to decide the proper way to respond.