A Second Chance

by Shayne Parkinson

  Amy remained unconvinced, but she would not have dreamed of saying no. A day spent being ill was a trivial matter compared to the prospect of pleasing Sarah.

  The following Saturday, she and Sarah went down to the harbour and strolled along the water’s edge to a dock where a long, sleek yacht was moored.

  ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ said Sarah.

  Amy saw at once that this was a very different vessel from the stumpy coastal steamers that had been her only experience of boats till now. Wanderer had graceful lines, and when Amy had made her way on board she found polished brass, glowing woodwork, and pristine surfaces. This was a gentleman’s plaything, not a workhorse vessel designed to transport goods and cattle, human as well as four-footed, as cheaply and quickly as possible.

  To her relief, Amy found that the passengers were expected to settle themselves in a quiet spot and stay out of the way of the sailors while the boat got underway. She sat snuggled close to Sarah and watched the men move about, swiftly but with a practised ease. The sails were run up, the wind bellied them out, and the boat began making its way down the harbour.

  ‘He’s seeing how fast he can get her,’ Sarah said, indicating the yacht’s owner, who was urging on the sailors. With a steady wind helping it along, the boat was soon skimming over the waves. ‘Not that he’ll get her up to full speed today, with all our dead weight.’ She gave Amy’s arm an affectionate squeeze. ‘He takes her out racing in summer. I’ve never tried to have myself invited for a race, I think that’s best left to the experts.’

  ‘I wouldn’t like to see you do that,’ Amy said, pointing to a sailor who had scrambled up one of the masts.

  Sarah shaded her eyes to look aloft. ‘He’s untangling the halyards. No, I can’t quite see myself doing that—skirts aren’t designed for such activities. I do usually manage to go sailing a few times during the season, though. We’ll make sure you’re here over the summer, then you’ll be able to come out with me.’

  Although Sarah’s assurances that Amy would not feel ill had been met, so far at least, the idea of a longer voyage still held no appeal. Sarah saw her expression and smiled. ‘Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be a sedate outing. Wanderer can tow a little dinghy, and she anchors off one of the islands. Then we all get rowed ashore and have a picnic. It makes a delightful day—and it’ll be all the more so with you there.’

  Sarah pointed to various parts of the boat, explaining what was going on. Sailing, Amy found, seemed to have its own language. She heard a variety of strange words like “mizzen” and “bowsprit”, and did her best to identify which parts of the yacht were being referred to.

  They made their way past several of the gulf islands, the boat’s motion smooth thanks to an obliging breeze over a flat sea. The sun was bright, the air clear and with a lively tang of salt. Sarah coaxed her to walk about the deck, and Amy found herself enjoying the adventure. She was surprised to find that the skipper had turned the boat and they were on their way back in.

  ‘I’ll make a sailor of you yet,’ Sarah said with satisfaction.

  The wind had risen somewhat, and it strengthened as they got closer to shore, stirring up small waves that slapped noisily against the hull. It was not rough enough to make Amy queasy, but the pitching of the yacht made her sway and almost stumble. Sarah took her arm and helped her to a bench out of the wind.

  ‘They’ll take it more gently going back,’ Sarah said.

  Amy could see that the sailors had a more relaxed air than on the outward leg, when they had been intent on increasing the boat’s speed.

  ‘I suppose I can’t persuade you to come up to the prow?’ Sarah asked. ‘It’s much more exciting up there, with the waves and the spray and everything.’

  Amy shook her head. ‘I’d only get in the way. You go if you want to.’

  ‘You’re sure you wouldn’t mind being left on your own?’

  ‘Of course not. Go on, off you go,’ Amy urged, seeing how keen Sarah was to do so.

  Sarah did not need much persuasion. She strode off towards the prow, sure-footed despite the motion of the boat. Amy smiled as she watched.

  ‘Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?’

  Amy turned her attention from Sarah to see a man standing in front of her, waiting politely.

  ‘No, not at all.’ She moved along slightly.

  The man carefully lowered himself onto the bench, clinging to the rail until he was safely seated. ‘I see you’re no more enamoured of wild seas than I am,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m Henry Kendall. I’m a partner with Dewar Bright and Kendall.’

  ‘I’m Amy Stewart,’ Amy said, extending her hand to be shaken. The man looked to be in his middle fifties, with a thick head of greying hair and a fine moustache. His name seemed familiar, though Amy was sure they had not met before. Since he worked at the law firm that handled Sarah’s affairs, perhaps Sarah had mentioned him at some point. ‘I’m staying with Sarah—with Miss Millish, and she brought me along today.’

  ‘Delighted to meet you, Mrs Stewart. And that’s Mrs Kendall up there, attempting to pursue Miss Millish.’ He tilted his head towards the prow.

  Amy followed the direction of his gaze to see a dark-haired, elegantly dressed woman clambering somewhat awkwardly along the forward deck, some distance behind Sarah.

  ‘I can’t say I’d give much for her chances,’ Mr Kendall added, with a wry smile. ‘Miss Sarah’s a good deal more agile.’

  Sarah was indeed making easy progress. As Amy watched, she reached the prow and leaned out over the edge. She stood upright again and looked back at Amy, smiling broadly. Tendrils of her hair had been whipped free of their pins by the wind, and they danced around her face. She looked younger and more carefree than Amy was used to seeing her.

  The boat hit a wave, and a shower of spray came over the prow. Sarah laughed, but Mrs Kendall turned and began walking slowly and cautiously back in Amy’s direction.

  ‘It’s a pity our daughter Laura couldn’t come today,’ Mr Kendall said, reclaiming Amy’s attention. ‘She’s a far better sailor than either of us. But she felt she should stay home and practise her new piano pieces—she’s playing at a concert next week. Only a social occasion at the home of one of her friends, but Laura takes such obligations seriously. She’s often asked to play at such events.’

  ‘She must be very good,’ Amy said.

  ‘Oh, she is indeed. She’s very talented, as well as conscientious. And clever, too—she did well at school. I only wish her brothers had applied themselves half so diligently as she did.’ He stopped speaking, and smiled ruefully. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Stewart. I’m inclined to run on rather when it comes to Laura.’

  ‘That’s all right. It’s nice to see a father so fond of his daughter.’

  ‘And I’m fortunate enough to have three of them, as well as two sons. But Laura’s always been my little pet. She’s somewhat younger than our other children, and she came as rather a pleasant surprise. She’s the only one still at home, and she brightens our lives considerably.’

  What a nice man he was, Amy thought.

  ‘How do you come to know Miss Sarah, Mrs Stewart?’

  Amy had become used to this question, and more able to answer it without feeling uncomfortable. ‘I met her when she came to Ruatane—that’s where I live, it’s in the Bay of Plenty. She was teaching there.’

  ‘Oh, that’s the name of the place? I knew she’d gone to some little country place, but I didn’t know quite where.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Hmm, Ruatane. That sounds familiar, somehow.’

  ‘It’s very small. No one in Auckland ever seems to have heard of it.’

  ‘And yet I think I have.’ Mrs Kendall had almost reached them; her husband stood to help her over to the bench. ‘Mrs Stewart, this is Mrs Kendall. Constance, Mrs Stewart is currently staying with Miss Millish, but she’s from Ruatane. Isn’t that where Susannah lives?’

  Constance. Amy was beginning to realise wher
e she knew the name Kendall from.

  ‘Yes!’ Mrs Kendall said, too excited to take her seat. ‘But Mrs Stewart, you must know my sister—she’s Mrs Susannah Leith.’

  The sick feeling in Amy’s stomach had nothing to do with the motion of the boat. ‘Yes, I know her. She’s my stepmother.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness, how wonderful!’ Mrs Kendall exclaimed. ‘Why, we’re almost family. Oh, Mrs Stewart, you and Miss Millish must come and visit us! Mustn’t they, Henry?’

  Mr Kendall agreed readily enough, though in a more restrained fashion than his wife. Amy found herself with a tall figure standing on either side of her, pressing her to accept an unwanted invitation. She shrank back against the hard wooden back of the bench, wishing she had never agreed to come on this outing.

  Sarah suddenly appeared before her, the Kendalls falling back as she reached out a hand to Amy. ‘Do excuse me, but I’m going to drag Mrs Stewart up to the prow whether she wants to come or not. You’re missing the best part, Amy!’

  Amy grasped gratefully at the proffered hand. Holding tightly to the railing with her free hand, she let Sarah lead her to where waves were lashing the prow. She could not see the attraction of being tossed about and splashed with seawater, but it was pleasure enough to see Sarah enjoying herself so much.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Sarah asked. ‘I know Mrs Kendall can be rather overpowering, but there’s no real harm in her. And Mr Kendall’s a decent enough fellow.’

  ‘Yes, they were only being friendly. I just got a surprise, that’s all. Meeting someone from… from Susannah’s family like that.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I should have warned you. I’ll confess I’d completely forgotten that Mrs Kendall is Mrs Leith’s sister, though your stepmother mentioned it often enough when I was in Ruatane. I know you’re not eager to have reminders of her.’

  It was not the Kendalls’ connection with Susannah that had so unsettled Amy. ‘They want us to come and visit, but I’d rather not. Is that all right?’

  ‘Of course it is. It’s completely up to you. I’ve no pressing desire to visit them.’

  ‘They’ll probably keep asking,’ Amy said, remembering Mrs Kendall’s eagerness.

  ‘Don’t worry about that—I have an inexhaustible stock of polite excuses. We may encounter them on social occasions like this, but there’s no need for any closer acquaintance.’

  Amy tried to take comfort from Sarah’s assurance. But she had been shaken by the realisation that Auckland, particularly the circles in which Sarah moved, was a much smaller place than she had thought.

  *

  Beth propped her head on one hand and looked across the pillows at David. He was lying on his back, eyes half-closed and wearing a contented smile. She trailed a finger down the side of his face. He caught her hand and pulled on it, overbalancing her so that she fell forward onto his chest. Her lips found his, and they met in a long, lingering embrace.

  Their resolution to wait until they were married had lasted barely a week, till the next rainy day had reminded them of how pleasant hours trapped indoors could be. Beth could not remember which of them had first suggested using the bed, but as soon as they had tried it they had both agreed that even with its ancient, lumpy mattress it was much to be preferred over a hard floor.

  That had been some weeks ago now, and the bedroom had become a familiar place to Beth. They generally went there as soon as she arrived at the house each morning; she teased David that she had at last found something he would choose over eating.

  She lifted her head to free her mouth for speech. ‘We’d better get up, or we’ll never get anything done today.’

  ‘Just a bit longer,’ David coaxed. He reached up to stroke her hair. His hand slid onto her shoulder and tugged gently.

  ‘No,’ Beth said, steeling herself to be firm. When his hand kept hold of her shoulder, she added, ‘What say Ma turns up to check how I’m doing the work?’

  She felt a jolt run through him. He looked about guiltily, as if already half expecting his aunt’s doom-laden approach. ‘Do you think she might?’

  Beth took advantage of his distracted state to extricate herself from his grasp. She sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at his anxious expression. ‘Not really. Back when I first started coming here, Ma said she’d be along sometime, but she only said it so I’d be careful about doing the work properly. She doesn’t really ride any more, not since she had Benjy, and she wouldn’t walk this far. I suppose she could always get Pa to bring her.’ She smiled more broadly at the look of near-panic on David’s face. ‘Well, that’s one way to get you to think about something else for a minute. Come on, then, lazy.’ She leaned over and poked at his arm until he wriggled out of the way.

  David got out of bed and began pulling on his clothes. ‘I don’t know how anyone ever gets anything done, once they find out about this. I just feel like I want to stay in here all the time.’

  ‘Not much chance of that when there’re kids around,’ Beth said, buttoning up her bodice. ‘They’d be banging down the door, wanting to be fed.’

  ‘I suppose. I’m a bit hungry, come to think of it.’

  ‘Trust you! I’d better feed you, though, you need to keep your strength up.’

  The kitten was sitting on the floor, looking as disapproving as only a cat can. Beth had a vague recollection that it had been on the bed at some point; perhaps it had been knocked to the floor when matters became vigorous. She scooped it up and kissed it on the top of its head, promising it a saucer of milk as apology.

  In the kitchen, she cut thick slices from the fresh loaves she had brought, and spread them generously with butter and jam. ‘Ma said to do some baking here today, because she didn’t have any to spare,’ Beth said as she watched David demolish the bread and jam. ‘I’ll make scones for our morning tea, and some biscuits to leave with you.’

  ‘Mmm, scones. I haven’t had them for ages.’ David wolfed down the last piece of bread and stood up. ‘It’s a good thing you made me get out of bed, I haven’t been round the cows yet. A couple of them looked just about ready to drop their calves yesterday.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll come with you,’ Beth said eagerly. ‘Ours haven’t started yet, and I might be too busy here to go out with Pa as much as I usually do.’ She took off her apron and followed David to the porch, where they both pulled on their boots.

  Two of the cows had indeed calved overnight, and both had produced heifers. Beth helped David look over the cows and their offspring. Afterwards they walked around the rest of the herd, checking their health and estimating how long it was likely to be before the remaining calves arrived.

  ‘You should write down about those two calves being born,’ Beth told David as they walked back to the house. ‘I’ll show you how Pa does it, with the names and which cow had which calf and all.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because that way you’ll know which cows have the best calves, and which ones turn out to be the best milkers. That’s how you know which ones to keep.’

  David shrugged. ‘They’re all about the same, I think. None of them are that flash. Still,’ he added more brightly, ‘I should get in the way of writing it up like you said. Your pa said I could borrow the bull this year, so I should get a good lot of calves next season. What’s so funny?’ he asked when he noticed Beth giggling.

  ‘The bull. I remember when I was little I asked Pa what Duke William was doing when he was in with the cows. He just said the bull was playing with them—I suppose that was true enough, really.’ She grinned at David. ‘You’ll be worse than ever if you get watching the bull. Maudie and me heard Ma say that to Pa one time.’

  David snorted with laughter. ‘Did she really say that?’

  ‘Mmm. They probably thought we couldn’t hear them, or we wouldn’t know what they were talking about. We figured it out later, though.’

  She slipped her arm around David’s waist. ‘I’m glad you’re borrowing the bull. It’ll be good if you can get some better bloodline
s in your herd.’

  ‘Especially with us getting married.’ David put an arm around her shoulder, and planted a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Next year with the calves being half Jersey, I’ll try and keep plenty of them and see if I can build the herd up a bit.’

  ‘Only keep the best ones, though. I’ll help you decide which ones, I know from doing it with Pa.’

  When they got back to the house she insisted that David fetch paper and pencil right away. He returned with his accounts book, and they used a blank sheet near the end to record the details of the new calves. ‘You’re to write this stuff down for every new calf from now on,’ Beth told him.

  She glanced at the clock, and was startled to see how late in the morning it was. ‘Look at the time! I don’t think I can make you any scones after all. I don’t know when I’m going to get that baking done, either.’

  David looked downcast. ‘Oh. I was looking forward to scones.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Davie, but I’ll have to start getting lunch on as soon as we’ve had our cup of tea. I’m going to do us a roast today, and there’s spuds to do and pudding and all. And then after lunch I need to do some cleaning before I get your dinner on. I shouldn’t have spent all that time looking at the cows, and writing it up and everything.’

  ‘I liked doing that with you. It’s better than going around on my own.’

  ‘I know, and I like it too, but I can’t do that stuff and the cooking and everything as well.’ She saw his disappointment, and considered what she might do to relieve it. ‘If I’m going to help you with the farm, how about you help me in the kitchen?’

  ‘Me?’ David said doubtfully. ‘I don’t know if I’d be much good at that.’

  ‘Of course you will, with me telling you what to do. I’ll just find you nice, easy things.’

  Beth found David to be a useful assistant, as long as she told him precisely what she wanted and was not too fussy about how things looked. She kept him well away from the scone dough, knowing that it would be too much to expect him to give it the light touch it required. But when it came to stirring a heavy biscuit batter he came into his own, doing it faster and with a good deal less effort than she would have herself.