A Second Chance

by Shayne Parkinson

  ‘I bet you’d be good at kneading bread dough,’ she said, admiring the results of his vigorous work with the wooden spoon. ‘Just give it a couple more stirs while I grease the trays.’

  The only problem was that when she went to take the bowl from him there was rather less of the mixture ready to be baked than she had expected.

  ‘Ow!’ David yelped when Beth snatched up the wooden spoon and rapped him over the knuckles with it. ‘What’s that for?’

  ‘Don’t eat it all before it’s cooked. You can lick out the bowl when it’s finished, but you mustn’t go helping yourself till then.’

  ‘I only had a bit,’ David grumbled.

  ‘Well, when you run out of biscuits, just you remember why there aren’t many.’ But she left a generous amount in the bowl when she handed it to him ready to be licked out, and then spoiled the effect of her scolding by helping herself to a spoonful before passing the spoon over.

  She peeled the vegetables herself when she saw David’s attempt at it, and she knew that her mother would not have approved of the odd-sized chunks he cut them into, but the tasks went far more quickly with such congenial company.

  They paused in their work to have a morning tea of scones hot from the oven and dripping with butter, then David went off to do some outdoor tasks while Beth finished the lunch preparations. After lunch David dried the dishes as she washed them, and swept the kitchen floor while she dusted the other rooms. Later in the afternoon she helped him feed out hay to the cows, then David in turn helped her prepare dinner.

  With the stew for David’s dinner gently simmering on the range, they kissed goodbye and Beth rode home. It had been even more fun than usual, she reflected. She and David had been able to spend most of the day together, and she had enjoyed being out of the kitchen and working with the animals.

  She came into her own kitchen, smiling at the pleasant memories of the day, to find Maisie banging pots on the range and scowling at the world in general.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Beth asked, surprised that anyone could manage to scowl on such a day.

  ‘I’ve got the cramps bad,’ Maisie grumbled. ‘It’s the blood rag business.’

  ‘Oh, poor thing. You sit down for a minute, they’re always worse if you’ve got to stand. You can peel those spuds while I get the pots going.’

  Maisie pulled out a chair and flopped into it. ‘You and me usually get it around the same time. You must be about due to get yours.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Beth agreed absently. ‘I seem to be a bit late this month.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ Maisie muttered.

  *

  As July wore on, Beth found herself busier than ever at David’s farm, but enjoying her time there all the more. There were the new calves to tend, and the milking season was beginning. Cooking and cleaning were quickly done with David’s help, and she could spend much of her time out on the farm with him. They were barely apart all day, whether in the paddocks, the kitchen, or the bedroom.

  It was a delightful routine, and the time slipped away pleasantly. Beth was guiltily aware that, fond as she was of her aunt, she was not greatly looking forward to Amy’s return from Auckland.

  ‘Ma said they had about a dozen kinds of cake at some tea party she went to,’ David told her one morning as he worked his way through a plate of biscuits he had helped her make. ‘I bet there were none of them as good as these ones, though.’

  ‘She goes to a lot of things like that up there, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Mmm. Did I tell you she went out on a boat a couple of weeks ago? A big, fancy sailing one. They were out half the day on it.’

  ‘Has Miss Millish got a boat?’ Sarah’s world seemed so glittering to Beth that she would hardly have been surprised if told she owned a fleet of yachts.

  ‘No, it wasn’t hers. Just one of the flash people she knows.’

  ‘Aunt Amy’s not going to want to come home, at this rate!’

  She said it lightly enough, but when David met her eyes she saw his troubled expression. ‘I want her to come home,’ he said earnestly. ‘But… you know.’

  ‘Mmm.’ She moved from her chair to his lap, and laid her head against his chest. ‘It’ll be nice for you to have company in the evenings again. But I’ll miss being here and everything.’

  His arms closed around her. ‘There’s lots of things I’ll miss,’ he murmured.

  ‘Still,’ Beth said, determinedly bright, ‘once Aunt Amy’s home, maybe we can tell them we want to get engaged. She might help with Ma and Pa—Ma takes a bit of notice of what Aunt Amy says.’

  ‘And we can’t ask them till Ma comes home.’ David held her more tightly. ‘I just hope they say yes.’

  ‘They will sooner or later,’ Beth said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. ‘And once we’re engaged we’ll be allowed to be together a lot. They’ll let us go for walks and things. We’ll be able to see each other every day.’

  ‘It won’t be the same as all this, though. There’s lots of stuff we won’t be able to do any more. Not till we’re married.’

  ‘Then we’ll just have to keep on at them till they let us get married.’ Beth wound her arms around his waist. ‘And we should make the most of it till Aunt Amy comes home.’

  ‘Good idea,’ David whispered in her ear.

  *

  With so much to do and enjoy, Beth was too busy over the next few weeks to wonder at her bleeding’s continued absence. It was only when she saw Maisie rinsing out a bundle of cotton rags in the wooden tubs near the copper that Beth realised another month had gone by, and had brought no sign of it. That was unusual enough for her to consider asking her mother’s advice, though she would have to wait for a chance to talk to her on her own.

  Perhaps it was best not to bother her mother with it, she decided. Maisie, when asked her opinion, did not seem to think it was anything to worry about.

  ‘I was nearly as old as you are before I got mine,’ she told Beth. ‘The missus says it’s because I was so skinny and all before I came here. I used to miss months with it when I was your age.’

  That eased Beth’s mind somewhat, though her own bleeding had been regular for the past year. If Maudie had still been at home, it might have been more useful to ask her opinion. She would certainly have been ready enough to give it.

  Beth remembered Maudie proudly claiming that she was as regular as clockwork herself. Maudie had said that was how she had known at once when…

  A shudder went through her. That was how Maudie had known she was going to have a baby.

  Without ever considering the matter deeply, Beth had assumed that people had babies because they decided to. She had occasionally wondered why her parents had wanted to have so many of them, but that was a mystery she had wasted little energy on. Now it occurred to her that babies were simply the result of what she and David had been spending so much time doing. And she was going to be in more trouble than she had ever been in her life.

  ‘You look like you’re going to be sick,’ Maisie said, frowning in concern.

  ‘I think I might.’ But she brushed aside Maisie’s attempt to feel her forehead. ‘No, I’ll be all right. I probably just had too many biscuits with Dave.’

  ‘You must be fed up, having to go over there all the time. When’s his ma coming home?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Beth said distractedly. ‘I don’t know what’s happening about anything.’

  She walked towards the house, heedless of the questions Maisie called after her.

  *

  It was a long wait until the next morning, when she could see David again. He ran to meet her as she slid from the horse, his broad smile of welcome quickly wiped away when he saw her expression.

  ‘What’s wrong? What’s happened?’

  Beth’s words were lost in the helpless sobs that convulsed her. David took her in his arms and held her close, one hand rubbing her back, as she gradually calmed herself enough to speak.

  ‘We’re i
n s-such t-trouble,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘I think I’m going to have a baby.’

  She looked up at David’s face; to her astonishment, the first emotion she saw there was delight.

  ‘A baby!’ he repeated in wonderment. Then, as she watched, cold reality sank in. ‘We’re in trouble, all right.’

  But he was clearly less upset than she was herself. He looked after the horse for her, then led her to the house, his arm around her waist. He made her sit at the table while he got a cup of tea ready, then dragged his chair close and held her hand.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll look after you, whatever happens. And they’ll have to let us get married now, that’s one good thing. We’d better tell them straight away.’

  ‘No!’ Beth said in alarm. ‘No, let’s leave it for a bit.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well… what say I’m wrong?’ she said, floundering for an excuse. ‘We’d get in all that trouble for nothing.’

  David frowned in confusion. ‘Can’t you tell one way or the other? How do you know if you’re having one or not?’

  ‘There’s things that happen. And then they don’t happen.’ She looked down at the floor as she spoke.

  ‘Eh? What do you mean?’

  Beth felt herself blushing. ‘There’s some bleeding every month down there. When it stops coming, that’s when you know you’re having a baby.’

  With that said, she felt able to face him. David looked startled. ‘I didn’t know that. Cows don’t have anything like that. How long does it take to have a baby, anyway?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly. With Ma, we could always tell she was having one a few months before, but it probably took us a while to notice. It seemed to be ages from when Maudie said she was having a baby till Lucy was born.’

  ‘It takes nine months for a cow,’ David said thoughtfully. ‘But cows are bigger, so they might take longer. When do you think you’ll know for sure?’

  ‘I think I’m just about sure now,’ Beth admitted. ‘But I don’t want to tell them yet, just in case I’m wrong. Ma’s going to be so wild with me.’

  ‘We’d better not leave it too long, or they’ll go finding out anyway. We’d get in worse trouble then. How long do you want to wait?’

  ‘A month?’ Beth said hopefully, but David shook his head.

  ‘We can’t leave it that long. You know we can’t, Beth.’

  ‘I know.’ She took a deep breath, and clutched at his hand for support. ‘A week, then. Let’s wait a week. If I haven’t had the bleeding by then… well, we’ll just have to tell them.’

  *

  Amy and Sarah dined in, then went upstairs to get dressed for that evening’s outing. They were to attend a concert, followed by supper.

  ‘Don’t wear anything too grand tonight,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s quite a modest occasion, and several of the orphanage staff will be there—it’s something of a treat for them, as well as a fund-raiser for the orphanage. Evening dress wouldn’t really be appropriate—one of your visiting gowns will do nicely.’

  ‘I might wear my blue dress,’ said Amy. ‘It’s so pretty now Mrs Stevenson’s remodelled it.’

  With a light cape over her blue silk gown and a warm cloak over that, Amy was comfortably warm during the carriage ride to the church hall where the function was being held.

  ‘These concerts can be quite dreadful,’ Sarah said. ‘I think the boys are chosen more for their enthusiasm than any natural ability. But I have hopes of better things this year—the orphanage has acquired a music teacher who comes highly recommended.’ She smiled at Amy. ‘I recommended him myself.’

  ‘Mr Vincent? Oh, that was nice of you, Sarah.’

  Sarah laughed. ‘Call it self-interest. I’m obliged to attend their concerts, after all. But really, I did feel it was time the orphanage had a competent teacher for any boys who show a real talent. One or two of the staff members can play the piano, and they’ve done their best, but I’m sure they’ll all be happier with an actual musician taking over the role. He’s only engaged there two afternoons a week, but I imagine the steady employment has eased his situation somewhat.’

  Several carriages had already pulled up outside the hall when Sarah and Amy arrived, and more people were approaching on foot.

  ‘You’ll find a good deal more people attend the supper than the concert,’ Sarah murmured as they made their way to the door. ‘It’s amazing how many of them have commitments that prevent their being here for the musical performances, but leave them free for the more social part of the evening.’

  ‘Do you know many of these people?’ Amy asked, looking around her.

  ‘Most of them by sight, at least.’ Sarah leaned towards Amy and lowered her voice further. ‘I’d say you could divide the guests into two parts—those with an actual interest in the orphanage, and those who feel it might do their reputations some good to be seen at such an event. You’ll find the latter group well represented among those who only arrive in time for the supper.’

  As Sarah was a generous benefactor to the orphanage, she and Amy were shown to seats in the front row. The boys were energetic performers on a range of instruments, with brass predominating. Despite a higher volume of sound than the hall could comfortably accommodate, their efforts were rather better than Amy had expected.

  ‘Mr Vincent has done wonders,’ Sarah murmured in her ear as they applauded a piece. The man himself was there, looking far less nervous, as well as better fed, than Amy had last seen him. He conducted the performances, as well as accompanying most of the pieces on his violin.

  The final item was a song. Mr Vincent introduced it, telling the audience that it was a recent composition by the Auckland composer Miss Jean Farrell. Sarah nudged Amy and tilted her head to indicate the far end of the row, where Miss Farrell sat blushing and smiling in acknowledgment of the polite burst of clapping that met Mr Vincent’s announcement. It was a cheerful piece about walking in the mountains, and the boys sang it with gusto. When they had finished, the applause was enthusiastic and, as far as Amy could tell, genuine.

  The boys were ushered off the stage, and the guests went through to the supper room. As Sarah had predicted, their numbers were soon swollen by people who had timed their arrival to match the end of the concert. After a time the room became quite crowded, and pleasantly warm. Amy excused herself from a small group of guests and went out to the entryway to take off her cape.

  She hung it up with her cloak and slipped back into the room. Looking around to find Sarah, she saw her at the far end, at the centre of a knot of conversation. Instead of going straight through the crowd to join her, Amy found a quiet spot near the wall, from where she could study Sarah.

  Sarah was talking animatedly, occasionally waving a hand to emphasise a point she was making. Amy saw her gaze dart about from time to time, and knew Sarah was looking for her. She would join her in a moment; for now she was indulging in the pleasure of watching her daughter.

  People moved about, small groups forming and drifting apart. As the group nearest her dissolved, Amy found herself with a clear space before her that extended to the doorway. Through it she saw that even more people had arrived, despite the lateness of the hour. One of the newcomers towered above those around him; as always when she saw a tall man, Amy thought of David. Although she knew it could not be him, she gave the man a second glance.

  It was not David, of course. But there was something oddly familiar about this man; something about his easy smile and the set of his head. Something that made her uneasy.

  As if aware of her scrutiny, the man glanced over the head of the woman in front of him and looked straight at Amy. His smile wavered, to be replaced by a puzzled expression. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened to shape a single word: ‘Amy’.

  She saw him exchange a few quick words with the people around him; clearly making his excuses before moving towards her. Amy’s mouth was dry. She stared about the room, looking for a means of escape, but before she had taken more
than a step or two towards the nearest door he had crossed the space between them and stood before her.

  ‘My God, Amy! It is you!’ said Jimmy.

  10

  Amy darted quick glances around the room, trying to see who might be watching them. She did not want to be seen; most of all, she did not want Sarah to see her talking to Jimmy.

  ‘Go away,’ she murmured under her breath. ‘Just go away.’

  ‘We have to talk,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Talk properly, I mean—we can’t do that here. Where can I see you?’

  ‘Nowhere. Leave me alone.’

  ‘Where are you staying?’ Jimmy persisted. ‘Are you in a boarding house? I’ll come and see you there.’

  ‘No! I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you. Go away.’

  ‘Come on, Amy, don’t make a fuss. People will notice.’ Amy looked around and saw that they were indeed attracting curious stares from the people nearest them. ‘Just tell me where I can see you, and I’ll leave you alone for now.’ He glanced over his shoulder, and turned back grimacing. ‘She’s spotted us. Hurry up, for God’s sake!’

  For a moment Amy thought “she” must refer to Sarah. She quickly realised Jimmy could not possibly mean her, but she was shaken by the inference, as well as by the urgency in his voice. ‘All right, you can meet me in Albert Park. I can be there tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘Yes, the park. Good idea.’ Jimmy cast another glance over his shoulder. ‘Let’s meet by the fountain. What time?’

  Amy knew that Sarah would be out for much of the afternoon, so it would be easy for her to leave the house without having to explain herself. ‘Four o’clock.’