A Second Chance

by Shayne Parkinson

‘I’ll be there. Amy,’ he said, looking intently at her, ‘promise me you’ll come.’

  Amy stared back, stunned that he could say such a thing to her. ‘I’ve said I will. You’ve no reason to doubt me.’

  Before he had a chance to reply, Amy was aware of a woman gliding up to them.

  ‘Why, Jimmy, how engrossed you are,’ the woman said. She had a full, rich voice, but there was an unmistakably sharp edge to it. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?’

  Jimmy turned to her, his face abruptly schooled into a bland expression.

  ‘Of course, my dear. Amy,’ he said, turning back to her for a moment, ‘this is Mrs Taylor. Charlotte, this is… well, actually she’s my niece,’ he said with a smile. ‘This is Miss Leith.’

  ‘Mrs Stewart,’ Amy said quickly. She saw Jimmy glance at her, startled. ‘I was Miss Leith when I met Mr Taylor, but my late husband’s name was Stewart.’ Summoning all her self-control, she made herself look into the woman’s face with what she hoped was an appearance of calm as she extended her hand. ‘How do you do, Mrs Taylor.’

  Charlotte Taylor would have turned heads in Ruatane; even in this elegant setting she cut a striking figure. She was tall, with a statuesque build and an impressive bosom that Amy found was uncomfortably near her own eye level. Her gown was of pale green silk, with bands of matching lace draped over the bodice and wound around the skirt in a long spiral down to a wider band at the hem. A row of dusky pink silk blooms edged the low-cut neckline, and a necklace of green stones set in gold rose and fell with each breath. Charlotte had blonde hair done in an elaborate style, features that could have been chiselled in marble, and light blue eyes that were currently narrowed slightly as she studied Amy. She gave Amy’s hand the briefest of touches before withdrawing her own.

  ‘Mrs Stewart,’ she said coolly, and turned away from Amy. ‘Oh, come now, Jimmy, don’t be foolish. I can see that this… lady is hardly likely to be your niece.’ The brief pause she inserted before “lady” turned the word into a barely veiled insult.

  ‘Nevertheless, it happens to be true,’ Jimmy said. ‘After a fashion, anyway. Charlotte, dear, this is Susannah’s stepdaughter.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ Charlotte looked Amy up and down. ‘From a farm. I see. And how do you come to be in Auckland, Mrs Stewart?’

  ‘I’m just visiting a—’ Amy began, when she felt a hand on her arm.

  ‘Amy, there you are!’ Sarah exclaimed. ‘I was beginning to think you’d gone home without me!’ She turned to look at Amy’s companions and her smile faltered, to be quickly replaced with a polite semblance of one. ‘It’s Mrs Taylor, isn’t it? I believe we’ve met.’ She extended her hand, and Charlotte Taylor took it with rather less reluctance than she had shown Amy’s. ‘And Mr Taylor.’ She gave Jimmy a brief nod, but made no move to offer her hand.

  ‘Ah, Miss Millish, how delightful to see you,’ Jimmy said, his smile growing broad. The sight of him looking admiringly at Sarah made Amy’s stomach turn. Sarah’s resemblance to Jimmy, in her height and carriage as well as something in her features, suddenly seemed so striking to Amy that she feared the whole roomful of people must see it. ‘And I see you’re acquainted with Miss Leith… Mrs Stewart, I should say.’ He shot a quizzical glance at Amy; she could see that the name “Stewart” meant nothing to him.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Stewart has been kind enough to come and stay with me.’

  ‘Oh, a lady companion,’ said Charlotte. ‘I see. How very suitable.’ She bestowed a patronising smile on Amy.

  Sarah slipped her arm through Amy’s. ‘You misunderstand me, Mrs Taylor. Mrs Stewart is not a paid companion—she is my very dear friend, who’s doing me the favour of staying in my house.’ Amy felt Sarah’s hand give her arm a squeeze. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse us, there are some other guests I’d like to introduce to Mrs Stewart before we leave. Good evening to you, Mrs Taylor. Mr Taylor.’ Another quick nod, and Sarah was deftly shepherding Amy to a distant part of the room.

  Amy did her best to appear unaffected by the encounter, but it was clear that Sarah had noted her discomfort. Sarah spent the next few minutes making polite farewells, then they retrieved their wraps and went out to the waiting carriage.

  ‘I’m so sorry you were exposed to that ill-mannered display,’ Sarah said as they rode home. ‘ “Lady companion” indeed! I’ve no time for Mr Taylor, but I think he and his wife deserve each other. And the two of them bailing up my little Amy like that!’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Amy said distractedly. Her mind was full of what she had committed herself to: seeing Jimmy again, and talking to him. Realising that Sarah was genuinely anxious for her, she dragged her attention back to the present. ‘She didn’t upset me, Sarah. I’m all right. I had a lovely time tonight.’

  ‘Until you were attacked by the terrible Taylors, that is,’ Sarah said with a little laugh. She gave Amy a quick hug. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t leave you on your own with either of them again.’

  Amy pleaded tiredness when Sarah suggested a late-night chat over warm milk, and she was soon in bed with the lights out. But sleep eluded her for a long time. She lay awake, her mind churning with a confused mixture of old memories and trepidation of the meeting to come. An effort of will stopped her from tossing and turning, but she could not order her thoughts into the stillness she forced on her body.

  *

  Amy was careful to appear composed when she met Sarah at the breakfast table next morning. She managed to maintain a calm demeanour into the afternoon, aided by Sarah’s preoccupation with preparing for the meeting she was to attend. Amy sat quietly in the study for much of the day, reading while Sarah worked.

  Sarah left the house an hour after they had had lunch. ‘I’ll be gone till after five, I expect,’ she said as she pulled on her gloves in the hall. ‘I’m sorry to leave you on your own for so long.’

  ‘I’ll be all right,’ Amy said. ‘I might write some letters, then I think I’ll go for a walk later.’

  ‘That’s a good idea. You’re looking rather tired today, an airing will do you good.’ She kissed Amy goodbye and went out.

  Amy told herself that there was no need to take any particular care with getting dressed to go out. She did have to change; she could hardly appear on the street in one of her tea gowns. But that would only take a few minutes.

  So she was mildly surprised to find herself in her room an hour before it was time to leave, with both her walking costumes spread out on the bed along with several hats. She would probably wear the plainest of them, she decided. But it would do no harm to try on the others.

  Rather than the grey costume, she chose the rust-coloured one. Sarah had told her she liked the way this dress suited her colouring. That was a good enough reason to choose it, and it seemed only logical to match it with the hat that she knew set it off best. Before donning the hat she let her hair down, brushed it, and pinned it up again carefully. She was not on the farm, she told herself; it was important to look tidy.

  The park was only a short walk from Sarah’s house. Amy was ready well before she needed to be, but she waited until it was almost four o’clock before she set out. It would do Jimmy no harm to wait a few minutes for her; she had no intention of wasting any more of her life waiting for him.

  She saw him before he saw her. He was walking back and forth near the fountain, with the long-legged, restless stride she remembered from so long ago. When he saw her his face lit up. From this distance he could almost have been the twenty-year-old she had known.

  He was at her side in a few rapid paces. ‘Amy, you came! Let’s go over behind those trees, it’ll be more private.’ He made to take her arm, but Amy took a step out of his reach. She walked beside him to the seat he had indicated, and sat down as far from him as the bench allowed.

  It was the first chance she had had to look at Jimmy properly since he had erupted back into her life. He was still easily recognisable, but the years had left more traces on him than the previous evening�
��s hurried encounter had shown her. While he was still trim, he had lost the lean, rangy look of his youth. His complexion had acquired a florid tinge that spoke of a fondness for good living. His hair was thinning a little on top, and there were traces of grey around the temples.

  He saw her studying him, and smiled. ‘I knew you at once. You haven’t changed a bit.’

  ‘Don’t talk rubbish,’ Amy answered sharply. ‘I’m nearly forty. The last time you saw me I was fifteen.’ Fifteen when she had found herself frightened and alone and carrying his child. Fifteen, and wondering what she had done to make him abandon her.

  ‘Well, you haven’t changed in my eyes. You’re still my pretty little Amy.’ His smile broadened. ‘I remember I could always tell exactly what you were thinking, just by looking at you. Perhaps I can still do it. Shall I tell you what’s going through your mind right now? You’re thinking about how long we’ve been apart, and how right it feels to be together again.’

  Amy remembered how irresistible she had once found that smile of his; now it struck her as nauseatingly full of self-satisfaction. This was the man she had given herself to. The man she had trusted. ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head as she spoke. ‘I wasn’t thinking that. I was wondering how I could have been so stupid.’

  His smile faltered. ‘Stupid? What do you mean, Amy? It wasn’t your fault we couldn’t stay together! It’s just that we were so young—I had no proper job, no home of my own. It wouldn’t have been fair on you to drag you up here away from your family and make you live with Mother and Father—especially not with a baby on the way, and all the fuss there would have been. No, don’t blame yourself. If anyone’s at fault, I suppose it’s me.’

  ‘You suppose it’s you,’ said Amy. ‘Do you know, I think you might be right.’ It was hard to imagine having any useful discussion with this man, but there were questions demanding to be aired. ‘I want to ask you something. Did you mean those things you said to me? When you asked me to marry you?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Jimmy said readily. ‘You turned my head the moment I saw you. I thought I’d be stuck in a boring little place all summer, with no better company than Susannah, and there you were, just like a princess in a fairy tale—one of those stories where the princess is looking after pigs, or something like that. Of course I thought I’d rescue you and take you away from all the mud and squalor. I didn’t think it through, not when I was so busy being happy.’

  ‘And that last day—the day before you left. You helped me pick peaches, do you remember?’

  He grinned at her. ‘I certainly do. I knew you were a passionate girl, but you outdid yourself that day. You gave me quite a sendoff. I’ve always found the scent of ripe peaches rather delightful since then.’

  Amy pushed down the awkwardness she felt in speaking of such things. ‘I want to know when you decided you wouldn’t be coming back to me. Was it after you got back home? Or had you already made up your mind that day? When you took something to remember me by?’

  His obvious discomfort was answer enough. ‘Amy, you have to try and understand the position I was in.’ He spoke without meeting her eyes. ‘When you told me there was a child on the way, it stopped being a fairy story. It became all too real. I had to think of the future—yours as well as mine. If we could have waited a year or two, till I was properly settled, it would have been quite different. It wouldn’t have mattered so much that you… well, that you weren’t… your father wasn’t…’ he trailed off awkwardly.

  ‘That Pa wasn’t rich?’ Amy finished for him. ‘That I wasn’t good enough for you?’

  ‘It wasn’t a matter of being good enough!’ Jimmy protested unconvincingly. ‘It’s not that simple. I just wasn’t in a position to get married right then. Surely you see that?’

  ‘So you just went off and left me thinking you were coming back? You didn’t bother telling me?’

  He looked somewhat shamefaced. ‘It seemed easier like that. I thought you might get upset.’

  Amy found herself lost for words. ‘And how did you think I was going to manage?’ she said at last. ‘What did you think I’d do, with a baby on the way and no husband?’

  ‘Well, I thought people mightn’t worry so much about that sort of thing in the country,’ Jimmy said feebly. ‘And I knew you’d be all right, with your father to look after you. Don’t you remember me asking you whether he’d beat you? You told me he wouldn’t.’

  ‘No, he didn’t beat me,’ Amy said quietly. ‘Pa was always kind. I just about broke his heart, but he still wanted to do his best for me.’ For a moment she lost herself in memories of her father.

  Jimmy broke into her thoughts. ‘I did try to find out what had happened to you. Later, when I’d had time to think about how it all might have turned out differently. When I came back from Melbourne I tried asking Mother about Susannah’s family. She didn’t seem very interested, though, and I couldn’t go on about it or she would have got suspicious. I tried with Constance, too—I had a feeling she knew something about it, just from the odd remark she made about country girls. I didn’t get very far with her, either.

  ‘When Father was ill and Susannah came to Auckland, I thought I might have a chance to find out at last.’ He shook his head. ‘But I couldn’t seem to get her on her own. She was in an odd mood the whole time—she kept looking at me as if she wanted something from me, and half the time I was worried she might be going to make a scene, like she did when I was on the farm. She and Charlotte took an instant dislike to one another, then they spent the rest of the time pretending to be fond of each other and making cutting remarks, in that way women have. Well, Charlotte did, anyway,’ he amended. ‘Susannah didn’t say much at all. And Charlotte was hanging about the whole time, so there was no chance to try and draw Susannah out.’

  He turned to Amy and smiled. ‘I’d almost given up on ever hearing anything about you again, and then last night you suddenly appeared, just like magic. I used to say you were a bit magic, remember? I’d actually been thinking about you earlier in the evening—about that funny little dance we went to at the schoolhouse, and how pretty you were in your blue dress. And I looked across the room and saw you—I could hardly believe my eyes. You were even wearing a dress that looked much the same.’

  ‘It’s the same dress,’ Amy murmured.

  ‘Really? But it’s been more than twenty years!’

  Amy shrugged. ‘I had to make it last. I couldn’t go getting new silk dresses every year.’

  ‘Oh.’ He absorbed this revelation in silence for a moment. ‘You said you’d wear it to our wedding, remember? Back when we were telling ourselves we’d be able to get married.’

  ‘Yes. And I did get married in it. Just not to you.’

  ‘Who did you marry, Amy? I don’t remember meeting anyone called Stewart in Ruatane.’

  ‘Oh, you met him. I doubt if you had much of a conversation, though. He wasn’t much for talking. I didn’t go far from home when I got married, only next door. I married Charlie.’

  She saw his puzzled expression gradually replaced by one of disbelief. ‘Charlie?’ he echoed. ‘You can’t mean that bad-tempered old fellow who was always staring at you?’

  ‘I don’t suppose he was all that much older than you are now. He seemed old to me then, though. When I was fifteen and I said I’d marry him.’

  ‘But I remember you saying you were frightened of him!’

  ‘Yes, I was. I learned to be a lot more frightened after I married him.’

  ‘But… but why, Amy? Why marry a man like that?’

  ‘Because he asked for me. Because Pa was so happy at the idea of me getting married, and I’d hurt him so much. Because Susannah told me no one else would want a bad girl like me, and if I cared about Pa or the others I should marry Charlie.’

  ‘Susannah!’ Jimmy snatched at the word. ‘She made you do it. My little Amy! The thought of a girl like you being given to a man like that—it makes me feel quite ill. What was Susannah thinking of?’
<
br />   Amy waited for his self-righteous tirade to run its course before speaking again. ‘Susannah didn’t get me with child, Jimmy. That’s the reason I ended up with Charlie. Anyway, I don’t think Susannah really knew what it would be like with him. She never liked me, and she wanted me out of the way, but she didn’t think there was much difference between one farmer and another.’

  ‘You were meant for better things than that. Well, how did it turn out? What sort of father did he make for my child?’

  ‘He didn’t. He wanted me, but he didn’t want another man’s child. That was part of the bargain.’

  ‘Wh-what?’ Jimmy’s brow furrowed. ‘But… what about the child? What happened to it?’

  One thought was uppermost in Amy’s mind: she had to protect Sarah. She had to do her utmost to prevent Jimmy from finding out just who Sarah was. She would not lie, not even to the man who had betrayed her; but she would do her best to keep the truth from him. ‘I gave it away,’ she said, her voice flat. ‘Susannah found a woman who arranged adoptions, and she took the baby.’

  ‘You gave my child to strangers?’ Jimmy said, clearly shocked.

  ‘I gave my child to strangers. You hadn’t shown any interest in it.’

  ‘How could you do that, Amy? What were you thinking of?’

  ‘Don’t you dare tell me what I should or shouldn’t have done,’ Amy said fiercely. ‘You went off and left me! I had to decide what was best for everyone—I had to decide it on my own. If I’d kept the baby, everyone would have been miserable. People would have called it a bastard. I wanted it to have a good home, with people who’d love it. They told me—Susannah and the adoption lady—they said it was best for the baby, and I thought it was the best for Pa and the boys, too. I wanted to keep it. I didn’t want to marry Charlie. But I had to think of everyone else. I couldn’t be selfish.’

  ‘But weren’t you worried? Didn’t you wonder what had become of it?’

  ‘Of course I did. I fretted and wondered every single day.’ She glanced at him to see if he had noticed that she had put her fears in the past tense. ‘I found out a little bit years later,’ she said carefully. ‘Lizzie helped me. I found out the baby had gone to very good people. I didn’t know their name or where they lived, but enough to stop worrying so much.’