A Second Chance

by Shayne Parkinson

  ‘I suppose that’s something,’ Jimmy said doubtfully. ‘Amy, I’ll admit I didn’t really think about my child for quite some time after we parted. I often thought of you, of course, but not of the child. And then when I married, naturally I assumed Charlotte would give me children. I never expected to be let down in that way. Charlotte’s barren.’

  ‘I’m sorry for her,’ Amy said with all sincerity.

  ‘Oh, she’s probably not that bothered. Childbearing would get in the way of all her outings, and she wouldn’t be able to wear her fanciest gowns.’

  ‘I don’t believe it. No woman would be pleased about that.’

  ‘Well, she has made an awful fuss over it at times,’ Jimmy admitted. ‘She used to get in floods of tears, years ago. And she must have spent a fortune on quacks and their remedies, after the doctors told her they couldn’t do anything. She’s even had the cheek to suggest it might be my fault,’ he said indignantly. ‘As if I’ve ever shown any lack in that area. There’ve been times I’ve almost been tempted to tell her just how I know there’s nothing wrong with me.’

  He glanced at Amy and pulled a face. ‘Ridiculous, isn’t it? I lost you because you were just a little too fruitful—you got with child too quickly. And then I go and marry a woman who’s barren.’

  ‘What do you mean, you lost me? You make me sound like a parcel you left somewhere. You knew where I was. I didn’t go anywhere.’

  ‘Amy, I don’t need to be told that I married the wrong woman,’ Jimmy said, full of self-pity. ‘I realised that many years ago.’

  ‘Well, you did marry her. And it’s not right for you to complain about her to other people—least of all to me. I won’t listen to any more of it.’

  ‘It’s not a subject that gives me any pleasure to dwell on. I’d much rather think about you.’ He leaned a little closer to Amy, studying her face. ‘Do you know, I thought I knew every inch of you—by feel if not by sight.’ His smile became close to a leer, and Amy kept her own gaze resolutely aloof. ‘But there’s a tiny scar on your lip. Now, how did I come to miss that? I certainly saw your lips close up often enough.’

  ‘It wasn’t there when you knew me. It’s from having a fist split my lip open.’ Her discomfort and irritation abruptly overflowed into words. ‘Do you want to see anything else? You can look in my mouth if you like, and see where I had teeth knocked out. I’ve got some good scars, too, especially the one where I had a cracked rib. I can’t show you those, though.’

  Jimmy was staring at her in horror. ‘He did that to you?’

  Amy nodded. ‘Among other things.’

  ‘Just how bad was it? If you can bear to tell me.’

  ‘It was as bad as… no, that’s wrong,’ Amy stopped herself. ‘I was going to say as bad as you could imagine, but you can’t imagine it. It’s different when you’re a man, and you’re so much bigger and stronger. Did you marry in a church?’

  ‘Of course. In Melbourne Cathedral—quite the social highlight, and with Melbourne’s finest citizens in attendance.’

  ‘So you promised to love your wife. Do you?’

  His face hardened. ‘Charlotte doesn’t choose to make herself very lovable.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’re kind to her. I hope you don’t hit her.’

  ‘Oh, one doesn’t take liberties with Charlotte,’ Jimmy said bitterly. ‘There’ve been times I’ve wanted nothing more than to give her a good slap. But her dear papa would be sure to hear about it, and there’d be no end of trouble. He soon made it clear to me that as far as he was concerned my only role in life was to make his precious Charlotte happy. Just the odd slap, though,’ he added hastily. ‘Not the sort of thing you’ve suffered—and I can’t believe you ever deserved it. He used his fists on you?’

  ‘Yes. And he beat me with a stick sometimes, when he thought I’d been specially bad. I’ve been beaten and kicked and…’ She bit back the last word.

  ‘And what?’ Jimmy prompted. ‘Tell me the worst of it.’

  ‘Yes, it was the worst,’ Amy said pensively. ‘Even worse than being beaten.’ She lifted her gaze to look him straight in the eyes. ‘Raped.’

  Jimmy gave a start, then his mouth tightened. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Amy. A man can’t rape his own wife. I think you’ll find the law supports that fact.’

  ‘I used to think that, too. I thought a man could do whatever he wanted with his wife, short of killing her. But it’s not true. A man doesn’t own a woman just because he marries her. A wife has rights of her own.’

  ‘Goodness, you’re quite the little suffragist, aren’t you?’ Jimmy said, his voice full of condescension.

  ‘I’ve voted every election since women got the vote.’

  ‘Really?’ It was clear that he did not find the topic at all interesting. ‘I’ve no idea whether Charlotte does or not. Perhaps she does, just to make sure she cancels out my vote. That would be just like her. Amy, there’s a young woman looking at us—do you know her?’

  Amy looked in the direction he was indicating, and recognised Alice, who was walking briskly across the grass, taking the shortest route on her way to Sarah’s house. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Stewart,’ Alice called cheerfully, but she made no move to stop.

  ‘It’s one of Sarah’s maids,’ Amy said, trying to keep her agitation out of her voice. There was a chance that Alice might mention having seen her, and she would prefer Sarah not to hear of this meeting.

  ‘Ah, the lovely Miss Millish. And how do you come to be her guest? She’s not someone I’d have expected you to be acquainted with.’

  Amy chose her words with care. ‘It was through Lily. Oh, you wouldn’t have met Lily, she was after your time. She was the schoolteacher, and she married my cousin Bill. Well, Sarah’s Lily’s cousin, and she came to visit. I met her, and she invited me to Auckland.’

  The explanation seemed to satisfy him. ‘How gracious of her. You must feel quite honoured.’

  ‘She’s been very kind. She thought I needed a holiday, and her and Davie talked me into it.’ She smiled at the memory.

  ‘Davie?’ Jimmy prompted. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘My son,’ Amy said proudly. Seeing his sudden eager expression, she added, ‘Mine and Charlie’s.’

  ‘Oh.’ Disappointment was clear in his face. ‘You only had the one child to him, then? He was rather elderly, of course.’

  ‘I bore him three children born alive, and I don’t know how many miscarriages,’ Amy snapped. ‘I lost count of them. He wasn’t as old as all that, you know. Not when we were first married.’

  ‘I just assumed… what happened to the other children, then? You only mentioned the one.’

  ‘Alexander was born much too early. He only lived a few hours. And Mal…’ Her eyes drifted to the statue of the soldier, just visible through the trees. ‘Mal went off to the War. He died there.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Jimmy. ‘That must have been very difficult.’

  ‘Especially for Charlie. It was an awful blow to him.’

  ‘I can understand that. I know what it is to lose a child.’

  Amy looked at his self-pitying expression with distaste. ‘It’s a different matter for someone who actually took an interest in the child in question.’ She sighed. ‘Charlie never got over losing Mal. He just about turned into an old man overnight.’

  ‘You speak of him very kindly for someone who treated you so abominably. The man was a brute! I hate the very thought of—’

  ‘Then don’t think about it,’ Amy interrupted in rising irritation. ‘It was between me and Charlie, and I forgave him long ago.’

  ‘That’s remarkably charitable of you.’

  ‘It’s not so hard to forgive people when you know they’re sorry for what they’ve done to you.’ She was already regretting having let Jimmy provoke her into saying as much as she had. Charlie was the frail old man who had clung to her for comfort; the harsh memories of those bad times should have been left where she had buried them. ‘Anyway, it’s none of
your business, and I don’t want to talk about it any more.’ She looked around, noticing how low the sun was. ‘I should go.’

  ‘No! Not just yet. Please, Amy—hear me out.’

  It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to remain calm in his presence. ‘What do you want from me, Jimmy? I don’t think we’ve anything useful to say to each other.’

  ‘Oh, but we do. Seeing you again has made me remember what it was like with you. It’s made me realise what I’ve missed. Amy, I’ve something to offer you. Would you like to stay on in Auckland?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Live here permanently, I mean. I could do that for you. I could find somewhere for you to live, and then we’d be able to see each other as often as we wanted—well, as often as I could get away, anyway. We wouldn’t be able to appear together in public, of course, but there’d be ways around that.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’ Amy asked, unwilling to believe what his words seemed to imply.

  ‘You’ve no idea how lonely it can be, living with a woman like Charlotte. I’ve thought for some time about trying to arrange a more pleasant companion. Seeing you again and remembering what it was like being with you—oh, Amy.’

  His hungry expression reminded her of the early years with Charlie. Her disgust was so strong she could taste it like bile in her mouth.

  ‘You want me to be your whore? You think I’d do that?’

  ‘Whore’s an ugly word,’ he protested. ‘I want you to be my mistress.’

  ‘That sounds like a fancy name for the same thing.’ She felt her heart pounding. It took all her self-control not to scream at him. ‘I’ve been called whore before, Jimmy, but I don’t think anyone’s ever meant it as much as you seem to.’

  ‘You’d be my wife in all but name. And perhaps… you don’t seem very old. Do you think you could still have a child? Just the one, Amy. I just want a child of my own. That’s not much to ask, is it? I need an heir—the business isn’t going so very well right now, but it’s sure to pick up soon. And with a child of my own that I could look forward to passing it on to, it would all be so much more worthwhile. I’d acknowledge it, you wouldn’t need to worry about that. The child would have my name. I wouldn’t even mind if it was a girl. We could take up where we left off. It would be perfect.’

  Amy got unsteadily to her feet. Jimmy stood and made to take her arm, but she slapped his hand away. ‘Don’t,’ she said, managing to get the word out with difficulty. ‘Don’t touch me. No, don’t talk to me. I don’t want to hear another word. I’m going.’

  ‘Just think it over. Perhaps I raised it too abruptly, but don’t dismiss the idea out of hand. I’ll let you go now, but we must meet again—soon, too. In a day or two.’

  ‘No,’ Amy said, her voice low. ‘I don’t want to ever see you again.’

  ‘Oh, come now, Amy, don’t be foolish. Think it over, and I believe you’ll see what a fine thing it would be for us both. I’ll give you a few days, then I’ll contact you. I know how to find you.’

  Amy turned on him. ‘Don’t you dare! Don’t you come near Sarah’s!’

  ‘I’ll be discreet, don’t worry about that.’ He peered at her in sudden concern. ‘You look a little unwell. Shall I walk you to Miss Millish’s? Here, take my arm.’

  She found herself unable to get another word out. She shook her head emphatically, turned, and walked away as briskly as she could. When she risked a backwards glance, she was somewhat relieved to see that Jimmy was not following her.

  *

  Alice came into the passage as Amy was opening the front door. ‘Miss Sarah’s home, Mrs Stewart. She’s in her study.’

  For the moment, Amy felt incapable of putting on the calm face she wanted to show Sarah. ‘Thank you, Alice. Would you tell her I’m going to have a lie-down before dinner? Oh, and could I have some hot water in my room, please?’

  ‘Of course, ma’am. I’ll get right on to it.’

  Amy went up the stairs, half stumbling in her haste to get out of sight. The churn of her emotions seemed echoed by a churning in her belly; before she had reached her bedroom she changed directions and made a rush for the bathroom.

  Vomiting brought some relief. She left the bathroom and almost walked into Alice, who was standing in the passage holding the jug she had used to carry hot water to Amy’s room. It was clear from the concern in her face that Alice had heard her.

  ‘Are you all right, Mrs Stewart?’ the maid asked. ‘Should I fetch Miss Sarah?’

  ‘No, please don’t bother her,’ Amy said quickly. ‘I’ll be all right after I’ve had a lie-down.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure.’ Alice sounded doubtful. ‘You just ring the bell if you need anything.’ She moved towards the stairs, casting an anxious glance over her shoulder at Amy as she went.

  Amy turned from the sight of Alice’s kind, honest face and entered her room, closing the door behind her. The room was immaculate, as always. Everything in Sarah’s house was well-ordered. Everyone went about their business quietly and efficiently; everything was clean and neat and proper. The way Jimmy had looked at her and spoken to her, the easy way in which he had assumed she would be willing to become his mistress, had left Amy feeling sullied. She suddenly felt out of place in this house, as if she were tainting it by her presence.

  She poured some of the water Alice had brought her into a bowl; stripped, took soap and a cloth, and began washing herself. The water was hot enough for the cloth to be painful against her bare skin, but Amy ignored the discomfort. By the time she had rinsed herself with clean water her skin was red and tingling.

  She put on a dressing gown, the silk blessedly cool and smooth. She carefully hung her walking costume in the wardrobe, but her chemise and drawers she flung into the washing hamper. She wanted clean undergarments, not the ones she had worn while listening to Jimmy.

  Amy closed the drapes and lay on her bed in the dim room, staring at the ceiling. Her stomach still felt unsettled, and her head had begun to ache. The thought that Jimmy might come to this house! That he might confront Sarah; might learn who Sarah was. And it would be her fault. Her fault for letting herself be persuaded to come to Auckland. Her fault for failing to think of the possibility that in so vast a metropolis as Auckland her path might cross Jimmy’s.

  When the bell rang for dinner, Amy got up and dressed herself. She splashed her face with cold water, and hoped that her agitation would not be visible.

  Sarah was already in the dining room when Amy went downstairs. She looked up, smiling, then her expression changed to concern.

  ‘Goodness, Amy, you don’t look at all well. How pale you are! You shouldn’t have got up.’

  ‘I’m all right,’ Amy said, trying to sound reassuring. ‘I’ve got a bit of a headache, that’s all.’

  ‘I kept you out too late last night, didn’t I, when we’d been out the night before as well? I’m so sorry—I should remember you’re not used to the hours I keep.’

  Amy was relieved to have Sarah assume such an innocuous reason for her quietness over dinner. She showed as much interest as she could muster in Sarah’s account of her own doings that afternoon, contributing little more than an occasional word or two.

  By the time they had gone through to the drawing room, where Alice brought their tea things on a tray, her head was pounding. She wondered how soon she could make her excuses and go upstairs without worrying Sarah.

  Sarah poured tea into their cups and handed one to Amy. ‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ she said, her eyes twinkling. ‘I’ve caught you in some mischief.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Don’t look so anxious!’ Sarah said with a smile. ‘I’m only teasing. Alice said she saw you in the park today. And she told me you were sitting with a gentleman. I think you’d better tell me just who the fortunate gentleman was.’ Amy hesitated, and Sarah’s smile faded slightly. ‘You did know the man, I hope,’ she said carefully. ‘Amy, you do realise that politeness
doesn’t oblige you to talk to complete strangers if they accost you?’

  ‘I knew him,’ Amy admitted.

  ‘And who was it?’ Sarah prompted, still looking amused.

  There was no avoiding it. ‘It was that man we were talking to last night. Mr Taylor.’

  Sarah pulled a face. ‘Ugh. What bad luck for you, running into him. He didn’t make himself too unpleasant, did he?’ When Amy did not respond, Sarah frowned. ‘Amy, has something happened? Did that awful man upset you?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Amy said, wishing she sounded more convincing. ‘It was nothing, really. I’d rather not have talked to him, that’s all. And I’d rather not talk about it now,’ she added, but the firm set of Sarah’s mouth told her there was little chance of the subject’s being allowed to lapse.

  ‘Really, you ought to be able to walk in the park without having to worry about the impertinence of a man like that. What was he doing there at that time of day, anyway? He should have been working, not hanging about the park making a nuisance of himself to ladies. Goodness knows his business could do with having some attention paid it, from what I hear. Did he have any excuse for being there?’

  ‘He…’ Amy could think of no safe answer that would not be a lie. ‘He wanted to talk to me.’

  ‘What?’ Sarah frowned in confusion. ‘But how did he know you’d be there?’

  Amy was aware of a growing feeling of dread. ‘He asked me last night. He said he wanted to meet me, and I thought of the park. We just talked for a little while, then I came back here. Please don’t worry about it, Sarah. I won’t see him again.’

  Sarah studied her with obvious unease. ‘Amy,’ she said slowly, ‘did you not think how inappropriate it was for you to agree to such a meeting with a man you barely know? A married man, at that. I’m aware he’s Mrs Leith’s brother, and no doubt he played on that association, but the fact remains that he’s almost a stranger to you. I realise you don’t know his reputation, but even so… it wasn’t quite sensible of you, darling.’