A Second Chance

by Shayne Parkinson

  Her nightdress felt cool and crisp against her skin. She seemed to have had a fresh one put on her while she had been asleep. The buttons down the bodice were being opened, and her aunt was nudging at Beth’s arms—no, she mustn’t take the baby away, Beth wanted to tell her, but before she could make her mouth form the words, she realised that Aunt Amy was just moving Beth’s arms to lift the baby a little higher.

  ‘There won’t be anything there yet, but this’ll help the milk come in,’ her aunt said. She brought the tiny, questing mouth close to one of Beth’s breasts.

  The baby nuzzled at her, licking at her nipple. It felt funny and strange and lovely. How clever her baby was, to know just what to do straight away. Beth looked up at her aunt, wanting to say this aloud, but she could not seem to get the words out.

  Aunt Amy smiled at her and nodded. ‘I know,’ she said.

  Beth looked back down at her baby. She was going to stay awake and watch her for whatever was left of the night. She felt as if she never wanted to close her eyes again, for fear of missing a moment’s opportunity to study this wondrous being.

  But her eyelids were drooping, refusing to obey her, and she felt her arms slackening their grasp. Aunt Amy was helping, holding the baby in place with her own arm under Beth’s.

  ‘You can go to sleep, Beth,’ Aunt Amy murmured close to her ear. ‘Baby will still be here when you wake up. It’s all right.’

  And it was all right. Everything was all right now. The baby had let go of Beth’s nipple, but she was still pressed close against her, warm and soft and immeasurably comforting. Beth let her eyes close.

  *

  She would have to stay in bed for one more month, Richard told her. They all seemed to think she might make a fuss about it, but it hurt so much to do anything, even to be washed and have a fresh nightdress put on her, that it was easy to agree to whatever meant she could move as little as possible.

  Amy looked after both Beth and the baby during the daytime, but if David was in the house when the baby needed to be fed, he assigned himself the task of carrying her to Beth. He would sit on the bed and watch her feeding, and when she had finished he would take his turn at cuddling her before putting her back in the cradle. After the first few days, when Beth had got used to the idea of letting anyone but herself hold her baby, she found she enjoyed watching them together, the baby tiny in David’s big hands. It was almost as nice as cuddling her herself. As moving became less painful, she would sometimes nestle against David while they held the baby between them. That, Beth thought, was the best thing of all.

  At night, Beth found that no matter how deeply she had felt herself to be sleeping, the moment the baby stirred she was wide awake. The same did not apply to David, who in spite of his good intentions would, if left alone, have slept until the little whimpers turned to full-blown wailing, but Beth soon discovered that a sharp jab of her elbow in David’s side solved that problem.

  When the baby was just over a week old, and Beth was finding herself less inclined to fall asleep without warning, she had David call Amy in one afternoon so that they could ask her opinion.

  ‘We can’t think of a name,’ Beth told her. ‘Well, not one that someone in the family hasn’t already got. It has to be something nice. Not too fancy, though, or people will make fun of it.’

  Rather to Beth’s surprise, her aunt had a suggestion at once.

  ‘What about Margaret?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s quite nice,’ said Beth. ‘What made you think of that one? Is it from one of your books.’

  Amy shook her head. ‘No, it was the name of your Uncle Charlie’s mother. She died when he was just a little boy. When Alexander was on the way, I told Uncle Charlie I’d name the baby after his mother if it was a girl. But of course I had another boy, and then after Alexander… well, there weren’t any more babies to name.’

  ‘Margaret,’ Beth said thoughtfully. ‘It’s a bit long, though, and I wouldn’t want people to call her Maggie. I don’t like that much. Not Meg, either—we had a dog called that once.’

  ‘Well,’ said Amy, ‘one of the books I read at Sarah’s had a girl called Meg in it. She had a baby girl, and they called her Margaret after her mother, but the family called her Daisy. I think it’s a sort of play on words—there are those little daisies called marguerites.’

  ‘Daisy.’ Beth tried the word out in her mouth. ‘She looks like a little flower, don’t you think? With her pretty face, and her hair so bright around it.’

  ‘Of course she does,’ said Amy.

  ‘What do you think, Davie?’ Beth asked.

  ‘I don’t know about that looking like a flower business,’ David admitted. ‘But Margaret sounds all right, especially if we can call her Daisy for short.’

  ‘All right, that’s decided,’ said Beth. ‘She’s to be Margaret Amy.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing her aunt’s eyes light up with pleasure.

  *

  As the month wore on, and Beth found herself gradually less likely to be met by a stab of pain every time she moved, she began to look forward to being allowed out of bed. It would mean she could start looking after Daisy herself, instead of having to watch as her aunt tended the baby. Aunt Amy’s friend Sarah had sent the most beautiful layette from Auckland; her aunt had spread out the tiny dresses and other garments on the bed for Beth to admire, but had suggested they wait until Beth was up and about before using the layette. Beth longed to put those pretty things on her baby with her own hands.

  She also longed to go outside again. She had spent the entire summer trapped indoors, and now autumn was half over. The thought of being out in the fresh air, feeling the sunshine on her upturned face, and going about with David as he checked the cows, was enticing. Her Jerseys would be calving in a few months; Beth wanted to see for herself how they were faring.

  Once she had allowed herself to look forward to such freedom, she became more and more frustrated at how long she still had to wait. The days seemed be dragging at an absurdly slow pace.

  ‘I’m feeling really well,’ she insisted to Richard whenever he called. A few lingering pains in places she preferred not to talk about with Richard did not seem reason enough to be trapped in the house. ‘Couldn’t I get up now?’

  But every time she asked, Richard would say, ‘I think we’ll wait the full month. It’s not much longer now,’ and David and Amy would both say she had better do what Richard said. It did not seem fair to have them all siding against her, even when she secretly admitted to herself that they might be right.

  At last came the day when Daisy was a month old. Richard listened to Beth’s chest, asked her some questions about how she was feeling, then nodded his head. ‘Yes, I think you can get up tomorrow,’ he announced. Beth cast a look of triumph at David. ‘I do want you to take things gently, though,’ Richard went on before Beth had had the chance to voice her delight. ‘You’ve been confined to bed for a long time now, you’ll find you tire easily at first. Don’t try to do too much.’

  ‘She won’t,’ David answered for her. ‘I’ll keep an eye on her. I want you to get back to your old self again, Beth, not wear yourself out.’

  Richard gave David what struck Beth as an odd sort of smile; it seemed almost sad. ‘Dave, could I have a word with you before I leave?’ he asked.

  ‘All right,’ said David. ‘I’ll walk you out to your gig, then.’

  Beth heard the gig rattling away a few minutes later, but it was some time after that before David came back into the bedroom. The look on his face made her catch her breath. He closed the door behind him, sat on the edge of the bed, and told her what Richard had said.

  *

  Frank was checking the fences in a paddock near the road when he saw Richard approaching.

  ‘You’ve been to see Beth, have you?’ he asked. ‘She’s looking good now—Daisy’s coming on well, too.’

  ‘Yes, they’re both doing well,’ Richard said, though he sounded unconvinced by his own words.


  ‘You want to come up to the house for a cup of tea? Lizzie’ll have the kettle on.’

  ‘No, thank you, I’d better be on my way. Please make my excuses to Lizzie. Frank, how old is Dave?’

  ‘Eh?’ Frank said, startled by the unexpected question. ‘He’s a year younger than Maudie, I think.’

  ‘Nineteen, then. It’s a heavy responsibility for a boy of nineteen.’

  ‘Having a wife and kid already, you mean? Well, yes, it is. But Beth’s a sensible girl, she’s a real help to him.’

  ‘Yes, of course she is, but I rather think there are matters that he feels are his responsibility alone. If you can spare the time, I think it would be a good idea for you to pay him a visit in the next day or so. He could do with a father’s advice just now, and I don’t think anyone could be better fitted than you to give it.’

  ‘I might pop over tomorrow, then. What’s up with him?’ Frank frowned, taking in Richard’s grave expression. ‘There’s something you’re not letting on about, isn’t there? Something to do with Beth.’

  ‘There are things I can’t speak of, Frank. I have to respect the privacy of those involved—yes, even when it’s family,’ he said, seeing the protest on Frank’s lips. ‘But Beth’s quite well at the moment—in fact I’ve just told her that she can get up and about tomorrow—and Daisy’s a picture of health. Beyond that, I’d rather leave it up to Dave to decide just what he wants to discuss with you.’

  There was clearly no point in trying to press Richard for more. Frank took comfort from Richard’s assurances that Beth and Daisy were both well, and resolved to visit David the very next morning.

  *

  Frank found David in one of the sheds, sanding down a flat piece of timber. Four long, thin lengths of wood were leaning against a bench.

  ‘What are you up to there, Dave?’ Frank asked.

  There was a weary set to David’s mouth and eyes; not at all surprising in the father of a small baby, but signs of strain that had not been there a few days before.

  ‘I’m making a sort of table thing. It’s so Beth’ll be able to dress Daisy and change her without having to bend down. She’s not meant to bend over in case it hurts her.’

  Frank studied David’s carpentry, impressed. ‘Eight kids, and I never thought of anything like that. That’s a good idea.’

  ‘I want to look after her,’ David said, as if to himself.

  ‘Of course you do.’ Frank seated himself on a sturdy-looking stack of wood to watch David at work. ‘I was talking to Richard yesterday,’ he said, careful to sound casual. ‘He was on his way back from here.’

  David looked up from his task. ‘So you know what he told me.’

  ‘No, I don’t. Richard won’t let on about things to do with doctoring, even when it’s family. And you don’t have to tell me, either. But if you want to talk, I’m listening.’ He leaned back against the wall of the shed and waited.

  David seemed to be giving all his attention to a roughness in the wood, rubbing vigorously at it. The sandpaper slowed to a halt, and he turned to face Frank, a haunted look in his eyes.

  ‘Richard said having the baby’s just about sure to have made Beth’s heart weaker,’ he began in a low voice. ‘He said she’ll be all right as long as…’ He trailed off, then the words came out in a rush. ‘He said she mustn’t ever have another baby. He said if she does, it might kill her. I asked him, and he said women can keep having babies till they’re over forty. Beth’s only seventeen now. That’s thirty years! Thirty years for me to mess things up. And it’d be my fault. If I mess up, I’ll have killed Beth.’

  Frank stared at him, shaken. He wished Richard did not take his duty of respecting confidences quite so seriously, so that Frank might have been prepared for this revelation.

  This was his Beth whose life might be at risk. A small part of Frank wanted to encourage David to think that it would be his fault if she ever conceived again; to make him even more fearful of the very idea. But one look at David’s eyes told him that the boy had no need of anyone else to make him feel the burden; he was being more than hard enough on himself.

  ‘That’s a hard thing for you to hear, Dave. I don’t know what to tell you. I wish I did.’

  David dropped his gaze. ‘Thought you might want to take her back home once you found out.’

  ‘I suppose I do, in a way. She’s my daughter, and I’ll never stop wanting to look after her. But that wouldn’t be right.’ Frank gave a rueful smile. ‘Even if I could talk her into it, and we both know I’d have no show of that. Beth wants to be here with you, and I know you want to take good care of her.’

  ‘But what if I don’t take care of her?’ David said, raising his eyes to show that same haunted look. ‘What if I kill her?’

  ‘Don’t go saying things like “kill”. It’s no good talking like that.’ Frank racked his brains for a response that would not be completely inadequate. ‘You know, your Aunt Lizzie was really crook years ago, when Joe was a baby. I don’t know if you’d remember—no, you were just a baby yourself, now I come to think about it. Your ma had Joey up here for a long while, she was feeding the two of you at the same time.

  ‘Your Aunt Lizzie had this thing wrong with her insides—she was really bad with it. I thought I was going to lose her. It was the worst time of my life.’ The memory still had the power to make his chest tighten. He had to wait a moment to recover himself before he could go on.

  ‘Well, she came right in the end—and that’s as much thanks to your ma as anyone else. But I was still worried about her, she’d been that crook. So I decided she’d better not have another baby for a good long time, give her the chance to get her strength back properly.’ He snorted at his own misplaced confidence. ‘We had another baby before the year was out. So I’ve no business getting all high and mighty with anyone else. But you know what, Dave? That was how we came to have Beth. I know this sounds a bit dopey, but it’s as if… well, it’s as if it was meant to be. It turned out all right, because we were meant to have Beth.’

  David had listened politely, but Frank could see that his story had not made much of an impression. ‘I know it’s not the same thing, Dave, and… well, I don’t know what I’m trying to say,’ he admitted. ‘But all you can do is your best. That’s all anyone can ask of you. I trust you to do that—I think you might make a better job of it than I did, come to that.’

  David made a movement somewhere between a shrug and a shake of his head, but said nothing.

  It was all the encouragement Frank could find to offer, and he knew it was not enough. He let the subject rest, and thought of one that might raise David’s spirits.

  ‘You know, I’ve been thinking lately, I never did get around to giving you and Beth a wedding present.’

  David roused himself enough to respond. ‘But you paid for the wedding. You don’t need to give us a present as well.’

  ‘There was precious little needed paying for, just a bit of food. I didn’t even get to buy Beth a new dress. No, I’ve thought of what I want to give you. How about we build you a new house?’

  He had David’s attention now. ‘A… a new house?’ he echoed. ‘You mean it?’

  ‘Well, I remember throwing off at you over the state of this one when you asked for Beth. So I thought I should do something about it. We won’t be able to make a start for a few weeks, not till we dry the cows off, but with you and me and the boys all on it, it shouldn’t take too long. What do you say?’

  ‘That’d be really good. I’d like to have it a bit nicer for Beth. I can put in some money,’ David added quickly. ‘Sarah—that’s Ma’s friend in Auckland—she sent some money for a wedding present, and we’ve only spent a bit of it so far. We bought a new bed out of it.’ He looked away, but not before Frank caught the hint of a blush.

  ‘No, I won’t take a penny of your money—it wouldn’t be much of a present if I let you pay for it. You can spend it on some more furniture when the house is ready. I’ll tell you one thing I
’ll put towards it, though,’ Frank said as a thought struck him. ‘There’s some money I’ve had sitting around for a while, because I’ve never been easy in my mind over it. I lent your ma a bit when Mal wanted to go away to the war—he needed it for his gear and all that. I told her there was no rush to pay it back, and of course when we got the bad news I didn’t want to let her pay it back at all.’ Belatedly, it occurred to Frank that reminding David of his brother’s death was not likely to raise his spirits, but it was too late to stop now.

  ‘But she wouldn’t take no for an answer, she kept turning up once a quarter with her money. I found out she was putting all the money your grandpa left her towards it—I managed to put a stop to that, anyway. I told her I’d only take ten shillings a time, and she kept at it till she’d given me back the lot. And I’ve had it sitting in a drawer ever since. I couldn’t give it back to her, and I couldn’t spend it on myself. You’ll be doing me a favour if you let me put Mal’s money towards a new house for you and Beth.’

  ‘I never thought of getting a new house,’ David said, sounding a little dazed at the notion. ‘Thanks, Uncle Frank.’

  ‘Well, it’s not going to be a mansion. Two bedrooms should do you to start with, so you’ve got one for your ma as well. I can give you a hand putting another one on when…’ When you have more kids he had been on the point of saying; he caught himself in time to change it to, ‘when Daisy gets big enough to need a room of her own,’ but wished he had not raised the subject of bedrooms.

  David’s shoulders slumped. ‘Maybe we should build one on for me,’ he muttered.

  ‘Dave, don’t…’ Frank began, but he could think of nothing useful to say.

  22

  When Frank shared the news with Lizzie, she was as shocked as he had been. She considered the fact that Beth would not have any more children as a greater tragedy than it had struck Frank, but she agreed with him that the responsibility of ensuring Beth did not conceive again was a heavy burden on David.