He hesitated for what might have been a fraction of a second, but to Amy it felt an age. ‘Of course he does!’ Beth said fiercely. She prodded David’s arm. ‘Davie, tell Aunt Amy you do!’
‘Ye-yes. Yes, I do. But…’ He shook his head helplessly, unable to give voice to all the questions clamouring to be asked.
‘What a horrible man,’ Beth breathed. ‘Just leaving you like that, with a baby coming! But what did you do, Aunt Amy? You must have been so frightened.’
‘Yes, I was. I didn’t know what to do. I was too scared to tell anyone—that was silly, of course, I knew they’d find out sooner or later. Your ma was the first person I told, Beth. It gave her an awful shock, but she was so good about it. She wanted to help me tell Pa, but I kept putting it off, and saying it had to be the right time. As if there could be a right time for something like that.’ She fixed her eyes on Beth as she spoke, only risking an occasional glance at David. It was easier to face Beth’s earnest look of sympathy than the bewildered expression David wore.
‘Then Aunt Susannah noticed, and Pa…’ The memory of the pain and confusion in her father’s face robbed Amy of speech for several moments. ‘He was so upset, and I knew it was my fault. It was… it was a bad time.’
She swallowed, and went on. ‘I knew it upset Pa just looking at me after that.’ Amy saw Beth nod her understanding. ‘I couldn’t talk to him about it, that would only have upset him more. I didn’t have anyone to talk to—your ma wasn’t allowed to come and see me once everyone found out.
‘Then one day I was wandering around the farm, just trying to keep out of everyone’s way so they wouldn’t have to look at me. I wasn’t thinking about where I was going, and I ended up near the boundary fence. Your father saw me, Davie, and he could tell there was a baby on the way. He must have thought… I don’t know. We never really talked about that.
‘Well, he came over a bit later to see Pa, and he asked if he could marry me.’
‘And you said yes?’ Beth asked.
‘I didn’t want to at first. I was frightened. I didn’t really know him, I didn’t know what he might… But Susannah said—I mean, I thought it over, and… I’d upset everyone so much with what I’d done, especially Pa. And Pa was so happy at the thought of me getting married—it was as if I could make it up to him, make up a bit for the bad things I’d done. So I decided I would. I said yes.’
She saw David’s brow furrow. ‘So Mal… was that Mal?’ he asked, getting the words out with obvious difficulty.
Amy shook her head. ‘No, Mal was your father’s son. No, he said he wanted to marry me, but he didn’t want the baby, not when it wasn’t his. And I didn’t know… you can’t know what it’ll feel like to have your own baby. Not till you see it there in your arms.’
‘That’s right,’ Beth whispered.
‘So the grownups talked about it among themselves, and I just went along with what they decided. Aunt Susannah organised it all. She took me up to Auckland, and I stayed there till the baby was born. I had a little girl. The prettiest little girl you’ve ever seen—as pretty as Daisy.’
Again she had to pause for some time before she could bring herself to go on. Beth was leaning forward, listening avidly, while David still looked dazed.
‘I was allowed to keep her till she was nearly three weeks old. Then I woke up one day and she was gone. The nurses had taken her away while I was asleep, and she’d been sent off to be adopted. They told me she was going to have a new mother. A good mother, not a bad girl like me.’
Beth rose from the sofa and took a step towards the bedroom all in one movement, as if afraid Daisy might have been spirited away from under her nose. She turned and stared at Amy, her mouth an O of horror. ‘They took your baby?’ she breathed. ‘How could you bear it, Aunt Amy?’
Amy spread out her hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘I don’t know. It was like having my heart torn out. I felt as if I wanted to die. But I found out you don’t die just from wanting to. You just carry on, because you have to.’
‘But it wasn’t fair.’ Tears were streaming unchecked down Beth’s face. She crossed the room and sank to the floor, resting her head on Amy’s lap. Amy stroked her hair, then retrieved a clean handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at Beth’s cheeks.
Beth raised her head, sniffed, and reached out a hand to David. ‘Come here, Davie.’ When he did not immediately respond, she took hold of his hand and tugged at it until he came and sat on the floor at her side.
Amy looked from one upturned face to the other, Beth’s eyes still brimming with tears and David’s expression unreadable. ‘I came back home, and I got married. Mal was born the year after my little girl, then you came along, Davie. I tried to make the best of things—and there were good things, as well as the hard ones. Especially you—and Mal, of course,’ she added belatedly. ‘But not a day went by when I didn’t think about her, and wonder what was happening to her, and if she was happy.’
‘Of course you did,’ Beth murmured. She placed her hand over Amy’s and squeezed it.
‘And then last year the most wonderful thing happened.’ Amy felt her heart lift as she recalled that day. ‘She found me again. She sat here in this very room—just where you two are sitting—and she told me she was my daughter. My little girl, come back to me after all those years.’ She closed her eyes for a moment to savour the memory, then opened them to meet David’s. ‘It’s Sarah, Davie. She’s your sister.’
Beth had her hand up to her mouth, while David’s was hanging open in astonishment. ‘Sister?’ he echoed. ‘I’ve got a sister?’
‘Yes, you have.’
It was done now. She had offered up her secret, and it was in David’s hands how he chose to judge her. Amy felt a sudden weariness, and an overwhelming need to be alone. She freed her hand from Beth’s grasp and stood up. ‘I’m going to bed now.’
Beth rose, took hold of Amy’s arm and walked with her to the door, so solicitous that Amy realised she meant to put her to bed. ‘I’m all right, Beth. You stay here and talk to Dave.’ She was sure they would be discussing what she had told them well into the night.
She hovered in the doorway, hoping to catch David’s eye. He was staring down at the floor, but as she watched he lifted his gaze and met hers.
‘That’s why Pa used to talk how he did, isn’t it?’ he said slowly. ‘Calling you names and all that.’
‘He stopped doing that in the end. But yes, that’s why. He knew before he asked to marry me what had happened, but… well, it was hard for him.’
David nodded. Amy stood and waited, wondering if he would speak again.
‘He… he shouldn’t have said those things,’ David said at last. ‘He shouldn’t have talked to you like that. And… and I’m glad about Sarah and everything,’ he finished in a rush.
Relief flooded through her. ‘Thank you, Davie. That means a lot to me.’
25
It was now a settled thing that Amy would go to Auckland, but there seemed any number of reasons that she should be in no hurry to do so. Beth and David wanted her to be there when the first Jersey calves were born on the farm; something they were a good deal more excited about than she was.
‘And you should stay for Davie’s birthday,’ Beth urged. ‘Twenty’s quite a big one.’
Amy drew the line when they suggested she wait until the new house was completed; at the current rate of progress, she was not convinced that would happen before the end of the year. But she let herself be persuaded to wait till after David’s birthday. That was less than two months away; it would be easy enough to wait those few more weeks. In the meantime she and Sarah were exchanging letters more frequently than ever. Amy could tell that Sarah was looking forward to the imminent move with as keen anticipation as she herself was.
Amy was quietly relieved when David added his own urging to Beth’s. In the first days after her revelation he had been a little subdued, and there was still sometimes an awkwardness in his manner toward
s her, but she could now allow herself to believe he still cared for her. She felt a weight had been lifted now that David knew her secret.
Her move to Auckland was never far from her mind. She was thinking about it one afternoon, enjoying the thought of seeing Sarah again and imagining the long talks they would have, catching up on the things that had happened to them both in the months they had been apart, and which had not made their way into letters. Beth was out on the farm with David, having taken Daisy with her, so Amy had the kitchen to herself. As well as scones and biscuits, she had made a small batch of the fudge that had always been a favourite treat for her boys.
She moved about the kitchen, clearing up after her baking, the room and the tasks so familiar that her mind was left free to wander. So caught up was she in her thoughts that the knock on the door took her by surprise. She had not heard the sound of hooves or wheels, and when family members visited they did not wait to have the door opened for them.
She peeped out the window, but there was no sign of a horse; her visitors must have arrived on foot. Wondering who it could possibly be, Amy opened the door…
…and clutched unsteadily at the doorpost for support. For Malcolm was dead and buried half a world away. How could he be standing there on the bottom step, scowling at her in the way she remembered so well? But not the sixteen-year-old Malcolm she had seen riding away on that fateful night; this was Malcolm as a little boy, before he had even started school.
For the first time, she became aware that a young woman was standing beside the red-headed child, holding his hand firmly as if afraid he might run off. ‘What… who…’ Amy began, then trailed off, unable to find words.
The young woman’s face softened in evident relief. ‘He’s like him, isn’t he?’ she said eagerly. ‘He’s just like his dad.’
‘His dad?’ Amy echoed. She gave her head a small shake. ‘You’d better come in,’ she said, opening the door more widely.
‘Come on, Eddie,’ the woman coaxed. The child gave Amy a dubious look, then allowed himself to be led up the steps and into the kitchen. Just inside the door he came to a sudden stop. ‘No,’ he said, thrusting out his lower lip in a deeper scowl, and looking more like Malcolm than ever. ‘I don’t like it here.’
‘Please, Eddie,’ the woman pleaded. ‘Be a good boy for Mama—you said you’d be good.’
With an effort, Amy took her eyes from the small boy to his mother. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, with brown hair and a broad face, wind-reddened after the long trek she must have had. The hand that was not clutching Eddie’s carried a shapeless bundle tied with a length of rope. Her boots and the hem of her dress were caked in mud, her hair was escaping from its pins, and she looked close to exhaustion.
Eddie held his ground stubbornly. With a flash of inspiration, Amy darted to one of her cake tins and returned with a slab of fudge on a plate.
‘I bet you like fudge, don’t you, Eddie,’ she said, holding out the plate so he could see what was on it. ‘Come and sit at the table to eat it, then Mama can sit down and have a rest.’
He looked at her doubtfully, but the fudge won him over. He allowed his mother to lead him to the table, sat down, and took a large bite.
The young woman sank into a chair at his side, letting her bundle drop to the floor. ‘It’s a long way out here. And I had to carry Eddie on the last bit, he said his feet were hurting. He’s been growing that fast, he probably needs new boots again.’
Amy took her own seat and stared at the two of them. ‘Is this… is he really…’ She hardly dared ask the question, for fear the answer might be “no”.
‘He’s Mal’s son,’ the woman said, and Amy’s heart leapt. ‘Thank God he looks like him—they wouldn’t let me put Mal’s name on his birth certificate.’
‘But how—I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name,’ said Amy.
‘I’m Milly Dobson. I know you’re Mal’s ma, I used to see you in town sometimes when me and my ma lived here.’
‘And you and Mal…’ Amy looked at Eddie, but his attention was completely devoted to the fudge. ‘I didn’t… he never…’ She shook her head helplessly.
‘We went around together, right up to when Mal went off to the war. Me and Ma lived in Elliot Street, around behind the carpenter’s yard. Mal and his mates used to hang around there at nights, drinking and stuff, and some of them’d race their horses and jump the fence, things like that. I’d go out there when Ma was asleep and watch them, and give them cheek if they saw me. Then I started hanging around with them.’
‘I knew Mal sneaked into town some nights, but I never knew there were girls there,’ Amy said, still finding it difficult to think straight.
‘I was the only one,’ Milly said, a mixture of defiance and pride in her voice. ‘I went with a couple of the other blokes before Mal—Eddie’s Mal’s, though,’ she added quickly.
‘I can see that,’ Amy said, careful to keep any disapproval out of her voice. This young woman was the mother of Malcolm’s child; that covered a multitude of sins. ‘It’s written all over his face.’
Eddie finished off the fudge, slid from his chair and climbed onto his mother’s lap, from where he watched Amy
‘I couldn’t put Mal down as his father, ’cause we weren’t married, but I put it in his name. He’s Edmund Malcolm—Edmund after a little brother I had, he died when he was only two or three. And Malcolm for his dad. They couldn’t stop me giving him his dad’s name.’ Milly stroked Eddie’s hair.
‘They were a rough lot, most of those blokes,’ she said, pulling a face. ‘I didn’t like them much. Especially that Liam Feenan—he tried to get me to go with him once, but I just wouldn’t. Mal was the pick of them,’ she said proudly.
It seemed to Amy a dubious honour to be considered the best among a group led by Liam Feenan, but she kept that thought to herself.
‘Was Mal really eighteen?’ Milly asked.
‘Eighteen? No, he was only sixteen when he… when he passed away.’
‘I thought as much. He told me he was eighteen—that’s just because I was eighteen, I reckon. He didn’t want to let on that he was younger than me.’ Milly gave a conspiratorial grin. ‘He told me he’d been with girls before, too, but I could tell he hadn’t. I just about had to tell him where to put the thing the first time we did it.’
There was no denying it: Milly was not a girl Amy would have chosen to have in her house, let alone as someone who might have been her daughter-in-law.
‘He was like a big kid, Mal was,’ Milly said, smiling fondly. ‘He wasn’t like the other blokes. He was sort of wild, you know? Never scared of anything. When he was riding that horse of his he’d have a go at jumping anything—if he fell off he’d just laugh, and if he made it he’d be that excited. He put his whole self into things. He was the same between the sheets,’ she added smugly. ‘He never held back there, either.’
Amy winced. She searched for a polite way of suggesting to Milly that this was not an appropriate subject of conversation, but nothing came to mind that would not sound like condemnation. ‘Mal was always very good with horses,’ she said, her voice sounding prim in her own ears.
‘That’s my dad’s name, Mal is,’ Eddie put in. ‘He could ride a big horse.’
‘That’s right, Eddie,’ Amy said, settling gratefully on the distraction.
‘He was the best rider in the whole world,’ Eddie said.
Amy smiled. ‘Well, I don’t know about that. But yes, he was very good. He won a special race once, and there were much bigger boys than him in it.’
Eddie was staring avidly at her. It was clear that Milly had made his father a hero to him. When Amy glanced from Eddie to Milly, she saw the same eager expression in Milly’s brown eyes that was lighting up Eddie’s blue ones. Whatever Milly might lack in social graces, there was no doubting she had genuinely cared for Malcolm.
Amy heard voices outside the door, and it opened to admit David and Beth, with Daisy in David’s arms. David
and Beth seemed to have been in the middle of an animated conversation, but they fell silent at the unusual sight of strangers in the house. David nodded politely to Milly, turned to Eddie and blinked in surprise.
‘Milly, this is my son Dave,’ said Amy. ‘And his wife, Beth, and Daisy’s their little girl. This is Milly Dobson, you two. And this is Eddie.’
‘He looks just like…’ David turned a questioning face to Amy.
Amy nodded. ‘Yes, Dave. Eddie’s Mal’s son.’
David sank into a chair, Daisy held in one arm. Beth gave a quick glance at them all, then crossed to the bench. ‘I’ll put the jug on,’ she said.
‘So… so you’re Mal’s girl,’ David said when he had recovered the use of his voice.
‘You knew about this?’ Amy asked, astonished.
‘No, I didn’t really… I mean, Mal said he had a girl, but I thought…’ He trailed off awkwardly.
Milly stiffened. ‘He never paid me for it, if that’s what you’re getting at.’
‘No! I didn’t mean that! I just thought… well, I thought he might have been making it up.’ David suddenly found it necessary to bend low over Daisy and fuss with the edge of her sleeve.
‘So you thought he couldn’t get a girl of his own?’ Milly said. ‘Just because he didn’t have a pretty face as if he was a girl himself?’
‘Of course I didn’t! I just—’
‘Dave was only fourteen when Mal went away,’ Amy interposed before David could dig a bigger hole for himself. ‘He wasn’t thinking about girls at all. I didn’t think Mal was, either. I’m glad he was,’ she said, studying Eddie as he sat on his mother’s lap and surveyed the room’s occupants. ‘But it’s been five years, Milly—why didn’t you come to us before?’
‘I couldn’t while Mal’s old man was around. Not with the way him and Mal hated each other.’
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