Settling the Account
Read Settling the Account Online
Authors: Shayne Parkinson
Tags: #family, #historical, #victorian, #new zealand, #farming, #edwardian, #farm life
B
ook Three
Shayne Parkinson
Copyright © S. L. Parkinson 2006
Smashwords Edition
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Contents
May 1895
Lizzie’s confident assertion that she would
find out what had happened to Ann could not reassure Amy, much as
she longed to believe it. She told Lizzie the little she could
about Mrs Crossley, but she returned to Charlie’s house
low-spirited and dejected.
There was no use giving into morbid
thoughts, and her life had no room for the luxury of self-pity. But
her mind kept returning to the fate of that tiny baby. Where was
she? What had become of her? The nagging fears troubled her sleep
each night, making the days seem long and weary.
It was difficult enough to do her work and
keep Charlie in the best temper he was capable of; protecting
Malcolm from the consequences of his own foolishness was an added
burden, and one that was becoming heavier. More and more often
David came home from school by himself, with Malcolm arriving some
time later usually grubby and breathless. ‘With my mates’ was all
the reply she could get out of him when she asked where he had
been, and with his next school examination many months away any
attempt at frightening him into going to school more regularly was
useless.
‘Your father’s going to find out one of
these days,’ was the worst threat Amy could muster, but Malcolm
brushed her warnings aside.
‘No, he won’t,’ he said, with a confidence
Amy was sure was misplaced. ‘He doesn’t know if I’m at school or
not.’
The day she had dreaded came not long after
the revelation of the baby farming scandal. David arrived home on
his own again.
‘Where’s Mal?’ Amy asked, more out of habit
than in the hope of a useful answer.
‘He’ll be home soon,’ David said, and Amy
let it rest at that. She devoted a few minutes to helping David go
over the words he had been given for spelling practice, and he soon
had them off pat.
‘That’s good, Dave,’ she told him. ‘You’re
getting on really well at school, aren’t you?’
‘Am I?’ David beamed at her praise, then
grimaced. ‘I don’t like Miss Metcalf. She just growls all the time.
Even when you do good she doesn’t say anything, just doesn’t growl
as much.’
‘Well, I bet she doesn’t find much to growl
a clever boy like you about.’ Out of habit, Amy glanced over her
shoulder for any sight of Charlie before drawing David close for a
forbidden hug. ‘You make me very proud, the way you’re such a good
boy.’
David put his arms around her neck and gave
her a wet kiss. ‘I like being with you, Ma. You never growl. Not
like Pa—he’s always grumpy. I’m scared of him sometimes.’
‘Your father’s only hard on you when he
thinks you need it,’ Amy said. ‘You mustn’t be frightened of him.
He loves you, really.’
‘Does he?’ David sounded dubious. ‘I wish I
could go out with Mal. He says he has fun with his mates.’
Amy held him more tightly. ‘Please don’t,
Davie. Don’t get in trouble with your father.’
‘But Mal says it’s
fun
. School’s not
fun.’
‘Please, Davie,’ Amy pleaded. ‘Please
don’t.’ She felt tears starting from her eyes.
‘Don’t cry, Ma,’ David said, distressed. ‘I
don’t want you to cry.’
Amy forced herself to smile. ‘I’m not
crying, see? Not with my good boy to keep me company.’ She gave
David a last kiss before returning to her baking.
The time went quickly with David prattling
away about his day. As she worked, Amy listened for the sound of
hooves that would mean Malcolm had come home, but the hands of the
clock turned inexorably with no sign of his return. He had never
been this late before. Today he might not get home before Charlie
came in for his afternoon tea.
She heard steps too heavy to be Malcolm’s
coming up to the porch, and knew her disquiet had been justified.
‘That’s your father. You’d better go outside or he’ll ask where Mal
is. Get Biff off the chain and take him for a walk.’
Amy hurried David through into the parlour,
from where he could get out the front door unnoticed by his father,
then made an effort to appear calm as Charlie came into the
kitchen. She needed all her wits about her to try and protect
Malcolm; instead she felt dull with the heaviness of spirit that
had hung over her ever since she had been caught by the fear her
daughter might be dead.
Charlie looked tired. He had been moving the
cows to another paddock across ground made soft by the wintry
weather, and their hooves had churned the pasture into a boggy
mess. His trousers and boots were caked with mud. He slumped into
his chair and took hold of the cup of hot tea Amy placed in front
of him, grabbing at a scone with his free hand. Weariness made
Charlie more taciturn than usual, but did not normally improve his
temper.
She refilled his cup when he finished it,
and buttered more scones as the plate grew empty, all the time
listening for Malcolm’s return. When she caught the sound of hoof
beats she was momentarily relieved; then she heard wheels. It was
not Malcolm, but someone driving a single-horse carriage.
Amy got to the door before a loud rap
sounded, and opened it to reveal a grim-faced Miss Metcalf. The
teacher all but pushed past her before Amy had the chance to invite
her in. She stood in front of Charlie and glared down at him.
‘Mr Stewart, it’s not good enough,’ she
announced to a dumbfounded Charlie. ‘I’ve turned a blind eye to
this for quite long enough. It’s to stop.’
Charlie turned to Amy. ‘What’s she on
about?’
‘What’s wrong, Miss Metcalf?’ Amy asked. ‘Is
it something to do with the boys?’ Or, more precisely, something to
do with Malcolm. It must be Malcolm.
‘Now, I know you farmers need your sons’
help from time to time,’ Miss Metcalf said, ignoring Amy. ‘As I
say, I’ve turned a blind eye. An odd day here and there when you’re
particularly busy, that’s easily overlooked. But not the way you’re
carrying on with that son of yours. Mr Stewart, do you know how
many days Malcolm has come to school in the last two weeks?’
She answered her own question without giving
him time to reply. ‘Three,’ she announced. ‘Three days in two
weeks! I have to warn you, I’m not putting up with it any longer.
There are laws in this country, Mr Stewart—laws that say you have
to send your children to school, farm work or no farm work. If you
continue flouting the law, I shall have to report it to the
authorities.’
Charlie gazed at her, open-mouthed, then
turned back to Amy. ‘Is she saying the boy hasn’t been going to
school? Where the hell’s he been, then?’
‘Oh, don’t try pretending ignorance, Mr
Stewart,’ Miss Metcalf said. ‘That won’t cut any ice with me. I
expect to see that boy at school regularly from now on.’ She swept
out of the house, her skirts swishing as she went.
Charlie sat in stunned silence for a few
moments. ‘What’s he been up to?’ he demanded of Amy when he had
recovered his voice. ‘Where’s he been going?’
‘Charlie, don’t get upset—Miss Metcalf’s
probably making it sound worse than it is. I don’t think she likes
Mal.’
‘I’ll teach that boy to go making a fool of
me. I’ll not have that woman coming into my house lecturing me.
Sneak off behind my back, will he? I’ll give him a lesson he’ll
remember.’
‘Don’t, Charlie,’ Amy said, trying
desperately to think of excuses for Malcolm. If only Charlie did
not make such a fuss over the merest trifles, and if only Malcolm
did not give him so many occasions for wrath. She vaguely
remembered a few occasions when her own father had found that Harry
had played truant; a few strokes of his belt and a stern warning
not to do it again, along with ill-concealed amusement at Harry’s
cheek in thinking he could get away with it, and the matter was
over. It was never like that with Charlie.
Charlie crossed the room and flung open the
back door. ‘Where is he?’ While Amy was still trying to think how
to tell him that she had no idea just where Malcolm was, a sudden
bark betrayed the whereabouts of David and Biff.
‘Dave! Get in here,’ Charlie shouted. Amy
stood behind him and peered around his arm to see David dragging
his feet towards the house, Biff prancing excitedly at his heels.
‘Hurry up,’ Charlie called. ‘You can leave that mongrel outside,
too.’
David tied Biff up, taking much longer over
the task than he needed to, and walked up to the back door.
‘Where’s your brother?’ Charlie asked,
looking back in the direction David had come from.
‘He’ll be back soon,’ David said, his eyes
darting around as if looking for an escape route.
‘Back? What are you talking about? You mean
he’s not here? Where is he, then?’
‘He’ll be back soon,’ David repeated like
one reciting a well-learned lesson.
‘Don’t keep saying the same thing like a
bloody parrot,’ Charlie growled. He snatched David by the lower arm
and yanked the boy up the steps and into the kitchen, then leaned
his face close. ‘Where’s your brother?’
David looked dangerously close to tears, but
Amy resisted the urge to intervene, knowing she would only make
Charlie angrier. ‘I-I don’t know. He didn’t tell me where he was
going.’
With his penchant for getting into strife,
Malcolm chose that moment to rush in the door, breathless from
having run up from the horse paddock and with his clothes far
grubbier than a day at school could have made them. His eyes
widened in alarm at finding his father in the house. For a moment
he seemed undecided whether to make a run for it or to try and
brazen it out, but Charlie soon took the choice out of his
hands.
He let go of David, leaving the boy to rub
his sore arm where Charlie had held it in a vice-like grip, and
took hold of Malcolm by both shoulders. ‘Where the hell have you
been?’
‘At s-school,’ Malcolm said, his eyes
darting over to meet David’s, obviously trying to guess how much
his brother might have told their father.
The back of Charlie’s hand lashed against
Malcolm’s face. ‘Lie to me, will you?’ Charlie snarled. ‘Think you
can make a fool of me and get away with it?’
‘He only told a lie because he’s scared,
Charlie,’ Amy said. ‘Let him say he’s sorry. You’re sorry, aren’t
you, Mal?’
‘I’ll make him sorry, all right,’ Charlie
said before Malcolm had the chance to say a word. ‘You needn’t
think you can go sneaking off behind my back. You little
bugger!’
He gave Malcolm a shove that sent the boy
staggering backwards, then grabbed him by the arm and pulled him
upright just in time to stop him falling to the floor. ‘I’ll teach
you a lesson you’ll not be forgetting in a hurry, boy,’ Charlie
growled. ‘I’ll have the skin off your backside before I’m finished
with you.’
‘Don’t, Charlie,’ Amy pleaded. ‘He won’t do
it again, will you, Mal? Let him tell you he’s sorry.’