Settling the Account (16 page)

‘Those boys who knocked down his haystack?
Now, that was a bad business—I heard one of them threatened the
poor minister with a knife.’

‘I think Mal was with them—I’m almost sure
he was. He sneaked out after dark, then he stayed out all night.
And he came back all dirty and stinking of drink. As soon as I
heard what’d happened in town I knew that’s where Mal must have
been. And he took David with him.’ She clenched her fists at the
remembered hurt and anger.

‘David too! Oh, my poor girl, what a time
you’ve been having with the pair of them.’

‘No, Dave’s all right,’ Amy said. ‘Mal
talked him into going out with him that night, but Davie promised
me he’ll never do anything like that again. I think he was more
scared than anything, poor love. I don’t need to worry about him.
Just Mal.’

She sighed. ‘I haven’t done much of a job
with Mal. I’ve tried my best, but he just won’t take any notice of
me. I’ve never been a very good mother to him.’

‘You’re being too hard on yourself,’ Mrs
Coulson protested. ‘Boys can be a trial—I should know, I had two of
them to bring up on my own. They need a firm hand—at least you’ve
got your husband around for that.’

Amy shook her head. ‘Charlie couldn’t be any
harder on Mal without killing him. He’s always expected so much of
him.’ She frowned, musing. ‘Charlie waited a long time for a son,
and I think he must have thought everything would be just right
when he got one. He wants Mal to be perfect—he always has, right
from when Mal was just a little fellow. So whenever Mal does
anything wrong, Charlie jumps on him. He’s given him some awful
hidings.’

‘I think any father would be angry with his
son for sneaking off at night and getting up to that sort of thing.
I can’t say I blame Mr Stewart for that.’

‘Charlie doesn’t know about it,’ Amy
confessed.

‘I’m not sure you should keep something like
that to yourself, dear,’ Mrs Coulson said carefully.

‘I have to.’ Amy closed her eyes for a
moment, then went on in a steadier voice. ‘I don’t ever tell on
Mal. No, don’t tell me I should. I mightn’t be much of a mother to
him, but I’m doing my best. Mal gets plenty of hidings when he
doesn’t really deserve them, I’m not going to make him get any
more.’

‘A bit of firmness doesn’t do a child any
harm, dear. Look at Mrs Kelly’s children—you couldn’t find a
livelier bunch, full of fun the lot of them, but I don’t think Mrs
Kelly puts up with any nonsense. You’re an affectionate little
thing, it’s no wonder you get upset when your boys get a hiding,
but—’

‘What am I meant to do when I see Charlie
bashing Mal’s head against the wall?’ Amy interrupted fiercely.
‘And punching and punching him till his face was bleeding? Am I
meant to stand and watch my son being killed?’

Mrs Coulson broke the silence that fell
between them. ‘I’m sorry, dear. I’ve no business telling you how
you should raise your children. I’ve never lived with a man like
your husband—I’m inclined to forget just how bad he is.’

‘No,
I’m
sorry,’ Amy said. ‘I
shouldn’t have talked to you like that. You were just trying to
help, I know. But I worry about Mal so much, I get a bit touchy
when anyone says anything against him.’

‘Forget I poked my nose in, then,’ Mrs
Coulson said.

‘It doesn’t make Mal behave better when
Charlie beats him, you see, it just makes him angry. He hit Charlie
once.’ Amy heard Mrs Coulson give a sharp intake of breath. ‘It was
awful. That was when Charlie threw him against the wall, he was so
wild with Mal for taking a swing at him. Mal was much smaller than
Charlie then, and I was there to stop them, but if they ever have
another fight like that…’

She let the thought stay unvoiced. ‘I keep
hoping if I can just stop Mal and Charlie from fighting it’ll all
come right one day. Mal’s a good boy underneath it all, really he
is. He’s got in with bad company, but maybe he’ll grow out of it. I
just have to try and stop him getting in trouble with Charlie.’

Amy saw again in memory the look Malcolm had
fixed Charlie with as the blood from his father’s blows ran down
his face. ‘I have to try,’ she repeated quietly. ‘Mal’s getting
bigger all the time—stronger, too.’

‘You’ve a lot on your plate, haven’t you?’
Mrs Coulson said, concern written in her face.

Amy forced herself to smile. ‘I’m sorry, I
shouldn’t be laying my troubles on you like this. I’ve got lots to
be thankful for, really. Dave’s hardly given me a moment’s worry
all his life. He’s a real comfort to me. Maybe I could bring him to
see you one Saturday while you’re here, if Charlie’ll let him off
working for a bit.’

‘That’d be lovely, dear.’

‘And I’ll come and see you again tomorrow if
I can manage it.’

Amy glanced at the angle of the sun, and was
surprised to see how much of the morning had slipped away. ‘I’d
better get back home or I’ll be in trouble.’ She kissed Mrs Coulson
goodbye and went into the house for a last peek at the sleeping
baby before setting off down the road, turning at Frank’s gate to
wave goodbye.

The nurse stood on the verandah and watched
until Amy was out of sight.

*

‘Your wife’s coming along very nicely,’ Mrs
Coulson said to Frank as the two of them sat in the parlour. ‘I’ve
told her if she’s a good girl she can get up for a bit
tomorrow.’

‘She’ll like that,’ said Frank. ‘She always
gets a bit restless when she’s been stuck in bed for a few
days—starts to think she’s missing out on things.’

It was five days since Rose’s birth, and
Lizzie was directing the household as well as she could from her
bed. As far as Frank could tell things were running as smoothly as
they always did, but Lizzie was growing increasingly impatient of
the passive role forced upon her. The only sign of weariness left
over from the birth was that she tended to nod off soon after
finishing her evening meal. When she did, Frank would slip from the
bedroom with her empty plate and leave her to doze in peace while
he joined Mrs Coulson in the parlour until it was closer to his own
usual bedtime.

‘It’ll just be to sit quietly, mind, not go
rushing about wearing herself out. And only if she has a nice sleep
in the morning first.’

She leaned a little closer to Frank and
spoke in a low voice, as if afraid Lizzie might overhear. ‘Mind
you, she hardly needs to stay in bed at all, she’s getting over it
so well. But it’s not good for a mother to get up before the proper
time, it can end up disordering her insides. Anyway, it doesn’t do
any harm for a woman to have a bit of a rest while she’s got the
chance—and she’ll be busy enough when she does get up and about
again.’

‘I’m glad to see her having a rest.’ Frank
glanced at the door into the passage, beyond which Lizzie lay
sleeping. ‘She works so hard all the time.’

‘It’s a rare man who notices,’ Mrs Coulson
said. ‘Your wife’s a sturdy girl Mr Kelly, she’ll be right as rain
in no time.’

‘She’ll be tired again, though. She’s at it
from dawn to dusk, washing and ironing, cooking and scrubbing. And
then she spends all evening sewing.’

‘Six children is quite a number. She’s got
to keep you all decently clothed. She wouldn’t do that by keeping
her hands folded in her lap.’

It was hard to picture Lizzie’s hands
sitting idle. They always seemed to be tending a baby, preparing
food, or using a needle and thread. And that was when they were not
wringing out clothes or clutching a scrubbing brush. They had lost
a little of their usual work-roughened look since Lizzie had been
confined to bed, but Frank knew they would soon be as red and
chapped as ever.

‘I’d like to do a bit better for her,’ he
said, half to himself.

‘She seems happy enough.’

‘Oh, Lizzie never complains. She just says
it’s a load of nonsense when I talk about wanting to make things
easier for her. That doesn’t stop me wanting to do it, though.’

‘Well, the work’s got to be done, and it’s
no use railing against it. But you shouldn’t fret yourself, Mr
Kelly. Those two girls of yours are a big help to your wife
already, and they’ll be even more use when they’re a bit
older.’

‘Monday’s the worst,’ Frank said. ‘All those
clothes for her to wash. And with the girls at school she has to do
it by herself. I carry the basket of wet things for her, and I help
her hang the clothes out sometimes, but she won’t let me do
anything else. She’s just about dead on her feet sometimes by
Monday night.’

‘Washing is a trial,’ Mrs Coulson agreed.
‘Especially with a good-sized family like yours.’

‘And then she has to get up on Tuesday and
iron everything. All those frilly pinafores and things. I don’t
know how she manages it all.’

‘She manages because she has to. I must say
she’s a good deal luckier than some women, Mr Kelly. It’s not every
woman whose husband worries about her.’

‘Worrying’s not much use. I want to
do
something for her. I’ve been thinking about it a lot
lately, ever since we found out there was another baby on the way.
I’ve been wondering…’ He gave Mrs Coulson a sidelong glance, trying
to decide whether to risk confiding in her. But the nurse did not
seem the sort of person who would laugh at his fruitless
thoughts.

‘I wish I could get her a servant,’ he
said.

‘A servant?’ Mrs Coulson echoed. ‘What, you
mean like Mrs Leveston with her parlour maids and scullery maids
all in their uniforms?’

‘No, not all flash like that. I was thinking
of someone just to sort of help Lizzie out with the heavier
work.’

‘Oh, you mean like I have one of Mrs Finch’s
girls in to help me from time to time? Now, that’s a kind thought,’
Mrs Coulson said, smiling fondly at him.

‘I was thinking Lizzie mostly needs the help
on washing and ironing days, and maybe for the scrubbing and
things. Not every day.’

‘So you really just want someone to come
around say three days a week?’

‘Yes. That’d be just right, I think.’ He
frowned as his enthusiasm gave way to reality. ‘The trouble is, I
can’t see any way to get one for Lizzie. I mean, it’d have to be a
family who didn’t live too far away—it’s no good asking a girl to
come out all the way from town in time for washing day. But I don’t
think any of the mothers around here can spare any of their
daughters. It’d be like asking Lizzie to do without one of ours
three days a week.’

‘Mmm, that’s a difficulty. What you want is
a girl from the sort of family who’d sooner have a few extra
pennies a week than another pair of hands around the house.’

‘But I want one who’d be good at the work,’
Frank said. ‘Not one whose family wouldn’t miss her because she’s
no use.’

‘Well, there are some fathers around who
don’t have the sense to appreciate their daughters—though precious
few mothers, I’ll grant you.’ She frowned as she puzzled over the
problem. A thoughtful look came into her face. ‘I wonder,’ she
said. ‘Yes, that mightn’t be such a bad idea.’

‘Have you thought of someone?’ Frank
asked.

‘I think perhaps I have. Maisie might be the
girl for you.’

‘Maisie? I don’t think I know her. What
family’s that?’

Mrs Coulson hesitated a moment before
answering. ‘Maisie Feenan. Now, don’t go getting in a state, Mr
Kelly,’ she said, seeing Frank’s look of horror. ‘I know they’re
not much of a family, but I’d like you to think about it, not just
say no straight off.’

‘But… bringing one of the Feenans into the
house?’ Frank said. ‘Lizzie’d raise the roof!’

‘Well, just who did Mrs Kelly have in mind
as a servant, then?’

‘Heck, it’s not Lizzie’s idea! Once or twice
when I’ve tried bringing it up she’s just said it’s a lot of
nonsense. And that was without anyone talking about bringing
Feenans here!’

‘But you said yourself you haven’t many
girls to choose from. Do you want to get someone to help your wife
or not?’

‘Yes, I do. I really want to make things
easier for Lizzie. But a Feenan?’

‘Oh, Maisie’s not such a bad girl. At least
she didn’t used to be—it’s quite a while since I last saw the poor
child.’ Mrs Coulson sighed, and her face seemed to grow older. ‘I
remember her when she was just a little thing. I delivered her,
come to that—though that father of hers waited till his wife was
more dead than alive before he fetched me to her, poor creature.
Lord knows how I pulled her through.’

‘Did he begrudge the money to pay you?’
Frank asked in horror.

‘Well, he never
did
pay me, so he
must have. Not that the Feenans ever have two pennies to rub
together. She came through it somehow, though, and little Maisie
too. Such a tiny thing she was, I didn’t think they’d rear her. But
she’s tougher than she looks, that one, for all you’d think a
breath of wind would knock her over. I used to see her at Mass from
time to time—her mother managed to get there once in a blue moon,
Lord knows how. Maisie used to be quite a happy little thing in her
own way, when her mother was still alive. God rest her soul.’

‘She’s got no mother?’ Despite himself,
Frank felt an upwelling of sympathy for the unknown Maisie. ‘That’s
hard on a girl, losing her ma.’

‘Yes, it is. Maisie’s father left it too
late the next time the poor woman managed to carry a child to term.
She was too far gone with childbed fever before I even heard about
it.’

Mrs Coulson dabbed at her eyes with a
handkerchief. ‘Goodness knows how Maisie’s getting on now. I
haven’t seen her in… oh, it must be a year or more. I’d hate her to
end up like her sisters.’

‘What happened to them?’ Frank asked, a
sense of fatalism growing upon him.

‘I’m afraid they’ve both ended up living in
the Royal Hotel.’ She gave Frank a sidelong glance to check that
the significance was not lost on him. ‘It’s hard to blame the poor
girls, with the home they came from. But I hate to think of little
Maisie ending up the same way.’