Settling the Account (4 page)

With an effort, Lizzie spoke in a restrained
voice. ‘Do you know what Amy’s had to put up with from him over the
years?’

Susannah gave her a look of distaste. ‘Of
course I do. I’m a married woman myself, you know. I rather think
that sort of thing worries you farm girls less than it does someone
of… more refined sensibilities, shall we say?’

‘I’m not talking about the bedroom
business—though I know Amy’s never been very keen on that with him,
either. Don’t you know how he treats her?’

‘I’ve seen bruises once or twice,’ Susannah
said. ‘I told her she should be more careful not to annoy him. She
should have sense enough to do that.’

‘Bruises!’ Lizzie echoed in disgust. ‘I’m
not talking about the odd slap or something. Didn’t Uncle Jack tell
you about that time Charlie just about killed her?’

‘What?’ Susannah stopped pacing and turned a
shocked face to her. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘He punched her face so that you wouldn’t
have known it was her any more. It was all black and swollen, with
a great big split in her lip and one eye so swelled up she couldn’t
see out of it. She could hardly walk for days, either.
I
think that’s why she’s never had any more babies—I think he messed
up her insides with knocking her around like that so she can’t
carry them to term any more.’

‘I… I never knew,’ Susannah said faintly.
‘There was one time… when did this happen?’

‘Years ago now. Beth was only a little
thing. It must have been four years back.’

‘Yes,’ Susannah said thoughtfully. ‘There
was a time… Jack got terribly sour for a while—he kept giving me
the most dreadful looks and muttering away about fixing that… well,
he used some shocking language. So that was it.’

‘She’s been living with a man like that for
ten years now. Do you think it’s any wonder if she broods? She
hasn’t got a lot to be cheerful about, has she? Amy’s got enough on
her plate, what with
him
and then Mal being such a little
devil. All I want to do is take her mind off this latest trouble.
Is that such a lot to ask?’

Susannah sat down heavily. ‘Well… I don’t
know if I… oh, what is it you want me to do, then?’

Lizzie gave a sigh of relief. ‘Tell me the
woman’s address,’ she said, anxious to extract the information
while Susannah’s mood remained relatively soft. ‘That’s all I need
you to do.’

‘It’s so long ago…’ Susannah’s brow creased
in thought. ‘I remember the place well enough. There were several
children playing in the garden—rather grubby, I thought, but they
looked well-fed. Such a noise they were making, laughing and
jumping around. It was all I could do to keep Thomas and George
from rushing out of the house to play with them. I could hardly let
my sons mix with children like that.’

Lizzie nodded in agreement, and was abruptly
horrified with herself. ‘Children like that’ meant children whose
fathers did not acknowledge them. Children like Amy’s baby.

‘Hideous curtains the woman had in her
parlour,’ Susannah said. ‘I remember them quite clearly.’

‘What was the name of the street?’ Lizzie
prompted.

‘Something to do with… with hair, I think.
It wasn’t a long way from town, as I recall. What was the name?’
Susannah tapped one finger against the arm of the chair as she
mused. ‘Auburn!’ she said triumphantly. ‘That was the name of it!
Auburn Street. It’s no use asking me the number—I’ve no chance of
remembering that after all this time. But I’m sure it wasn’t a very
long street.’

Lizzie was used to a town of barely a dozen
small streets. ‘Oh, that’ll be enough of an address, I’m sure.
Frank says it’s a terrible big place, Auckland—that’s why I had to
get the name of the street—but there can’t be more than one Auburn
Street.’

She shook her head at the memory of Frank’s
description of the city’s vastness. ‘It must be awful up there, all
those people living on top of one another. You’re lucky you got out
of it, eh?’

‘Lucky!’ Susannah gave a bitter little
laugh. ‘If you call it lucky to be deprived of refined company—of
any sort of society—of civilisation, you might as well say. Mud and
dust and animals. Coming to live among animals. If only I’d known
what I was doing,’ she said, her voice heavy with loss.

Lizzie was feeling unusually mellow towards
Susannah, and decided to do her the kindness of offering some good
advice. ‘You know, you want to get out of yourself a bit. Sitting
about moping! No wonder you’re so down in the mouth all the time.
You ought to try keeping busy, that’d cheer you up.’

‘I’ve quite enough to do trying to keep some
measure of order in this house, thank you very much,’ Susannah said
coldly. ‘I certainly don’t need your opinion on how I should spend
my time.’

Lizzie went on, not in the least daunted.
‘You should visit a bit more, too. You could come and see me if you
like—have a play with the little ones.’

‘How kind,’ Susannah murmured distantly.
‘I’m afraid it’s much too far to walk, and your uncle wouldn’t
trouble himself to drive me down.’

‘You should have a go at learning to
ride.’

‘My father always kept a carriage, so I had
no need to learn. I don’t really consider it very dignified in a
lady—not on these rough farm hacks, anyway. And I’ve no proper
riding habit.’

Lizzie studied Susannah in perplexity,
trying to fathom what dignity had to do with riding horses. ‘It
doesn’t matter to the horse what sort of clothes you wear, you
know.’

‘It matters to me. I have to keep my
self-respect, or I’d be dragged down to… to a level I’d find
unacceptable. I don’t expect you to understand.’ Susannah looked
with disdain at the area around Lizzie’s middle where only Frank’s
valiant efforts to pull her laces tight each morning gave any
semblance of a waist. ‘Unlike some women, appearances matter to me.
I’ve
no intention of letting myself go.’

Lizzie only half understood the jibe, but
she knew it was at her expense. ‘Letting yourself go?’ she said,
rising to her full height and giving a toss of her head. ‘Why don’t
you try it sometime? You might find you enjoy it. Now wouldn’t
that
be a nasty shock?’ she flung over her shoulder as she
stalked from the room.

May – June 1895

At dinnertime, Frank came into the kitchen
and took his place at the table. ‘How’d you get on up there?’ he
asked.

‘I got it out of her—it wasn’t easy, mind
you.’

‘What did you get, Ma?’ Maudie asked. ‘Did
Aunt Susannah give you something?’

‘Never you mind, nosy. Frank, you’ll have to
help me write the letter tonight. You’re good at that.’

Frank laughed. ‘Letters to do with cows,
maybe. I’ve got no more idea than you how to write a letter like
that. I’ll have a go, though.’

Maudie’s eyes darted from one to the other,
trying to fathom their conversation, but she soon lost interest in
favour of her own news.

‘Mal’s got a huge black eye,’ she announced
importantly.

‘Yes, it’s a beauty,’ said Joey. ‘His face
is all bruised, too.’

‘Been fighting at school, has he?’ Lizzie
said, pursing her lips. ‘You see that you don’t go getting into
fights, Joey, or your father will have something to say about
it.’

‘He didn’t get it at school,’ Joey told
her.

‘No,’ said Maudie. ‘Uncle Charlie did
it.’

Lizzie stopped piling vegetables onto plates
and sent Maudie a startled look. ‘What, gave him a black eye and
all that?’

‘Yes,’ Maudie said, clearly delighted at the
effect she was having. ‘Uncle Charlie thumped him against the wall
and hit him really hard.’

‘He’s got a lump on the back of his head
like a duck’s egg,’ Joey put in.

‘Dave said Aunt Amy thought Uncle Charlie
was going to kill Mal,’ Beth added when there was a long enough
pause for her quiet voice to be heard. ‘She threw a pot of carrots
at him. He got all wet.’

‘Wish I’d seen that,’ Joey said in the tone
of one who has missed a rare treat.

‘So he’s starting on his children now, eh?’
Lizzie murmured. ‘Beth, did Dave say Aunt Amy was all right?’

Beth looked confused by the question. ‘She
didn’t like it when Uncle Charlie hit Mal,’ she offered.

‘I don’t suppose she did, but was she… oh,
never mind, I’ll pop up tomorrow and see how she is. Dave probably
would have said something about it if she’d had any trouble.’

‘Uncle Charlie’s horrible, eh?’ said
Maudie.

‘Don’t you go talking about your elders like
that, my girl,’ Lizzie said. ‘Little girls should keep their
opinions to themselves.’ She finished loading the plates and sat
down in front of her own. ‘Mal probably deserved it, anyway—he’s
always playing up for poor Aunt Amy.’ But there was a lack of
conviction in her voice, and Frank saw a troubled look flit over
her face. It was hard to imagine what a boy of nine could have done
to deserve the sort of beating the children described.

‘He got it for wagging school,’ Maudie told
them, unabashed by Lizzie’s admonition. ‘He’s hardly ever been
coming to school lately, and Uncle Charlie found out.’

‘Uncle Charlie hit him like that for wagging
school?’ Lizzie asked. All three children nodded emphatically.

‘That’s what Mal said—Dave did, too,’ said
Maudie.

‘Well!’ With an effort that was clearly
visible to Frank, Lizzie resisted making any comment on Charlie’s
harshness. ‘Well, it’s naughty to wag school, and if I ever catch
any of you lot doing it there’ll be trouble. Now, shut up for a
minute so your father can say Grace.’

Maudie was silent long enough for Frank to
say a quick prayer before the family started on their meal, but she
had only had a few mouthfuls before she spoke up again.

‘Ma, why do you and Pa sleep in the same
bed?’

‘Eh?’ Lizzie shot a glance at Frank, her
eyebrows raised in amusement. ‘Because there’s seven of us in this
house and only three bedrooms. None of us get a bed to ourselves,
you know—you and Beth share, and Joey and Mickey. It’s going to be
a bit of a crowd when Danny gets too big for a cradle.’

Maudie mused on this for a few moments as
she chewed another mouthful, then she mustered up a fresh
argument.

‘But why do you and Pa share? Why don’t say
you and me and Beth share, and Pa and Joey, and Mickey and Danny?
Then it’d be girls together and boys together, wouldn’t it?’

‘No, that wouldn’t be any good,’ Lizzie
said, managing to keep her expression serious with obvious
difficulty. ‘I have to sleep with your father. He gets very
restless in the night, see, and I’m the only one who can put up
with it. You children need your sleep more than I do, it doesn’t
matter if he keeps me awake half the night.’

‘Oh.’ Maudie gazed at her father with
interest. ‘You must be really restless, Pa.’

‘No, it’s not that, love,’ Frank said,
careful to hide his own amusement. ‘Your ma doesn’t like to say,
but it’s because of her. She snores something terrible.’

‘I do not!’ Lizzie said. ‘Don’t you go
telling the children such stories!’

‘How would you know?’ Frank teased. ‘You’re
asleep when you do it. It’s me who lies awake wondering if you’re
going to blow the roof off or not.’

‘Gosh!’ Maudie said, wide-eyed at the
magnitude of Frank’s claim. ‘It must be really loud.’

‘It is,’ Frank said, barely straight-faced.
‘It’s a bit like that earthquake we had the night you were born,
Maudie.’

‘You stop that, Frank,’ Lizzie scolded.
‘They’re little enough to believe you.’

‘Well,’ Frank relented, ‘maybe it’s not as
loud as all that. It’s more like… leaves rustling in the breeze,
say. Or birds singing.’ He grinned down the length of the table at
Lizzie, who pulled a face back at him.

‘Oh,’ Maudie said, disappointed at the
anticlimax. She spent a few seconds attacking her meal, then looked
up with renewed enthusiasm.

‘Aunt Amy and Uncle Charlie don’t sleep in
the same bed,’ she announced.

Lizzie’s fork dropped onto her plate with a
clatter. ‘What did you say?’

‘Aunt Amy and Uncle Charlie don’t sleep in
the same bed,’ Maudie repeated willingly. ‘I know they don’t,
because Dave said.’

Lizzie placed her knife and fork neatly on
her plate and fixed Maudie with an intent stare. ‘What did Dave
say? Tell me exactly what he told you.’

Maudie launched into her narrative. ‘He said
they don’t sleep in the same room, not like you and Pa. He said
they used to, but they don’t any more. He knows, because one night
he felt sick, and he got out of bed to be sick, but he did it on
the floor because he couldn’t get outside in time. Beth did that
once, remember? Only she was sick right in the bed, and she got it
all over her nightie and mine too, and—’

‘All right, I remember that,’ Lizzie
interrupted. ‘We don’t need to hear all that business about being
sick, either, not when we’re trying to have our dinner. I just want
to hear what Dave told you.’

‘Well, I have to tell you about the being
sick, because that’s what Dave said,’ Maudie said with some
asperity. ‘Anyway, he felt bad, and the sick smelled horrible, and
Mal was going crook at him, so he went looking for Aunt Amy. He
went into Uncle Charlie’s room, but she wasn’t there. Uncle Charlie
shouted at him to go away, and he was scared, so he went off into
the kitchen.
I
think he was bawling, but he said he wasn’t.
Then Aunt Amy came in from the other bedroom and looked after him
and cleaned the floor and all that. And she took him into bed with
her for a bit, till he stopped feeling awful. So that’s how he
knows.’

Lizzie’s eyes met Frank’s across the table.
‘That explains a few things, doesn’t it?’ she said.

‘How do you mean?’ Maudie asked, eyes
bright.

‘Never you mind,’ Lizzie said, then she
appeared to decide it was safer to give Maudie some sort of answer
than leave her to speculate. ‘I just meant Aunt Amy doesn’t seem as
tired as she used to. She’s probably sleeping better. Now listen,
Maudie,’ Lizzie said seriously, ‘it’s all right for you to tell me
and your pa things like that, but you’re not to go telling anyone
else.’