Settling the Account (61 page)

‘It’s my pleasure,’ Miss Millish said,
squeezing her hand briefly. ‘And you must call me Sarah! We won’t
sound like friends if you keep being so formal with me.’

‘I’d like that. Thank you, Sarah.’ Amy saw
the younger woman’s eyes on her in a searching gaze, and was
tempted to ask Sarah to call her by her first name, too. But it did
not seem quite correct to suggest it to a single woman so much
younger than her.

‘Aunt Susannah’s coming today,’ Lizzie
announced while Beth and Maisie served tea and cakes. ‘She’ll be
late, of course. She’s always late.’

‘I mightn’t even see her, then,’ Amy said
without any trace of disappointment. ‘I can’t stay all that
long.’

‘And who is Aunt Susannah?’ Sarah Millish
asked, looking questioningly at Lily.

‘She’s Uncle Jack’s wife, Sarah,’ Lily said.
‘His second marriage, do you remember? I explained it to you when
you first came out to see us.’

‘Didn’t you take notes, Sarah?’ Bill asked.
‘I thought you were writing it all down for your book.’

‘You’d best be careful, or you’ll find
yourself cast as the villain,’ Sarah said, the faint suggestion of
a twinkle in her eyes belying her stern expression. Lily smiled at
her husband, and Amy thought she detected ‘Serves you right’ being
shaped on Lily’s lips.

‘You’ve brothers through this younger Mrs
Leith, haven’t you?’ Sarah asked Amy.

‘That’s right. Tom and George. Tommy might
come out with Susannah, he usually takes her about.’

‘And how old are they?’ Sarah sent a
challenging glance in Bill’s direction before turning her attention
back to Amy; he assumed an expression of wounded innocence.

‘Let’s see, Tom’s twenty-two now and George
is twenty-one. They had their birthdays in August,’ Amy said.

‘And for goodness sake, don’t mention that
in front of Aunt Susannah,’ Lizzie put in. ‘I don’t want her
starting on all that business about the money again. Frank thought
it was quite a good idea, George putting the money in a boat.’

‘Pa left Tom and George some money,’ Amy
explained, seeing Sarah’s questioning expression. ‘George got his
share this year, when he turned twenty-one, and he bought part
share of a boat. Susannah’s never been very keen on him working on
boats.’

‘Transport seems a sensible investment to
me,’ Sarah remarked. ‘It’s certainly a necessity of people’s lives.
Father preferred property, but he had some investments in shipping,
too.’

‘I think Susannah’s coming round over it,’
Amy said. ‘Tom keeps telling her how George’ll end up as a real
businessman now he’s got into buying a boat instead of just working
for someone else. She doesn’t like to back down, though.’

‘I almost feel I know Mrs Leith already,’
Sarah said with a slight smile.

Susannah did arrive rather late, giving Amy
ample opportunity to talk with Sarah. Amy enjoyed her outing so
much that she was only vaguely aware of time passing. She glanced
at the mantel clock and was just about to announce that she had
better be leaving, when Susannah and Thomas arrived.

Trust her to come just now
.
I’ll
have to stay a couple more minutes, or it’ll look rude
.

It was not as if she had the chance to talk
to Sarah again once Susannah had arrived. A guest who was
reasonably fresh from Auckland was too much for Susannah to
resist.

‘Fashions, you must tell me about fashions,’
Susannah said soon after their introduction. ‘I follow the
journals, of course, but one can never be quite sure they’re
completely up to date. Are bodices still full? What about
sleeves?’

‘Full and narrow, respectively,’ Sarah told
her. ‘Colours? Oh, blue is very fashionable, I believe. I can’t say
I’ve taken much notice lately. A dark skirt and a white blouse
suits me well enough in the classroom.’

‘But you surely attend fashionable events in
the city?’ Susannah pressed. ‘I understood you were from quite a…
well, prominent family in Auckland.’

Sarah gave her a long gaze, clearly quite
aware that the word Susannah had been tempted to use was ‘wealthy’.
‘Yes, I do my social duty when I’m at home. I can’t say it’s all
duty, either,’ she added, her stern expression relaxing. ‘You said
you’re from Auckland yourself, did you not, Mrs Leith?’

‘I lived there all my life until my
marriage. Of course I did consider moving back after my husband
died, but it wouldn’t have been fair to Thomas. He has such a
promising career in the bank.’

‘Mother,’ Thomas said in a long-suffering
tone. ‘I’ve told you and told you, you don’t need to stay in
Ruatane on my account.’

‘As if I could leave you on your own! Thomas
has been a great comfort to me, Miss Millish.’

‘I’m sure he has.’ Sarah turned an openly
searching gaze on Thomas, then glanced from him to Amy and back
again. ‘You two aren’t terribly alike, are you? Family likenesses
are a strange thing.’

‘Tommy takes after Pa,’ Amy said, slipping
an arm through Thomas’s. ‘People always say I’m like Mama.’

‘Thomas gets his height from my family, of
course,’ Susannah put in. ‘You may have heard of my father, Miss
Millish. My maiden name was Taylor, my father was Thomas Taylor of
Parnell. My Thomas is named after him.’

‘Taylor? Oh, yes, I do know of your family,
Mrs Leith,’ Sarah said thoughtfully. ‘Father did a little business
with your father, I believe. And I think I’ve met your
brother.’

Amy saw Susannah stiffen, and her stepmother
stared around the room with something of a hunted air. But Susannah
recovered her composure within seconds. ‘You may have met my sister
as well. She’s Mrs Henry Kendall, her husband is a partner in one
of the law firms in the city.’

With the conversation running on less
perilous lines, Amy felt able to look about her again. Sarah’s
innocent indiscretion seemed soon forgotten by everyone except Amy.
Susannah was clearly delighted at the chance to converse with a
fellow Aucklander; Amy was surprised at how willingly Sarah seemed
to give her attention in return. Sarah said little, but she
listened to Susannah and watched her with every sign of
interest.

It was foolish to feel hurt at being
apparently passed over in favour of Susannah, but Amy could not
quite suppress a pang.
I suppose I’m not very interesting
.
I can’t talk about fashions and rich people, or balls and
parties and things
.

As soon as she felt politely able to leave,
Amy rose and made her excuses.

‘Oh, you’re not going already, Mrs Stewart?’
Sarah looked genuinely disappointed, and Amy’s sense of hurt
evaporated in a moment. ‘I thought we’d be able to talk some
more.’

‘I’ve got to, I’m sorry. It was lovely to
see you. And thank you for the books—I’ll bring them back as soon
as I can.’

‘There’s no hurry at all,’ Sarah said. ‘Take
as long as you want.’

She followed Amy out to the front door and
saw her to the verandah steps. ‘I hope I can see you again soon.
I’m going home to Auckland in two weeks, and I won’t be back till
well into the New Year, so do come to Mrs Kelly’s before I go.’

‘It’s hard for me to get away, but I’ll see
if I can.’

‘And you’d rather I didn’t…’ Sarah began;
Amy knew she was about to offer to come to Charlie’s house. ‘No,
never mind, I’ll just look forward to meeting you here,’ Sarah
said. ‘You will come again soon, won’t you?’

‘I’ll try,’ Amy said her. ‘I really will.’
She was tempted to hug Sarah, but resisted the urge. It was hardly
appropriate with a woman she had known for such a short time.

Amy was almost running by the time she got
close to the cottage, knowing that she had stayed away longer than
she should have. She would be milking well into the evening. It was
fortunate that sunset came so late now that it was December. She
hurried into the kitchen, slightly out of breath, and felt her calm
mood evaporate in a moment.

The teapot lay on the floor with its lid
beside it, close to the overturned sugar bowl. Wet sugar and tea
leaves were mingled indiscriminately around the bowl, along with
several broken biscuits. The kettle was perched precariously near
the edge of the range, the damp patch on the floor below it showing
where hot water had dripped.

Charlie sat slumped against the wall, his
arm clutched close to his side. ‘You took your bloody time,’ he
growled, his face twisted with pain as he spoke.

Amy put Sarah’s books on the table and
dropped to her knees beside him. ‘What happened? Have you hurt your
arm?’ She took it in her hands as gently as she could, and raised
the sleeve of his nightshirt to reveal an angry red scald.

‘Kettle. Tipped the kettle over,’ Charlie
said, struggling to get the words out. ‘Water went down my
arm.’

Amy helped him onto a chair before fetching
a strip of old sheet for a bandage. She spread a little butter on
the cloth and wrapped it around Charlie’s arm, tying it securely in
place.

‘It doesn’t look too bad, but I bet it’s
sore. Why were you out here, though? Why didn’t you stay in the
parlour?’

‘Wanted a cup of tea.’

‘But I made you one before I left. You had a
nice fresh pot there.’

‘I wanted another one.’ He gave her a
defiant glare that was spoiled by the trembling of his mouth. ‘And
I wanted some different biscuits. You were gone a hell of a
time.’

‘I’m sorry, Charlie. You’re right, I
shouldn’t have stayed so long. Was the kettle too heavy for
you?’

Charlie looked confused. ‘I don’t know. I
was filling the pot, and… I don’t know. My leg gave way, or some
such. I don’t remember. It went black in my head for a spell.’

‘I see.’ Amy regarded him thoughtfully. ‘I
think you must have had another one of those falls. Perhaps you’d
better go to bed, your head might start hurting.’

‘Hurts now,’ Charlie said, raising his hand
tentatively towards his forehead. He winced as the pain of the burn
struck him.

‘Best if you lie down, then. This might help
you get to sleep.’

She poured him a small measure of his
precious store of whisky. They both knew without discussing it that
there would be no more when this was gone; Amy could not possibly
go into a hotel and buy liquor. She saved it for the times when
Charlie seemed particularly miserable, then doled it out carefully.
She held the glass to his lips as he sipped. When he had finished
the drink she helped him to his bedroom and into bed.

‘Try and go to sleep,’ she said. ‘If your
arm hurts too much I’ll give you some laudanum later.’

‘Don’t need laudanum.’ He lay in the bed and
stared at her. Amy was struck by how he seemed to have shrunk in on
himself over the past few weeks. ‘Don’t you go staying out like
that again.’

Amy sighed. ‘I won’t, Charlie. I won’t go to
any soyrees again. Not till you’re better, anyway,’ she added, but
she knew it was no more than an empty formula. He was not going to
get better.

*

Frank had hoped that Maudie’s pregnancy
would bring her and her mother closer together, but it seemed to
have the opposite effect. If there had been a tension between them
before, now they positively struck sparks off each other.

‘Just let her sort herself out, Lizzie,’ he
said after a particularly tense visit. ‘She’s excited about the
whole business, she’ll settle down when she gets used to it.’

Lizzie sniffed. ‘Well, I don’t see why she
can’t take a bit of advice. It’s not as if I’m trying to interfere,
or anything. I’m only thinking of her. I’ve had seven
children!’

‘Yes, I know you have.’

‘So I should know something about it,
shouldn’t I? But do you think she’ll listen to me? Ha!’

It was no use trying to intercede between
those two; he might find himself caught in the crossfire if he did.
Frank could only hope they all survived the next few months
relatively unscathed, and then pray that the pleasure of having a
new baby in the family would allow all differences to be
forgotten.

In the meantime, he found the tension rather
wearing. Lizzie and Maudie seemed to watch each other like hawks,
ready to pounce on any perceived failing.

‘What’s this?’ Lizzie said over lunch at
Maudie’s one day, poking suspiciously at a piece of meat on her
plate. ‘It’s got a funny colour about it. And you’ve put raisins in
with the meat!’

‘That’s a curry,’ Maudie said proudly. ‘I
found a recipe in the
Weekly News
.’

Lizzie took a small mouthful. ‘Tastes a bit
funny. I think that meat might be off. You want to tell that
butcher his meat’s off.’

‘It is not off!’ Maudie said. ‘It’s just
spicy, that’s all. They have food like that in India, don’t they,
Richard?’

‘That’s right, darling.’

‘They probably don’t know any better over
there. Why’d you want to make it?’ Lizzie asked.

‘Richard likes that sort of food. Richard
asked me to make one, didn’t you, Richard?’

‘Well, I did say it might be a nice change,
if you felt like trying it,’ Richard admitted, wincing at Lizzie’s
reproving expression. ‘We once had a cook who’d been in India, she
used to make the occasional curry. I didn’t really think you’d try
it out on your parents, though, dear.’

‘Oh, your father can’t eat this sort of
thing,’ Lizzie pronounced. ‘A man couldn’t do proper work on funny
food like this. Don’t eat it if you don’t like it, Frank. I’ll get
you something nice when we get home.’

‘You do like it, don’t you, Pa?’ Maudie
turned a wistful face on him. ‘I thought you’d like it.’

Maudie looked prettier than ever now that
she was carrying a baby, Frank thought. She had a higher colour
than usual, but that just made her eyes look brighter. The
pregnancy was no more than a small bulge, barely visible through
her loose dress, but he noticed Maudie’s hand frequently rested on
it in a proprietorial gesture. ‘Um… it’s a change, all right,’
Frank said carefully. ‘It’s quite nice, really.’