A Second Chance (18 page)

‘I’d just as soon not tell Ma, either,’
David admitted. ‘She wouldn’t go crook or anything, but… you
know.’

‘I know.’ It was hard enough for Beth to
imagine discussing such things with her aunt, who always seemed
serenely above anything improper; she knew that for David it would
be far worse.

They both fell silent, mulling over the
problem. ‘So you reckon they might make us wait till you’re
eighteen before we can get married? That’s a long time, Beth.’

‘Mmm. And after Aunt Amy gets home, we won’t
be able to see each other nearly as much.’ They exchanged a glance.
‘No cuddles or anything then.’

After another long pause, David said, ‘She
won’t be home for a while yet.’

‘That’s true.’ Beth let her hand rest on his
shoulder for a moment before taking a biscuit.

David was looking down at his hands. ‘A year
and a half,’ he said quietly.

‘What?’

‘A year and a half till you’re eighteen.
Till we can get married.’

‘I know. It seems like ages.’

‘Beth,’ he said after a moment, ‘do you
think it’d hurt you like that every time?’

‘You needn’t think I’m letting you do
that
again till we’re married!’

‘No, I know—I meant when we get
married.’

Beth considered the question. ‘I don’t think
so. Not from what Maudie said.’ She smiled. ‘Maudie was funny when
she first got married—she’d keep saying she couldn’t talk about
stuff because I wasn’t married, then she’d get annoyed when I said
I didn’t care if she did or not. So she’d say little bits just to
try and get me interested. I think I know what some of them meant
now,’ she mused. ‘Anyway, she said something about Ma had told her
not to worry, it was all right after the first time. I think she
must have meant about it hurting—maybe it’s only the first time it
hurts.’

‘That’s good. I wouldn’t want to hurt you. I
want to look after you.’

‘I know you do, Davie.’

David took another biscuit, then seemed to
forget he was holding it. ‘A year and a half,’ she heard him
murmur.

Beth studied his face as he stared at the
far wall. His wistful expression gave her heart a wrench. She
stroked his hair, and turned away to hide her own expression. She
could not have put into words the thoughts that were running
through her mind.

Sarah opened the morning mail, glancing at
each item and setting it to one side until she came to an envelope
that contained a thin piece of card. She propped the card against
her tea cup and turned to Amy, her eyes alight.

‘What a stroke of luck—we’ve been invited
out on
Wanderer
. That’s Mr Dewar’s yacht—he’s a partner at
the firm that looks after my business affairs. He wouldn’t usually
take it out at this time of year, but the weather’s so glorious
that he’s decided to dust it off. I’m so glad this has happened
while you’re here. I expect you’ve never been sailing before?’

‘Sailing?’ Amy echoed. ‘You want us to go
out on a boat?’

‘That’s the usual method, yes. What did you
think I meant?’

‘It’s just… well, I’d never really thought
about going on a boat for fun. I’m not very good on boats.’

‘Oh, it’s not like those nasty little
steamers. I get ill on them myself. Goodness, I wouldn’t drag you
out on one of those for a treat. Sailing’s completely different.
You’ll love it, Amy!’

Amy remained unconvinced, but she would not
have dreamed of saying no. A day spent being ill was a trivial
matter compared to the prospect of pleasing Sarah.

The following Saturday, she and Sarah went
down to the harbour and strolled along the water’s edge to a dock
where a long, sleek yacht was moored.

‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ said Sarah.

Amy saw at once that this was a very
different vessel from the stumpy coastal steamers that had been her
only experience of boats till now.
Wanderer
had graceful
lines, and when Amy had made her way on board she found polished
brass, glowing woodwork, and pristine surfaces. This was a
gentleman’s plaything, not a workhorse vessel designed to transport
goods and cattle, human as well as four-footed, as cheaply and
quickly as possible.

To her relief, Amy found that the passengers
were expected to settle themselves in a quiet spot and stay out of
the way of the sailors while the boat got underway. She sat
snuggled close to Sarah and watched the men move about, swiftly but
with a practised ease. The sails were run up, the wind bellied them
out, and the boat began making its way down the harbour.

‘He’s seeing how fast he can get her,’ Sarah
said, indicating the yacht’s owner, who was urging on the sailors.
With a steady wind helping it along, the boat was soon skimming
over the waves. ‘Not that he’ll get her up to full speed today,
with all our dead weight.’ She gave Amy’s arm an affectionate
squeeze. ‘He takes her out racing in summer. I’ve never tried to
have myself invited for a race, I think that’s best left to the
experts.’

‘I wouldn’t like to see you do that,’ Amy
said, pointing to a sailor who had scrambled up one of the
masts.

Sarah shaded her eyes to look aloft. ‘He’s
untangling the halyards. No, I can’t quite see myself doing
that—skirts aren’t designed for such activities. I do usually
manage to go sailing a few times during the season, though. We’ll
make sure you’re here over the summer, then you’ll be able to come
out with me.’

Although Sarah’s assurances that Amy would
not feel ill had been met, so far at least, the idea of a longer
voyage still held no appeal. Sarah saw her expression and smiled.
‘Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be a sedate outing.
Wanderer
can tow
a little dinghy, and she anchors off one of the islands. Then we
all get rowed ashore and have a picnic. It makes a delightful
day—and it’ll be all the more so with you there.’

Sarah pointed to various parts of the boat,
explaining what was going on. Sailing, Amy found, seemed to have
its own language. She heard a variety of strange words like
“mizzen” and “bowsprit”, and did her best to identify which parts
of the yacht were being referred to.

They made their way past several of the gulf
islands, the boat’s motion smooth thanks to an obliging breeze over
a flat sea. The sun was bright, the air clear and with a lively
tang of salt. Sarah coaxed her to walk about the deck, and Amy
found herself enjoying the adventure. She was surprised to find
that the skipper had turned the boat and they were on their way
back in.

‘I’ll make a sailor of you yet,’ Sarah said
with satisfaction.

The wind had risen somewhat, and it
strengthened as they got closer to shore, stirring up small waves
that slapped noisily against the hull. It was not rough enough to
make Amy queasy, but the pitching of the yacht made her sway and
almost stumble. Sarah took her arm and helped her to a bench out of
the wind.

‘They’ll take it more gently going back,’
Sarah said.

Amy could see that the sailors had a more
relaxed air than on the outward leg, when they had been intent on
increasing the boat’s speed.

‘I suppose I can’t persuade you to come up
to the prow?’ Sarah asked. ‘It’s much more exciting up there, with
the waves and the spray and everything.’

Amy shook her head. ‘I’d only get in the
way. You go if you want to.’

‘You’re sure you wouldn’t mind being left on
your own?’

‘Of course not. Go on, off you go,’ Amy
urged, seeing how keen Sarah was to do so.

Sarah did not need much persuasion. She
strode off towards the prow, sure-footed despite the motion of the
boat. Amy smiled as she watched.

‘Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?’

Amy turned her attention from Sarah to see a
man standing in front of her, waiting politely.

‘No, not at all.’ She moved along
slightly.

The man carefully lowered himself onto the
bench, clinging to the rail until he was safely seated. ‘I see
you’re no more enamoured of wild seas than I am,’ he said, smiling.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m Henry Kendall.
I’m a partner with Dewar Bright and Kendall.’

‘I’m Amy Stewart,’ Amy said, extending her
hand to be shaken. The man looked to be in his middle fifties, with
a thick head of greying hair and a fine moustache. His name seemed
familiar, though Amy was sure they had not met before. Since he
worked at the law firm that handled Sarah’s affairs, perhaps Sarah
had mentioned him at some point. ‘I’m staying with Sarah—with Miss
Millish, and she brought me along today.’

‘Delighted to meet you, Mrs Stewart. And
that’s Mrs Kendall up there, attempting to pursue Miss Millish.’ He
tilted his head towards the prow.

Amy followed the direction of his gaze to
see a dark-haired, elegantly dressed woman clambering somewhat
awkwardly along the forward deck, some distance behind Sarah.

‘I can’t say I’d give much for her chances,’
Mr Kendall added, with a wry smile. ‘Miss Sarah’s a good deal more
agile.’

Sarah was indeed making easy progress. As
Amy watched, she reached the prow and leaned out over the edge. She
stood upright again and looked back at Amy, smiling broadly.
Tendrils of her hair had been whipped free of their pins by the
wind, and they danced around her face. She looked younger and more
carefree than Amy was used to seeing her.

The boat hit a wave, and a shower of spray
came over the prow. Sarah laughed, but Mrs Kendall turned and began
walking slowly and cautiously back in Amy’s direction.

‘It’s a pity our daughter Laura couldn’t
come today,’ Mr Kendall said, reclaiming Amy’s attention. ‘She’s a
far better sailor than either of us. But she felt she should stay
home and practise her new piano pieces—she’s playing at a concert
next week. Only a social occasion at the home of one of her
friends, but Laura takes such obligations seriously. She’s often
asked to play at such events.’

‘She must be very good,’ Amy said.

‘Oh, she is indeed. She’s very talented, as
well as conscientious. And clever, too—she did well at school. I
only wish her brothers had applied themselves half so diligently as
she did.’ He stopped speaking, and smiled ruefully. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs
Stewart. I’m inclined to run on rather when it comes to Laura.’

‘That’s all right. It’s nice to see a father
so fond of his daughter.’

‘And I’m fortunate enough to have three of
them, as well as two sons. But Laura’s always been my little pet.
She’s somewhat younger than our other children, and she came as
rather a pleasant surprise. She’s the only one still at home, and
she brightens our lives considerably.’

What a nice man he was, Amy thought.

‘How do you come to know Miss Sarah, Mrs
Stewart?’

Amy had become used to this question, and
more able to answer it without feeling uncomfortable. ‘I met her
when she came to Ruatane—that’s where I live, it’s in the Bay of
Plenty. She was teaching there.’

‘Oh, that’s the name of the place? I knew
she’d gone to some little country place, but I didn’t know quite
where.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Hmm, Ruatane. That sounds familiar,
somehow.’

‘It’s very small. No one in Auckland ever
seems to have heard of it.’

‘And yet I think I have.’ Mrs Kendall had
almost reached them; her husband stood to help her over to the
bench. ‘Mrs Stewart, this is Mrs Kendall. Constance, Mrs Stewart is
currently staying with Miss Millish, but she’s from Ruatane. Isn’t
that where Susannah lives?’

Constance
. Amy was beginning to
realise where she knew the name Kendall from.

‘Yes!’ Mrs Kendall said, too excited to take
her seat. ‘But Mrs Stewart, you must know my sister—she’s Mrs
Susannah Leith.’

The sick feeling in Amy’s stomach had
nothing to do with the motion of the boat. ‘Yes, I know her. She’s
my stepmother.’

‘Oh, my goodness, how wonderful!’ Mrs
Kendall exclaimed. ‘Why, we’re almost family. Oh, Mrs Stewart, you
and Miss Millish must come and visit us! Mustn’t they, Henry?’

Mr Kendall agreed readily enough, though in
a more restrained fashion than his wife. Amy found herself with a
tall figure standing on either side of her, pressing her to accept
an unwanted invitation. She shrank back against the hard wooden
back of the bench, wishing she had never agreed to come on this
outing.

Sarah suddenly appeared before her, the
Kendalls falling back as she reached out a hand to Amy. ‘Do excuse
me, but I’m going to drag Mrs Stewart up to the prow whether she
wants to come or not. You’re missing the best part, Amy!’

Amy grasped gratefully at the proffered
hand. Holding tightly to the railing with her free hand, she let
Sarah lead her to where waves were lashing the prow. She could not
see the attraction of being tossed about and splashed with
seawater, but it was pleasure enough to see Sarah enjoying herself
so much.

‘Are you all right?’ Sarah asked. ‘I know
Mrs Kendall can be rather overpowering, but there’s no real harm in
her. And Mr Kendall’s a decent enough fellow.’

‘Yes, they were only being friendly. I just
got a surprise, that’s all. Meeting someone from… from Susannah’s
family like that.’

‘I’m sorry, I should have warned you. I’ll
confess I’d completely forgotten that Mrs Kendall is Mrs Leith’s
sister, though your stepmother mentioned it often enough when I was
in Ruatane. I know you’re not eager to have reminders of her.’

It was not the Kendalls’ connection with
Susannah that had so unsettled Amy. ‘They want us to come and
visit, but I’d rather not. Is that all right?’

‘Of course it is. It’s completely up to you.
I’ve no pressing desire to visit them.’

‘They’ll probably keep asking,’ Amy said,
remembering Mrs Kendall’s eagerness.

‘Don’t worry about that—I have an
inexhaustible stock of polite excuses. We may encounter them on
social occasions like this, but there’s no need for any closer
acquaintance.’