Mud and Gold (42 page)

Well, for all the harshness she was sure he
inflicted on the girl, Mrs Coulson could see he was not guilty of
that atrocity. The news of Amy’s bruises had clearly come as a
surprise to him. ‘I see,’ Mrs Coulson said. ‘Yes, that must have
been it. Poor child.’

Charlie looked at her through narrowed eyes
as he belatedly took in her meaning. ‘Did you think I’d done it to
her? Kicked my own child out of her?’

Mrs Coulson stared back at him. ‘You’d be
surprised what some men do to their wives, Mr Stewart. At least I
hope you would.’ She could see Susannah looking at Charlie with
horror in her eyes. And it would do Susannah Leith no harm, Mrs
Coulson thought, to consider just what this man she had forced onto
her stepdaughter might be capable of doing to the girl.

‘You’ll want him baptised?’ Mrs Coulson
asked.

‘Aye. I’d best go and fetch the
minister.’

‘Yes, you’d better. We might need him for
your wife as well. But the child mightn’t live that long, Mr
Stewart,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘If I think he’s slipping away
too fast I’ll say the words over him myself. The Lord will listen
to me as much as He would to the minister. What do you want him
called?’

Charlie stood over his tiny son and reached
out to touch him, pulling his big, clumsy hand away when it was
still inches from the baby’s face. ‘Alexander.’ He must have had
the name picked already, Mrs Coulson knew. ‘And John—that’s for her
pa. Alexander John.’ He turned and left the room.

‘I should go home,’ Susannah said. ‘I like
to keep an eye on Sophie when she’s getting dinner on. I’ll stay if
you need me, though.’

‘I think I can manage without you, thank
you,’ Mrs Coulson answered shortly.

Susannah took a few steps towards the door,
then turned back to Mrs Coulson.

‘Do you really think he kicked her?’ she
asked.

Mrs Coulson grimaced. ‘As it happens, I
don’t. It was my first thought, but I don’t think he would have
been able to lie that well. Anyway, the man’s besotted with the
idea of having sons—he wouldn’t have risked damaging one of them.
He thumps her freely enough the rest of the time, I’m quite sure.
You do know that, I suppose.’

‘I… I saw a bruise on her face once. She
must have annoyed him. I warned her—I told her when she married him
she’d have to try hard to please him.’

‘Oh, she does that all right,’ Mrs Coulson
said grimly. ‘She breaks her little heart trying to please him. And
he’s breaking her body to give him sons.’

Susannah moved close to the bed to look at
the baby. ‘So tiny,’ she murmured. ‘Such a pretty baby. Poor little
thing.’ She seemed reluctant to look at the unconscious Amy, but
her gaze was drawn to the pale face that had scarcely more colour
than the white nightdress below it, her cloud of dark hair spread
out on the pillow around her. ‘Amy’s not going to die, is she?’

‘I don’t know.’ Mrs Coulson stroked the pale
face, then studied Susannah’s troubled expression. ‘I don’t think
she will,’ she said. ‘Not this time, anyway. There’s still enough
strength left in her to bear this. She must have been a healthy
girl before she married him. No, this time I think she’ll pull
through. Maybe the next time, too, and maybe even the time after
that. But one of these years it’ll be too much for her. One day the
bleeding will be too bad, and I’ll have no way of stopping it when
it is. I’ll watch her die in front of me, her lifeblood soaking
into a heap of rags. That little body of hers can’t put up with too
many more of that man’s babies ripping it apart.’

‘It’s men,’ Susannah said, her voice
shaking. ‘They’re just… they’re like animals. It’s all they think
about. And women have to suffer.’

Mrs Coulson stared coldly at her. ‘Do they?’
Who was Susannah Leith to go setting herself up as an expert on
suffering? That frame of hers was big-boned enough, for all she
carried so little flesh on it, and her husband was little more than
average in build. She showed no sign of having been damaged by the
mere two children she had borne. ‘Some women certainly do.’ She
tried to will herself to keep silent, but her hurt and indignation
were stronger than her self-control. ‘Mrs Leith, if you couldn’t
stand seeing that pretty little face looking back at you across the
table every day, couldn’t you have found a better husband to bully
her into taking?’

Susannah’s expression tightened into anger.
‘No, I couldn’t,’ she snapped. ‘He was the best I could do for her.
She brought it on herself.’

‘Did she? She must have committed some
dreadful sins to deserve this.’ She turned her back on Susannah,
lifted the sheet and began mopping up the fresh blood pooling
between Amy’s thighs. The noise of the door closing told her she
was alone with Amy, and with the baby whose cries were already
dying away.

*

It was late the following afternoon before
Amy struggled up through the darkness into consciousness.

‘How do you feel, darling?’ Mrs Coulson
asked.

‘My head’s all thick.’

‘Wake up slowly, dear. I’ve kept you under
for a long time, I kept spooning laudanum into you as soon as you
stirred. There was no sense letting you wake up straight away.’

I’m alive
. Pain hovered at the edge
of Amy’s awareness, not touching her for the moment but ready to
bite when the numbness faded. ‘My baby’s dead, isn’t she?’

‘He, darling. Another boy. I’m sorry,
sweetheart, we lost him.’

‘A boy?’ Amy frowned in confusion. ‘I
thought it was a girl. They took her away.’

‘He’s with the angels. The poor little
fellow struggled hard, but he’s where there’s no pain now.’

‘Dead. My baby’s dead.’ The words fell flat
and heavy in the air between the two women.

Mrs Coulson sat down on the bed and slipped
her arm around Amy. ‘Come on, darling, have a good cry.’

‘I’m not allowed to make a fuss about it. My
baby’s gone.’

‘Who says you can’t make a fuss? Don’t try
and be brave, dear. There’ll be time for that when you’ve got the
tears out of the way.’

Amy shook her head. ‘I knew I couldn’t keep
my baby. They told me I’d have to give her away. What’s the use
making a fuss? It doesn’t matter how much I love her. They’ve taken
her away. I’m not allowed to keep her. It’s better if you don’t
love them.’

‘You’re a bit muddled in the head, aren’t
you? I think I’d better leave you by yourself for a bit.’ She
patted Amy on the arm and stood up. ‘I won’t tell your husband
you’re awake yet. There’ll be no one to see whether you’re being
brave or not.’

But when she heard the door close, Amy lay
dry-eyed and stared at the ceiling. There was a small gap between
two of the boards that she could not remember having seen before.
It held her eyes as her thoughts wore a groove in her
awareness.

My baby’s dead. There’s no use crying
over it. I knew I couldn’t keep her. I knew he’d die
.

*

When Frank told Lizzie about Amy’s premature
labour and the loss of her baby, Lizzie’s immediate response was
distressed helplessness at being confined to the house by her own
pregnancy. That reaction lasted less than a minute; Lizzie did not
take easily to feeling helpless.

‘I’ve got to go and see her,’ she announced,
the determined set of her jaw giving Frank a sinking feeling. They
were about to have an argument, and he was probably doomed to lose
it.

‘But Lizzie, you can’t go up there. You
don’t want to see people now you’re big.’

‘It’s not “people”, it’s Amy. I’ve got to go
and see her.’

‘I don’t think you should. You might do
yourself harm if you go rushing around like that. And you might get
upset if you see her.’

‘Don’t talk rubbish—how would it do me any
harm going for a little ride in the buggy? Anyway, I’ll get a lot
more upset if I’m stuck here thinking about Amy instead of being
able to help her.’

‘I don’t know, I don’t want you wearing
yourself out. Amy’s got plenty of people looking out for her, she
doesn’t need you.’

‘She
hasn’t
, Frank. How would you
like to be stuck in a house with Charlie if you were feeling
miserable? Aunt Susannah will be hanging around, too, and she’ll
make Amy feel even worse. I’m going up there myself.’

‘No, I don’t think I should let you.’

Lizzie gave him an obstinate look. ‘How are
you going to stop me?’

‘Lizzie, don’t go making it hard. I don’t
want to row over this. I’m not taking you and that’s that.’ He put
all the authority he could muster into his voice, but Lizzie did
not appear in the least cowed.

‘If you won’t take me, I’ll walk.’

‘You can’t walk way up there in your
state!’

‘Drive me, then. That’s your choice,
Frank.’

‘Lizzie!’ But Frank was sensible enough to
know when he was beaten. He went outside and harnessed the horses
to the buggy while Lizzie got the children ready for their
unexpected outing.

They pulled up in front of Charlie’s cottage
after a trip punctuated by resentful looks from Frank and an
occasional toss of the head from Lizzie. ‘You’d better wait
outside,’ Lizzie said. ‘No, Maudie, stay with Papa. You’ll have to
keep hold of Joey, Frank, or he’ll try and get away.’ She plumped
Joey on Frank’s lap and climbed down from the buggy before Frank
had time to help her.

*

‘Mrs Kelly,’ Mrs Coulson said, looking up in
surprise from a small pot of milk she was warming on the range. ‘I
didn’t think you were still out and about.’

‘I’m not meant to be. I wanted to come and
see Amy.’

Mrs Coulson frowned in concern. ‘It might
upset her, you know. Seeing you swelling and healthy when she’s
just lost her own little one.’

‘Oh.’ Lizzie looked crestfallen. ‘I didn’t
think of that. Maybe I shouldn’t have come, then.’

‘Well, I don’t know.’ Mrs Coulson thought
for a few moments. ‘I think perhaps it’ll do her more good than
harm. She’s very fond of you, she’s always talking about you and
your husband. You might get her to let go a bit, she won’t do it
for me.’

‘Let go? How do you mean?’

Mrs Coulson sighed. ‘She’s determined to be
brave. She keeps going on about how she mustn’t make a fuss. Do you
know, it’s nearly a whole day since I let her wake up and the poor
girl still hasn’t shed one tear over the baby.’

‘Really? Poor Amy. Right, I will go and see
her,’ Lizzie said resolutely. ‘Is that milk for her? I’ll take it.’
Mrs Coulson poured the warm milk into a mug, and Lizzie carried it
off with her.

*

Amy looked up at Lizzie’s approach and felt
something close to a smile flit across her face.

‘Hello, Lizzie. However did you talk Frank
into letting you come out?’

‘I’ve got my ways. How are you?’

Amy looked down at her hands and toyed with
the edge of the blanket. ‘I’m all right. There’s no need for people
to fuss over me.’

‘We fuss over you because we love you. I do,
anyway, and I think that nurse does too.’ Lizzie put the mug down
on the chair within Amy’s reach and sat on the bed. She leaned
forward and kissed Amy’s cheek. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly.

‘Don’t be. I’m all right. I’m not making a
fuss, am I? I’m not talking about him. That’s what everyone wanted
me to do last time, just pretend it never happened.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with mourning your
own baby, Amy.’

‘What’s the point? It won’t bring them back.
I’ve had four children and I’ve lost two of them. I’ve still got
the other two, haven’t I? So why should I go bawling over the lost
ones? Talk about something else, Lizzie.’

Lizzie kept up the losing battle for a
quarter of an hour, but Amy’s determination was stronger than hers.
At last she rose a little ponderously. ‘I’d better go. Joey’s
probably peed in his nappy by now, and Frank’s going to go on
enough at me about coming up here without Joey bawling for
him.’

Amy nodded. For a moment she was tempted to
ask Lizzie to bring Joey in to see her; she had grown very fond of
the little boy while tending him during Lizzie’s illness. But some
instinct warned her it would be hard to cling to her stubborn
composure if Joey started winding his chubby little arms around her
neck and giving her his soft baby kisses. She turned her face away
from Lizzie and stared at the blank wall.

*

‘Did you do any good?’ Mrs Coulson asked
when Lizzie came back out to the kitchen.

‘No,’ Lizzie said, pursing her lips in
frustration. ‘She won’t let herself go. I don’t know what to do for
her.’

‘Hmm. I don’t think she’s going to come
right in herself till she grieves properly. He could do it easily
enough.’ Mrs Coulson made a vague gesture to indicate the absent
Charlie. ‘If he’d show her a bit of affection she’d melt, I’m sure
of it.’

‘Might as well try and get blood out of a
stone.’

‘Exactly. And I’m going home tomorrow. I
hate leaving the girl in this state, but her husband’s not that
pleased to have me here. Young Mrs Leith, the red-headed one, was
over today, she said she and the other young Mrs will bring over
meals and do the cleaning till our girl’s well again. They seem
capable enough, so she’ll be all right there. I just wish I could
get her out of this state she’s in.’ Mrs Coulson frowned in
thought. ‘It’s very odd, the way she’s taking this. She hasn’t lost
any children, has she? I haven’t seen her since little Davie was
born. Did she miscarry a baby before this one?’

‘No. Amy hasn’t miscarried any babies.’ The
slight emphasis she placed on ‘miscarried’ struck Mrs Coulson as
curious.

‘She’s been saying some strange things about
this baby. Something about not being allowed to keep him. She keeps
saying she’s not allowed to make a fuss, but I’m sure no one’s said
that to her. I haven’t let her husband in to see her except when
I’m there, and no one else would tell her that—I don’t know that
even he would, come to that. Sometimes she seems to think the baby
was a girl, too, even now she’s not muddled in her head. What do
you think’s making her talk like that?’