Sentence of Marriage (16 page)

That was an unusually long speech for Ben, and Frank knew his brother must be quite agitated to have come out with it. ‘I just thought it’d be good to get to know them a bit better,’ he said. ‘Arthur wants to be friendly, and they’re neighbours, sort of. He’s asked me—us, I mean, so I should go, really.’

‘Humph. Suit yourself, then.’

‘There should be a good feed, too—remember those pies Lizzie brought down? They were pretty tasty.’

Ben eyed him suspiciously. ‘You’re not getting keen on that girl, are you?’

‘Who—Lizzie, you mean?’ Frank affected disbelief. ‘Of course I’m not. What do you think I am, stupid?’

‘Just watch yourself.’

Frank pondered for some time over what he should wear for his visit. It was such an honour to be asked out for lunch that he thought perhaps he should wear his one and only suit. But then he would get it dirty on the road; there was still plenty of mud in places for the horse’s hooves to throw up if he went beyond a walk, and he needed it for Sunday.

No, he decided, he had better wear his work clothes and hope he didn’t cause any offence. His trousers weren’t
too
muddy, and he could get the worst of the morning’s cow dung off from around the hems with a damp rag. He made sure he was out of Ben’s sight as he went outside and rubbed down the trousers, and gave his jacket a thorough brushing at the same time for good measure. He knew he was just trying to look decent to be polite, but Ben might get some silly ideas about it. He took the old felt hat from the kitchen table and went off to catch Belle, the bay mare.

Lizzie was a nice girl, Frank reflected as he rode up the valley, but he had no intention of getting keen on her. He and Ben got on well enough; he knew Ben would never accept a woman in the house, anyway.

No, he’d have a good lunch and a chat with Arthur; maybe he’d ask the older man for a bit of advice about that drain they were struggling with. There was no need for Ben to look so disapproving about it all.

It was a funny thing about Lizzie, he mused as he passed the school. She seemed to have turned almost overnight from a plump little girl with fair pigtails sitting in the front of the class into… well, into a young woman. She was so friendly, too; always interested in how he was and what he was doing. He smiled at the thought of Lizzie’s beaming face. What a good-natured girl she was. There was no harm in being friendly back.

‘Frank! Good to see you,’ Arthur said when he caught sight of Frank reining in Belle. ‘Right, you can let that horse out in this paddock with mine and we’ll have a look around the place. I’ll show you a few things—what do you want to see specially?’

‘Me? Ah, whatever you want to show me,’ Frank said as he loosened Belle’s girth and took off her bridle, wondering if he had missed part of the conversation.

‘That’s the idea,’ said Arthur. ‘You’re interested in everything, aren’t you?’

Arthur’s oldest son, seventeen-year-old Bill, waved a friendly greeting from beside the pig sties where he was pouring whey into troughs, but made no move to join them. Eleven-year-old Alf, though, had no intention of being left out, and he attached himself uninvited to Frank.

‘What are you doing here, Frank?’ Alf asked.

‘He’s come because I asked him to,’ Arthur said before Frank had the chance to reply. ‘Frank wants to see how to do things properly around a farm.’

‘Oh.’ Alf sounded disappointed. ‘I thought you might have come to help pull some of those stumps out of the north paddock.’

‘I… I will if you want me to,’ Frank said, looking questioningly at Arthur. He was glad he had decided not to wear his Sunday best after all.

‘No, of course I don’t—who asked you, Alf?’ Arthur leaned across Frank to Alf and aimed a half-hearted clout at his son that came nowhere near its target. ‘Go on, get out of here if you’re going to butt in where you’re not wanted.’ Alf continued trailing along beside Frank, but he moved a little further out of his father’s range.

Arthur led Frank a short way down the track the younger man had just ridden up, until they stood beside a wooden gate leading into one of the paddocks. ‘Now, Frank,’ he said, ‘you see this gate?’

‘Yes,’ Frank said, looking closely at the gate and wondering what special significance it had.

‘What do you notice about it?’

Frank studied the gate. ‘It’s a good, solid-looking one,’ he offered, somehow feeling that more was wanted.

‘It’s that, all right. But you watch this.’ Arthur unhooked the loop of wire that held the gate. He swung it open, then closed, then open again, then he closed and re-fastened it. Frank watched carefully.

‘Now, you’ll have seen,’ Arthur said, ‘how well this gate opens. I’m not one to criticise, Frank, but I can’t help noticing that gate you’ve put in between your two road paddocks has slipped a bit on its hinges, so you’ve got to lift it a foot off the ground to get it open at all. Do you know what that means?’

Frank thought of the guilty gate, with the ever-deepening hole it gouged every time it was dragged open. He had had a bad feeling about that gate as soon as he and Ben had started on it, but Ben had gruffly shrugged off his concerns. ‘It means it’s not much of a gate, doesn’t it?’ he said, avoiding Arthur’s eyes.

‘Well, I wouldn’t say that,’ Arthur said kindly. ‘But you should think about putting a better lot of hinges on it—that set you’ve used wouldn’t hold up a cupboard door.’

So
that
was the problem, Frank thought, storing away the information. He was so busy thinking that he forgot to answer Arthur, and he didn’t notice Arthur looking at him quizzically.

‘Did you follow what I said, Frank?’

‘Mmm? Oh, yes, of course—thank you, Mr Leith, I’ll remember that.’

‘I hope so. Now, come and look at this fence—you see these battens? What do you make yours out of?’

‘Just whatever there’s plenty of—I think it was rewarewa last time.’

‘I thought as much. Rewarewa’s all right, but the best thing’s kohe. It’s tough, but it splits well. You remember that.’

‘Kohe. Right, yes.’ Frank stored the information away carefully. He followed Arthur around several more paddocks, listening to the older man’s opinions on raising cattle and pigs, and growing potatoes and maize.

‘You should get on and pull a few of the stumps out of one of your flat paddocks and get some maize in there—it’s fetching a good price, and it’s easier than milking cows.’

Maize sounded a good idea to Frank, but he knew how much Ben hated change, and they had never grown maize before. So he nodded and smiled, and said nothing.

Arthur finished the tour by showing Frank one of his drains. He was pointing out the carefully-shaped angle of the walls when Bill joined them.

‘Lizzie says it’s time for lunch. And she says to hurry up before it gets cold.’

‘She can wait till we’re ready,’ Arthur said, but he turned in the direction of the house and started walking, with his sons and Frank around him. ‘Never let yourself be ruled by women, Frank—they’ll do it if you let them get away with it.’

Frank thought of his own gentle mother, who had never tried to rule anyone, and had always seemed in awe of her husband.

‘Oh, and one more thing,’ Arthur said, breaking into Frank’s reminiscences, ‘I want you to take a good look at that drain.’

‘Drain?’ Frank repeated stupidly, still thinking about his mother.

‘Yes, Frank,’ Arthur said very deliberately, ‘that drain just behind you, the one we’ve been looking at. There’s something else for you to take note of—it’s straight.’

Frank looked at the drain. ‘Yes, it is,’ he agreed. ‘It’s very straight.’

‘And doesn’t it look better than if it was weaving all over the paddock? Drains are meant to be straight—you remember that.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Frank promised. He was vaguely aware of Alf sniggering behind him as the four of them walked up to the house together.

And there was Lizzie, standing in the doorway looking out for them. ‘Here you are at last,’ she said. ‘I thought you were never coming.’ But she gave Frank a warm smile. She had her Sunday best on, a pink cotton dress with a wide white collar and a white sash, and a matching pink ribbon in her hair.

‘Frank and I had a lot to talk about,’ Arthur said, looking at his daughter’s finery in some surprise. ‘Didn’t we, Frank?’

Frank pulled his eyes away from Lizzie. ‘Eh? Oh, that’s right, Mr Leith. It’s been really interesting—I’ve learnt a lot just talking to you.’

‘Well, now you’re here hurry up and sit down,’ Lizzie said briskly. ‘I’ve dished the soup up, and I don’t want it to get cold. Frank, you can sit here.’ She pointed out the chair at her father’s right hand. It was Bill’s place, but her older brother took his seat next to Frank with no more than a quizzical grin and a slight raising of his eyebrows at Lizzie, who studiously ignored him. Alf sat on Bill’s other side, next to his mother at the foot of the table.

‘I’ll give thanks,’ Arthur said just as Frank was reaching for his soup spoon. Frank felt hot at the thought that he had nearly disgraced himself. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, guiltily conscious that he and Ben never said grace; sometimes, remembering his mother’s attempts to teach him, Frank would say a few words silently to himself, but most of the time it was just a bit too difficult to feel grateful for the sort of meals he and Ben produced.

Lizzie sat directly opposite Frank, sharing her side of the table with little Ernie. ‘Do you like vegetable soup, Frank?’ she asked, looking at him intently.

‘Ah, yes, I like it a lot,’ Frank assured her. ‘Hey, this is really nice,’ he said when he tasted the soup.

Lizzie beamed at him. ‘That’s good. I made it specially—I thought maybe you don’t bother with soup at home.’

‘No, we don’t. I don’t think I’ve had soup like this since Ma died. This is just like she used to make.’

‘Do take another slice of bread, Frank,’ Lizzie encouraged. She held the plate out to him.

‘Mmm, thanks. It’s nice bread—really fresh.’

‘I just made it this morning.’ Again Lizzie smiled warmly at him.

‘Excuse me, Lizzie,’ Arthur said loudly. ‘Do you think anyone else could have some of that wonderful bread of yours? Perhaps Frank doesn’t need it all.’

Frank reddened, and he quickly passed the plate of bread to Arthur. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Leith, I didn’t mean to—’

‘Forget it, Frank.’ Arthur dismissed Frank’s apology with a wave of his hand, and took a slice of bread. ‘My daughter seems to have forgotten there’s anyone else eating here.’

‘I’m just trying to be a good hostess,’ Lizzie said tartly, but she lowered her eyes at a sharp look from her father.

When they had finished the soup, Lizzie carried a roast shoulder of mutton to the table, along with dishes of roast potatoes, boiled beans, and a large jug of gravy. Frank’s eyes opened wide in appreciation, and when Arthur had carved the meat and the plates were piled high Frank attacked the meal enthusiastically.

‘Do you like everything, Frank?’ Lizzie asked superfluously, and Frank stopped eating for a moment to assure her that he most certainly did. ‘Oh, that’s good, I hoped I was cooking things you liked.’

‘Did you have anything to do with this meal, Edie?’ Arthur asked.

‘Mmm?’ Edie looked up for a moment from her task of cutting Ernie’s food into small pieces and encouraging the two-year-old to eat. ‘Oh, no, nothing at all—Lizzie shooed me out of the kitchen. She wanted to do it all by herself so I could have a rest this morning while the little fellow was having his sleep. Isn’t she a good girl?’ She beamed at her daughter, who sat with her eyes modestly downcast.

‘Yes, she’s a very good girl,’ Arthur said, looking at his daughter in amusement. ‘I’m really quite impressed with you, Lizzie.’

‘Thank you, Pa,’ Lizzie said demurely. ‘Oh, Frank,’ she said, noticing that his plate was empty, ‘would you like some more meat?’

While Frank hesitated, torn between politeness and hunger, Alf reached his fork towards the platter of meat. Lizzie’s hand snaked out and slapped his wrist away.

‘Hey, what was that for?’ Alf asked indignantly.

‘Guests first,’ Lizzie said. ‘You can have some more when Frank’s had another helping.’

‘Why should I wait for him?’

‘Shut your mouth, Alf,’ Arthur growled. ‘Your sister’s right, have a few manners.’ Lizzie smiled smugly, and Alf scowled at her and muttered under his breath. ‘What was that, Alf?’ Arthur asked.

‘Nothing.’ Alf looked at his empty plate disconsolately.

‘Good. I thought I was going to have to teach you how to behave in front of visitors for a minute there.’ He stared hard at the boy, and Alf glanced at him then looked away at once.

‘I’m sorry,’ Frank said awkwardly. He piled some more meat onto his plate, then pushed the platter towards Alf.

‘Do you like steamed pudding, Frank?’ Lizzie asked when the meat and vegetables were finished and she had cleared the plates away.

Frank had to make an effort to remember what steamed pudding was like. ‘I think so.’ In a burst of courage he added, ‘Everything else is so nice, I’m sure it’ll be lovely.’ Lizzie rewarded him with a glowing smile. She dished him up a huge helping of pudding and handed him a jug of cream.

‘I like it too, Lizzie,’ said Arthur. ‘How about giving me some?’