Sentence of Marriage (53 page)

‘I know you are. I’ll look after Amy, don’t worry.’

‘That’s not what I meant. I’m trusting you to come back again. I don’t want to be made a fool of, Susannah. I’d be the laughing-stock of the town if you stayed in Auckland. It’s not that long ago you said you wanted to go up there and not come back.’

He felt her roll over to face him, and one of her knees brushed lightly against his leg. He wished he could see her expression. ‘I didn’t mean it,’ she whispered. ‘I sometimes say things I don’t mean, when I get tired and upset. I’ll come back, I promise I will.’

‘Good. I’d have to come and get you if you didn’t, you know.’

‘I know.’

September 1884

Amy let the arrangements go on around her as though someone else were being spoken of. She listened with mild interest when told she would be going to Auckland to have the baby. She packed the clothes Susannah told her to pack. On the morning they were to leave she sat in the kitchen, her father’s battered old case on the chair beside her, and waited patiently for Susannah to finish getting ready.

She fingered the catch on the case and thought about the two things she had put in that Susannah knew nothing of: Jimmy’s brooch, and the velvet ribbon its box was nestled in. She could not wear the brooch, but she couldn’t bear to leave it in the drawer for Susannah to find and speculate over, and perhaps to question her about when she came home. And she could not bear to throw it away.

The months that stretched ahead of her were simply an interlude she had to pass through before the next real thing was to happen in her life: she was going to marry Charlie. Before then she would have the baby, but that had no solid meaning for her. ‘The baby’ was an abstract idea; a creature without a face. She knew she had to do the right thing by this being she had created, but the people around her had decided what the right thing was. Amy’s only responsibility was to do as she was told. It would all be over once the baby was born and had been given to the kind people who were waiting for it. Then she would come home and marry Charlie.
Then everyone will be happy. Everyone else, anyway. And I’ll be all right. Maybe he’ll be kind to me
.

Jack drove them into town and carried their bags onto the boat, and stayed with them until the ‘all ashore’ call was given. He gave each of his little boys a hug and kissed Amy, putting his arms around her carefully so as not to press too hard against her bulge. He kissed Susannah more as if he thought it was the right thing to do than with any real enthusiasm, then went back up the gangplank to wave to them as the
Staffa
pulled away from the wharf.

There was still just enough child left in Amy for her to feel a small surge of excitement when the boat started moving. This was her great adventure; she was leaving the place where she had spent her entire fifteen years. From now on, every place on the voyage would be somewhere she had never set eyes on before. Even the sounds and smells were new to her: the rumble of the engines, the thrumming of the deck under her boots, the grind of cables, the smell of burning coal. She was travelling. Never in her dreams had she imagined travelling for such a reason as this, but still she was travelling. A wayward thought forced its way into her awareness, and refused to be crushed down.
Jimmy was on this boat six months ago. When he left me
. Amy looked past the wharf at the buildings of Ruatane and the hills behind the town, and knew she was leaving behind everything familiar and safe.

Susannah’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘Wrap your cloak around you properly. And you’d better come and sit in the ladies’ cabin. Not that the little hutch deserves such a fancy name—I’d forgotten what a horrible little boat this is.’

She took Amy by the arm and led her into a tiny cabin astern of the wheel-house. ‘There aren’t any other women on the boat and men are blind about that sort of thing, but there’s no sense making yourself conspicuous. It’s too stuffy in here for the children, I’ll be up on the deck with them if you need anything.’

The cabin was almost airless, and what little breeze made its way through the doorway brought the smoke of the engines with it, mixed with a smell of hot oil. Amy soon gave up brushing coal soot from her cloak. At least the dark fabric would not show the cinder smudges too badly. She sat on one of the narrow benches that lined each wall and peered out at the coastline as it slowly slid past the portholes. All she saw was sandy beach with fern or flax behind it, and bush-covered hills in the background. She crossed to the other side of the cabin and tried there. At first it looked exactly the same, but when they crossed the river bar the view changed to one of flat grey sea stretching out to meet grey sky at the horizon. It was too cloudy for a glimpse of White Island.

She went back to the first side, keeping her balance with difficulty in the swell that was now making the little boat pitch and roll. Amy tried to concentrate on the land slipping past, but the hills were rising and dipping in a disconcerting way, and her stomach seemed to want to imitate their motion. It was not long before she made her first grab at the bucket someone had conveniently placed beside the bench, and emptied her breakfast into it.

Susannah came down to see her early in the afternoon, her face tinged with green. ‘Do you want anything to eat?’ she asked. Amy lay on the bench and groaned. ‘No, I’m not surprised. The Captain says this is a calm trip—I’d hate to be on a rough one, I’m ill enough as it is. Thomas has been sick, too, I can’t get any food into him. George hasn’t, though, I suppose that’s something. You’re sure you don’t want this?’ She thrust a package of sandwiches towards Amy. Amy pushed them away and leaned over the bucket once more. ‘You’re even worse than me,’ Susannah said. She left, and Amy was again alone in the cabin.

In the evening there was a pause in her misery when the boat pulled into harbour. Susannah came to the cabin to fetch her; much to Amy’s disappointment, this was not the end of the voyage.

‘Wh-why are we catching another boat?’ Amy asked groggily, her mouth feeling as if it were full of rancid cotton wool. ‘Isn’t this one horrible enough?’

‘The
Staffa
doesn’t go to Auckland, you know that. Don’t be so silly. We have to change here, we’ll be on the
Wellington
for the rest of the way.’

‘I’d forgotten that. So this isn’t Auckland yet?’ Amy peered through the darkness as she made her way unsteadily down the gangplank, trying to make out the shape of the town by the lights that stretched a short distance either side of the wharf.

‘This?’ Susannah said scornfully. ‘This place isn’t all that much bigger than Ruatane—well, not compared to Auckland, anyway. This is Tauranga. Now, I must see that those men get our luggage moved properly. Stand here out of the way.’

When their luggage had been safely stowed Amy found herself being bustled into a much larger ladies’ cabin that, with its padded leather couches and heavy drapes, was positively luxurious after the
Staffa
’s. She was vaguely aware of a stewardess approaching her and being brushed aside by Susannah, then her stepmother led her to a little bunk and helped her remove her boots and stockings. She lay down gratefully, and in the hour or two before the
Wellington
sailed she dropped off into a blissful sleep.
If I’m asleep I won’t be sick
, she thought drowsily as she drifted off.

In the early hours of the morning the motion of the ship woke her, and Amy found that nausea was more insistent than sleep. At first she tried to vomit quietly, so as not to wake Susannah and the few other women in the cabin, but soon nothing mattered except getting to the bucket in time. It was a very long night.

When daylight had come at last, Susannah leaned over her. ‘I’m taking the children up on deck for some fresh air. We’re in the gulf and it’s not so rough now. Were you ill in the night?’

‘Yes,’ Amy muttered miserably into her pillow.

‘You stay here. Shall I bring you breakfast?’

‘No,’ Amy groaned.

‘You’d feel better if you had something, you know. You won’t be sick again, not now we’re out of the open sea.’ Amy proved her wrong at that point. ‘Oh. Perhaps you’d better not have breakfast, then. You’re a terrible traveller, aren’t you? I thought I was bad enough—none of my family are good sailors. But you’re much worse than me.’

‘Susannah,’ Amy said weakly, ‘could I come up on deck with you? The fresh air might make me feel a little bit better.’

‘No, I want you out of sight. You don’t want people staring at you, do you?’ Susannah moved out of Amy’s field of vision, and Amy tried without success not to notice how stale the air in the cabin was. It smelt of bodies overdue for a bath, of small children who had soiled their clothes, and of sickly-sweet perfume, with engine fumes overlaying the whole mélange. She reached for the stinking bucket again.

But Susannah was right; the water was calmer now. After another hour or so, Amy could bear to look out the porthole at little bays slipping by. They passed several islands, and she wondered what their names were. Finally she saw a large wharf, lined with stacks of firewood, come into view, and felt the engines slow down. Amy could just manage to get her stockings and boots on, though her bulk made it difficult to see what she was doing, and by the time Susannah came back into the cabin to fetch her she was sitting up on the bunk with her cloak wrapped around her.

Amy was vaguely aware of noise and bustle all around her as sailors made the boat fast, passengers retrieved their baggage, and dock workers started unloading the cargo. Susannah hurried Amy ahead of her down the gangplank, at the same time leading Thomas by the hand and carrying George.

‘The ground’s still swaying!’ Amy said in dismay when she was safely on the wharf.

‘No, it’s not. You only think it is,’ Susannah said, and Amy soon found that her stomach believed it, even if her head did not. Susannah made Amy stand by a pile of flax bales and hold Thomas and George by the hand while she organised their baggage, then she retrieved her charges and shepherded them along briskly.

When they walked around the flax and started up the long wharf, Amy saw the city spread out before her. She stopped in her tracks and stared open-mouthed at the sight. There were huge buildings in either direction; some of them were three storeys high, and many of them were made of bricks, not wood. There were more buggies, carts, and carriages of various types than Amy had ever imagined the world could hold, and most of them seemed to be going at a breakneck pace. And people. Everywhere there were people. From the men unloading the cargo, to smartly-dressed men and women strolling along the broad pavements, to small boys rushing about on mysterious errands.

‘So many people,’ she breathed.

‘Twenty-five thousand,’ Susannah said proudly. ‘So Father said before I left—it might even be more now. You’re not in the country now, girl. Hurry up, I want to get a cab. There’re always plenty in Customs Street. Leave that,’ she said when she saw Amy reaching for her bag. ‘Hi, you,’ she hailed an eager-looking boy of about ten. ‘Carry my luggage for me and I’ll give you threepence.’ The boy did not need to be asked twice, and Amy soon found herself standing on the edge of a busy road. Suddenly she felt nauseated all over again.

‘Pooh!’ she exclaimed. ‘It smells terrible!’

‘What are you talking about? Nothing smells worse than farms.’ Susannah sniffed the air. ‘Actually it does smell a bit. I suppose it must be all the horses.’ Piles of horse dung littered the street, and as each vehicle rattled along its wheels went through the noisome heaps, disturbing colonies of flies. ‘There’s the Ligar Canal as well, it empties into the harbour, and it can be quite strong in the warm weather. I’d forgotten the smell,’ Susannah said in surprise. ‘Maybe it’s got worse the last three years. Never mind, we’ll soon be out of it. Cabby!’ she called, waving her arm vigorously when she spotted a black hansom cab coming in their direction.

The cabby stowed their luggage and held the door open until they were safely inside. ‘Grafton Road first,’ Susannah instructed. ‘Then Parnell.’ The cab started up a broad avenue, and they were soon going past a building site. ‘That’s where they’re going to build the new railway station,’ Susannah said, as proudly as though she were erecting it herself. ‘It’s going to be a huge place. It’s all reclaimed land, you know. When I was a girl Customs Street wasn’t here, it was sea up to Fort Street.’

Amy looked out the window, but there was nothing more interesting than piles of dirt and rocks on the left of the cab, with what seemed to be hundreds of workmen moving the dirt around in wheelbarrows and carts.

‘Is it always like this?’ she asked. ‘All these people building things, and nothing properly finished?’

‘Well, there’re always new buildings going up—that’s how Father makes his money. But I must say it doesn’t usually look quite as… well, confused as this. Except for around Point Britomart, of course, they’d already been slicing that away for two years before I got married. That’s where they got the rocks from to make this new land. It’ll be wonderful when the new station’s ready, trains right to the bottom of Queen Street.’

Amy looked at the buildings on the other side of the road, trying to make out the signs in their windows as the cab rattled past. The buildings petered out into ordinary-looking houses, and she glanced back to the left hand side. She gave a shriek as she saw a black monster hurtling towards them, belching a cloud of dark smoke.