Settling the Account (9 page)

‘Can I say a few words, Frank?’ Mr Callaghan
asked.

‘Um, yes—yes, please,’ Frank said.

‘Frank asked me to come along today to talk
about how the Bank can help with all this,’ Mr Callaghan explained.
‘As far as the Bank’s concerned, these co-operative factories are
the way farming should be going. And the government is encouraging
the Bank to lend money for them at a very favourable rate of
interest. The idea is that the Bank puts up the money to set up the
factory, then we take a small part of each month’s payout—a very
small part,’ he emphasised, noting the slight stiffening of the men
around him, ‘towards the loan. There should be no trouble at all
with advancing the money for the factory you men want to set
up.’

The men talked animatedly in small groups
for several minutes, until Matt Aitken summed up the general
feeling. ‘Well, I reckon it all sounds pretty good. What do we do
now, Frank?’

‘I think we’re meant to decide who’s going
to do what, and all that,’ Frank began vaguely, trying to think of
the right words.

‘May I, Frank?’ Mr Callaghan asked, and
Frank nodded eagerly. ‘I’m the first to admit I know nothing about
running farms—except for what I’ve picked up from you men over the
years,’ the manager said with a smile. ‘But I do know something
about setting up businesses such as this co-operative. The first
thing you need to do is set up a committee to run the factory.’

‘I’ll be on that,’ Harry volunteered.

‘And me,’ Arthur put in. ‘You young fellows
needn’t think you’re going to have it all your own way.’

‘Well, the procedure is to have each person
who wants to serve on the committee nominated and seconded, then if
there are more names put forward than places on the committee you
have a vote,’ Mr Callaghan explained carefully.

‘Bill, nominate me,’ Arthur ordered. Bill
was about to stand up to do so, when Mr Callaghan intervened.

‘Could I just go over one or two other
things? Just to save time later. As I said, you’ll want to set up a
committee. It’s up to you men to decide what number you want on it,
but I’d suggest between six and twelve. It rather depends how many
of you want the extra work of being on a committee, of course.
You’ll need to decide who’ll be secretary and treasurer, too—the
Bank will be happy to help you out with the accounts if you wish.
And of course you’ll need to choose a chairman.’

‘That’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?’ Again it
was Matt Aitken who chose to speak for many. ‘I reckon the
Chairman’s got to be Frank.’

Frank gave a yelp of surprise. ‘Me?’ Trying
to picture himself telling everyone what to do defeated the best
efforts of his imagination. ‘Heck, I couldn’t do that!’

‘Why not? You know more about this business
than any of the rest of us.’

‘That’s right,’ other voices chimed in.

‘Frank should be Chairman.’

‘Yes, good old Frank.’

‘But I… um… I’d like to be on the committee
and all that, but I couldn’t be Chairman,’ Frank protested.

‘Why not?’

‘Well, I…’ His eyes wandered the room wildly
until his gaze met Arthur’s. ‘I think it should be someone older,’
he said desperately. ‘Someone who’s been farming a lot longer than
I have. What about you, Pa?’

To his amazement, Arthur shook his head.
‘No, I’m not interested in being Chairman. I’ll be on this
committee, all right, but that’ll do me. You’re the one with all
the ideas, Frank, you can have the job of showing us it’s not all
talk.’

Frank shook his head in disbelief. The
notion of his telling Arthur what to do was too ridiculous for
words; it was the silliest thing he had ever heard. It was…

It was almost as ridiculous as the idea that
Frank Kelly, the quiet fellow without much going on in his head,
the one everyone had a laugh at behind his back, might one day have
the best herd in the district. Almost as ridiculous as the idea of
farmers writing to Frank from up and down the country wanting Kelly
Jerseys.

‘Frank?’ Mr Callaghan prompted. ‘Will you
accept nomination?’

For foolishness, it ranked with the idea of
buying Lizzie a pearl necklace. That particular dream would have to
wait a few more years, he knew, but he was certain that one day he
was going to fasten those pearls around her neck.

He looked around the room, seeing approving
smiles on every face. He beamed back at them, then turned to Mr
Callaghan. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll have a go at it.’

March – May 1897

Now that George Leith had gone through all
the education the valley school could offer, he joined Thomas
working with their father. Jack took as much pleasure in having the
young sons of his second family around him all the time as the boys
did in what they saw as their new-found freedom. Jack was not a
hard taskmaster, especially compared to Miss Metcalf; and to the
boys, working full-time on the farm meant they had gained adult
status. As far as they were concerned, one of the advantages of
their new station was that they had now left their mother’s realm
of authority forever. If they had known their mother better they
would not have been quite so confident.

Susannah’s father’s failing health had been
worrying his family for several years, but in the autumn of 1897 he
took a turn for the worse. Susannah had appeared increasingly
anxious for her father over the last few months, so it was no
surprise to Jack one day in March when she read the latest letter
from her mother and announced,

‘Father’s sinking. Mother says he may only
have a few weeks left.’

‘I’m sorry to hear it.’ He meant it
sincerely; Jack felt no resentment towards Susannah’s father for
his son’s misdeeds.

‘You do realise I’ll have to go up there?’
She spoke as if she expected a dispute over it.

‘Of course you will.’ He recalled that other
trip Susannah had made to Auckland. He had felt the need then to
warn her that he expected her to return, and that he would have to
fetch her if she did not come voluntarily. He felt no such concern
this time; for all her complaints, he no longer believed she had
any real desire to leave him. It occurred to him to wonder just how
distressed he would be if she did, now that the years had taught
him to value peace and quiet above the more elusive concept of
self-respect. ‘We’ll go into town tomorrow and see how soon we can
get you a passage.’

‘If there’s a funeral people will expect you
to come up, you know.’

‘They’ll be disappointed, then. I won’t be
coming.’

Susannah glared at him. ‘I was silly enough
to hope you might. I don’t know why I expected you to put yourself
out for me. I should know better than that.’

‘Susannah,’ he said, ‘you don’t want me to
go up there.’

‘I certainly don’t want to have to tell
everyone that my husband won’t even bother coming to my father’s
funeral. I don’t think it’s so much to ask.’

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, resisting
the urge to shout at her. ‘You don’t want me to go up there,’ he
repeated. ‘And I’ll tell you why, since you seem to have forgotten.
Your brother’s going to be there, isn’t he?’

The resentful look was abruptly wiped from
Susannah’s face, to be replaced by a wary one. ‘Oh. Yes, of course
he will.’

‘I thought as much. They’ll be fetching him
home from Australia, with your father being poorly.’

Susannah studied the opposite wall rather
than meet Jack’s eyes. ‘He’s already home. He came back years ago,
when Father first started ailing.’

‘I see. Well, I don’t blame you for not
telling me—it was too late for him to put right what he’d done. I’m
not going anywhere that brother of yours is likely to be. I’m sorry
for your ma that she’s going to be losing her husband—if I went up
to Auckland, she might find herself mourning a son as well.’

‘Don’t talk like that,’ Susannah flung at
him. ‘Is that how you show respect for the dying? Fighting and
brawling and… and… being
disgusting
—that’s all you farm men
ever think about. I’m going to lose my father, and you’re talking
about murdering my brother!’

‘All right, that’s enough,’ Jack said.
‘Maybe I spoke out of turn, I’ll accept that. But I’ll tell you
this, Susannah—if you think I could be in the same room as that
so-and-so who ruined my daughter and speak politely to him, you’re
wrong. And that’s my last word on the subject.’

But he could not silence his thoughts as
easily as his tongue. He remembered Amy’s bruised and battered
face, and the memory was physical pain. Charlie’s fists had
inflicted the blows, but it was Jimmy who had got Amy into the
state where marrying Charlie had seemed a sensible idea. And it was
Jack who had agreed to it, his prickling conscience reminded
him.

Susannah met his outburst with cold silence.
She did not speak to him again until that evening when she was
getting ready for bed. As she sat brushing her hair she spoke,
addressing the mirror in front of her rather than turning to face
Jack.

‘I want to take the boys with me. I suppose
you’ll begrudge me that, too?’

Jack’s first impulse was to say the boys
were to stay at home, but he made himself give the question careful
consideration before answering. Susannah took his silence as a
refusal, and slid around on her stool to glare at him.

‘He
is
their grandfather, you know. I
know you hate my whole family, but you can’t deny my father the
right to see his own grandsons again before he dies.’

‘I don’t hate your family, Susannah,’ Jack
said wearily. ‘Anyway, you’re right, the boys should go and pay
their respects. You can take them. I’ll miss them,’ he added
quietly.

Susannah turned back to the mirror. ‘I
notice you don’t say you’ll miss me.’

Jack studied the rigidly upright back view
that confronted him, and his mind treacherously cast up a memory of
fondling Susannah’s smooth flesh through the folds of her
nightdress. All the time he had thought he was being gentle, and
she had accused him of forcing her. Even if he had the opportunity
he was no longer sure he could raise the energy, but on the cold
winter evenings the thought of holding a warm body close was often
tempting. But not tempting enough to risk having that accusation
flung at him again. ‘That’s the way you want it, Susannah.’ He
rolled over to his usual perch on the extreme edge of the bed to
put the view out of his sight before he could be driven to say
something he might regret. He would keep to himself the knowledge
that, rather than miss her, he would enjoy the peace and quiet.

*

Thomas and George greeted with dismay the
announcement that they were to accompany their mother.

‘We don’t
want
to go to Auckland! We
want to stay with you,’ Thomas told Jack.

‘You’ve got to go with your ma,’ Jack said,
his own reluctance to part with the boys making him irritable. ‘I
won’t hear any arguments.’

‘I won’t go. I just won’t,’ George said.
‘You can’t make me.’

‘That’s enough of that talk, boy, if you
don’t want a hiding,’ Jack warned, hoping to forestall an outburst
from Susannah. ‘Your Grandpa’s ailing and he wants to see you. You
won’t be away for long.’

‘I’m not going to no special school up
there, anyway,’ George declared, confusing Jack for a moment until
he recalled the arguments with Susannah over sending the boys away
to school.

‘Don’t make us go, Pa,’ Thomas pleaded.
‘You’re going to kill the pig soon, and you said we could help this
year.
Please
, Pa. Ow!’ He clutched at his reddening
cheek.

Susannah stood over him, threatening to
follow her slap with a second one. ‘Do you think I
want
to
take you, you hateful little devil? The pair of you are little
brutes, you’ll probably shame me before my whole family, but I’ve
got
to take you. I’m not going to have Constance parading
her brood around and saying what a pity it is that I couldn’t bring
my children. You’re Father’s grandchildren just as much as hers
are, and you’ll do as I tell you. Little brute!’ She raised her
hand again.

Thomas backed away out of her reach. There
were tears in his eyes that Jack knew were not just from the pain
of Susannah’s slap. Thomas always looked stricken after one of his
mother’s outpourings of abuse, while George managed to maintain a
defiant attitude. It was the biggest difference between Jack’s two
young sons: George no longer cared what his mother thought of him,
but Thomas still wanted her to love him.

‘Stop it, Susannah,’ Jack said. ‘I’ve told
the boys they’re going with you, and that’s the end of it. There’s
no need for any yelling and screaming. Tom, pull yourself together.
And you watch your tongue, young George, or you won’t be sitting
down for a while.’

He glanced at Susannah; there was no chance
of settling the boys down while she was glaring so fiercely at
them. ‘Time you boys chopped a bit more firewood,’ he told them.
‘Come on and I’ll show you where I want it stacked up.’

When the door was safely closed on Susannah,
Jack put an arm around Thomas’s shoulders. ‘Now listen, Tom. I
can’t go up there with your ma because… well, it just doesn’t suit.
You have to go so you can look after her for me. We don’t want to
send her off by herself, do we?’

‘Yes,’ George muttered in a voice obviously
not intended to catch his father’s ear.

‘I didn’t ask you, George. But I’ll explain
this to the pair of you, then I want to hear no more about it. Your
ma’s upset because her pa’s crook. I’ll tell you both straight—he’s
going to die. Now, that’s upsetting your ma, because she’s fond of
him. That’s why she’s a bit scratchier than usual. She wants to go
up and see him before he passes on, and she wants the pair of you
to see him too. And you’re going to do it. Now, for pity’s sake try
not to upset her. All right?’