Settling the Account (67 page)

‘I
want
to,’ Sarah protested. ‘I want
to help you. Won’t you let me?’

‘No, I can’t. I couldn’t bear to see you do
that. And what about your nice dress?’

‘Clothes can be washed.’

‘I wouldn’t like the job of washing a pretty
dress like that if you wore it in the drain. It’s silk, isn’t it?
This is just an old cotton thing, it’s just about rags already.
Please, Sarah, don’t even ask me to let you do something like
that.’

‘Well, there must be some way I can help.
Something in the kitchen, perhaps?’ Sarah latched eagerly onto the
idea. ‘Could I do some baking for you?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Amy said. ‘Charlie—Mr
Stewart would get upset if there was a stranger in the house.’

‘Oh,
him
. Doesn’t he ever leave the
house?’

Confronted with a straight question, Amy
could not evade it. ‘Not really,’ she admitted. ‘Only to sit on the
verandah sometimes when it’s fine.’

‘Then there’s nothing I can do to help
you?’

‘I don’t need any help. Thank you for
thinking of it, but I can manage, really I can. You mustn’t worry
about me. Why did you come today, anyway?’

‘I’ve been up to visit Lily. I thought it
would be a good excuse to come and see you. I never thought of his
being here, sitting around in his nightshirt in the middle of the
day. I know you said you didn’t want me to visit you, but I thought
I’d never have the chance otherwise, now you don’t go to Mrs
Kelly’s any more.’

‘I don’t like to leave him by himself, you
see.’

‘I’ve brought you a book.’ Sarah reached
into the bag at her side and pulled out a leather-bound volume.
‘Byron. Passionate verse is not particularly appropriate, I’m
afraid,’ she said, looking towards the cottage with resentment
smouldering in her eyes. ‘But there’s no harm in dreaming, is
there?’

There’s no good in it, either
. ‘Thank
you, that’s very kind of you. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it, but I won’t
touch it just now, not with my hands in this state. Could you put
it up on the rail for me?’

Amy looked at the gold lettering on the
book’s spine, anticipating the pleasure of reading the verse
inside. ‘I don’t know when I’ll get it back to you, though—I don’t
get out much these days.’

‘No need to return it. It’s a gift. I sent
away to Auckland for it.’

‘Oh, Sarah! That’s one of the loveliest
things anyone’s ever given me! Oh, I’d like to kiss you, but I
don’t want to get you dirty.’

‘Faces can be washed more easily than
clothes,’ Sarah said, and before Amy could stop her she had knelt
down on the top step and pressed her lips to Amy’s cheek.
‘There.’

She stood up. ‘And now I think the best
thing I can do is get out of your way. I’m sorry I barged in
uninvited, I shan’t make such a nuisance of myself again.’

‘You’re not a nuisance.’

‘Oh, yes I am.’ She studied Amy. ‘I shall
have to think of some way of helping you. I don’t like the idea of
your living in squalor.’

‘There’s no need for that. No need at
all.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ Sarah said.

Amy rose to walk with Sarah over to where
she had tethered her horse.

‘Sarah,’ she said when the younger woman had
mounted, ‘I’d be grateful if… well, if you didn’t tell anyone about
all this. About Mr Stewart and everything.’

‘Yes, I suppose you would,’ Sarah said
thoughtfully. ‘I suppose you would.’

She rode away down the track, glancing back
frequently over her shoulder and returning Amy’s waves.

There would be no point in cleaning herself
up enough to go inside and then getting filthy again. Amy went back
to her drain and finished the job, then trudged back up to the
house.

She was sitting on the porch steps pulling
off her boots when the door opened a fraction and Charlie peered
out.

‘Has she gone?’ he asked, looking around
nervously.

‘Yes, she has. I don’t think she’ll be back,
either.’

‘She’d better not be,’ Charlie said,
attempting belligerence. ‘Poking her nose in my house! Coming in
when a man’s not even dressed.’

‘She didn’t know you were here. Didn’t she
knock?’

‘Aye, she damned near thumped the door down,
knocking and knocking. I thought she’d take herself off if I took
no notice. Then the bold-faced tart barged right in! Said something
about wanting to leave a note for you. Bloody cheek of it.’

‘I think she got as much of a fright as you
did. And if she didn’t know you were in the house you can’t really
blame her for coming in. Never mind, she’s gone now.’

‘Bloody good riddance. Don’t want your
relations hanging around here.’

Amy tugged at a stubborn boot. ‘She’s not my
relation, Charlie. She’s Lily’s cousin. I’ve told you that.’

‘She’s some relation of yours,’ Charlie
said, looking suspiciously at her. ‘I can see she is. Don’t you go
telling me she’s not.’

‘Please yourself, then.’

Charlie screwed up his face as he watched
her. ‘You stink to high heaven.’

‘I know I do. My nose is full of it. Sarah
must have thought I’d been rolling around in the muck.’ She looked
at herself in disgust. ‘I don’t know what she thought of me.’

Even after she had scrubbed at her hands and
face and changed into clean clothes, Amy felt dirty. It was as
though the filth had seeped into her skin and become ingrained. She
fancied that the fetid smell of the drain still hung about her.

Squalor
, she thought to herself as
she looked around her grubby kitchen.
That’s a good word for it,
Sarah
. She felt a sick sense of relief that Sarah had refused
her unthinking offer of a cup of tea; and an even sicker sense of
disgust at herself for having been caught in such a state. Tonight,
she decided, she was going to have a respite from squalor.

‘What are you doing with that thing?’
Charlie asked when she dragged the tin bath into the kitchen.

‘I’m going to have a bath. I haven’t had one
in weeks—no, months,’ Amy corrected herself.

Charlie looked at her doubtfully. ‘I can’t
fetch the water for you.’

‘I know. I can manage, it’ll just take me a
while.’

It did take a long time to haul enough
water, and boiling it used a fearful portion of the store of
firewood that had taken such an effort to chop, but Amy was
determined. By the time she had the last kerosene tin full of water
heating, she had settled Charlie in the parlour with a cup of tea.
She heaved the tin of steaming water off the range and tipped
enough of it in to get the bath as full as she wanted, hoisted the
tin back onto the range to keep it hot for the dishwashing, then
stripped off and stepped into the bath.

The feel of hot water against her skin was
blissful. Amy scrubbed at herself until she was pink all over, then
leaned as far back as the little bath allowed and savoured the
delicious sensation of being clean.

It was only when the water began to cool and
her fingers were water-soft and wrinkled that Amy could bear to
leave it. The roughness of the towel was pleasure rather than
discomfort, making her skin tingle delightfully. Even her
nightdress, warm from being draped over a chair close to the range,
seemed to caress her as she pulled it on over her head.

The urge to share the unaccustomed pleasure
of being so thoroughly clean was strong, especially when Amy saw
how much hot water she had to spare; far more than she needed for
the dishes.

She opened the door into the parlour.
Charlie was sitting up in his armchair, ostensibly reading the
Weekly News
but in reality dozing fitfully. He looked up
when Amy entered the room, and rustled his newspaper noisily. ‘What
do you want?’

‘Would you like a bath? I’ve left the water
in it, and I’ve got a load of hot to top it up with.’

She watched him consider the idea. ‘I won’t
bother,’ he said after a pause. But she saw the look of longing he
cast in the direction of the kitchen; saw, too, the involuntary
move to scratch himself under one arm.

‘Are you sure?’ she pressed. ‘It seems a
waste of water just for one. I’ll help you,’ she added quietly,
knowing that that was the real issue.

‘Don’t want to be helped,’ Charlie said
gruffly; then more softly, as if he had not meant to speak aloud,
he added, ‘I wouldn’t mind a bath.’ Amy saw him glance towards the
kitchen again.

‘Come on, then,’ she urged. She took his
arm, and he let himself be helped up and led into the kitchen.

Charlie leaned against the edge of the table
and watched her empty out a few bucketfuls of grey water from the
bath and replace them with clean hot water.

‘Hell of a job for you, hauling all that,’
he said. ‘Should be my job, that sort of thing.’

Amy lifted the kerosene tin back onto the
range, enjoying the sense of relief when she relinquished the
weight. ‘Well, you’ve hauled plenty of bath loads for me over the
years. I don’t mind taking a turn.’

She stood in front of Charlie and reached up
to undo the buttons of his nightshirt. He grabbed feebly at the
nightshirt when she started to lift it, his face twisted in
distress, but Amy easily won the unequal battle.

‘Now, hurry up and get in that lovely hot
water before it starts getting cold,’ she said briskly.

He clutched at Amy, leaning against her as
he stepped into the bath then carefully lowered himself into the
water.

Amy knelt on the floor behind him, hoping he
would be less uncomfortable if he could not see her. Charlie held
himself stiffly upright, rigid with embarrassment, while Amy began
soaping his back.

He said nothing for some time, and Amy left
the silence undisturbed while she washed him. Then she heard him
muttering under his breath, and she paused for a moment to catch
his words.

‘Man can’t do for himself,’ she heard. ‘A
man’s in a bloody bad way when he can’t wash himself.’

‘There’s no harm in getting someone else to
help you with the awkward bits,’ Amy said. ‘Lizzie does Frank’s
back, you know.’

‘She doesn’t!’ he said in astonished
disbelief.

‘She does, Charlie, honestly. Her and Frank
have always done each other’s backs, right from when they were
first married. Lizzie told me that years and years ago.’

He digested her startling claim in silence,
leaving Amy free to go on washing him. When she had finished his
back she could no longer stay behind him, instead walking around on
her knees until she was crouched close to his side. She worked her
way around to the front of his body, doing his arms then his
chest.

The hair on it was thick and grizzled, with
no more than a hint of the reddish colour it must have had when he
was a young man. It was hard for Amy to imagine Charlie as a young
man; he had seemed old even when she was a child. Old, but powerful
and frightening; now he was old and pitiable. Her only fear as she
tended him was that she might inadvertently hurt him.

Her hands worked lower, to where the hair
drew inwards to a narrower line down his belly. Below that, the
hair spread out again into a patch of a darker colour. Amy’s hands
hovered uncertainly as she neared it.

While she hesitated, Charlie reached out
with his good hand and snatched the soap from her. ‘I’ll do it
myself,’ he said.

She sat back on her heels and waited for him
to finish washing his private parts.

Amy had never before seen a grown man at
such close quarters. It seemed such a small, insignificant thing
dangling there rather comically, brushing the surface of the water
as if in imminent danger of drowning. It was hard to believe how
terrified she had been of it, and how much it had hurt her. Hard to
understand why letting a man put that silly little thing inside her
had made her ruined in the eyes of the world.

He let her take back the soap to do his legs
and feet, then she rinsed him off and helped him out of the bath.
She felt him trembling as she rubbed him with the towel; even so
small an exertion as having been bathed had left him exhausted. By
the time she had a clean nightshirt on him he could hardly stand.
He leaned heavily on Amy as she helped him into the bedroom and
tucked him into bed.

‘You should sleep well now, after all that,’
she said. ‘I’ve put an extra blanket on, I don’t want you getting a
chill from having a bath. Are you warm enough?’

He nodded, but seemed too tired to
speak.

‘I think I’ll start having baths again,’ Amy
said. ‘I’d forgotten how good it feels. We don’t need to bother
every week, not when it takes so long to fetch the water, but once
a fortnight or so would be nice. Once a month, at least.’

‘Makes a lot of trouble for you,’ Charlie
said indistinctly.

‘It’s worth it, especially if you’ll share
the water. I don’t think I could be bothered doing it just for
myself very often. It’s nice to feel clean, isn’t it?’

Charlie nodded. ‘Feels good,’ he murmured.
‘Lot of bother. Glad you did it.’

He closed his eyes. Amy put out the lamp and
crept from the room. She had already closed the door behind her
before she realised with a start that Charlie had just come
surprisingly close to thanking her for something.

*

Frank inched back the bedcovers and slid
slowly towards the edge of the mattress, doing his best to get out
without making the bed move. Despite his efforts, Lizzie stirred
and opened her eyes.

‘Don’t get up, Lizzie,’ he said quickly.
‘There’s no need. I can get myself a cup of tea easy enough.’

‘I’ve always made you a cup of tea before
you go out milking, and I don’t intend to stop,’ Lizzie said, her
voice still a little blurred from sleep. ‘Don’t go making a
fuss.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t—’ Frank saw Lizzie move
to sit upright. He darted around to her side of the bed, bashing
his ankle against one of the bed legs in his rush, grabbed at the
basin that rested on the bedside table, and managed to thrust it
under Lizzie’s mouth just as she began to retch.