Read Settling the Account Online
Authors: Shayne Parkinson
Tags: #family, #historical, #victorian, #new zealand, #farming, #edwardian, #farm life
She helped him out to the kitchen, and to a
seat at the table. Charlie seemed more alert than Amy had seen him
for weeks, aroused by David’s startling arrival, but she watched
him anxiously, sure that he had over-exerted himself.
His eyelids were drooping by the time Amy
had lunch ready, but he roused himself when David came in, sitting
up more erect and fixing his son with a hard stare.
‘What’ve you been up to this morning, boy?’
he asked.
‘Made a start on the spuds,’ David mumbled,
turning away from his father’s gaze.
‘Good. You see you make a decent job of it,
now. I don’t want those spuds ruined. The first thing to do
is—’
‘Soup smells good, Ma,’ David said,
interrupting Charlie’s discourse. ‘You want a hand?’ He carried the
bowls from the bench to the table and took the seat furthest from
Charlie’s.
Amy had become so used to feeding Charlie
that she did it without thinking, and he opened his mouth for the
offered spoonful with an equal lack of thought. He had taken
several mouthfuls before he shut his mouth abruptly, his eyes
narrowing as he glared down the table at David.
‘What are you staring at?’ he said.
‘Nothing. I’m not staring at anything.’
‘You watch yourself, boy,’ Charlie growled.
‘You needn’t think I’ll be stuck in the house for ever. I’ll be
back about my work before too long, then I’ll see what sort of a
job you’re making of things.’
David dropped his gaze to his soup,
apparently interested in nothing beyond demolishing the bowlful,
but Amy saw him cast occasional furtive glances at his father.
Charlie snatched his spoon from Amy’s hand
and insisted on trying to feed himself. It was a messy business,
with soup stains soon appearing on the front of his shirt. He
glared at David over his soup bowl, clearly looking for something
to find fault with; some way of reasserting the authority that his
body’s treacherous weakness had robbed him of.
‘You could do with a haircut,’ he
announced.
David bridled at once. ‘No, I couldn’t,’ he
said, and for a moment Amy saw the frightened child of three
looking through the eyes of the young man of nearly eighteen. ‘I
don’t need a haircut.’
‘It’s a little bit long,’ Amy said, anxious
to intervene before either of them became too excited over so
trivial a matter. ‘I’ve already told Dave I’ll give it a cut,
Charlie, there’s no need for you to worry about it.’
By the time they had finished their pudding
and a cup of tea, Amy sensed Charlie’s discomfort, noting how he
was squirming on his chair. Without bothering to ask if he wanted
help, she offered her arm and got him up, then took him into the
bedroom.
‘Hurry up,’ he said urgently as Amy undid
his trouser buttons. He made the task more awkward by trying to use
his good hand to help with the buttons, succeeding only in getting
in Amy’s way.
She almost managed to get him onto the
chamber pot in time. ‘You can’t stay in those wet trousers,’ she
said as she helped him stand up again. ‘Do you want me to get you
another pair? Or would you rather have a lie-down after that big
lunch?’ she prompted. Much to her relief, Charlie let her undress
him and put him to bed.
David was still in the kitchen, looking a
little dazed by what he had seen over lunch.
‘What’s wrong with him, Ma?’ he demanded as
soon as Amy came in. ‘I didn’t know he was that bad when I saw him
lying in bed. Why can’t he walk by himself or use that arm? He
can’t even feed himself properly.’
Amy sat down beside him at the table. ‘I
don’t know, Davie. I just don’t know. It’s like he’s got really,
really old suddenly, but it’s not that.’
She poured them another cup of tea. ‘At
first we thought he’d had a fall and hurt himself, and he was just
taking a long time getting better. But he never did get better.
He’s getting worse and worse. There’s things he could do a few
months ago that he can’t do now.’
‘Hasn’t made him any better tempered,
anyway. Grumpy old so-and-so.’
‘I think it has, you know,’ Amy corrected
him. ‘He takes a lot of looking after these days, but… you’ll laugh
at me saying this, but he’s a lot easier to get on with than he
used to be.’
‘So he jolly well should be, having you
waiting on him hand and foot, and doing all his work for him as
well! What were you doing, trying to manage everything by yourself?
Why didn’t you get Uncle John and Uncle Harry to help you?’
‘I thought it’d only be for a few days, then
I thought maybe a week or two. Your father was so worried about
anyone finding out that he couldn’t do his work, it seemed the
right thing to do to keep it quiet. And by the time I started
understanding that he wasn’t ever going to get better… well, I’d
got used to doing things. He got in such a state if I ever said I
should tell your Uncle John, and I couldn’t bear to upset him. Not
when he’s got all that to put up with.’
‘That old bugger would’ve worked you to
death just so’s he wouldn’t be shown up. You’re too soft, Ma.’
‘Maybe I am,’ Amy allowed. ‘But it’s just
the way I’m made. And don’t call your father names like that. It’s
not right.’
‘Neither is how he’s always treated you,’
David said darkly.
After the embarrassment of having David
watch him being spoon-fed, Charlie did not ask to get up for the
evening meal. Amy fed him in bed before having her own meal with
David. But when she went to tuck him in for the night he showed no
inclination to settle, instead insisting that she help him out of
bed and through to the kitchen. He did not want to be left out of
things, and she could not blame him, though she would rather have
had the time alone with David.
‘Might have a drink tonight,’ Charlie said.
‘You can get me a drop of whisky.’
‘It’s a good excuse to celebrate, isn’t it?’
Amy said, moving to fetch the bottle and a glass. ‘Having Dave come
home like this.’
‘As long as he makes himself useful around
the place.’ Charlie regarded the small amount of whisky in the
bottom of his glass, frowning as though thinking out a puzzle.
‘Give the boy a drink, too,’ he announced.
Amy knew how generous an offer it was on
Charlie’s part. She watched David, unsure just how she wanted him
to respond.
‘No, thanks,’ he said carelessly.
Charlie regarded him in stunned disbelief.
‘What do you mean? I offer you a good drop of whisky and you don’t
want it?’
‘No. I don’t drink.’
‘What sort of womanish notion is that?
What’s wrong with you?’
‘Nothing’s wrong with me,’ David said, his
voice hardening. ‘I’ve never seen any good come out of guzzling
booze, so I don’t do it.’
Charlie seemed to shrink back in his chair
under David’s grim stare. ‘Bloody fool notion,’ he muttered under
his breath.
Amy felt a warm rush of pride in David; she
could only guess at how hard it must have been for him to have kept
his childhood promise never to drink alcohol once he was living in
a town full of hard-drinking men. But her pride was mingled with
regret that Charlie should have had his offer rejected. Benevolent
gestures did not come easily to Charlie.
Charlie retreated into silence, but his
presence had a dampening effect on the conversation. His eyes
swivelled from Amy to David as they spoke about such innocuous
topics as Maudie’s wedding, Harry and Jane’s youngest child, and
other family events David had missed. Once or twice Amy thought
Charlie might have been about to say something, but he did not
speak quickly enough and the moment passed.
Even when Amy had finished her work in the
kitchen and they went through to the parlour, Charlie showed no
desire to go to bed. He had not sat up so late for months. Amy put
a three-day-old newspaper on his lap, and he pretended to read it,
although no pages were turned. Several times she saw his head droop
forward so far that his chin almost rested on his chest before it
was abruptly jerked upright again.
At last he nodded off long enough for a
short burst of snoring to escape him, waking himself up in the
process.
‘Would you like to go to bed, Charlie?’ Amy
asked. ‘It’s quite late, really.’
She watched him thinking it over. ‘Aye, I’ll
go off now,’ he said. Amy helped him up, and he had taken a
hesitant step before he caught David’s eyes on him.
‘Time you went to bed, boy,’ Charlie said.
‘You’ll be up early tomorrow.’
David shrugged. ‘I’ll go in a while. I might
sit up a bit longer yet.’
Amy felt Charlie stiffen against her.
‘Didn’t you hear me?’ he said in a low growl. ‘I told you to go to
bed.’
‘I’ll go when I’m ready.’ David kept his
voice low, but there was a challenge in it that Amy knew Charlie
must have heard as clearly as she had. ‘I don’t need to be told.’
His eyes locked with Charlie’s.
Amy broke the moment. ‘Well,
I’m
ready for bed,’ she said, her voice sounding foolishly light in her
own ears. ‘Such a day it’s been, with you coming home! I wish you
would go to bed, Dave, we’re low on kerosene and I’d rather not run
that lamp out of it tonight.’
David turned his gaze away from Charlie.
‘All right,’ he mumbled. ‘S’pose I am a bit tired, come to that. I
didn’t get much sleep last night. See you in the morning, then.’ He
got up from his chair, stretched, and moved towards the front door.
When he glanced back at Amy, she met his eyes and sent him a silent
message of thanks.
She caught herself trying to hurry through
settling Charlie for the night, and felt a rush of guilt as she
looked down at the frail creature in the bed. He had no one to look
after him except her; she shouldn’t begrudge the time she spent on
him.
He stared up at her. ‘You want to go out
there and see your boy again, don’t you?’ It was half accusation,
half pleading.
‘Dave’s gone to bed, just like you told him
to.’ She brushed a wisp of grey hair away from his forehead.
‘You’ve overdone it a bit tonight, haven’t you? You look
tired.’
‘I’ve no reason to be tired. Just lying in
bed all day. No use to anyone.’
‘Don’t talk like that, Charlie, you’ll only
upset yourself. Dave’s home now, so you can have a rest without
feeling bad.’
She pulled the chair closer to the bed and
sat down. ‘Shall I stay here for a while? Just until you start
feeling sleepy.’
‘Suit yourself,’ he said brusquely, but the
plea in his eyes was clear enough. Amy leaned across to smooth the
covers, then sat beside him in silence until she was sure he was
asleep.
The parlour was in darkness when she crept
out of Charlie’s room, but Amy knew her way by memory. The front
door creaked a little as she slid it open and pulled it closed
behind her.
A sliver of light showed under David’s door.
‘Davie?’ she said quietly. ‘Can I come in?’
She heard his rapid footsteps. The door
opened to reveal the small room lit by candlelight, with David
almost filling the doorway. He stepped back, taking Amy’s arm and
drawing her in after him. Biff was lying on the floor beside the
bed, thumping his tail at the sight of Amy. ‘I hoped you’d come,
Ma,’ David whispered. ‘I’d just about given up.’
‘I had to settle your father down first—it
was a bit much for him, all the excitement. I knew I wouldn’t get
to sleep if I didn’t come and see you before I go to bed,
though.’
‘Pity he had to hang around all night.’
‘He felt a bit left out, I think, with you
and me talking around him. He doesn’t usually want to stay up that
late.’
‘He just likes spoiling things.’ David
flopped onto his bed, his back against the wall and his long legs
folded in front of him. Amy sat beside him and nestled into the
crook of his arm.
‘I’d better not keep you up too long,’ she
murmured. ‘You do have to be up early tomorrow, you know.’
‘I know. Stay a bit longer, though, Ma. I
don’t feel sleepy yet.’
‘Neither do I.’ Amy studied the effect of
the flickering candlelight on his dark hair, and the play of light
and shadows it made across his face, and she felt that she could
sit there watching him for the rest of her life.
She was reluctant to spoil the moment, but
she could not hide from her worries for long. ‘Davie, I hope you’re
going to try and get on with your father.’
‘I don’t care a damn about him.’
‘I’m not asking you to like him, just to try
and get on with him. Try and think how it is for him—hardly able to
get out of bed, or do anything for himself.’
‘He’s still a grumpy old so-and-so like he’s
always been.’
‘He’s not really, you know. He was a bit
funny with you because it was such a shock seeing you again,
especially with you and him having that awful fight before you
went. And now you’ve come back bigger and stronger than ever, and
he’s got old and frail. He’s… I think he’s a little bit scared of
you. Don’t make him more scared. Try and be a bit nice to him.’
‘I’m not going to pretend I like him.’ David
saw the look she sent him, and grimaced. ‘I don’t want him to be
scared of me, though. There’s no sense in that. Oh, all right, I’ll
try and get on with the old so-and-so.’
Amy pressed more closely against him.
‘That’s my good boy. I knew you’d do the right thing.’
‘Funny, really, what he said this morning,’
David mused. ‘He said he wanted me to help you. It was just about
the first thing he said. He never used to care about what you had
to do.’
‘He’s changed a lot, Davie, he really
has.’
‘Maybe he has.’ David yawned, remembering to
put his hand over his mouth half way through.
‘You’re tired, aren’t you, darling? I’d
better let you go to bed.’
‘I suppose so.’ David held her more tightly.
‘It’s going to be funny, sleeping by myself. I’ve got used to a
room full of fellows.’
‘Remember how you used to sneak into my room
sometimes when you were little?’