Settling the Account (85 page)

‘Dave’s a good boy,’ Lizzie said. ‘And he’s
very good to his mother.’

‘Mmm.’ Frank studied Lizzie’s face, smiling
as he did so.

‘What are you looking at me like that for?’
she asked.

‘Just thinking what a beauty you are, and
what a lucky man I am.’

‘Oh, don’t talk rot. Move over a bit so I
can pick Benjy up, I think he wants to get on my lap again.’

‘Benjy can wait a minute,’ Frank said. ‘He’s
had you all afternoon.’ One arm still firmly around Lizzie so that
she could not lean down to pick up Benjy, he reached into his
jacket pocket with the other hand. ‘I got you a present today.’

‘Did you?’ Lizzie’s eyes lit up in a smile.
‘That was nice. What did you do that for?’

‘Because you’re the best wife in the world,
and I know when I’m well off.’ He placed the long, slim box wrapped
in tissue paper in Lizzie’s outstretched hand.

Lizzie laughed at his solemn expression.
‘And what made you realise that all of a sudden? You’re silly
sometimes, Frank.’

He shook his head. ‘It wasn’t sudden. I’ve
been wanting to do this for… I don’t know, fifteen years or more.
Since Beth was a little thing. And it’s your birthday this month,
anyway.’

‘People don’t usually get special presents
just for being thirty-nine,’ Lizzie said, still amused. ‘And
wrapped up so nice and all.’

‘Open it, then,’ Frank said, impatient to
see her response.

Lizzie carefully undid the tissue paper,
folded it and placed it on a side table. ‘I can use that again,’
she said, thriftily pleased. ‘What a pretty box this is.’

She lifted the lid of the box and gasped at
the sight. ‘P-pearls?’ she said in a faint voice. ‘A whole necklace
of them?’ She tore her eyes away from the necklace with difficulty.
‘Frank, how much did this—’

‘Never you mind,’ Frank said, placing a
finger on her lips to silence her. ‘A hundred necklaces wouldn’t be
worth what you are. Anyway, what’s the use of having money if I
can’t do what I want with it?’ He smiled at the look of wonder on
Lizzie’s face. ‘Do you like it?’

‘Like it?’ Lizzie echoed faintly. ‘It’s…
it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’

‘It should suit you, then. Are you going to
try it on?’

Lizzie ran her fingers delicately over the
pearls. ‘Not now. I’ll have to wait till I’ve got a nice dress
on.’

‘Try it on now,’ Frank insisted. He lifted
the necklace from its box and held it up.

‘I can’t,’ Lizzie protested. ‘I’ve just got
this old dress on, and I’ve got a bit of baby sick down the
front.’

‘Try it on,’ Frank repeated. ‘Here, I’ll do
it up for you. Turn around.’

Lizzie obediently twisted around to let
Frank fasten the diamond clasp at the back of her neck, then turned
to face him again. ‘How does it look?’ she asked, her voice almost
shy.

Frank studied the sight. A shaft of sunlight
fell across Lizzie’s chest, the pearls answering the light with a
luminous glow. The creamy skin of Lizzie’s face had the same
translucent glow in the warm light, and her eyes were
sparkling.

A sudden tugging at his trouser leg
distracted Frank for a moment. He looked down to see Benjy
clutching at the cloth and gazing at him with a plea in his face.
Frank scooped him up and nestled him into the crook of his arm.

The baby snuggled against him as Frank
turned his attention back to Lizzie. He reached out to brush the
pearls, already warmed by Lizzie’s body, then raised his hand to
brush her soft cheek. ‘Perfect. Just perfect.’

*

The morning was mild enough for Amy to sit
on the verandah after she had done the breakfast dishes and indulge
in the luxury of reading a book.

She had so much time to call her own these
days that she sometimes felt a little guilty over it. ‘You’ve done
your share, Ma, you’re due for a rest,’ David always told her,
unaware that he was echoing his father’s opinion. It still seemed
strange to have no one to look after but David and herself. Not
since early childhood had she had such light demands made on
her.

An unexpected movement caught her attention.
Amy shaded her eyes and stared down the track. It was a rider
approaching, she soon realised; and her next realisation was that
it was an odd piece of riding.

Not that any lack of skill was being shown
by the rider; quite the reverse. Whoever was coming up to the
cottage must be an accomplished rider to be keeping their seat
given the strange pace they were forcing their horse into. The
horse would suddenly burst into a fast canter, then as suddenly
come back to a walk so slow that it was more of an amble. A few
steps on and the rapid canter would begin again.

The horse had reverted to that dawdling walk
by the time the rider was close enough for Amy to see that her
visitor was a woman. She went around to the back of the house in
time to see the rider pull up.

‘Sarah!’ Amy exclaimed. ‘I didn’t know you
were coming! Oh, it’s lovely to see you! Here, let me help.’

She held the reins while Sarah dismounted,
then tethered the horse to the nearest fence. ‘I can hardly believe
it.’ Amy put her arms around Sarah’s waist and planted a kiss on
her cheek, having to stand on tiptoe to reach.

For a moment Sarah held herself so stiffly
that Amy was afraid she had given offence, then she abruptly put
her own arms around Amy’s shoulders and clutched at her. ‘I can
hardly believe it myself,’ she murmured as she released Amy.

‘When did you get here? I didn’t hear you
were coming, didn’t Lily know? Where are you staying?’

Sarah smiled faintly and held up her hand to
fend off the flow of questions. ‘Let me catch up, Mrs Stewart. I
got in late yesterday afternoon. No, Lily didn’t know I was coming.
No one knows I’m here except you, in fact. I’m staying at one of
the hotels.’

‘A hotel? There’s no need for you to stay in
a place like that,’ Amy said, startled. ‘You could… you could stay
here,’ she offered shyly. ‘We’ve got the room now. I know it’s not
flash like you’re used to, but it’d be lovely if you could.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘Thank you. It’s very
kind of you to offer. But I don’t think so. Whatever happens.’

‘Just as you please, then,’ Amy said, trying
not to feel hurt. ‘How long do you think you’ll be in Ruatane?’

‘I… I don’t quite know,’ Sarah said, looking
away as if reluctant to meet Amy’s eyes. ‘It rather depends on
you.’

It seemed an odd thing to say; in fact Sarah
seemed to be in as strange a mood as she had the last time Amy had
seen her. But she was too full of the unexpected pleasure of
Sarah’s company to be dwelling on her manner.

‘I’ll get a halter so we can let your horse
out in the paddock,’ Amy said. ‘You’re not going off in a hurry, I
hope?’

‘Will I be a dreadful nuisance? Would you
rather I went immediately?’

Amy looked at her in surprise. ‘But Sarah, I
just asked you to stay here instead of at the hotel, didn’t I? Of
course I don’t want you to go.’

‘Oh. So you did,’ Sarah said tensely. ‘I’m
sorry, I’m not quite thinking straight. So it’s not an inconvenient
time for me to descend on you?’

‘Not a bit of it—I hope you’ll stay all day.
But let’s turn this horse out, then you won’t have to worry about
leaving it tied up.’

She fetched a halter from the shed, glancing
under the horse’s body as she came back. ‘A mare. She’s a pretty
one. Whose is she?’

‘I’m not quite sure. I told the people at
the hotel I wanted to hire a mount, and they produced this
one.’

‘It’s probably one of Mr Winskill’s. Would
you run the stirrup up while I do the halter, Sarah?’

Sarah frowned. ‘I don’t think I know how. I
suppose I could try.’

‘No, I’ll do it,’ Amy said. She ran up the
stirrup, undid the girth and pulled off the horse’s saddle, then
turned the animal out into the paddock. ‘I’m sorry, I thought you’d
know how to handle the tack, with you being a good rider.’

‘I must confess that at the end of a ride I
always used to put the reins in the stable boy’s hand and go off
about my business. It never occurred to me to wonder what he did
with the horse after I’d finished.’

‘Well, I don’t suppose there was any point,
if you had someone to do it for you.’ Amy looped her arm through
Sarah’s. ‘Come inside and I’ll make us a cup of tea.

‘What a shame you’ve missed Dave,’ Amy said
as she led Sarah into the kitchen. ‘He’s gone to the show today, I
shouldn’t think he’ll be back till just in time for milking.’

Sarah gave an odd little laugh. ‘As it
happens, I went to a good deal of trouble to miss Dave. Though I
must say you helped there.’

‘I don’t know what you mean, Sarah.’

‘You told me about this show in one of your
letters. You said Dave would be going with Mr Kelly, but you didn’t
expect to go yourself.’

‘So I did.’ Amy frowned at Sarah, puzzled.
‘Do you mean… did you come down all the way from Auckland specially
to see me? And you wanted to be sure Dave wouldn’t be home?’

Sarah hesitated before speaking. ‘Let’s just
say I wanted to be certain of having some undisturbed time with
you. Having Dave hovering around expecting you to wait on him was
not what I had in mind.’

‘Dave doesn’t expect me to wait on him,’ Amy
said, as close to scolding as she dared. ‘He’s the most easy-going
boy you could ever meet. I think… I think you’d like him if you got
to know him properly.’

‘Perhaps,’ Sarah said. ‘I’m prepared to
admit that I may not have been entirely fair towards Dave. Not
entirely sensible, anyway.’

She smiled slightly. ‘Actually, I have seen
him today, though I made sure he didn’t see me. I paid a brief
visit to the show this morning, just to be certain that Dave hadn’t
decided to play truant. Fortunately he does rather stand out in a
crowd.’

‘Doesn’t he just,’ Amy said proudly. ‘The
kettle shouldn’t be too long boiling,’ she said as she buttered
some scones. ‘We’ll take everything through to the parlour when
it’s ready. Sit down, why don’t you?’

‘What? Oh, yes, thank you,’ Sarah said
distractedly. But she made no move to sit; instead she prowled
around the kitchen, peering at shelves, looking out the window, and
studying things as mundane as the bench and the range.

‘Are you all right?’ Amy asked, studying the
younger woman’s restlessness with some concern. ‘Are you quite
comfortable?’ She wondered how she could politely point out the
direction of the privy.

‘Yes, thank you,’ Sarah said, running her
fingers over a dent in one of the walls. Amy was grateful that
Sarah was unlikely to guess it had been made by Charlie’s fist.

‘I mean, I know it’s a long ride out from
town,’ Amy said.

‘Yes, it is quite a long way.’ Sarah
straightened and faced Amy. ‘I hoped it would give me the
opportunity to put my thoughts in order. I’m afraid it failed
badly.’

‘Well, if you need anything, just ask,’ Amy
said. It was the best she could do.

‘Come into the parlour,’ she said when she
had put the teapot on a tray along with cups and saucers and a
plate of scones. ‘It’s nicer in there.’

She led the way into the next room, and put
the tray down on a small table. ‘You’ve seen our parlour once
before, haven’t you?’ she said, remembering Sarah’s brief visit,
when she had caught Charlie in his nightshirt and Amy in a layer of
stinking mud.

‘Have I? Oh, yes, so I have. I must say I
didn’t take much notice of the room at the time.’ Sarah stared
around the small parlour. ‘This is your… main room?’

Amy had a suspicion that Sarah had been
about to say ‘best’ room. ‘Yes, it is. I suppose it seems small to
you, but there’s only Dave and me to fit in it. This is where I
keep my… oh, wait a minute.’

She hurried out to the verandah and came
back into the room clutching her volume of Byron. ‘I was reading
this one! I left it out there when you came, I forgot about it with
the surprise of seeing you. Isn’t that funny, that I should be
reading it just when you arrived? I love it, Sarah. I’ve read it
over and over.’

Sarah caught her in a searching gaze.
‘Including the third canto?’

‘I’ve read all of it,’ Amy said. ‘What’s
specially in that part?’

‘Never mind.’ Sarah turned away. Amy had the
odd impression that she had failed to understand something she
should have.

‘This is where I keep my books,’ Amy said,
pointing to the middle of the mantelpiece where the books stood in
a small row. She had brought them out of her room since Charlie’s
death, and they now had pride of place in the parlour. She slipped
the volume of poetry amongst them and ran her finger softly along
the jackets of the books, taking pleasure in the feel of the
leather.

Sarah studied the collection, her face
twisted in a way that suggested she was unsure whether to laugh or
cry. ‘These are all the books you have?’

Amy nodded proudly.

‘I’d have sent you dozens if I’d known,’
Sarah murmured.

‘But I’ve got lots already. People think I’m
silly with all my books.’

‘Do they? I don’t think you’re silly,
Amy.’

She looked along the mantelpiece from the
books, to the family photograph that stood close by them.

‘Is this you?’ she asked, lifting the brass
frame to examine the picture.

‘Yes, that’s Mr Stewart and me and the
boys.’

Sarah peered more closely at the photograph.
‘That’s a boy? Don’t tell me it’s Dave?’

Amy smiled at the picture of the plump child
in her arms. ‘Yes, it is. Wasn’t he pretty? Much too pretty for a
boy. Such curls he had.’

‘You look so young,’ Sarah said
pensively.

‘Let’s see, Davie wasn’t quite two then, so
I must have been twenty.’

‘And this is your other son? The one who
died in the war?’

‘Yes, that’s Mal.’ The thoughts that ran
through her head at the memory of Malcolm were too complex even to
attempt to voice. ‘My poor Mal.’