A Greater World (25 page)

Kidd ignored her and continued with his tirade, 'Are you a man or a mouse? Get yourself down there, knock some sense into her and bring her back. You're her fucking husband, man.'

'And you're 'er father.'

'What's that got to with it?'

'If you hadn't given her more money than she's got sense she wouldn't be able to swan round Sydney pleasing herself.'

'Tell her she can't! Who the bloody hell does she think she is? A bloody suffragette? I'll take the money off her. That'll teach her.'

Elizabeth knew he could not reverse the transfer of money. His daughter was free to do as she pleased. He stopped pacing up and down and turned to Winterbourne again.

'You've only been wed five minutes and already she wants to get away from you. What the hell've you done to her, man? Can't keep her happy? Don't you know how?'

'I've tried to reason with her but she won't listen.'

'Give her a good slapping, man. She's your wife. She should be here, running your bloody house and keeping your bed warm, not gadding round the city with her mates.'

Elizabeth interrupted, 'Jack, please don't swear. The servants will hear you. Calm down! You'll say something you might regret.'

'Pull your head in! I'll say what I want in my own home.'

'It isn't our home any more. We have to respect that.'

Kidd spun round, his rage out of control. 'Respect? You talk about respect?' He was screaming. Before she could move out of the way, she felt his hand crack across her face, leaving her cheek stinging and knocking her sideways so she stumbled and tripped on the edge of the hearthrug. Winterbourne caught her fall and helped her into a chair, then turned on Kidd, grabbing him by the lapels and ramming him against the marble fireplace. 'If you lay a finger on her again I'll kill you.' He pushed Kidd back into a chair then stood over him. 'If you want to hit someone, hit me. What kind of man are you to strike a woman?'

To the astonishment of both Winterbourne and Elizabeth, Kidd began to cry. They looked at each other in amazement as he leaned forward and clasped his head in his hands. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's all my fault.'

Elizabeth did not know whether to comfort him or castigate him. Instead she watched helpless as Winterbourne left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Kidd pulled himself together and told her he was sorry again. She helped him to his feet and led him outside to his truck, calling out to Mrs Oates that they'd not be staying after all. He drove in silence, the expression on his face impenetrable. When they got back to Wilton's Creek he led her to sit on a tree trunk that lay between the house and the wash house and was Mikey's favourite seat. They sat in the darkening, still warm, summer evening and he took her hand.

'I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I don't know what came over me. I should never have hit you. Can you forgive me? Please say you'll forgive me. I'd rather chop off my own hand than lay a finger on you. It's just that when he was telling me about the girl, I knew it was my fault. Her older brother was bad and she's turned out the same way. I must have done something wrong. It wasn't their mother. She was a good woman. But there's bad blood somewhere. I'm scared Will'll turn out the same way. It's not Winterbourne's fault. I couldn't control Hattie myself and I was stupid to let her persuade me to give her that money. And now she's buggered off and there's not a Buckley's chance of her listening to a word he or I have to say. I'm sorry.'

She put her hand over his and then led him inside the house.

It was three weeks before Harriet returned. She made it clear to Michael over dinner that night, that she intended to go back to Sydney within the week.

'You can't expect me to stay here. It's nearly autumn and I can't stand the cold. There's nothing to do. I'm not a tourist. I've no interest in going for charabanc rides into the bush or exploring the Jenolan Caves. For heaven's sake – I've lived here all my life and this is the first chance I've had to get away so I'm taking it.'

'Yer old man isn't happy.'

'Don't call him that. It's impertinent.'

'If you're so keen to show yer manners, you should go to Wilton's Creek and see him. Tell him why you've chosen to spend his hard earned cash running round Sydney with the fast set.'

'They're not the fast set. Not that I'd expect an ignorant pom like you to know that. And his cash is not hard earned. He won it gambling. So there.'

'Please, Harriet. I don't want another row. It's not too much to expect for a husband and wife to live under the same roof, even in Australia.'

'I'm here now aren't I?'

'You know what I mean.'

'I don't want to be anywhere near that woman.'

'For Pete's sake, Harriet, you've driven her out of her home – isn't that enough?'

'No it isn't.' She spoke petulantly. 'I wish she'd die and leave my father alone. He's under her spell. I hope having another baby kills her. Just like my mother.'

Michael frowned. 'Harriet, stop dwelling on what happened to yer mother. It were a tragedy but it were the flu as killed her not the baby. Isn't it about time we thought about trying for one ourselves? That'd give you something to keep you busy – even up here in the mountains.'

'That's not going to happen.'

'What do you mean?'

'I don't want babies. I told you. I'm not going to go the same way as my mother. Always pregnant and always sick and then dying. No thank you very much. I intend to keep my figure. Having babies makes you horribly fat and flabby. Ugh!'

'Grow up. You're talking like a school child.'

'No wonder I don't want to be around you. I can't help it if you're practically an old man. There was a baby but I got rid of it, so there!'

Michael put down his knife and fork and looked at her in astonishment. 'What are you talking about?'

She looked down for a moment, then defiantly raised her head and looked him in the eyes.

'Exactly what I said. I was expecting a baby and now I'm not. I got rid of it last week.'

She looked nervous, as though sensing she'd said too much.

'I wasn't going to say anything, but it's only fair to let you know what I've decided. If you want babies we can divorce and you can find another wife to have them with.'

Michael pushed his plate away. 'You were having our baby and you got rid of it? What the hell did you do? Wasn't it worth telling me? Before you did it not after?'

'It's my body so it's only fair that I decide. I've never wanted babies. I don't want one now and I don't want one in the future.'

'You stupid, little fool! You talk about babies killing your mother but getting rid of a baby is far more dangerous than having one.'

'Not if you're careful. I had a good doctor. Jolly well should have been, the price he charged. It was very discreet. Don't worry about that. You don't think I'd have done it with a knitting needle and a bottle of gin in a back street, do you? I'm not stupid – even if you treat me as if I am.'

'As the father, didn't I have a right to be consulted?'

'I told you. It's my body so I get to choose. You were quick enough to give me the damn baby in the first place. If you want to foist yourself on me you have to be prepared for me to deal with the consequences. Anyway, the doctor's given me lots of tips on how to avoid it happening again...'

'It won't be happening again.'

'Do you mean you won't be bothering me again?'

'Bothering you?' He scraped his chair back noisily and got up from the table. 'This isn't a marriage. It's a joke.'

'I don't hear you complaining about living in this house. About being the boss of that dreadful mine and getting paid lots of money for doing it. It's a marriage that benefits you as much as me.'

'No it doesn't and I'll have no more of it. How the hell do you think it makes me feel to know me wife doesn't want me in her bed? To know she prefers being with her shallow friends to being with me? To find out she's got rid of our baby as if it were a bad cold and hadn't the decency to tell me beforehand? What else do you want to tell me? Come on, get it all out! I s'pose you're also having an affair with one of those brainless rich boys you're so fond of?'

'I'm not, but you'll be the first to know if I do – well the second I suppose...' she laughed shrilly at her very lame joke.

Michael waited for no more. He slammed the door as he left the room and headed out of the house to find some beery consolation at the bar of the Lawson Arms.

Giving birth to Susanna was less of an ordeal than Mikey's birth. She was overjoyed at having a sister for Mikey and even Kidd looked proud when he saw the child. She bridled a little when he said 'They all look the same when they pop out. Ugly little runts, but I'm sure she'll end up a looker like her mother.'

A few days after the birth, Kidd said, 'Hattie's buggered off for good to Sydney and they're talking divorce.'

'Divorce? That's unthinkable!'

'Not in New South Wales it isn't. She's wilful but I blame him. He should have shown her a firmer hand. Not literally...' he hastened to add.

'But divorce?'

'She won't get a penny more from me. She's had her lot. I can't take back what I've already given her, but she'll get no more when I'm gone. I put the house in Mick's name, but he doesn't want it. Feels bad I reckon. He's moved back to his lodging house. I've told him to try again to reconcile with her. He's promised to go down to the city and have it out with her. He wants to make a go of it, even if it's hopeless. I can't fault him for that.'

'What will happen to Kinross House if they part?'

'He wants to transfer it back into my name. He's an honourable man at least. What worries me though is whether he'll stick around. Can't see it myself. It's a bloody nuisance. I need him at the mine. Will's not up to it and I don't want to do it. I've a mind to sell but I'll not get the price for it.' He paused, 'I don't know why I'm telling you all this. It's not for you to worry about.'

'Why won't you get a good price for the mine? It's still producing coal isn't it?'

'Shut up and go to sleep. I don't know why I started this. I won't talk business with my wife. Come here and keep me warm. That's what a wife's for' He curled himself around her and tucked his head against the back of her neck and before she could speak again he was asleep. She marvelled at the way he was always able to drop off the moment his head hit the pillow, while she lay restless, her head milling with thoughts and questions.

She was worried about Mikey. He'd been fretful and out of sorts all afternoon and Mary put him to bed early. He went to sleep without protest, tired out, but woke in the night with a fever. Elizabeth spent the night at his bedside, sitting in the nursing chair, holding his tiny hand as he lay in his cot, leaving him only when the baby woke for her feed.

She slept fitfully, conscious of the boy's restlessness, constantly checking his brow in the hope that the fever had abated.

Mary appeared at dawn with a tray of tea for Elizabeth and a glass of milk for the child. Ignoring the tea, Elizabeth propped her son up with pillows and supported his head as he tried to sip the milk. He began to cry and was reluctant to swallow. She opened his mouth and saw his throat was badly inflamed.

She called out, 'Mary! Jack! Fetch the doctor. Mikey's still unwell.' As she reached out to her son he began to vomit.

She screamed 'Bring me a bowl he's being sick! Hurry!'

Jack Kidd appeared in the doorway, pulling his dressing gown across his wiry frame and rubbing his eyes. 'What's the noise for? I've a head as thick as a wombat's arse this morning and you've woken the baby.'

'Mikey's vomiting and has a temperature. It may be tonsillitis.'

'Keep him away from me then.' He went back to his bedroom.

Mary rushed in with a towel and bowl. 'Dear, dear! Poor wee lamb! I'll fetch fresh sheets and some hot water to clean the little laddie up.'

As she spoke he was sick again. His face was deathly pale and Elizabeth was becoming increasingly anxious.

'Jack, get the doctor
now
!' Her voice was rasping. 'It's serious. Get the damn doctor!'

Kidd reappeared, buttoning up his shirt. 'I'm going. I'll be as quick as I can.'

'What do you think's wrong?' Mary was at the foot of the bed.

'He has a fever. Perhaps it's a chill, but his throat is inflamed. Bring me some cool water, a flannel and more towels.'

'The poor mite. He must be so frightened' said Mary.

The two women cleaned the child up and laid him back down in his cot. He was listless and barely conscious. Elizabeth prayed silently as she kept a vigil by the bedside while Mary took care of Susanna.

Eventually the doctor arrived, with Kidd behind him. It was the same man, Dr Reilly, who had attended the births of both her children.

'Now then, ladies, let's have some space. Can I ask you to make me one of your nice cups of tea, Mary? Mr Kidd, would you step out for a moment. We don't want to crowd the little fellow, do we?'