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Halcombe
1881
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Daniel and Emma sat talking in the shade of the titoki tree where a rough sawn bench had been placed in her parents’ garden. As the months passed, he made the trip back to Halcombe several times, and soon he and Emma became close. Each found the other easy to talk to; their relationship relaxed.
“What did you say the name of the ship was again?” Daniel was keen to know as much about her as he could.
“Terp-si-chor-e. I think is how you say it. I remember the journey across our lands to the sea. To a place called Hamburg. It was October, and the cold time was beginning. The train was warm but so crowded. Too warm for our heavy clothes, but with nothing to pack them in we had to wear them all. We carried little food, and we always hungry, but I didn’t complain. When we got there, there were more people. People everywhere, and noise like I never hear before. The ships were loaded with all sorts of goods – crates, sacks and barrels. I saw a cow being hauled up onto one ship in a large net. It bellowed all the time. I was frightened – for myself, my family and for the poor animal.”
“I saw the same sort of things in London, but go on, tell me, what was your journey like?”
“It was terrible, the voyage in the ship. I was younger then, of course, and very frightened most of the time – and lonely. I felt sick away from home. That is right, ja?”
“It’s called homesick.” Daniel did his best to improve her English when she asked.
“Ja. Homesick. I did not want to leave but Papa said we must. I did not understand why then. But there was so much fighting. It is so peaceful here.”
“Maybe now, in this garden, but it’s had its moments,” said Daniel, remembering the sounds of war. “Carry on.”
“I had sick tummy sometimes. The storms, not long after we left, were terrible, and the boat she sway from side to side all the time.”
“You poor thing.” Trying to sound sympathetic, Daniel took hold of her small hand. “Did your mama look after you?”
“When she could,” Emma nodded, looking down at her feet, which did not quite touch the ground. “Fritz was three and Clara just a little baby then, and they were sick too. Mama did not have enough milk for baby. She had to use milk from another lady whose baby had died.”
Still somewhat at a loss for words to help the moment pass, he floundered. “Oh. Um. I see. It must have been a difficult time for you.”
“Not much for me, I don’t think so. I learn much from the voyage. I am strong now. Mama she ... um ... what you say? Fretted?”
Daniel nodded.
“When the weather was fine, no more sickness. Just when the sea rough. When the weather get warmer it was better also. We all go on deck. But still people died. Some were born but babies die too. All women help each other. One mother died leaving six children. I wonder what happened to them without a mama. There were others, six or seven maybe, adults, who were sewn into canvas and dropped overboard. Some people died when we almost arrive. From typhoid fever and everyone scared. There smallpox too. We have many, many pastors who held prayers, some in dialects I not understand well. Still, I know what death means.”
“You are too young for such sad memories, Liebling.” Daniel was proud of having mastered the word a workmate from the flax mill had taught him.
Emma laughed at his pronunciation. “That is nice,” she whispered, blushing as Daniel kissed her cheek.
“So, what else did you do on the voyage?”
“I learn English a little. They had teacher on board. People sit together to teach – I mean learn. Right? But when we get here the words still sound strange. Too fast. We still much to learn. Other time, we play scotch hopping and round ring throwing. The sailors they teach us.”
“What did you call that game?” asked Daniel.
“You know – small rope ring you throw over squares drawn on deck.”
Daniel laughed, “You mean quoits.”
“Thank you. You help me to learn the English better.”
“Any time.”
Mama’s voice carried across the garden, calling them in to dinner. Emma should have been helping, but when Daniel came to call, Emma was excused from her work. Despite the age gap, Eduard gave Daniel the impression he was happy to have him visit, although the two of them had many an argument over the rights and wrongs of war. Many times they were on the same side, but at other times they were poles apart. Eduard could not forget that Daniel had taken up arms.
Sitting around the supper table, Eduard took control of the conversation, boasting of his day’s activities. Somewhat oblivious to what was being said about mundane farming work, Daniel and Emma exchanged sly glances across the table. When her father stopped talking long enough to eat, Emma said, “Papa, tell Charlie about what happened to us when we arrived in Wellington.”
“Haff you not heard the story, my boy?” asked Eduard.
Daniel shook his head.
Eduard waved his knife in Daniel’s general direction, his mouth still full of food. He hesitated before deciding, “Ah. I vill tell you, I think. Ja.”
Putting another forkful of meat and potato into his mouth, he chewed as he started to speak. “I start at beginning. Ve sail from Hamburg on 15th November 1875, you know already. Four hundred of us, from all parts. Denmark, many from Prussia, Sweden and, like me, from Bohemia, and more. Ve have storms in North Sea. So before ve hardly begin the journey she is hard. Ve sail south and cross the equator just before Christmas. Big party. It very hot. On the ship sails, round Cape Good Hope, and ve still sail on. Sixteen veeks ve sail seeing no land, one more storm but the vind behind us and push us faster vhere ve vant to go. Then the veather, it is gut. Everyone begin to feel happy. Sun it is shining. Sea it is calm, the long veeks behind us and only a short time to go. There is dancing, there is celebration, but people they get sick. Just three, four veeks to go, and people die. Some of typhoid, so they said.”
Stopping to put more food into his mouth, Eduard pointed to the children. “I vorry they get sick. That I might lose one of my little ones. My Frederika here.” He smiled across the table and nodded towards his wife sitting at the far end. “She become veak and tired during the journey. Looking after children ist hard vork. I hope and pray she not get sick too. But no, my girls, they strong. My Emma here, she is strong – strong-villed too. You take care with her. She boss you around else.”
“Papa!” interrupted Emma. “Stop. Just tell him the story. Please.”
“Oh, ja. Vhere vas I? Ah ... Ve sail for long time with no land in sight. A few birds, or big ocean animals sometimes. Ve eat better vhen the sailors catch fish to eat. Then one day a call – land in sight. Ve come upon Neue Zeland. Ve are told it is the Southern Island and vhat ve see is Banks Peninsula. Ve need to sail up the coast to the strait betveen the two islands. You know it?” he asked Daniel.
“No, I don’t. I’ve never been to the South Island. I was stationed at Trentham while in the Armed Constabulary for a short while.” Stationed wasn’t quite the word for it, detained was more accurate, but Daniel wasn’t going to let on about that episode.
“Ja, ja. That right. You military man. You take up arms against others.”
“I’m just a poor worker now, though,” Daniel reminded him.
“Maybe. Underneath I still think you gut man. So, anyway, ve find the stretch of vater and sail into Vellington Harbour on 18th March 1876. Very pretty. Nearly full circle almost vith hills behind. Everyone crowd to rails to see. Everyone happy. Vomen crying, men shouting. It gut time. Then a small boat come out to meet us. Ve see men in uniforms talking. By their faces, serious talk, it look. People fall quiet. Mothers gather children to them. Men move into groups asking vhat goes on. All vanting to hear.”
Eduard stopped, his mind and spirit reliving that moment. He looked down at his now empty plate. “More ale,” he demanded.
Frederika rose to get the jug from the cool room outside. The younger children fidgeted. The air was silent and heavy with something Daniel couldn’t put his finger on.
“Be still!” barked Eduard.
Emma rose from the table and with her finger to lips telling them to be quiet, she beckoned the children to her. She urged nine-year-old Fritz and six-year-old Clara out the door. “Here take this.” She handed them a can of seed. “Go feed the chickens, then play for while.”
Needing no second bidding, the children ran off.
Emma returned to the table where Heinrich, her father and Daniel were still sitting. Having poured more ale into their mugs, Frederika cleared the table. As she reached the end where Eduard sat, she put one hand on his shoulder as she collected his plate with the other. She squeezed his shoulder, her English heavily accented as well. “It is past now, Eduard dear. It is no shame. Tell your story.”
Placing his big hand over hers, he smiled up at her. “Forgive an old man for being sentimentálni.”
“Phiff! Enough of such talk. Not so old. You not yet fifty. Me – I still young voman. That your baby over there. Remember?” Frederika broke the spell. She playfully clipped him across the back of the head.
“Ja, ja, I know. Little Villiam, our blessing in our new country.”
Happier now, Eduard picked up the story.
“The officer from the small boat, he leave and our big ship she start to turn avay from vharf. Everyone talking at once but nobody know vat is happening. Soon, Captain Kholer and Dr Buthner, the surgeon superintendent, they tell us ve are being quarantined because of the smallpox. So close ve vere. So very close. They take us to an island, she lie in middle of harbour, and ve are unloaded like sheep and cattle down the ladder to vaiting boats, clutching our belongings to us, hoping no one vill fall.”
“I remember ...” began Heinrich.
“Shh!” Frederika stopped him. “Let your father talk.”
Eduard’s voice became melancholy. “The soldiers they herded us up the zigzag path to the top of the hill. No trees in sight, only stubby bush and grasses. At the top of the hill the view vas grand but ve vere too vorried to admire it for long. There vere many buildings. One a large brick building. No vindows, just a door at either end. Ve all shoved into this building and made to sit down on metal forms. There vere holes in the floor, and soon ve are choking on smoke and fumes. The strong gas smell threatened to overpower us. After about ten minutes ve taken out other door and new batch of people vere forced to endure the same fumigation. I know, I know,” he said, waving his hand around his head as if swatting away a memory. “It vas none of my doing. But I still feel shame that I and my family vere needing to be cleaned in such a vay.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Like animals.”
Eduard fell silent.
Frederika finished, telling Daniel, “Ve live on that island – Somes Island, that terrible place – for two months before they let us go.”
* * *
Months later, on an early spring morning Eduard and Heinrich worked together out in the fields repairing the fences. “Heinrich, you need go to Foxton and pick up goots I ordered.”
“What sort of goods?”
“Never you mind, boy. It surprise. You just go, get parcel vaiting for me at rail station.”
“Very well, Papa.”
“Take the horse and dray, and go through Bulls. Emma has day off tomorrow. You take her vith you. She can do shopping for her birthday. I’ll give you some money later. Say hello to our friend Charlie vhile you there.”
“You like Charlie, don’t you, Papa?”
Eduard considered the question. “Ja. Ja, I do. Vhy do you ask?”
“Well ... he’s so much older than Emma. Do you really want her to be with a man who is not much younger than you?”
“Vhat do you know of such matters? You still a boy. I do not look at him as a husband. She does not look on him as a husband,” dismissing the idea out of hand.
“I am not so certain, Papa. Have you seen the way she looks at him?”
“Don’t you vorry. I vill see my Emma happy vhen I think time is right. Now pass me the hammer and staples.”
Early the next morning Heinrich took the horses and covered dray over the hill road towards Bulls and John and Margaret Dalrymple’s station called Waitatapia, at Parewanui, where Emma worked as a housemaid. They were the largest employers in the district, both on the farm and in the house.
Every month he made the trip when Emma had her day off.
She would set off at dawn, walking from the Dalrymple’s property to the corner of the main road, where Heinrich would pick her up to take her home for the day. He knew she would be especially excited today to learn she was going to see Charlie. It would be a long trip, and it would be late by the time they got back that night, but there was no other way. Emma would lose her job if she were not there at her duties at dawn the next morning. As usual, Heinrich and Emma both arrived at the meeting place about the same time.
“Hello, Emma, how are you this morning?” Heinrich’s speech was not as accented and broken as his father’s since he mixed with more English speakers than his father did, but it still was nowhere near as good as Emma’s. Hers had softened even more, being younger, and working away from home.
“Hello, Henry. I’m fine, ja. ’Twas a little warmer this morning, ja? Summer is coming, I think. And you?”
The older children had long since started to shorten and anglicise their names. Although their father disapproved, refusing to shorten the names himself, he accepted their need to be seen as one with the people of this new land without dissent.
“Good, good.” Heinrich reached across to give her a helping hand up onto the seat.
“I have surprise for you today,” he grinned, winking.
Emma sidled up to him, tucking her hand under his arm. “What is it?”
“Soon. Soon, you’ll see,” he said, wrapping a blanket around her knees.
“Oh, do tell me, please. I like surprises.”
“We are not going home today.”
Heinrich watched her reaction.
“Why not? What about Mama and Papa, and the little ones? Won’t I see them today?”
Emma was not so sure about this surprise now, if it meant not seeing her family. Much as she liked working at the Dalrymples, she loved to go back and spend the day with her papa and her younger brothers and sisters. Mama could be difficult these days, often leaving Emma to do most of the work when she came home. Emma, worried, had asked her once was she ill, but Mama had said no, all was well.
“No, not today. They send their love and said they will see you next month as usual but today we are going to Foxton.”
“Foxton! True?” She sat up straight, looking at Henry’s face in the growing light. “You are not joking with me?”
Henry shook his head. “I wouldn’t joke with you now, would I?”
“Ja, you would. But maybe not this time. So, why?”
They laughed.
“To see Charlie.”
“I know Charlie is in Foxton, but why are we going to Foxton? It’s a long way.”
“Because Papa has arranged for me to pick up some goods he has ordered.”
“What sort of goods?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me. Something he’d sent away for. He said I should go today to pick it up and take you with me. Who knows what he is up to.”
Emma felt warm and happy inside, a feeling that came over her whenever she thought of Charlie. She didn’t understand what it meant. Was she in love with him, perhaps? She was so young and inexperienced she didn’t know what being in love meant. She often chided herself with these thoughts, since Charlie was much older. How could he have any feelings like that for her? Or could he?
She remembered some of the things he said to her when they worked in the vegetable garden during his visits, or walked across the fields to get milk from the house cow, or whatever task Mama could think of to send them off together. He had called her by his special name for her – Liebling; he held her hand and kissed it sometimes or twirled her hair in his large, stained fingers, being careful not to pull it and hurt her. Was that love? He would look at her sometimes, and she felt as if she could melt right into his bright blue eyes. She hoped they would get some time alone. She remembered each and every one of the soft kisses he laid upon her face and lips, sneaked in when no one was looking, or as she walked him to his horse before he began the long ride home.
“What are you thinking about, little one?” asked Heinrich, unable to let go of the nagging doubts he had expressed to his father.
“Nothing.”
Heinrich laughed. “You can’t fool me, sister of mine. We have spent too much time together. You were thinking of Charlie.”
Blushing and indignant, she said, “It’s none of your business, even if I was.”
“Maybe not. But I worry for you.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to see you unhappy.”
“What makes you think I will be unhappy?” Emma peered through lowered lashes.
“Because Charlie is nearly forty years old. If you marry him you will have his children and, if he should die, he will leave you by yourself to cope with everything. I see it in the village. The women all look sad and tired. I don’t want that for you. I want you to always be happy.”
She didn’t want him to continue down this path, with worrying thoughts about what the future might look like. “What do you know? You not such a big man yourself. You’re only two years older than me. You still a boy. Only seventeen.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But Charlie, he is an old man.”
“No. Not old. A strong man, like Papa.”
By mutual agreement, they let the conversation drift to other less emotional subjects. To help pass the time, Emma asked about Fritz and the others. How was Fritz doing at school? Had he started calling himself Fred? It sounded less foreign at school. How was Clara’s reading and what about little two-year-old William, what was he doing? Laughing, Henry tried as best he could to answer her questions, which came thick and fast.
It turned into a warm spring morning with the sun shining across the land. The trees looked green and fresh from the recent rains. The hours passed pleasantly and by lunchtime they had arrived in Foxton. Henry unhitched the horses at the livery stable and went to find Daniel. They met him walking along the road.
“Charlie,” he called out, “see who I have here.”
“Henry, nice to see you. And you, Miss Emma,” he said taking off his hat and bowing in a theatrical fashion. “What a surprise. Gosh! Look at me. All dirty and sweaty in my work clothes. Please forgive me.”
“Nothing to forgive, Charlie. It’s nice to see you,” she replied, giving a slight bob and nod of her head in response. Her eyes never left his face, and she wore the same animated expression that Henry had noticed before.
“Look, Charlie, can I leave Emma with you for a while? I have to pick up something for Papa, and then I have friends I would like to see. Meet you at the livery at four o’clock? We will have to leave by then to get back tonight.”
“Of course, Henry. You can trust me. I’ll take care of her.”
Daniel, too, saw the ardour that burnt in her eyes and a mirrored sensation swept through his body. He’d known women before but nothing that felt like this. He was flattered a man of his age had a young girl, so obvious and innocent at the same time, wanting to be with him.
“Liebling. I have to get out of these dirty clothes. You can wait with Maisy while I wash and change.”
They walked side by side to the glebe where Daniel’s caught his horse, throwing a sack across its back. With one movement Daniel lifted Emma up and taking the bridle led the animal and Emma out of town.
She liked what she saw as she watched him walking beside the horse: his hair, still dark and wavy, with a hint of silver at the sides, and his clear blue eyes, warm and kind. His cap shaded part of his face, but she could see the dark stubble on his chin where he hadn’t shaved that morning. He wasn’t a tall man but well-built and fit.
“Charlie,” she whispered. “I’m so glad to see you again.”
“Me too, Emma. I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”
“You have? Any special reason?”
“Just thinking how well we get on and how easy it is to talk to you. I have lots of mates at the mill and can share a pint or two with any of them at the pub, but no one to really talk to. It’s all boasting about past history or how well work is going. Or not, more likely.”
“But you talk to me about what you have done sometimes and where you’ve been. And you explain to me about your work. What’s the difference?”
“Lots. Don’t knows as I can explain it properly, but I can tell you about my fears, my worries that things ain’t right – that things should be done differently – without you judging me. My so-called mates, they would think I was mad or soft or summat.”
Daniel didn’t usually let on he was worried about anything. Over time, he had begun to confide in her. He told her about his mother sometimes and his sister Elizabeth, who was looking after his Aunt Mary full-time now after the death of his Uncle John some years before. His mother and stepfather worked for the breweries running a pub in some place called Newcastle-under-Lyme in England. She got confused between all the various counties and names that meant nothing to her. She hoped she sounded interested when he talked of ‘home’, which wasn’t often.
“I’ve had a letter from home,” he said, echoing her thoughts. “My stepfather has died. It was a while ago now, but still unexpected. News doesn’t travel fast. My mother has gone to live with Aunt Mary and Elizabeth. Now that is a surprise, but I guess she must be getting on now.”
“How old would she be, Charlie?”
“Probably in her seventies, I would think.”
“Goodness. So how old is your Aunt Mary?”
“That’s a good question. She’s my da’s older sister, so ten years or more older than Ma, maybe. A grand age, if I’m right.”
“You must be pleased they are together and can look after themselves. You haven’t ever wanted to go back?” Emma had come to understand how he now regretted his time in the army. That the reason he came out to New Zealand in the first place had been undermined, first, by finding he was not invigorated by the fighting as others were – that the killing left him troubled – and second, that the natives only wanted to be left alone to live on their land and raise their crops and their children, same as any other man. How stealing their land was going to make life better was beyond him. This was a new country, he had argued, not another England, and everyone had to learn to get on with their neighbour to survive.
Daniel turned his head to look at her. “No. What makes you ask?”
“If there is no man as head of the house, who provides for them?” Emma asked.
Daniel smiled at her naivety. “At their age they will have money of their own left to them by their husbands. Don’t fret, my sweet girl, I’m not going anywhere.”
Keeping off the road, they headed across the paddocks skirting the swampy areas towards the riverbank so they could follow the river up to the house.
“See that building there?” he asked, pointing across as the barn he had sometimes worked in when he had first arrived came into view.
“Ja. What is it?”
“It was the main storage shed for the district when I came here. All the boats tied up there. Then it would be all hands to unload the goods coming in and load up the outgoing goods. Since the new wharf were built back in ’73, it’s only used now for hay and storing some farm equipment. Come on,” he said, changing direction. “I’ll show you the view from the top floor. You can see all the way across the swamp out to the sea from up there.”
Emma noticed a new spring in his step and thought how young and lighthearted he could be.
Daniel tied his mount to the large metal ring on the wall around the far side of the barn. He lifted Emma off the horse, holding her slightly longer than necessary before letting her go, since it took two hands to pull open the large, creaky barn door. Once it was open, he took her hand again, leading her inside.
Dust floated in the air as the sun shone through the open doorway. Festooned with dirt and cobwebs, some of the farming equipment looked forlorn and neglected. One horse cover tossed over the rail to the right and another one thrown onto the stale hay over in the far corner indicated that not many people came here these days. Daniel looked around with a mixture of dismay and happy memories. He’d been content in those days. After army life he’d enjoyed the work and settling into a new community that was soon to become his home, but life moved on, and this barn was not the same place it had once been.
“Come on, up you go.” Daniel pulled her towards the ladder fastened to the upper floor. He stood behind her.
Emma was nervous. “Are you sure we’re allowed?’
“Of course. Anyway, there’s no one here to tell us different. Go on; it’s quite safe. I’ll come up behind you. Tie your skirt up so you don’t trip.”
Emma reached down and grabbing the back hem of her skirt brought it through her legs and hooked it into her waistband, in the traditional peasant way, which preserved women’s modesty and allowed them to work unhindered.
“Now, one hand over the other on each rail and the opposite foot so you’re balanced. Don’t look down. I’m right behind you.”
Emma began to climb the ladder, doing exactly as Daniel said. But having climbed many ladders before, she scaled the ladder quickly, leaving him in her wake. When she reached the top she turned to look down at Daniel coming up behind her. Her face was glowing. Whether with excitement or exertion, she didn’t know. When he was face to face with her, so close they could almost touch, they started laughing.
“You didn’t tell me you could climb ladders.”
“You never asked. You told me what to do, so I did it.”
“Scallywag.”
Stepping off the ladder, Daniel pulled Emma to her feet and into his arms. Then swiftly let her go again, telling himself she was too young for him, never mind how he felt. She straightened her skirt to hide her confusion. He crossed the floor and opened the shutter doors from where the pulley and rope had operated. The sun lit up the dark zone with a golden glow.
“Look. Isn’t it a grand sight?”
Emma joined Daniel at the doorway. He put his arm around her shoulder to hold her as he stood at the edge looking out towards the sand dunes in the distance.
“Ja. ’Tis wonderful.” Ignoring the view and resting on his chest, she didn’t take her eyes from him for one moment. He turned at the tone in her voice and looked into her adoring face. He lowered his head until their lips met. Their kiss was as gentle and sweet as the first soft breezes on a summer morning. He wrapped both arms around her, as her arms crept further around his neck, their lips never parting. With increasing intensity and desire, their movements became more urgent and searching. As one, they stepped back from the door and fell onto a soft pile of hay, the rays of sun warming them.
Hardly stopping for breath, Daniel rained kisses on her face and neck as he shook off his jacket. Pushing himself up on one elbow, he began to unbutton her blouse and chemise to reveal her soft, white breasts. She gasped as he ran his fingers and then his tongue over her nipples, arching her back in response. Never had she felt such longing, such burning. Her response inflamed his desire. With a husky voice choked with emotion, he looked down into her face. “I need you so badly, my little one. Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Ja,” she whispered back. “I want to be yours forever.”
And so it was.
* * *
“Vhat!!” roared Eduard. His temper was so great that Emma wanted to hide in the corner as far away from her father as possible. Instead, she pulled her shoulders back and held her head high.
“I’m having a baby,” she repeated.
“Mein Gott! I hear you first time.” Eduard’s voice was at fever pitch. “It sound no better second time.”
In his agitation, Eduard’s English had become more broken and accented than normal, and he slipped back into his native tongue. He paced up and down the room making it look even smaller than it was. With each turn of the heel he flung his arms in the air, muttering under his breath, or ran his hands through his hair. “I kill him. I go to that place you vork. I find him. I kill him. He who did this to you, who thinks he can get avay with it?”
In English, Emma begged, “It wasn’t anyone at the Dalrymples’, Papa. Please don’t be so angry. It’s what I wanted.”
“Vhat!!” he roared again. “Vhat you talking about? You vanted? Make sense girl. How can girl of your age know vhat she vants? Vanted vhat? To be unmarried mother? To bring shame on family? You do not know vhat you talk.”
“But Papa ...”
“Be quiet, girl. Let me think. You vill have to go avay somevhere. I speak vith your mama. See if she knows vhere you can go ...”
“Papa. Listen to me. Please. Keep your voice down. Charlie is outside. He can hear you. You will scare him off.”
“What is Charlie doing outside?” Eduard turned to stare at his daughter, suspicious now. “Are you telling me Charlie did this to you?”
“Charlie didn’t do anything to me.” Emma was angry now, wanting to defend Daniel, protect her child and make her father understand. “We love ...”
Eduard cut her short. “Love!! Bah! Vhat you know of love? You too young.”
“I’m the same age as Mama was ...”
“Do not answer back. That vas different. It vas var time vhen ve married.”
“I want to marry the man I love.”
“It is not love that holds families together. It is respect. It is companionship. It is ...” Leaving the sentence unfinished, he continued, “Enough. I vill listen to no more. You vill go avay. You vill not see Charlie again. Do you hear me?”
“No, Papa.” Defiant now, Emma stood her ground.
“No!” Her father’s loud roar filled the space in the small cabin. “You say no to your father?”
With the echo still ringing in her ears, Emma’s voice was quiet. “I don’t understand. You let me be friends with Charlie. You let me spend time with him.”
“No. It vill not be. I decide who you vill marry. It is right.”
“I want to be with Charlie. Please, let him come in and talk to you. Please, Papa.”
“I never vant to see that man again. He betrayed my trust. If you vant to be vith him, you go,” Eduard waved his hand, “make your life vith him. But if you leave here now, you never come back. You no longer daughter of mine.”
“Papa!” Shocked at the turn of events, Emma dropped to her knees, quivering inside. “No. Please. Don’t send me away. Please.”
“Make your choice. Charlie, or your family.”
“Charlie is my family now. Just like you and Mama, and the children. Please don’t make me choose.” Tears began to trickle down her face, her eyes enlarged as she took in the full meaning of what her father was saying.
“Get up,” he ordered. “You no longer a child. If you old enough to go against your father’s vishes then you old enough to choose. So what’s it to be?”
Emma wiped her face with her apron and pulled herself to her feet. The same stubbornness her father was showing was also a part of Emma’s character. If Papa can throw me out so easily, then I will go − and proudly. Straightening her clothes and pushing stray strands of hair off her face, she pulled her shoulders back, standing to her full height, little as it may have been, before she spoke. “Very well, Papa. If you insist, I will go. I will choose Charlie.”
Silence.
“May I say goodbye to Mama and the children before I leave?”
Eduard leant his elbow on the mantelpiece. The precious cuckoo clock he’d ordered and Heinrich had collected on the day this began burst into its hourly routine. Ignoring the clock, he stared at Emma for many long seconds. As the chimes finished, he picked up his pipe and with trembling hands started to tamp tobacco into it. He nodded. Emma exhaled the breath she had been holding, turned and fled through the door of her father’s house for the last time.
Once outside she kept her back ramrod straight, hands clenched at her sides. She walked down the path, hurrying past Daniel waiting for her. She wanted to find Mama and the children who would be tending the chickens. The younger children would be near, either helping with feeding out the grain or frolicking in the hay. Either way she had to see them.
Daniel ran after her, calling. “Emma, what happened? Why are you in such a rush? Stop. Emma. Talk to me.”
She stopped in her tracks. Without turning around, in a deadened voice she said, “Papa said I must leave this place if I choose you. I choose you.” She started walking away again leaving Daniel in her wake.
“Emma!” he called again. “You can’t say things like that and then walk away. Emma!”
She turned, angry. “Charlie, no. Please? I have to do this my way. Wait for me. I’ll tell you on journey.” She continued down the path, only slowing her steps as she got closer to the coop.
“Mama,” she whispered when she was within earshot.
Frederika turned from sorting the eggs to see her daughter standing by the door, silhouetted against the light.
“Mama,” repeated Emma in a voice tight with emotion.
“Vhat is it, child? Vhat is the matter?” Putting the eggs down carefully, Frederika moved towards Emma. In the light, Emma’s distress was clear but she would not give in to it, and backed away from the offered embrace.
Taking a deep breath, she spoke on the outward rush. “I told Papa like you said. He said I must leave so I have come to say goodbye.”
“Emma, mein Liebes. I am so sorry. Oh, why did it have to come to this?”
Emma knew Frederika was asking herself that last question. “I knew something was between you and Charlie, yet I did nothing. Said nothing. I am sorry, my child. I have not helped. Is there nothing I can do now? Please?”
Emma fell into her mother’s outstretched arms and sobbed into her shoulder. Frederika murmured soft, calming words in her native tongue. Words she had learnt from her mother, and her mother before her. Words used to comfort a small child.
When Emma’s sobs had eased, she stood upright and wiped her face. “Will you gather together what’s mine? Can you do that for me? I can’t go back into that house now. I will say goodbye to the children while you do that, ja?”
“Ja, child. I vill. My heart breaks to see you like this but you understand, ja? I am helpless to do anything to change your father’s mind.”
Emma nodded, biting her bottom lip in an effort to stop herself crying again.
Frederika took Emma’s arm as they walked together along the path until they reached the barn. With a soft kiss on Emma’s cheek, Frederika gathered up her skirts and hurried the remaining distance to the house. Emma shook herself into a better mood so she could put up a more cheerful front and went to the barn to find the children.
“Fritz, Clara,” she called with a false lilt in her voice, as she entered the barn. “Where are you? I’m coming to find you.” Emma could hear girlish giggling as the called.
Fritz was a strapping boy of nine. Clara, at six and a half, worshipped him, following wherever he went. He teased her unmercifully at times, but one could be certain, wherever Fritz was, Clara wasn’t far behind. Emma could see where the pitchfork had been left beside a newly thrown pile of hay. Fritz had been putting fresh hay out for the animals but had sneaked off to hide as she approached. Clara would be the magnet to finding him.
“Am I getting warm?” She moved to the right of the barn.
No response.
“Am I getting warmer here?” Emma lifted a horse cover off the ground and laid it across the rails. Still nothing.
“So, what about here?” She crept round the side of the stall and opened the door leading to the storeroom. A suppressed giggle and a ‘shh’ came from nearby. Climbing over the sacks of feed stacked beside the door, she looked down from the top of the stack to see them both crouching at the base.
“Got you!” she shouted, giving them a fright, and making them jump.
Clara laughed.
“Come on, you two, out of there. I’ve got something to tell you.”
“What is it, Emma?” asked the ever-inquisitive Clara as they clambered from their hiding place.
“Come sit beside me ...” Patting the hay next to her, Emma settled down with her back against the sacks, “... and I’ll tell you.”
Once the three of them were seated, Emma put one arm around each of them, crushing them against her. “I’m going on a big adventure and will be gone for a long time.”
“Ooo ... What’s the big adventure then?” Fritz’s eyes were aglow with anticipation.
“Nothing that would interest you at all, my boy. Just something your big sister has to do.”
“Oh, what’s that?”
“Charlie and I are going away to be married. I am very happy, but I have to go a long way away and won’t be able to see you for a long, long time.”
Clara started to cry. “Don’t cry, little one.” Emma wiped away her tears, hugging her even tighter. “You still have your mama and papa and Fritz here. They’ll look after you. But I wanted to tell you that I love you very much, and to say goodbye.”
“But Emma, I don’t want you to go,” wailed Clara.
“Of course you don’t, my sweet, but my new life is with Charlie, and I must leave here to live that life.”
Fritz had risen to his feet, hands in his pockets, and kicked the hay, trying not to cry. Emma got to her feet and took his face between her hands. “Now, Fritz. Listen to me. No, I shall call you Fred from now on. You are nearly a big man now. I want you to help Henry – and Papa. And look after Clara for me. And Clara, you must help Mama, especially with young William. Is that right with you? Ja.”
“Ja, Emma. That is right, as it should be,” answered Fritz.
“Gut. Now let me find Charlie so I can be away.”
With a final hug for each of them, she took them by the hand and led them out of the barn. Frederika and Daniel could be seen standing together at the top of the rise, Daniel holding the horse by the reins, Frederika clutching a bulging tapestry holdall to her chest. The three of them climbed the rise together.
The two younger children went to their mother’s side as Emma took the bag from her mother and placed it on the ground. They stood looking at each other for a few seconds, scanning each other’s face. Eyes sparkled with pent-up emotion. No words were spoken.
Emma put her arms out; the two women hugged for a long time. Turning to Daniel, she said, “We can go now.”
Daniel picked up the holdall and they walked, hand in hand, into their new life together.
