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Foxton
1882–1884
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15 June 1882
“Ahhh,” grunted Emma with each contraction. Biting down as hard as she could on the wad of cloth the midwife, Annie, had placed between her teeth she was determined not to scream out loud. This is what she wanted, she told herself and what she had told everyone else she wanted.
“Won’t be long now, love. You’re young and strong with many childbearing years ahead of ya. Take heart.”
Her face red with exertion, the sweat trickling into her eyes as another contraction bit deep, Emma could only answer with a loud groan.
Annie was a chatty sort who liked to distract her mothers-to-be – especially first-time mothers – with endless gossip about this and that. “I told your pa out there how things are. So he don’t fret like.”
The woman’s comment registered in Emma’s brain. Taking the sodden cloth from between her teeth, she informed the midwife, “I’ll have you know that man is my husband, the father of this child, not my father. Ahhh!”
“Ooh ... Well, I never! Ah well, sorry dear, but ay, ’e looks old enough to be your pa. Easy mistake. You just concentrate now on what’s happening with your babe and never mind me. You’re new in town, though, ain’t you? I don’t remember seeing you before, or I’d know your ma. I know most of the mothers of girls your age. I probably brought them into the world, that’s how long I’ve been doing this job. You’re lucky to have me really. I’m that busy. Still, it were Maisy at the big ’ouse as asked me an’ I couldn’t say no to Maisy, now could I? Not with her being housekeeper to Cap’n Robinson an’ all.”
Annie fussed around, mopping Emma’s brow, checking all the towels and swaddling cloths were in place, and making up a wee bed for the babe in one of the drawers of the large oak dresser. All the while she chatted on.
“Wonderful man, that Cap’n Robinson. The things he has done for this town is beyond all duty, but my, it do make a difference. Just look at all the work he’s done to improve the roads around here. Him being a big wig on the board an’ all. And then buying the land for the new school. I tell you, that is generous, but those little blighters don’t appreciate what they got. Always wagging school to earn a penny or two planting veges and whatever’s on offer this week. Sends the teacher to despair but nuffin’ to be done. The parents need the money nowadays with so many out of work. Boom and bust – that’s what this town is. Just a boom-and-bust town. All’s going well and somebody starts up another mill, or store or something. Then you turn around and it’s gone, and all the people are out of work again.”
She stopped what she was doing mid-stride.
“Your fella in work still? ’Cos I need my fee, you know. Can’t be doing it all for love, now can I? Gotta eat too now, don’t I?”
Emma managed to nod in response, hoping Charlie had kept a few coins to pay the woman. Satisfied with the answer Annie started prattling again. Emma lay exhausted, waiting for the next pain. Without the strength to talk back to the woman or to stop her talking so much, she could only let it waft over her.
“I read in the paper just the other day, the price of fibre has gone down again. That must be the third time this year. It’ll hurt the mills hard. They’ll probably have to cut back again. Maisy and I were talking about it not long since. We meet to have a cup of tea, see, just to rest our weary feet and pass the time of day, like. She said she overheard the cap’n talking with some men in the library, about the depression as they called it. And talking about the newfangled refrigeration trade. Sending frozen meat, they say, across the oceans back to the home country. Seems hard to believe they could do that, but it’s a fact, so Maisy said. She heard them say, so it must be true then, mustn’t it? And butter. Butter, of all things. Fancy buying butter what’s months old when they gets it.”
Annie stopped to catch her breath. “I’ll go make meself a cuppa, lass. All this talking has fair dried my mouth out. You just lie there for a minute, and I’ll bring us a nice sweet cup o’ tea. That’ll help no end.”
In the silence that followed the door shutting, Emma could hear birds singing, but otherwise she had no idea of the time. It had still been dark when her waters broke and Daniel rushed off to ask Maisy what to do next. Now the light had moved from her window, so it must be well into the afternoon. Her eyes fluttered closed as the silence enveloped her, but it felt like only seconds had passed before Annie’s voice penetrated her peace again.
“Good cuppa, this. Sure you don’t want one? No? Ah well, don’t mind if I have a second one then. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the cap’n. He built the racecourse as well, he did. That’s given people the most pleasure around here, I reckon. Nigh on fifteen year it is now since it opened but the cap’n likes the horses, ’e does, an’ his boys all play polo. Fancy game that. Royalty back ’ome were the only ones I ever heard of what played polo. Never seen it meself until they had a game here.”
Annie ignored the soft groans coming from Emma at regular intervals, knowing her time was still some way off.
“Relax, girl. It’s not your time yet. Your fella a sporting sort? It must be a couple of year ago now since the new rugby club started using the racecourse during the off season. Of all things. In the middle like, I mean, not on the track. The men like it, but it looks like a bully of a game to me. The toffs used to play it in the old country but now ’tis the workers what like to rough it in the mud. Ooh, but it’s a fun day. Just like a good race day, people come from all over by train or carriage or whatever.”
Every now and then Annie wrung out a wet cloth to mop Emma’s brow again, smoothing the hair back off her damp face, calming her while she kept up her constant monologue.
“Not dressed up like for the races, though – more muffled up against the cold. But it’s thrilling to see our team score. Tries, they call it, when the man with the ball lands it on the ground over the line. Funny really, not at all like real football. Skill, that is. I remember my brothers playing it back home – but what was I saying? Oh, yes, the rugby. Won their last season so’s I hear. Much prefers the races meself.”
Emma groaned, arching her back as another contraction started, much more violent than the others.
“Steady on there, lass. Nearly over now. Here, pull on this.” She handed Emma a knotted cloth rope she had tied to the bedhead.
“I wore my new bonnet last time I went to the races. You should see it. Wonderful it is: dark bottle green, with pretty mint green ribbons and a pleated frill around the edge with real feathers. My friend Maisy said it was by far the best bonnet of all, even better than Mrs Robinson’s latest creation. Of course, she can afford the best of everything, she can, what with how rich the cap’n is, an’ all, but Maisy reckoned that didn’t matter. It was ugly, an’ mine was better. Do you know the block where the big two-storey barn is? That’s his. And he owns what locals called the ‘square mile’ along the river and down towards the beach. I were told it were more than 1,300 acres. Never ’eard of one person owning so much land afore.”
In a moment of lucidity, Emma nearly laughed, except it turned into a groan. Wouldn’t Annie have a fit if she knew this child was conceived in that barn? As she tossed around on the bed, the contractions sharper and closer together, all Emma could do was nod in response while Annie mopped her brow.
“Now listen to me, girl. Push when I say, and stop when I say.”
She followed Annie’s instructions through a haze, wondering if it would ever end, when she noticed the pitch in Annie’s voice change.
“Last time ... Come on, girl ... Push ... And again ... All right ... Stop pushing now ... Breathe ... Here it comes ... Got it, I have ... All over now ... There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“What is it?” Emma asked, managing to raise her head a little.
“It’s a girl. And she has all her little fingers and toes.”
“Thank you,” Emma whispered, smiling, falling back on the pillow exhausted.
“No thanks to me, it isn’t. You did it all, girl.”
Annie busied herself cleaning and tidying up, preparing mother and child to receive the father and letting Emma doze for a while to get her strength back. When she was satisfied, Annie allowed Daniel to enter the room. Emma was sitting up dressed in a clean, lace-edged nightdress, her hair freshly brushed, with the baby nestled in her arm, satiated after her first nursing.
Emma smiled up at him. “Look, mein Charlie. She is beautiful, ja?”
“Not as beautiful as you,” he responded, kissing her on the forehead.
“Thank you, Charlie. What a nice thing to say.”
“Are you all right? Was it, um, er, difficult?” he asked, coughing into his hand, somewhat embarrassed.
“Ja, Charlie. I’m fine. Just a little tired. It took such a long time, but look at what we have.”
They both admired the wee mite, counting her fingers and toes, in awe at her tininess, discussing her dark hair and dark eyes and who she looked like. Happiness flooded through them.
After a time Daniel asked, “Have you thought what name we should give her?”
“I would like to name her Edith Clara, after my grandmother and sister. Is that all right with you?”
“I had been thinking I would like to call her Elizabeth after mine, but if Edith is what you want, then Edith it will be, my sweet. We will register her as you wish. To me she will always be my little Lizzie, though. Rest now, Liebling. I’ll see you later.”
Satisfied, Emma laid her head back, contemplating their time together in the last few months. She loved her Charlie but life had been hard. The last thing Mama told her was to make sure she married. Properly. In a church. But Papa would never give his permission so it could not happen for years yet. Not that she minded. She felt married – that was all that mattered.
She settled deeper in the pillows with little Edith – or Lizzie as she would be known her entire life – asleep beside her. It wouldn’t be long before she would have to wake and feed that hungry little rosebud mouth, but meanwhile the healing depths of sleep called.
1883
“Telegram, miss,” said the boy at the door.
A chill crept through Emma’s body as she held her hand out to receive the envelope. What bad news is this? Only bad news comes by telegraph.
The delivery boy shuffled from foot to foot, waiting.
“Oh! Yes. Wait here.” Realising what he wanted, Emma went to get a coin from the jar. She handed the boy a ha’penny and closed the door. The darkness of the hallway engulfed her like the dark hand of fate.
She sat at the kitchen table staring at the envelope for a long time, not yet willing to open it. Seven-month-old Lizzie stirred in her bed on the floor by the range, making the murmuring noises that said she wanted to be fed. Emma was grateful for the distraction.
I’ll look at it later. ’Tis hours yet before Charlie’s home. I’ll read it then.
Settling back into the armchair she nursed Lizzie, but only a few minutes passed before she set her down again. Almost in one movement, she got up, strode across to the table, picked up the telegram and ripped open the envelope. The large type jumped out at her.
SORRY MOTHER PASSED AWAY 5 JANUARY STOP LETTER FOLLOWING STOP HENRY
Emma crushed the paper in her hand. Head thrown back, she let out a heart-rending wail. Lizzie, upset at having her meal interrupted, echoed her mother’s mournful cry with ear-piercing howls of her own.
Annie’s voice sounded unexpectedly in the hall. “Hello, Emma, my dear. How are you today? I’ve brought you some ...”
Annie stopped mid-sentence at the noise. She saw the tears falling down Emma’s face. “There, there, what is it, my dear? You tell Annie now, and let’s see if we can make it better.”
She put her basket on the table and her arm around Emma’s shoulder, making her sit. Pulling up another chair so she could look at Emma, she gathered Lizzie into her arms, giving her a honey-soaked cloth to suck on.
Emma’s racking sobs interrupted her words as she spoke. “Oh Annie ... thank heaven you came ... It’s Mama ... Look ... This telegram came from my brother ... She’s dead, Annie. Dead. Oh, Annie. How can that be? She is still so young. She has William; he’s still a baby. She can’t be dead. Annie, what am I going to do?”
Annie prised the crumpled sheet from Emma’s hand and smoothed it out flat so she could see the words for herself.
“Well, now. Let’s see. It says there’s a letter to follow, so with a bit of luck that will tell you more about what happened. But let’s be realistic, there is nothing you can do. And you know it.”
Over the intervening months since Lizzie had been born, Annie had visited Emma often and they had become good friends. Taking a moment to think how she was going to say what needed to be said, Annie fussed with Lizzie, eased her position and gave her more honey.
“I’m gonna be cruel here to be kind. Why is it you haven’t seen your mama, nor anybody else in your family for that matter, since you come here with your Charlie. It’s over a year now. Where were they when you needed them? Honestly, I ask you, where were they? That’s what I’d like to know. No one here when you had your babe either, just me and Maisy.”
“I know. And you’ve been very good to me, Annie, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. But knowing my mama was there if ever I needed her ...”
“That’s as may be, but remember what you told me. You made your choice that day with your papa. Can’t understand it myself. Fancy, being made to choose between a husband and a papa. How any father could do that to their own is beyond me, but that’s the way it is with some folk. There’s no going back now. Would he have let her come anyway?”
“No,” Emma whispered, reluctant to acknowledge Annie’s words.
Annie laid down the now sleeping Lizzie. Taking an apron from her basket she tied the strings behind her back and began gathering up various pots and pans. Putting on her best no-nonsense voice, she said, “Come on now, none of this. You still got a husband and a babe to look after. Let’s get started. Peel them potatoes and set them to cooking, while I put a pot o’ stew on.”
“I don’t have any meat,” Emma muttered, dabbing at her eyes with her sodden hanky.
“Well, that’s what I was telling you now, wasn’t it? That’s what I got here in my basket. A good bone with some good meat left on it. It’ll make great stew.”
“No, Annie, you can’t give me that. It’s for your dinner, isn’t it? I can tell, wrapped as it is from the butcher’s.”
“Don’t you fret none my girl. You need some good food inside you to help you get over the shock. That’s what. And I’m staying until that husband of yours gets home. I’m not leaving you on your own today and that’s final. You can tell me all about your mama and when you was little back in Germany while we work.”
Emma’s tears started to flow again at Annie’s kindness. She stood up and gave the older woman a hug. “Annie, you are good friend to me. And taught me so much. I don’t know what I’d have done without you sometimes.”
“Hush, girl. Stop all that stuff and nonsense now. You’ll have me crying next. Let’s get to work.”
“All right. But it’s true.”
“An’ you’re about to learn some more, too. I brought you some peaches from my tree. Laden it’s been this year. Too many for me. We’re going to cook them up, and tomorrow I’ll come back with some jars and show you how to bottle them. But first things first, miss. I would kill for a cup of tea. Is the kettle hot?”
Minutes passed as the tea was made and vegetables prepared.
“Now, girl, you tell Annie all about it,” said the midwife, raising her teacup to her lips, the stew and potatoes simmering on the coal range.
“I’m not sure there is a lot to tell. I think we were an ordinary peasant family like everyone else in village.”
“Well, that’s a start then. Good cuppa, this,” declared Annie. “What did you do in the village? Where did you play? Where were your grandparents?”
“I don’t remember grandparents, a cloudy memory, of a bent little old woman with small, rough hands who carried sticks on her back. She was always nice to me; I think she gave me little sweet baked treats. It was all so long ago now.”
“You said your mama was still a young woman, so her mother would not have been so old. Not even as old as me maybe.” Annie preened this way and that, posing, pretending she was a young girl again. They laughed a little. “That’s better, girl.”
“I think you right. I felt happy there, but I remember we had to move village. This before Fritz was born. It was a long way away. I was unhappy then. There were lots of unhappy times. I remember Mama crying.”
“Why did you have to move?” Annie poured another cup of tea and sat back to listen.
Emma shook her head. “I don’t know. I was so little. But later, when I was older, Papa would talk about how the men would all be rounded up and taken from the villages to fight in the army. He said it was wrong. People dying in other people’s battles. Mama used to tell me not to upset him by asking questions.”
“Wouldn’t put up with that in my house, I wouldn’t. We’ve got as much right to know as anyone.” Annie folded her arms and pursed her lips. “Did your mama say anything else?”
“She said our land was unsettled and powerful men were fighting each other to control it, so the people had to fight; the people had to die. Papa would talk to Heinrich for hours about it. Sometimes he said neighbours would fight neighbours. It was horrible. I would listen sometimes, but he said I would not understand. I don’t completely ...” Emma stopped talking, drifting into a world of memories.
Into the silence, Annie said, “Sounds to me like as good reason as any to leave. Choosing to fight and being forced to fight is a different kettle of fish to my mind.”
Annie poured a fresh cup of tea and patted Emma’s shoulder as she sat down again.
“It is true what you say. It is very bad. Fighting and killing destroys much. Families mostly. Mama said everyone suffered, even those who lived. They lost loved ones in the battles or were forced to move away from family to survive, like we did.”
Emma wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Staring through the window, with fresh tears rolling down her face, she whispered, “Now I’ve lost Mama too.”
Emma’s deep-seated sadness lingered between them.
“So, what did you miss when you came out here?” asked Annie, changing the subject.
“The seasons,” came Emma’s instant reply, brightening a little. “It is so different not to have the biting cold of winter, the deep snows and the smell of wood fires, then suddenly, almost overnight, spring would come, and all the snow would melt into the gurgling streams and rushing rivers, and the sounds of life returned.”
“Yeah, well can’t say I miss the snow, missy,” said Annie. “But I know what you mean. I remember the spring, and the bare branches of the trees bursting into leaf. It’s often too wet and windy here for my taste.”
Emma nodded in agreement. “I loved spring back home, when the birds began to sing again. I miss running amongst the wildflowers. I used to love the wildflowers.”
Annie smiled. “We had bluebells, fields and fields of them, and primroses and crocus. Beautiful they were.”
“It was like everyone came to life then; everyone had more energy. It is so much gentler here. The seasons are softer and blend into one another. I love it, but there are no flowers.”
“I can give you some bulbs and cuttings so you can plant your own flowers if you want. Things grow well here all year round. I’ll show you.”
* * *
Daniel arrived home the worse for wear after having a few too many ales at the pub. The official pardoning of Te Kooti was something worthy of lengthy discussion and celebration to his mind. He found the two women still sitting at the table chatting over the remains of tea and biscuits. Many cups of tea, by the look of things, taking everything in one glance. The pot of stew cooking over the coal range smelt delicious, and he was hungry and in need of a wash.
But first things first. “What’s going on here, then?”
To his dismay, Emma leapt to her feet, threw her arms around him, burying her head in his chest, and burst into tears. As he held her, Annie handed him the telegram.
“See for yourself, Chas. It seems her ma has passed away sudden like.”
“There there, sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear, patting her on the back, unsure what to do next. “You just sit down again, while I get cleaned up and then we’ll talk, eh?”
He went outside again to check the chickens had been fed and put his horse away. After he’d removed his boots and had a wash, he returned to the kitchen to find Emma sitting in the armchair almost asleep.
Leaving her to rest he crossed to where Annie was now stirring the stew. He lowered his voice so Emma wouldn’t hear. “It was good of you to sit late with my Emma. How’s she been?”
Annie looked around to check Emma wasn’t listening. “Up and down,” she whispered. “She talked a lot about what it was like back in Germany before they came here, and how hard it had been on her ma once they were here with her father away working so often on the railroad. I didn’t try to follow it all as she jumped from thought to thought. It was good to get her talking.”
Daniel nodded, adding gruffly, “Thanks for being here.”
“Pleased to do what I can.” Moving away from their tête-à-tête, Annie bent down by Emma’s chair and placed her hand on the girl’s arm. Her eyes flicked open. “Emma, my dear. I’m away to my dinner now, but I’ll be back tomorrow. You give young Lizzie here another good drink tonight and she’ll sleep through, I’m sure.”
Exhausted now, Emma could only nod.
Walking to the door with Daniel, Annie added, “And I’ll send a lad with some laudanum to help her sleep. It’ll be a long night for yer both.”
After Annie left, Daniel watched Emma and Lizzie dozing, wondering what to expect when she woke. He was starving and dished up some of the stew and potatoes. He ate two bowls and washed up before disturbing Emma.
“Come on, love. You have to try to eat something.”
But Emma couldn’t eat and pushed hers around the plate, taking no more than a mouthful or two. He shoved the laudanum Annie had sent into his pocket and sat in the chair opposite Emma watching her fidget, her eyes darting around the room, before getting to her feet to pace only to sit again and stare into the fire. He took his time rolling his cigarette before he broached the subject that lay between them.
“Do you want to go back and see them? Would that help?”
“I don’t know, Charlie. I only told Annie half the story about Papa. I said I had gone against his wishes because you were older. Not that I was pregnant, nor that we aren’t legally married.”
“That don’t matter. Let people think what they like. You’ll be too late for the funeral, but do you want to see your father and brothers and sister?”
“Would you come with me if I went?”
“No. You know that. Your father and I will never see eye to eye again, and it’ll only stir up more argument.”
“How can I go? He told me to leave and never come back. I made my choice. Now I have to live with it. I’m not unhappy with our life, Charlie, but I do miss mama, and my brother and sister.”
“I know, my sweet. I know.”
Pulling her to her feet, he took her in his arms and let her sobs quieten on his shoulder. He comforted her the only way he knew how. He began by massaging her shoulders. As she relaxed, he kissed her neck working his way up to her face, kissing her lips, tongue stretching into her mouth, moist and warm. He engulfed her in his hold, running one hand through her hair, the other up and down her back, never letting her go. Their kisses became desperate and more passionate as he guided her to the bedroom. They collapsed on the bed pulling at their clothes, discarding them haphazardly on the floor. Wrapped around each other, the emotion, the hurt, the anger and the misery were consumed by their passion until they lay spent.
Daniel drew her into his arms as she fell into an exhausted sleep.
1884
In his own way Daniel fretted about Emma throughout the following days and weeks. The loss of her mother sat like a stone on her heart, unresolved and unforgettable. He could only guess at her feelings when she was silent and withdrawn. At other times, she would talk non-stop telling him this time following her mother’s death was the hardest of her young life. Worse than the voyage out to New Zealand, worse than leaving her home – over two years ago now – worse than all the sickness and death she had already experienced.
Daniel hoped domestic chores and looking after Lizzie would distract Emma from the loneliness of those long hours while he was away working. Annie had shown her how to make her own soap and use blue in the rinse water, but on his return home each night he could see she had spent the days restless and unable to lift herself from the gloominess. He’d done what he could to help, when he could. Time dragged on with little change.
One evening, frustration got the better of him. He had to say something. “You can’t sit there all day doing nothing. You must try.”
“It’s all right for you, Charlie. You don’t know how it is.” She turned on him. Angry. Distraught. “Here on my own, with only my thoughts for company. Lizzie crying all the time, and the work is endless. I feel drained and empty inside. I’m too tired. I can’t do it. I can’t.” She collapsed in tears again.
Her outburst was not at all like his normal, capable Emma. He had to find a way to pull her out of her misery.
“That’s not right, and you know it. Annie and Maisy are always coming round to see you. You should listen to Annie more. You still have me and the babe to see to. I won’t put up with it any more. Do you hear? Pull yourself together, woman, and get on with things.”
The hurt and shock on Emma’s face was almost more than he could bear. He had never spoken to her like that before. It didn’t feel right somehow, but Annie had told him he must be firm.
“Now. Where’s my dinner?” He turned away from her stricken face, ran his hands through his hair in exasperation and sat at the table.
Emma rose from the chair, wiped her eyes and smoothed her hair. She crossed to the big iron pot simmering over the coal range. Taking a plate from the rack beside it, she ladled a bowl of stew into the plate and set it on the table. She sliced a slab of bread from the loaf Maisy had brought round earlier and handed it to Daniel.
Daniel took her hand as she passed him the bread. “I’ll have you sit with me.” Daniel’s voice softened. “Please? You must eat. You must keep your strength up. Lizzie will never stop crying if you don’t have enough milk for her, so Annie tells me.”
Silent, Emma obediently filled another plate with food and sank into the adjacent chair.
* * *
The months passed, and Daniel’s hopes were realised. The daily chores became a salve for Emma, and soon turned into a passion as she buried herself in household tasks.
Many a time when he came home from work, the coal range had been cleaned and blacked, and the smell of fresh baked bread and roasting meat filled the air. Other times, he would find her stirring a big pot of bubbling lye and fat, making soap, using herbs and flowers to make it more fragrant, or the table had been scrubbed – so much so, the kauri top was turning white.
Emma had begun sewing baby clothes and raising hens for eggs, selling any left over.
But most of all, Daniel was pleased to see how much she loved the changing seasons in her garden, as the summer turned to winter and spring and back to summer again. Life was gradually returning to his lovely bride and so was the love, and loving, that first brought them together.
She would talk endlessly about her days, darting from subject to subject and person to person.
“I talk to Lizzie all the time.” Her eyes were sparkling. “I know it sounds silly, since she can’t talk, but I feel like she understands. I tell her all about the new herbs I use in the soap today. Do you remember when Annie brought me those spring bulbs and sweet-smelling rose cuttings? They’ve grown into such beautiful flowers. I never thought I’d grow flowers of my own. But I have to watch Lizzie or else she’d be picking the heads off them all. Wouldn’t you, my little love?” Emma cooed at Lizzie asleep beside her in the rocker. “You have me run off my feet, that’s for certain.”
“I’m pleased to see you happy again, Emma.” Daniel’s sense of relief was great.
Emma smiled at him with her eyes. “Lizzie’s so beautiful. At times I could cry to watch her crouched on the grass beside me inspecting the daisies and tasting the fresh blades of grass. I do so love to see the soil tilled and no weeds left. When there’s new life in every flower and leaf, every seedling and bulb. When life is controlled by the seasons.”
Christmas had come and gone. Emma had rejoiced in the preparations, proud she could serve fresh new potatoes and greens from her garden for their dinner. But on the anniversary of her mother’s death, her sadness returned.
“What say you go and see Maisy this afternoon?” suggested Daniel. “Take Lizzie and spend the afternoon talking.”
“Oh, Charlie! What a good idea. Thank you. Yes, it would be good to talk to Maisy.” She kissed him on the cheek.
“I’ll be off to the pub then. I arranged to see Harry, and Jock Proctor’s coming to talk about the next race meets. See you for supper.”
Emma frowned but said nothing.
“What do you think of that then, little one?” she asked Lizzie instead as she strapped the nineteen-month-old to her in a hammock-style muslin cloth.
The walk would do her good. The sun was out and the day mild. It wouldn’t take long for her to get to the kitchen of Herrington from their small abode near the river. Maisy was semi-retired now, with maids to help her, but she still ruled her kitchen the way she always had.
“Well, hello there, Emma, my dear. Welcome. Come in. Come in. What brings you here today, not that you need an excuse, of course. You’re welcome any time.”
“Actually, Maisy, there is something. I have to tell ...”
“Before you tell me anything, let’s pour ourselves a refreshing cup of tea, or would you prefer fresh-made lemon squash? And let’s sit under the big tree and talk. It’ll be cooler out there.”
“Tea would be lovely. Thanks, Maisy.”
Maisy gave instructions to the scullery maid who carried a tray of drinks and cakes outside. Once Emma had released Lizzie to explore the garden, she sagged into one of the big wooden armchairs under the shade of the large plum tree.
“So, what have you got to tell me, then?” asked Maisy, settling herself in the other one, the tray of drinks set on the table between them.
“It’s the anniversary of Mama’s passing today, and I was feeling low. Charlie said I should get away from the house. I was thinking all sorts of sad thoughts about what she would be missing, what my children would be missing. But then I realised – there is good news. I haven’t told anyone yet, not even Charlie. I wanted to be sure – I’m with child again, Maisy. Isn’t that good news?”
“Yes, my dear. It is. Annie and I were just saying, not long ago, that it was time for you to have another. She was suspicious, mind you, thinking you might be. You know Annie, can read people like a book. She said you were glowing.”
“Am I?” Emma’s expression softened. “I suppose I am.”
“When are you due?”
“Would you believe it? June! Like Lizzie. Another winter baby conceived in springtime. My favourite time of the year when everything starts to grow. Just like this baby.”
Emma placed her hands across her stomach, smiling. She imagined she could feel the quickening that would come later. She was surprised at the fierce protectiveness she felt for this new babe. At that moment, she knew she would have a large family. None of her children would ever be alone in their lives if she had anything to say about it.
* * *
Charles Frederick Adin was born on 27th June 1884, with even less fuss and bother than his older sister.
“What did I tell you, miss?” Annie chattered as she moved around the room sorting out the aftermath of the day’s events. “A natural, you are. Quite the natural. What a bonnie boy you have there.”
“Thank you, Annie. Again. I could not have done it without you. You are such a strength to me. Charlie will be so pleased it’s a boy. He loves his Lizzie, but a boy can help a man with his work, and a boy can carry on his name.”
“That’s as may be. Me, I prefer girls. They stay home close to their mothers and are a joy throughout their lives.”
Except me, Emma thought but kept quiet as Annie prattled on.
“But boys, they go off and do their manly things. Same as always, rushing off to get a rifle in their hands and get themselves killed before they’ve even had time to work out how to use it some of them, or getting the taste for drink. Wastrels, the lot of them. Still, enough for today. Today is a day of celebration. A new baby, a new beginning.”
Emma looked lovingly at the little bundle lying next to her on the bed. What will your life be like, I wonder?
