Settling the Account (46 page)

Amy smiled at the notion; whatever things
she might have to worry about, David’s getting an attack of
wanderlust was not among them.

The sun was not far above the western hills
when Amy and David made their way up the track to the house, David
leading the horse by its reins so that he and Amy could walk
together. They spoke in low voices, both tired and subdued from the
events of the afternoon, till they rounded the last bend in the
track and saw Charlie standing there.

‘You took your time,’ he said, with a
baleful stare at each of them.

‘I’m sorry, Charlie, I didn’t think it’d go
on so long. I’ll start getting dinner on right now, it shouldn’t be
too late.’

Charlie made no answer, instead turning his
glare on David. ‘I didn’t tell you you could take one of my
horses.’

‘Didn’t think you’d grudge it,’ David said,
not looking at his father as he spoke.

‘You should have bloody asked me. You hear
me, boy?’

‘Yes, I hear you.’ He turned away and led
the horse towards its paddock, leaving Charlie scowling at his
retreating back. David stopped on his way to let an excited Biff
off the chain. The dog capered along beside him like a pup, making
an odd counterpoint to David’s uncharacteristically stolid
tread.

Amy went into the house, and Charlie soon
followed her. Rather than waste time changing out of her formal
mourning clothes, she made do with slipping an apron over the heavy
black cloth.

Charlie sat down at the table, taking a
biscuit from one of the tins he had left open there. ‘Anyone turn
up?’ he asked between bites.

Amy untied the long, black ribbons of her
bonnet and placed it on a chair, then began peeling potatoes. ‘The
whole town, I think. I’ve never seen so many people in Ruatane. And
they all said such nice things about… him.’

‘Never had a good word to say for him when
he was alive,’ Charlie muttered.

Amy stopped peeling for a moment, her knife
poised over the potato. ‘No, I suppose they didn’t. But that’s what
happens when someone dies. People forgive everything once you’re
dead.’ She shot a glance at him over her shoulder. ‘Most people do,
anyway.’

Charlie gave a grunt and rose to his feet.
‘Better get that boy doing some work. Needn’t think he can waste
the whole day, just because he got away with sneaking out like
that.’

‘Give him a chance to get out of his good
clothes first, Charlie. And it was my idea to take him into town
with me, remember.’

He stared at her through narrowed eyes.
‘Aye, I remember, all right. I’ll not be forgetting it in a hurry.’
He stalked out of the room, pausing in the doorway to add, ‘Won’t
stop him getting a kick in the backside if he doesn’t get on with
his work.’

Well, it wouldn’t be the first kick, and
probably not the last. Amy tried to get on with her work without
brooding over Charlie and David, but her hands carried out the
familiar tasks without involving her mind. Why did she feel so
uneasy? Charlie was in a sour mood, but that was no novelty. She
should be used to the pall of smouldering anger that hovered about
him. Hovered as though it was waiting for a target; something to
focus itself on. She shuddered at the memory of the dark look he
had given her as he had left, though she had nothing to fear for
herself. He would not dare raise a hand to her.

But there was David to think of. Dear,
patient David, whose patience was showing signs of wearing. Whose
nerves must be taut after all the events of the afternoon. She knew
she was being like an old mother hen with one chick, but how could
she be otherwise when David was the only child she had left?

David had changed into his working clothes,
and he and Charlie were mending the fence just behind the house.
From time to time Amy heard their voices through the open kitchen
window. She gradually became aware that it was only Charlie’s voice
she was hearing, and that it was growing increasingly loud.

This was not the time to let Charlie try and
pick a fight with David. Perhaps she could distract him until
tomorrow, when he would have begun to forget that David had gone
out against his will.

Abandoning her pots of vegetables, she
hastily buttered some scones that Charlie had not found when he
raided the tins earlier. She spread a generous layer of strawberry
jam on each one, then took the plateful outside and over to the
fence, where she waited for a good moment to interrupt. Biff came
over to her and rubbed against her legs, looking at her plate with
open longing. She broke off a corner of one scone and gave it to
the delighted dog.

David was holding a fence post upright while
Charlie held his heavy hammer above it, ready to drive the post
into the ground. Charlie looked drawn with fatigue, and the
tightness of his mouth showed that his mood was as grim as Amy had
feared. She saw his chest heaving with effort, and she tried to
think of a way of suggesting that he should tell David to do the
heavy work.

David was as tall as his father, now that
Charlie had become increasingly stooped, Amy realised with a start.
Young though he was, he had almost come into his full adult
strength, while Charlie must be close to sixty and looked even
older.

But Charlie would not thank her for telling
him he was getting old; the best she could do was give him an
excuse to stop working for a few minutes. ‘Would you like a scone,
Charlie?’ she asked.

‘Suppose so.’ He made a grab at one,
smearing jam on his hand in the process. He devoured the scone in
two bites, and reached for another.

‘You don’t need any,’ he said, knocking
David’s hand away when the boy reached out towards the plate.
‘You’ll have been stuffing yourself all afternoon, I’ll be bound.
You’ve been no bloody use to me today, anyway.’ He wiped his hands
on his trousers and took a fresh grip on the hammer. ‘Time we got
back to it.’

Charlie took a stand close to the post and
raised his hammer. ‘Hold that thing steady,’ he told David. ‘Don’t
let it move till I’ve got it well in.’ He took a massive swing at
the fence post. Amy saw the muscles of his upper arms bulging
through his shirt sleeves. The stroke fell with a crack of metal
against wood. But it was unsteady, for all the force behind it, and
the post went into the ground at an angle.

‘I told you to hold the bloody thing,’
Charlie shouted. ‘Can’t you do anything right?’ David looked down
at the ground, biting his lower lip.

‘Well? Haven’t you got a tongue in your
head? Don’t stand there like a bloody ninny.’

‘I did hold it steady,’ David muttered
towards his feet.

Charlie’s hand lashed out, leaving a red
welt on David’s cheek. Amy was sure his anger was as much at his
own weakness as at any imagined failing on David’s part. ‘Don’t
talk back to me, boy. I say you let the thing slip. You’re a
useless bugger, aren’t you?’ His voice rose. ‘You’re bloody
useless. You’ll never amount to a damned bit of good. You’re not
half the boy your brother was.’

After Charlie’s roar, the silence seemed all
the more unnatural. He let the hammer fall from his hand and took a
step backwards, his face half turned away. Amy saw his mouth
working with emotion.

David was staring at his father with his
eyes wide and his teeth bared slightly. He looked uncertain whether
to scream in rage or burst into tears at the brutal injustice of
it. Charlie had broken his own rule that Malcolm was not to be
spoken of by flinging the cruellest of insults in David’s face.

Amy put the plate on the ground, went up to
him and rested a hand on his arm. ‘He doesn’t mean it,’ she said
softly. ‘Don’t take any notice. Please, Davie.’

She felt the stiffness gradually ease out of
him. Amy slid an arm around his waist and leaned against his chest,
grateful once again for his patient nature. ‘Thank you, darling,’
she whispered, standing on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek.

That was the first mistake, she realised
afterwards. She was usually so wary of showing David affection in
front of Charlie, but shock had made her careless. She had believed
Charlie was too lost in his own thoughts to take any notice, but
when she glanced in his direction she saw him studying them with
his lip curled in disgust.

‘Look at you two. You make a pretty sight,
don’t you? The mammy’s boy and his bitch of a mother.’

Amy felt David stir against her. She tried
to pull away from him, to break the guilty tableau, but he put a
possessive arm around her.

‘Don’t talk to Ma like that,’ he said in a
low voice. From the ground at his feet, Biff gave a barely audible
growl. Amy saw the hair along the dog’s back rise.

‘I’ll talk to her how I please. And I’ll
have none of your lip, boy. You get out of here,’ Charlie said,
turning his eyes on Amy. ‘Go on, bugger off, you meddling little
bitch.’

‘I said don’t talk to her like that.’
David’s voice was louder this time. He let his arm drop from around
Amy and took a step towards his father. ‘She shouldn’t have to
listen to that.’

‘Oh, aye, you and your precious little ma,’
Charlie said, his voice dripping with scorn. ‘I could tell you some
things about her if I had a mind to. You’d maybe think a bit
different about her then.’ He cast a venomous glance at Amy.

And that was her second mistake, she told
herself over and over again when it was too late to do anything
about it. She let Charlie see that his words frightened her, and
her fear gave him a weapon, turning an unthinking remark into a
threat.

‘Aye, maybe I will,’ he said thoughtfully.
‘It’s maybe about time the boy found out a few things about you.
Well, boy? Want to know what your ma used to get up to before I got
hold of her? Want to know how she was no better than a whore?’

Don’t, Charlie. Please don’t
. She
tried to speak, but no sound came.

‘You shut your mouth!’ David shouted. ‘You
say one more word like that about Ma and I’ll shut it for you.’

‘It’s no more than the truth. Can’t keep the
truth quiet forever, eh, bitch? Whoring’s bound to come out in the
end.’

‘I told you to shut up!’ David screamed. He
crossed the ground between them in two long strides. Before Amy had
gathered voice enough to cry out to him she saw his long arm snake
towards his father. David’s fist connected with Charlie’s jaw in a
sickening crunch.

Charlie staggered back, stunned as much by
the fact of the blow as by the strength behind it. He stared at
David in blank disbelief, then with a roar of rage launched himself
at the boy.

At the same moment, Biff gave a snarling
bark and ran at Charlie. Before the dog had time to reach them,
David deflected his father’s blow with a thrust of his left arm
then delivered another punch with his right fist that knocked
Charlie to the ground. When he tried to rise, he found Biff
snatching at a mouthful of his sleeve while David stood over him,
his fist still clenched.

‘Stop it!’ Amy screamed. She picked up her
skirts and ran towards them. She took hold of Biff’s rope collar
and hauled on it until the dog released Charlie’s sleeve; then,
holding the collar with one hand, she tugged at David’s arm till he
let his fist drop. ‘Come away, Dave! Charlie, he didn’t mean to
hurt you,’ she said to the figure still sprawled on the ground. ‘He
just got in a state, with Mal’s service today and everything.’

She pulled both David and Biff away a few
steps, and held her breath as she watched Charlie slowly get to his
feet. His eyes locked on David’s, but he made no move towards the
boy.

‘Get out,’ he said in a voice so low that it
was more of a growl. ‘Get out of here.’

‘Go over to your Uncle John’s, Dave,’ Amy
said urgently. ‘You can stay the night with them.’ And in the
morning, perhaps it would all be forgotten. Even as she formed the
thought, she knew it was hopeless.

‘You’ve got ten minutes, boy,’ Charlie said.
‘Pack your clothes and get off my farm. You’ll get out of town if
you know what’s good for you. If I ever see you on my land again
I’ll blow your bloody brains out.’

Amy felt herself go cold as the meaning of
his words sank in. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t send David away. Not
Dave. Please, Charlie, please! He didn’t mean it! He’s sorry now,
aren’t you, Dave? Tell your father you’re sorry. Please,
Davie!’

‘I’m not sorry!’ David blurted out. ‘I’ll do
it again if he talks to you like that.’

‘Ten minutes, boy,’ Charlie repeated. ‘And
take that bloody mongrel, too, or I’ll cut its throat.’

‘All right, I will!’ David shouted. ‘I’ll
clear out, just like Mal did! That’s why he went off and got
killed—just ’cause he wanted to get away from you.’ He flung the
words over his shoulder as he went away at a half run, Biff loping
at his heels.

‘You go on your own two feet, too,’ Charlie
called. ‘You touch any of my horses and I’ll have you hung for a
horse thief.’

‘Davie, no!’ Amy cried after him. She ran as
fast as she could, but by the time she reached the house David was
already in his room, pulling clothes out of the drawers and making
an untidy pile on the bed. He seemed unaware of the grazes Amy
could see on his knuckles, legacies of his fist’s encounter with
his father’s jaw.

‘Don’t go, Davie,’ Amy sobbed, flinging
herself on him. ‘Don’t go away.’

David stopped his work to take her in his
arms, pressing her cheek against his chest. ‘I’ve got to,’ he said,
his voice taut with emotion. ‘I’ve had enough of him. I’m not
putting up with it any more.’

He gripped her so tightly that it almost
hurt, then abruptly held her at arms’ length. ‘Come with me, Ma!
I’ll get you away from him. I can look after you—I’m going to get a
good job somewhere. I’ll show him who’s useless! There’s places you
can make heaps of money—George said today there’s mines you can
work in, they pay heaps—he said the boat goes near there, he’d get
me a ride any time. The boat’s going tomorrow, and I’m going to be
on it. You come too—George’ll take you too.’