Читать книгу A Silent Love - Susan Wright - Страница 2

Farmland, New Zealand

Jessie sat on the bank of the stream with her feet dangling in the cool water. The old willow tree offered welcome shade from the intense summer heat. Minnows were darting back and forth in the clear water as it tumbled on its downward journey. Apart from the occasional drone of a bumblebee everything was quiet. She wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm. Leaning back against the tree trunk, she perused the pastoral scene in front of her. This superb view of the vast rolling plains of the Southland countryside never failed to captivate her.

Away in the distance just on the horizon, could be seen majestic mountains. Jessie shaded her eyes from the sun as she breathed deeply and enjoyed the view. On the other side of the stream two cows were sitting in the shade, gently chewing their cud. In the next paddock the men were busy tying the sheaves of wheat. They had worked since early morning and now they were justifiably feeling weary. Jessie had taken them their afternoon tea and now she was enjoying a few minutes respite, until it was time to return to the house.

She wriggled her toes over the smooth stones and bent down to scoop up a hand full of the cool water. This she splashed over her face and around her neck. During the winter she had complained of the cold, but now in the midst of the summer heat she would give anything for a cool day. Scolding herself for her complaining attitude, she decided it was time to return home. Putting on her sandals she started on her weary way home.

She walked along the stream knowing the men would not be able to see her. She did not want them to see her. This was not entirely true. It was not all the men that she did not want to see her. It was just the one man, Paul, her husband. Apart from his brother, Mark, the rest of the men were all local farmers, who had come for the day to help with the harvesting. Although they could not see her she could see the two brothers clearly. They were both tall, well over six feet. Their height was the only thing that they had in common. Mark had black hair and olive coloured features. His personality was as black as his looks. He hardly ever smiled, though, when he did his whole countenance changed. He worked long and hard without complaint, seemingly without the need of company. Jessie had been on the farm for fifteen years now and, yet she had never known Mark to make friends with anyone. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, she supposed. When she had first come to the adjoining farm with her parents, she had thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Paul on the other hand had not attracted her at all in the beginning. He was fair with pale blue eyes. At the start she had thought his eyes attractive, but now, she knew that those pale eyes were cold eyes. In public he displayed a jovial outgoing personality but in private, as Jessie well knew to her detriment, it was anything but jovial.

She had been only sixteen when her father had bought the neighbouring property. It had excited her having these two young men right next door. Their parents had both been killed in a motor accident. Now they had lived alone in a huge mausoleum of a house. At first she had watched from a distance as the two young men went about their various farm chores. She had thought Mark intriguing, with his sullen black looks. However it was Paul with his laughter and sense of fun that had won her affection. Her mother had repeatedly warned her. ‘Watch that one; he is only after one thing my girl. Once he gets it he will not want to know you.’ Oh, how she wished she had listened to her mother. Like most young girls of sixteen, she thought she knew it all. How could a person the age of her mother ever know what it was like be a young woman of sixteen and in love?

At first he had been very charming, and had told her that she was attractive. This had appealed to her sense of vanity, with the result she would spend hours brushing and styling her long fair hair. Her mirror confirmed that she was pretty, not beautiful, but certainly attractive. She always felt her nose was too big. Now if it were only the size of her nose that she had to worry about, her life would be wonderful she thought. In those early years Paul had pursued her relentlessly. Mistakenly she thought it was because he found her attractive. Despite the strict confines placed upon her by her parents, she had become adept at finding ways to meet him. She would lie awake at night waiting until the house became quiet, and everyone was asleep, before she would quietly push open her window, and escape. It was difficult to leave the farmyard without the knowledge of the dogs. It only took one sound to alert them and, they would begin barking. It had taken some cunning to work her way around that obstacle. By volunteering to feed the dogs at night, she could easily secrete away some dog biscuits that she could use to good effect later to keep them quiet. Once pacified with a biscuit they were quiet, allowing her to escape. She would meet Paul at the halfway mark between the two properties. An old wooden bridge provided shelter, and a secret place to meet.

They had been meeting like this for about six months when a cold dread could be felt in the bottom of her stomach. She had not given any thought to the consequences of their love-making. Of course the inevitable had happened and she had become pregnant. She felt absolutely terrified, and sick with dread, when she became aware of her condition. She was too frightened even to tell Paul. Looking back now she knew she felt scared because she had already come to realize that he had used her for his satisfaction, and nothing more. As soon as he had taken what he wanted from her, he lost interest and displayed little affection. Her mother had been right; he had only wanted one thing and had got it, with the result of her becoming pregnant.

The day her parents found out, all hell had broken loose. Her father had ranted and raved, for what seemed like hours, about the ‘sins of the flesh’. Meanwhile her mother had cried and, told her endlessly what a stupid foolish girl she had been. Her two older brothers’ had felt sorry, but there was little that they could do for her. In the end her father had bundled her into the car and, driven them both up the road to face Paul. He, at first, denied the child was his. She had suspected that he might react in such a fashion. Even so it hurt her to hear him say it, after all the endearing things he had spoken to seduce her. She had stood beside her father frightened and ashamed.

The term shot-gun wedding certainly applied to her marriage. A week following her shock announcement to her parents, they had driven her to the nearby town of Winton where she had committed her life to Paul. There had been no beautiful white frock, only her best suit that was already unfashionable. The journey there had been just appalling. She had driven with her parents, and they had spoken not a word to her, or each other, for the entire journey.

On February the 7th 1950 she had entered the registry office a girl named Jessie Brown and, had come out barely a half hour later as a woman called Jessie Drury. In that half hour she had grown up and taken on life, with all of its responsibilities. The drive home had been just as miserable. Paul had driven with every feature of his face telling her that he had not wanted to marry her. She had tried to speak, but his response was barely audible grunts. When they had arrived home he had gone upstairs to change, and then given instructions about the evening meal before he had gone outside. He had left her standing in the huge two-story house, alone on her wedding day. She had hated the house. Every room was large and contained little furniture. In the winter it was unbearably cold. Even in the summer with the sunlight streaming in, it still managed to look cheerless.

The first few months of her marriage she had felt completely desolate. There was no warmth or kindness from Paul. He made it perfectly obvious, that he had not wished to become married. Mark was uncommunicative and just ignored her. He only came in for his evening meal and that was all she ever saw of him. The one glimmer of hope she had during this time was the thought of the arrival of the baby. The idea of someone to love and cuddle managed to keep her from going insane. However that hope was a short-lived one. Steven gave every appearance of resenting her, right from the day he was born. He had obstinately refused to take the breast and, she had reluctantly bottle-fed him. It was as if he wanted no part of her. As he grew up he had steadfastly refused kisses and cuddles from his mother. Even as a toddler when he had fallen over and grazed his knee, he would obstinately refuse any affection from her. In the end she had to admit, that she did not like her son very much. He was almost fifteen now and she liked him even less. He had grown arrogant and undisciplined. His pale blue eyes held the same coldness of those of his father. There was little or no warmth in his personality. To her regret he had become a mirror image of his father. At times guilt threatened to overcome her, when she analysed her feelings for her son. Was she really wicked for disliking him so much?

Jessie angrily kicked at some stones as she thought about him. To think she had sacrificed her future happiness, just to keep him from being labelled a bastard.

She entered the back door, leading into the kitchen feeling hot and tired. Glancing at the clock she realized that it was time to prepare a meal. She also realized that the school bus would stop at the gate very soon. This was the highlight of her day, when her precious second child returned from school.

Allison was small and dainty. Jessie secretly thought that she looked like a fairy with her elfin like face and copious dark curls. Jessie felt her heart miss a beat as she watched her beloved daughter come skipping up the driveway. Life she often thought would be unbearable, without this child she adored. Life though had dealt Allison a cruel blow. Allison was completely deaf. This had made her utterly dependent on her mother. No one else had understood her disability. She attended the local country school where she coped and but not excelled. The sole teacher did his best, but because of the lack of resources and training, there was little he could do to help her on a one to one basis. The children had teased her relentlessly, her brother Steven being the ring- leader. Although deaf, Allison was very aware of the undercurrents in her home and so not wishing to add to her mother’s troubles, she had kept quiet about her problems at school. She could read and write tolerably well, but her greatest asset was her ability to draw. Jessie determined that one way or other, she was somehow going to give Allison every opportunity to perfect her talent for drawing. Once she had suggested to Paul that they send her to art school. Even now as she remembered his reply, she could still feel utter loathing for him.

‘You expect me to spend my hard-earned money on that idiot.’ He had almost spat the words at her.

‘Just because she is deaf does not make her an idiot.’ The tears had rolled down face, as she faced him across the kitchen table. Tears of pent-up hatred, frustration and bitterness burst forth uncontrollably.

His pale blue eyes had bored into her very being as he said, ‘As far as I am concerned I have only one child and it is certainly not that freak, so you can both go to hell.’

As she recalled his hurtful words, she knew she had been right to stop being a wife to him. It had been shortly after Allison’s birth that she had refused to share Paul’s bed any more. She had threatened to leave him, if he attempted to come near her again. She knew he had briefly considered telling her to go. It was only the realization that he could not easily acquire another unpaid housekeeper that caused him to accept the new sleeping arrangements. She knew that he now paid for his pleasures elsewhere. It had been about this time that he had started physically abusing her. The first time that he had hit her she had fallen and broken her arm.

‘How did this happen?’ The Doctor had asked.

Before she could even think of a reply Paul had answered. ‘My wife slipped on the frosty path. I am always telling her she will have to be more careful. Isn’t that so darling?’

He had tried to give her an affectionate hug. It was all she could do not to pull away in disgust. The Doctor saw her reaction, and his years of experience told him that she was a victim of abuse. However without her consent, there was little he could do to help. She felt afraid and embarrassed. Following that episode Paul had been more careful. Never again had he hit her and left any marks as evidence. Not even her parents wished to hear about her problems.

Her father had simply told her, ‘You have made your bed now you must lie in it.’

She had become more adept at avoiding Paul’s anger. They did not communicate. They only lived in the same house. Allison was her only reason for living in this house. However soon or later she knew she would have to get away for both their sakes. Trying to rid herself of her gloomy thoughts, she turned to the window. Putting her palms flat on the windowpane she bent forward and looked out. Her children were walking up the driveway towards the house. Allison spotted her mother and waved cheerily. Jessie felt her throat constricting with emotion as she waved back. Steven also saw her and determinedly walked towards the front of the house, so he could enter without having to speak to her. Ignoring him she watched as her beloved daughter came skipping up the path. She came in and immediately hugged her mother.

‘How was your day?’ Jessie spoke as she released her hold so that Allison could lip read.

‘Fine,’ Allison mouthed.

They had both learned sign language and could converse fluently, but if there were just the two of them and, they were not busy, Allison preferred to lip read.

Jessie went about the business of preparing tea, while Allison sat playing with Smithy the cat. In the distance Jessie heard the front door slam and she knew that Steven had gone outside. He would be fifteen tomorrow and she had made him a special cake. Not that he would appreciate her efforts, but she tried not to show any favouritism.

Fred, the handyman, interrupted her thoughts when he entered the kitchen and asked, ‘Do you want any coal brought in, Jess?’

‘No, thanks, Fred, I think I have enough just now.’

He tapped Allison on the shoulder to get her attention and then he spoke slowly and clearly. ‘Do you want to come and help me with the milking?’

Allison did not need asking a second time. She adored Fred and loved helping, no matter what the chore. Smithy sat dejectedly on the mat as Allison ran outside.

Fred had lived fifty of his seventy years on the farm. He had come as a young man and never left. Jessie had ample reason to feel grateful to Fred. Over the years he had treated her with respect and kindness. He lived in a small cottage not far from the house. He would come to the back door for his meals and, then return to his cottage to eat. It had become his custom to come to the kitchen at morning tea time and enjoy a chat with Jessie. However if Paul was near, Fred stayed away. Jessie suspected that Fred did not like Paul very much. She knew for a fact that Paul thought of him as a useless old sod. He had said as much on many occasions. However Paul knew better than to sack him, as Fred did more than his fair share of work around the farm. Considering his age, Fred worked long and hard and Paul knew it well. Fred had been the only one to offer comfort if Paul had hit her. He was not a man to interfere, yet many times he had suggested that she should leave. Looking back, she realized that if she had only herself to consider, then she would have packed her bags long ago. Now however, with Allison in her teens, it was becoming a worry what to do for the best because of her disability. There was no future for her on the farm, and there appeared little for her in any other field. The greatest talent that Allison possessed was being able to draw. Jessie was no expert but even she knew that Allison had something special. She had plans for her daughter. She had her secret stash of money that she would gladly use to give Allison a chance at happiness. This she would carry out at all costs.

At the sound of the men coming inside all such thoughts vanished from her mind. As usual they all ate in silence. Jessie had long ago given up trying to make conversation. She detected a hint of conspiracy between Paul and Steven. They acted like children with a secret. She could not think what it would be, but there was definitely something. They would look at her and then share a knowing grin. It made her feel unsettled and uncomfortable. Paul, she knew, could be very cruel and Steven copied his every action. Trying to defuse the situation, she suggested that Steven should do his homework. This appeared as if it was the queue that they were waiting for, as they both looked at her and laughed. Sensing a family row Mark pushed back his chair and left the room.

Allison looked timidly at her mother. ‘Go to your room.’ Jessie signed. With her eyes brimming with tears Allison picked up Smithy and ran from the room.

As she mentally braced herself for who knows what, Jessie calmly looked from one to the other waiting for them to speak. They continued to find enormous amusement in some shared joke that Jessie was not party to.

Finally she felt forced to speak. ‘Are you two going to tell me what you find so amusing about my suggestion of homework?’

Paul looked at his son and playfully kicked him under the table. ‘Go on, then son, tell her.’

Jessie also looked at her son and thought, what cold conceited eyes he had.

‘I’m not doing my homework, because I have finished school.’

‘What do you mean finished school?’

‘Do you want me to spell it out for you? I have finished school.’

‘Oh, no, you have not.’

‘Who says so?’

‘I, say so.’

Paul banged his fists down on the table, causing the dishes to all jump. ‘And I say he has finished school and that’s an end to it.’

‘But he is only fifteen.’

‘Exactly. He is fifteen tomorrow and he will be finishing school. Or did you forget that he is fifteen tomorrow?’

‘No, I did not forget, in fact I have made him a cake.’

‘Good, then let’s eat it.’

‘No, it is for tomorrow.’

Jessie never even saw Paul’s fist as it caught her across the mouth.

‘I said; get the damn cake, now woman.’

Sitting in a daze, she heard Steven snicker. She felt a small trickle of blood run down her chin from her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears, but she would not give either of them satisfaction seeing her cry. How she despised them both. Using her hankie, she began wiping the blood from her face, before bringing them the cake.

With a feeling of revulsion, she watched as the two of them, gorged themselves on cake. Trying to keep up some sense of dignity, she left the room without saying a word. Climbing the stairs, she felt over come with hopelessness. She was not aware of it, but this was the last night she would spend in this unhappy house.