Doomed Dynasty Pt. 04

CHAPTER 9

The honeymooners returned to find the drought had broken, and the land throughout the Province of Marlborough at the top eastern end of the South Island of New Zealand was slowly regaining its greenness.

Next morning, at their first morning tea as a household of three, Matt had just sat down. Patricia was pouring tea to eat with their scones when they heard the Land Rover arriving.

Matt was itching to go.

Casually he said, "That'll be Art bringing the Rover back for me. I'll have to go to the farm soon."

Out of habit Patricia almost said to her son, "Go now if you wish," but accepted she had been supplanted in the pecking order. She continued pouring the tea and was delighted to hear Courtney say, "Go now if you wish. Your mother and I have so much to talk about. Say hello to Boris for me."

Aware that he'd just arrived home with her new bride and to his lonely mother, Matt hesitated, looking at the door, looking back at the women, and returning his gaze to the door again.

"Go!" commanded Courtney.

Away he went.

In the weeks that followed the two women settled into routines that dovetailed well. Without a word being said Courtney realised that whenever Patricia closed the door to her accommodation wing she was signalling that she wanted some time on her own. Courtney adopted a similar retreat for herself and was pleased how private her own part of the house became.

"Your mother and I have adjusted, just like two newly-weds," she confessed to Matt over a brandy nightcap.

Of course, Matt being Matt spoilt this serious moment of orderly domesticity by jokingly saying, "Does this mean you're leaving me to move in with mother?"

"You dirty old man," yelled Courtney, leaping at him and beating his chest with her fists. But she, too, was joking. Her act allowed her to snuggle up to be kissed.

Arriving home from the farm the next evening, Matt watched Courtney running out to him, waving something.

She's really is a lovely young thing, he thought.

"Matt, Matt," she cried, holding out a price of paper. "Look, it's a cheque for thirty pounds from Mrs Sampson. She came over to chat to Patricia this afternoon and liked the painting I'd just completed of a rose from Patricia's garden. She knows about art Matt. I offered her the painting but she said only if I accepted payment. It's the first painting I've ever sold. Oh Matt, I'm so happy," she gushed, darting around him in tight circles.

Walking into the house she asked if she could set up for painting in part of the glassed-in porch at the back of the house.

"Let's talk and see what mother says," said Matt. "It's also her house."

"Mother says yes," said Patricia, coming out of the sitting room where she'd been doing needlework bathed in the setting sun. What do you think of your clever wife now?"

Taking both women around the waist, Matt walked them into the sitting room. "Now you guys sit here and I'll pop down to the cellar and find something special. Let's celebrate."

Four months later the normally usually placid Courtney had become rather scratchy at times. One morning Patricia look her by both hands and with a gentle smile said, "My dear, I believe you are pregnant."

"How on earth do you know that... I haven't had morning sickness, or anything like that? replied her astounded daughter-in-law. "Actually, I think I'm losing weight."

"Something about you has changed, nothing that I can see, perhaps I just sense it. But I wouldn't have said anything unless I was confident," smiled Patricia, wondering if she would be privy to the discussion on possible names for the newcomer.

Courtney decided to say nothing to Matt in the meantime.

The next day when Matt was away trucking eight yearling bulls to a farming friend in North Canterbury, Patricia and Courtney were in the shade of the oak tree on the front lawn drinking homemade lemonade.

"It's very nice, as good as I can make it," complimented Patricia, allowing the iced drink to trickle along her tongue.

"That's lovely of you to say that. What else can you teach me?"

Patricia looked at the beautiful face across from her; so relaxed, so trusting, so full of life.

"I can tell you this my dear. Matt will be a very kind and generous provider for you, but he will not give his all to you. He's simply not that kind of person."

"I think I understand what you are saying Patricia. I've found that out already."

"Good, very good. Understanding in a relationship is so important. You know, many women have husbands who don't share themselves fully; it's really nothing to worry about."

"Then what do you see as the problem?"

"My child," Patricia replied, "I feel I should tell you that rarely will you find yourself immersed in a discussion with Matt that sends your mind soaring. He's one of those men who when among other men of similar ilk seem to communicate in fragmented sentences, even in grunts, which they seem to understand remarkably well. The trouble is arriving home try to communicate like that with us. To put it kindly, they have to be re-educated. Unfortunately, Matt stubbornly refuses to be socialised by any woman, even his own mother. He's basically a primate but one with some smooth edges who can exceedingly charming and a generous provider as you well know."

"Aye, yes I do. And you've summed up very well some of shortcomings in communication between Matt and myself. So, what's the answer?"

"It's simple. Concentrate on the alternatives. Befriend and foster associations with women in your environment. You'll need them to vent your frustrations, to talk about your problems, and to engaged in stimulating dialogue. Developing such trusting relationships will add to your quality of life."

Courtney remained in deep thought for a few moments and then said: "I am really thankful that you, Matt and I are living together as a family Patricia."

Patricia flashed a bright smile.

The next evening when Matt arrived home he found the house in darkness, but when walking from the garage spotted candlelight through the dinning room windows. He entered the house, called out but there was no answer.

A roast dinner was almost ready, judging by the smells floating from the kitchen. He found Courtney on the sofa, asleep. He woke her gently. She pulled him down by his shirtfront and kissed him passionately.

"My word, is it our first half-year wedding anniversary? Ah no, that can't be right. And where's mother?"

"She's gone to stay the night with the Thomas's in town. I didn't know until she told me yesterday that you and Elsie were born a day apart at the maternity wing of the hospital. She says you have always been great mates."

"Yeah that's for sure. She's been a great mate. But she's stopped drinking now because her husband Cyril is almost an alcoholic. I haven't seen much of her since she tossed in the booze." Matt grinned, "Once she was the best tabletop dancer you'd ever see, no matter how many glasses of Blackberry Nip she'd downed."

"Matt! You know that sort of low-life behaviour is beyond my understanding."

"Yes I know. But don't go calling Elsie low life. She has a heart of gold and would do anything for you."

"Oh I'm sorry Matt. I didn't mean it that way. It's just the behaviour I was referring to."

"I understand. But mum usually doesn't disappear for the night without saying anything. And why would she want to sleep at Elsie's when she's got a perfectly good bed here?"

"Give me a moment."

Courtney returned from the kitchen with a tray containing two glasses and a bottle of sparkling wine.

"Cripes. Mum can stay away more nights."

"Listen Matt, I went to see Dr Mackenzie this afternoon and he's confirmed I'm pregnant."

Matt who'd been reaching for the glass Courtney was pouring for him froze. His hand stopped in mid-air began to shake. "Struth what can I say?"

"Well for starters, you can say what a clever girl I am, and how clever it was of your mother to know before either I or Dr Mackenzie did."

"Patricia told you?"

"Yes."

"People around here use mum a lot. She can tell when bitches and cats are pregnant and..."

"M-a-t-t," wailed Courtney, "For goodness sake!"

His natural charm returned. He picked Courtney up into his arms and waltzed her around the room, reciting, "We're going to have a baby, we're going to have a baby."

The morning sickness that Courtney appeared to have escaped finally arrived with vengeance. Bouts of it lasted eight to ten hours. She became possessive of Matt and there were times he just had to escape to the farm for a couple of nights. He enjoyed sex, but now when he reached out for Courtney with that thought in mind she would jump out of bed and go off to make a cup of tea. It was this frustrating period that drove him into the arms of Vikki, quite by accident.

It happened late at evening, on his way to the farm ready for an early start the next morning. He called at The Settlers' Retreat for a beer and just started his second drink when someone came to the door of the house bar yelling, "Fight, there's a fight on at the café."

Matt joined the rush for the door, not to fight or to even be a spectator; he wanted to see if Vikki needed assistance.

Because of his farming fitness plus the excessive arm-bending exercise of regulars who stayed largely immobilized over the bar, he was first of the barroom exodus to enter the café. Matt had noticed one of the big windows was shattered with a café chair lying on the footpath.

The fight was still in progress, and what he saw amazed him. Four women were battling it out. A huge woman of about thirty with enormous upper arms fell to the floor, out cold. A thin browned haired woman in leathers and a blue and white dotted scarf around her neck staggered backwards, her nose in a bloodied mess caused when she'd head-butted the big woman. The two other women, in their earlier twenties, were in normal dresses. The top of one woman's dress had been ripped open and was hanging around her waist as she pulled the top free.

Nice figure, thought Matt as he watched her pick up a wine bottle. The other woman with her head down in front of her was flailing her arms but mostly missing her target.

Then Matt saw Vikki, standing by them shouting, "Stop it! Stop it!" She was ignored.

Other diners had left their tables for a closer view, some of them adding to the bedlam with their shouting.

Vikki, who'd seen the woman pick up the half-filled wine bottle, rushed at her and smacked her on the side of the jaw. The woman's eyes rolled up and she slumped to the floor.

Matt thought Vikki must have hit her with a weight or something, but then he saw Vikki open her hand and wring it with her other hand, painfully. There had been nothing in her hand! Vikki spun around with a malevolent look in her eyes.

Go Vikki, Matt breathed excitedly. But the other woman scampered out of the door to the jeering cries of onlookers.

Vikki was very upset, so Matt shooed her behind the reception desk and took over. Recognising many of the clientele in the room he was confident they would respond to him. "Vikki's sorry about this, folk," he said. "She ought to charge you double for the entertainment. "Those who wish to leave now, do so; you'll not be charged for your meal but don't ever return because Vikki can't tolerate disloyalty. Those who do stay, you'll have to pay for you meals but each table will receive a complimentary bottle of wine."

"Oh Matt, you're ruining my business," cried Vikki, but she need not have been concerned. Not a person left the room and some of the hotel patrons who'd rush over to see the fight sat down to order a meal to qualify for a complimentary bottle of wine.

"You pack quite a punch," Matt said in awe, as he went up to Vikki. If Courtney had seen the puppy look in Vikki's eyes she would have suffered more than a prolonged bout of morning sickness.

Matt saw the look and felt his stomach churning. He went to the phone and called a glazier to come and replace the broken window.

Just after midnight in her bedroom in the loft above the café, Vikki was thanking Matt for his assistance the best way she thought would please him. She had been waiting for this encounter, patiently waiting for two years and almost nine months and she concentrated on delivering a top performance.

When Matt arrived home that night, Courtney noticed that his moodiness seemed to have gone. A suspicious thought hit her. She put that aside and said brightly, "I'm a little better. Patricia visited her old friends Mrs Ropati who has great knowledge of Maori herbs and ancient remedies. She mixed something up for me and it appears to be working."

Matt was pleased, as it concerned him to see her off-colour. Perhaps his sex life might soon be back to normal. He also thought of suggesting to Vikki that perhaps they should meet at the café for early morning coffee or whatever when it suited her on days when he had business in town but he thought it might be best not pulling those two women together.

Left alone, as Matt went to read in his office, Courtney's thoughts drifted back to her suspicion. She now fully realised what her mother had mean some two years ago when she said about her husband, "At least he came back to my bed." She'd thought it was rather disgusting that some men were unable to cohabit exclusively with just one woman, one woman for life. But if Matt was not worried about this, why should she?

She had trouble accepting that thought. If Matt were honourable and loyal to her she would not be placed in such a difficult decision. Tears came to her eyes. She dabbed them dry. Why was it that women like Vikki inevitably offered men, married men, their bodies? Why couldn't they go and find an exclusive partner for themselves instead of poaching in someone else's territory?

It's not that Matt had any excuse to wander; she had accommodated his demands whenever they came, well, almost. She had not been receptive over recent weeks when she felt so dreadful. Anyway, what could Vikki Thomas offer Matt that his own wife couldn't give him? She resolved never to speak to that woman again. She began to weep and dozed off, void of answers to the questions in her mind.

Waking later, Courtney felt a little better, in fact a little sparky. Perhaps she was getting back to normal.

"You'll need a loving father little one, you really will," she crooned, massaging her belly. Right, she thought. Here's a tough one for you, my girl: can you accept Matt sharing himself with another woman, if that was what he was doing?

She felt tearful again. She imagined seeing a quizmaster, standing on front of him, and being asked to pick one answer, Yes, No, Maybe. "Maybe," called Courtney out aloud.

"Yes, I'll be coming to bed shortly," Matt called from the office.

"Maybe," she whispered. "I picked maybe. Am I that much of a fool?" Well, if there had to be another woman in the background, why not Vikki? The redhead was attractive, kept herself very tidy and in fact was quite a classy woman and didn't appear to be a loud mouth, so could be expected to be secretive.

Working towards a decision, Courtney tried another approach. Matt tended to seek sex rather too frequently for her liking, although usually she enjoyed the act immensely. With someone else in the picture, but not intruding into their life, the situation could, well, be quite advantageous to them both.

"Brilliant!"

"What's brilliant?" asked Matt, walking into the bedroom.

"Nothing to bother you with, dear," said Courtney, wriggling her toes while waiting to snuggle up against him. After a gentle bout of intercourse Courtney slipped off to sleep still in Matt's arms.

Matt lay awake contented, his thoughts drifting about. It worried him how rapidly times seemed to be changing. Both Collier and his father had provided a very satisfactory life for themselves and families as farmers. Their monetary wealth, their independence and certainly their self-generated happiness had come from their principal asset... land ownership.

Matt believed that in inheriting that legacy he was in a privileged position to generate even greater wealth but in which direction would real wealth come from? Like his forebears, Matt had started learning from an early age that few things come easy. Farming was a great life, though bad times were never far away. He'd seen his father return home exhausted, red-rimmed eyes set into a smoke-blackened face from fighting grass fires which destroyed fencing and reserves of grass shut up for winter grazing.

Grim times could arrive as the aftermath of a frenzied killing spree by marauding dogs in a paddock of ewes and lambs, an occurrence that no farmer really became used to. Looking at animals with throats ripped open, some still kicking feebly, those farmers would feel their own vulnerability and harshly question their standards of animal husbandry. Then there are the times of collapsing market prices that spread gloom over the farms and into the urban community. But life still goes on and better times invariably lay ahead for folk who could stick it out waiting for recovery.

"Look after the land and it will look after you" is the wording engraved on a tray on the sideboard in the Curtis's home. Reading that wording when touring the house for the first time, Courtney had commented: "What a wonderfully simple philosophical statement. Who had that engraved?"

Neither Patricia nor Matt could answer that. Once both of them had asked a similar question and not received an answer that satisfied their curiosity: it was simply a Curtis heirloom, origin unknown.

Waiting to fall asleep, Matt's mind went back to his days on the ranch in Wyoming where Milly had taken him under his wing. He could hear her now... "Put aside that magazine Matt. What is it? Oh, no not more stuff about cars! Come over here, you need to learn about doing the accounts. You'll be running Faraway Farm when Collier retires so it's no use waiting until that time comes to learn the rudiments of the paperwork side to farming."

Reluctantly putting down his 'Practical Motor Mechanic' magazine, Matt sat down beside Milly, the near-freezing wind rattling the windows behind them.

A few minutes later a rather surprised voluntary tutor said, "Good boy. How is it that you know all this?"

"Don't know really. Except that over the years I sat beside dad when he was shuffling papers and I asked questions. And Alf at the rugby club used to get me to sort invoices into order when I was the only one around, and he'd tell me what he was doing and why. I've also read up a handbook 'Basic Accounting Practice' I think it's called. It's in my bedroom at home."

"What else do you know that will be of use to you?" inquired Milly.

"I know plenty about keeping vehicles running and have picked up even more knowledge over here."

"You have indeed, sweetie. Aaron says his bailer has never worked so well since you had a tinker with it."

"A tinker? I had to use a sledge hammer to restore alignment of the take-up mechanism."

"Whatever. Anyway, he wants you back next summer and wonders if you can call over soon as one of his water pumps is playing up. I told him that you worked on our supply to the barn and it's really fixed now."

Matt told Milly that he'd not been good at making small talk. His mother did not like sitting alone when Collier was away so Matt soon learned that simply being in the room with her at nights was sufficient. He only had to answer the odd question as she knitted or listened to the radio. He used those opportunities to read. He had told Milly that he'd tried to suck up information like a vacuum cleaner.

Matt wiggled his toes as he began thinking about the softness of Vikki and how surprisingly proactive she'd been.

All he could say was it had been worth the wait. Really worth it, in fact...and off to sleep drifted a very tired Matt Curtis.