Free Mud and Gold by Shayne Parkinson Page A

way
from the well .
    ‘Is he treating you all right?’
    Amy gave a tired sigh. ‘He’s my husband. He
can do whatever he likes. I try to please him, and sometimes I get
it right. I’ll get better at it.’
    ‘How did you get this?’ Lizzie asked,
fingering the fading purple bruise on Amy’s cheek.
    ‘That’s from not getting it right,’ Amy
snapped, pushing Lizzie’s hand away. ‘What do you want, Lizzie—do
you want me to burst out crying and tell you that you were right, I
shouldn’t have done it? I’ve made my bed, and I’m the one who has
to lie in it.’ I have to lie in that bed every night and wonder
if he’ll hurt me, or if he’ll just start snoring . ‘You’re the
one who was always so keen on getting married, anyway. Don’t you
like what you see of the real thing? Should I tell you to
back out of it while you still can?’
    She regretted her last words at once, but
Lizzie ignored them. She put an arm around Amy and held her close.
Dry sobs racked Amy, but she would not allow herself the relief of
tears. Not tears on a wedding morning; her grandmother had always
said that was terribly bad luck.
    ‘You’re right,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’m being an
interfering busybody and I should learn to keep my mouth shut. But
I do love you, and I hate to see you unhappy. I hate to
think of him hurting you. If I wasn’t practising keeping my mouth
shut…’
    Amy recovered herself and gave Lizzie a
quick kiss on the cheek. ‘I wouldn’t have you any other way,’ she
said, managing a smile. ‘But you mustn’t worry about me on your
special day. I brought it all on myself, you know, it’s no good
complaining now. I’ll be all right, really I will. I’m just a bit
tired, and I’m still not very good at pleasing Charlie. Now, let’s
finish getting you ready! Where’s your bouquet?’
    ‘In my bedroom. You’d better get changed,
too, come on.’
    Amy put on her pretty dress and Lizzie
helped pin on her hat. Amy had to clench her teeth to avoid crying
out when Lizzie’s hand knocked against the side of her head where
Charlie had hit her, but Lizzie didn’t seem to notice.
    Amy carried Lizzie’s huge bouquet out to the
parlour for her. They fussed about with the flowers, Amy twitched
at the veil and train, and by the time Lizzie’s mother came
bustling back out of her bedroom Lizzie was ready.
    ‘Now what do I do, Ma?’ Lizzie asked. ‘I’ve
got ready too early! I can’t even sit down, can I?’
    ‘No, you’ll crease your dress,’ Edie agreed.
‘Oh, I don’t know, walk around the room or something. Don’t walk
too much, though, you’ll disturb your veil.’
    ‘Ma!’ Lizzie complained. She took small,
mincing steps around the room while Amy helped her aunt carry even
more food out from the kitchen.
    Amy delighted in working with her aunt. It
was easy to pretend she was a little girl again and staying with
Lizzie; easy to smile back when Edie beamed at her. Even the
uncomfortable feeling in her stomach was forgotten as she scurried
about. When the tables in the parlour were hopelessly full, Amy and
Edie left the remaining food in the kitchen and collapsed onto a
couch. Lizzie stood in front of the mantelpiece and tried to glare
balefully at them, but her glow of happiness defeated any attempt
at looking resentful.
    Amy heard her uncle come in. When he had
changed into his best suit he joined them in the parlour.
    ‘You look good, girl,’ he said, gazing
proudly at Lizzie. ‘You look really good. So you should—that dress
cost a fortune! That dressmaker saw you and your ma coming.’
    He turned to Amy, and she felt shy. Her
uncle had always been like a second father to her, but she knew he
had disapproved of her ever since her disgrace. Today all that
seemed to be forgotten, and he smiled affectionately at her. ‘At
least you didn’t bankrupt your pa with your wedding, eh, Amy? I’ve
just about had to mortgage the place to pay for all this.’ He
patted Amy on the shoulder. ‘And