‘Because we’ll have to tell folk. It will need to be announced on Sunday at St Stephen’s. People will want to know.’
Joe reaches into the pocket of his jacket and produces the folded paper Colonel Cunningham-Thomas has given him. He waves it at Hester. ‘What, announce the marriage terms,’ he waves the letter again, ‘tell them about this, will we? No brat, no marriage, all signed proper by us?’ Joe grimaces and slips the contract back inside his jacket.
‘Of course not! There’s no need. Just that she’s married to him, to Jack.’ Hester now looks shrewdly at Joe.
‘The bank will be impressed — it may help you.’ Joe jerks his head. ‘Bullshit.’
Hester looks down and sees that Meg is asleep beside her. She leans over and grabs Joe’s arm and in an urgent tone of voice says, ‘Don’t you see? We have to go on with the pregnancy — people must see Meg getting bigger, growing.’ ‘And then what?’
‘A miscarriage. Joe, you remember what the colonel said when I asked? What’s in the contract? A miscarriage is all right — if Jack dies in the war Meg will have the homestead and the five hundred acres of riverfront land. Jessica will get the other five hundred. You’ve said yourself often enough it’s the best thousand acres on the Riverina.’ Hester pauses then adds, ‘All we need is a reliable witness or two.’
Joe looks at Hester, startled. ‘Miscarriage? Witnesses? What are you talking about? Meg’s not even up the duff.’ ‘There’s ways to make it happen. It’s better than nothing, isn’t it?’
‘No, it ain’t better than nothing! Hester, Jack don’t lo
ve her, don’t love Meg. If there’s no child, he’ll not keep her on as his wife.’
‘Ah yes, but if he dies, then what?’
Joe shrugs. ‘Meg gets nothing,’ he gives a bitter little laugh, ‘which is fair enough — she don’t deserve a brass razoo anyway!’
‘Unless, like I told you, she has a miscarriage and he dies.’
‘Miscarriage? What miscarriage? The girlie ain’t bloody pregnant!’
Hester shakes Joe by the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Joe, listen to me. Once when one of the sows miscarried, you said how the unborn piglets looked just like a human foetus.’
‘Jesus, how would I bloody know? I’ve never seen an unborn, whatd’yacallit, human foetus. All I said was it looked like, well, what I thought a baby would look like before it was growed a bit.’
‘That’s precisely it, Joe. That’s what I mean. It’s worth a try. We’ve come this far, got her married. A midwife would know a sow’s foetus if she saw it, but nobody else is going to be any the wiser. The Reverend Mathews won’t know. Neither would Mrs Baker, the organist at St Stephen’s. The two of them, they could be our witnesses.
‘Joe, look, we could arrange for Mrs Baker to visit and by chance be there when it happens. Her eyes aren’t too good and in the poor light with lots of pig’s blood around, she’ll not want to look too close. The two of them, her and the vicar, neither will want to be poking around counting off fingers and toes.’ ‘Nah, it’s too bloody risky. And what if Jack don’t die?’
Hester spreads her hands. ‘Then he comes back and we sort things out. Meg’s still married to him. He could come back different, happy to have her, who knows?’ ‘Or he could throw her out on her neck. The contract says he don’t owe her a bean.’
‘Joe, if we can, you know, make it. seem like a miscarriage, just think what it may mean. If Jack is killed, both your daughters will be safe, will be taken care of for life — Jessica in particular, her bastard taken care of. Isn’t that worth a shot?’
Joe is silent for a long while and then he says, ‘How are you gunna get Reverend Mathews ... Just how you gunna get him to witness a flamin’ miscarriage?’
‘I shall go to him and show him the marriage contract and make him swear not to divulge its contents, then throw myself on his mercy. He’s very fond of Meg and he’ll want what he thinks is fair.’ ‘What, show him the foetus?’
‘I’ll have to, won’t I? There’ll be lots of blood. He won’t look too close, he’s not the sort. I’ll tell him as we have no doctor, he’ll have to be the witness so the terms of the contract are met.’
‘What, and get him to bury it?’ Joe laughs suddenly.
‘Bury the bloody pig’s innards? Give it a Christian burial, “The Lord is my shepherd”, organ music, hole in the church yard, coffin an’ all?’
Hester shakes her head. ‘No Joe, he can’t do that anyway — a child has no soul until it’s born. We’ll get him to say a prayer in church, a blessing, so folk will share our misfortune, know about it. He’s done that before. Then we’ll bury it somewhere it can’t be found. Meg will have fulfilled the terms of the colonel’s letter and be able to move into Riverview homestead and act the dutiful wife.’ ‘God, what has become of us?’ Joe sighs. ‘Will there be no end to this wickedness?’
‘Oh, Mother, do you think it will work?’ Meg suddenly exclaims.
Hester turns to Meg, surprised. ‘Good Lord, child, I thought you were asleep.’ ‘Mama, will it work?’ Meg pleads.
Hester shrugs. ‘It has to work. You got any better ideas?’
‘But what if we’re caught?’
‘Then we’ll know we’ve tried everything we can,’ Hester says calmly, ‘and you’ll be a very poor widow or an unwanted wife, one of the two.’