Mud and Gold Read Online Free

obviously shop-bought, and none too fresh at
that, but it would have to do for today.
    When the soup was bubbling, Amy went outside
again, searching for meat. She found a meat safe hanging from a
puriri tree on the shady side of the house, and retrieved six small
chops from it. Back in the kitchen, she boiled up a large pot full
of potatoes, ready to be mashed with a little milk and butter. It
was difficult to think of a pudding to make when Charlie’s kitchen
was devoid of all fruits and spices, but she managed to concoct a
jam sponge which, though unavoidably heavy given the lack of baking
powder, would at least be filling.
    Amy watched all the pots carefully, timing
her preparations so the food would all be ready in the right order.
When she heard a heavy tread on the doorstep, she filled a bowl
with soup. Charlie stomped across the room, leaving a trail of dirt
as he did so, sat down at the table and looked expectantly at her.
Amy placed the bowl in front of him, then stood anxiously waiting
for his approval. He took a cautious spoonful, and Amy could see
from his expression that he liked what he tasted. He nodded towards
another chair; she poured soup for herself and sat down opposite
him. She had done something right at last!
    Her work of the morning had given Amy a good
appetite, and she tucked into her food as enthusiastically as
Charlie did. She had held a tiny hope that he might praise the
meal, but she had to be content with not being rebuked.
    After a second helping of pudding and two
cups of tea, Charlie pushed his chair back and lit his pipe, while
Amy carried their empty plates to the bench. She was pouring hot
water into the basin, trying to ignore the feeling that Charlie was
watching her, when she heard him get up from the table.
    ‘I like to have a cup of tea and a wee bite
to eat about three o’clock,’ he said, and with that he was
gone.
    It was easy for Amy to keep herself busy all
afternoon. She scrubbed the floor and gave the range as thorough a
cleaning as she could manage without letting it cool down, and made
some plain biscuits for Charlie’s ‘wee bite’. She started to make a
mental list of the things she would like to see added to her
kitchen supplies so she could cook more appetising meals, but it
quickly grew to an alarming length. Amy knew she would not have the
courage to ask Charlie to buy so many things at once.
    When she had scrubbed all the shelves it was
time to start making dinner. Amy was a little less anxious about
the meal after the successful lunch. She was sure that stew and
dumplings, with plenty of boiled potatoes and some more spinach,
would make a filling main course after soup left over from lunch,
and her baked jam custard had set beautifully when she pulled it
from the oven to cool on the bench.
    Charlie’s silence over dinner told Amy he
was pleased with it, and she looked up from her own plate hoping to
see approval in his face. Instead she saw hunger. That seemed
natural enough when he was barely halfway through his soup, but his
expression did not change as he ploughed through the rest of the
meal; if anything it became more intense. He scarcely glanced at
his food as he shovelled it from his plate; all he seemed to want
to do was stare at Amy with the same grim expression, making her
more and more nervous.
    Amy began to worry that she had not cooked
enough, but Charlie’s plate was piled so high she was sure he could
not possibly want any more. She tried to avoid meeting his
gaze.
    She ran through the rest of the evening in
her head. We’ll finish dinner, then I’ll wash up, then I’ll—oh,
I can’t make bread, I don’t have any yeast. I’ll have to do
something about that tomorrow. I might do some sewing—Charlie’s
sure to have some things that need mending. I suppose he’ll want to
sit in the parlour, but if I’m busy sewing it won’t matter that he
doesn’t seem to talk to me. Maybe he’ll read the paper. Or
maybe…
    Her eyes swung back to