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?"
