The Colour of Milk (16 page)

i was sore between my legs and my hands hurt but i did not like to think why it was that my hands hurt.

i did not like to think. and my head was empty for i made my self think only of the fire and the light and the cold.

and then the window got lighter and it was dawn and the light filled the room and i did not put any more wood on to burn.

and i stood up from the chair. i looked down at my self and i could see where the blood was all over my arms and my apron and my skirt. i took them off and threw them in to the fire and watched them burn. i went in to the scullery and i washed my hands in the white enamel bucket and the water turned pink.

and then i went down the stone corridor to the bottom of the stairs. and there on the white walls were the red handprints where i had felt my way down.

and i climbed up the stairs and there were more handprints. and they got more red as i went up to the landing and then more red again as i went up to the top floor. then i stood in the doorway of my room. i kept my eyes down and could see where the blood had soaked in to the floorboards. and i could see his arm which hung from the bed and touched the floor.

and i was cold and i put on my other skirt and apron and i pulled on my boots and i had to step close to the bed for to get the book which he had given me and which was on the box and i put it in my pocket and i didn’t mean to but my eyes looked up and i saw him lying there and the wire was still in his neck.

and then i did start to shake.

i walked right up the hill and i sat upon the top of it for a long time. the ground was cold and i wanted it to hurt me where i sat.

i could see where i wanted to go.

i looked down at my hands and the line around my nails was red with blood.

and i stood up and i started down the hill. as i got down i didn’t walk along the lane but along the edge of each field, close to the hedge, for i did not want to be seen. and as i got near the farm i creeped along until i reached the small shed behind the barn and i went inside.

there was some old hay and i made a bed from it and i curled up in it and i did not eat or drink and i did not sleep but i stayed there and i tried to empty my mind so that i did not think and did not remember what happened.

later when the light went from the sky and i was under the cover of the dark, i got up and went out in to the yard. i drew some water from the well and found some stale bread in the bucket what was waiting for the pig. i dipped the bread in to the water and ate it. i went back in to the shed.

i did sleep that night and then in the morning i was woken by voices and i heard the cows when they came in for milking. and then i heard the baby cry and i wanted to go to him but i did not dare.

and so i stayed there all day but then before it got dark i heard some new voices. it sounded like two men and they were talking with violet and then with mother and father. and i heard them say the gardener had found him. and then they did say they was gonna look around the farm. i piled some hay over me and i lay still. i could hear them calling to each other and then i heard a voice come near to the shed and i lay still but the door opened. and then i heard someone come right up to me and move the hay which was hiding me and then i could see that it was father and he looked at me and i at him. and behind him i could see a man in the doorway and father covered me up again.

no nothing here, he said.

and they left.

later when the two voices had gone he came back and he uncovered me. i crawled out and brushed the hay off me.

you better come in, he said.

and so that is how i walked through the mud and shit of the yard and in to the kitchen.

mother was at the table and she turned to look at me but she didn’t say nothing.

they’ll be back, father said. so you ain’t got long then you got to go.

i ran up the stairs and in to my old room where there was no bed just a dark rectangle on the floorboards where the bed had been. i looked round and saw the blanket still over the window. i pulled it to the side and looked out over the home field, at the shape of the hedges. and then i saw the cow lying down and she moved her head like as if she could feel me looking at her. and then i went in to the next door room and saw the two beds and beatrice’s bible on her bed.

and then i went back down and in to the apple room only there was no one there, just the air thick with smell. so i went in to the other room and he was there on his chair, his feet propped on the other chair.

he looked at me for a long time. they’re looking for you, he said.

i know, i said.

you better sit down.

and so i pulled up the chair and sat with him. i come for a reason, i said. and i put my hand in to my apron pocket and pulled out the black bible mr graham had given me. i opened it at page one and i started to read.
in the beginning
, i started. and i carried on reading.

he said nothing but sat and listened and watched me. i put the book down in my lap.

was that you doing that? he asked.

it was, i said. and i learned to write too.

but you ain’t gonna need to do reading nor writing where you’re gonna be going. they come here for you.

i know.

and they’ll come again.

they won’t have to, i said.

why?

cos i’ll go to them.

i closed the book and put it in my pocket.

did i make you proud? i asked.

he said nothing.

tell me i made you proud.

he looked at me for a while, then said, when you was reading that, you made me proud. yes, he said. you did.

i nodded.

i got to go now, i said.

i know.

i stood up then touched his hand with mine and his skin was dry and cold. i squeezed his hand once more and then i left the room.

mother watched me walk through the kitchen and she was holding the baby in her arms and i looked at him then held out my arms. but she wouldn’t pass him to me.

what you done?

i shook my head. i don’t know.

where you going now? she asked.

back to the house, i said.

i went out through the door. my sisters stood outside in the yard and as i stood there in the dying light and wet mud i thought of the evening i’d last been there with the clearing of the barn. and the summer air. and all of us working. and the birds swooping in and the red sun and the sweet air.

and then i walked out of the yard, past the three of them and past father, and i walked up the lane and i did not look back and i walked until i was back at the big house.

this is my book and i have been writing it by my own hand.

every word i spelled out.

every letter i wrote.

i said i would tell you the truth of everything that happened and i have told you and it is all true except for one thing.

i said i was sat at the window writing this and i looked out and i could see the trees and the birds. i said i could see the rain run down the glass.

i said i could not see the fields for the weight of the mist.

i said i could see my own pale face in the window.

i said i could not breathe and i reached for the window to open it.

when i said all those things i was not telling you the truth.

for you see, i have no window in here. i can see nothing.

i have a wall in front of me. i have a chair and a small table and i have a bed.

i have some paper and ink and a pen. and i have a pot to piss in.

i have a door which is unlocked when i am given food and when they give me water to drink and wash in and when i am to empty my pot.

i can not see out. but the world is still there inside my own head.

when they first put me in here i did ask them for a pen and ink. and for paper. and for something to blot my ink with. and then i dipped my pen in to my ink. and i started to write.

my name is mary. m. a. r. y.

my hair is the colour of milk.

i decided to begin at the beginning and end at the end.

and i know what the end is for they will be coming for me soon and they will take me away.

i did have to write fast for i do not have long left. and i wanted to tell you what happened for you to see why i did what i did; it was not unprovoked.

but there is one thing more i wish to tell.

as the sun rises each day my belly swells.

as i have been writing this i have been sick.

i know i am with a child.

if i tell them they will leave me in here with the door locked for the rest of my life, and they will take the baby from me and i will never see it again.

i will not let them do that.

and so i tell them nothing.

and they can take me away.

i know what they will do to me. they will put rope about my neck, as i put the wire about his. and i will hang until i am no longer alive and my legs will sway above the crowd.

and my baby will die with me. inside me.

and my baby will always be with me and its hair may be the colour of milk but it will never be stained with blood.

and now i am done and there is no more to tell you.

and so i shall finish this very last sentence and i will blot my words where the ink gathers in the pools at the end of each letter.

and then i shall be free.