The Colour of Milk (6 page)

and when that was done edna come down and she stood in the doorway and watched.

i picked up the kettle with the cloth and carried the hot water along the stone corridor and went in the study and i poured the hot water in to the bowl for the shaving and i went back to the kitchen and edna was still standing there.

you ain’t cleaned out the fire in the drawing room yet, she said.

i done the bread first, i said, and the water for i heard the vicar moving about upstairs. i was gonna do the fire next.

i
do the bread, she said.

well i done it, i said. i had time and there was no point in me standing scratching my self when i can get it done.

and edna reached out and hit me so quick and so hard i didn’t know for a second what happened and thought i walked in to summat only it couldn’t be that for i was standing still.

do what i tell you, she said.

i nodded.

go and do the fire and i’ll be along to check you leaded the grate.

i went down the corridor and in to the white room and i kneeled down in front of the fire and started to clean it out.

i sat at the kitchen table and had a wooden plate with some bread and cheese. edna sat with me only neither of us was in no mood to talk and make friendly. so we never said nothing.

the clock ticked.

i ate what i ate then when i was done i said what do i do now and she said you got to go and make the bed for mrs. it needs changing.

don’t she like that bed?

what you talking about? she said. you just got to put the clean sheets on.

don’t know what a sheet is.

edna shook her head. what you put on the beds at home?

blanket, i said. and coats if it’s cold.

sounds like you was brought up in a stable.

i wasn’t. i lived in a house, i said.

edna laughed. you may call it a house. reckon it was a sty where you was brought up. and your mother and father were pigs.

you may work here, i said, and they may have said you can tell me what to do and you may reckon you can clip me round the ear but i ain’t got to hear you speak like that.

i stamped out the kitchen and walked along to where mr graham was in his wood room. i knocked on his door and went on in and he was sat at his table with a pen and some paper. and he was bending over.

o. sorry, i said.

he looked up. it’s all right, mary. i was just writing my sermon for sunday. what is it?

i had to come and see you, vicar, i said, for i have had enough and i wanna go home. i don’t like it here. i never liked it from when i come and i never wanted to leave the farm anyway and if father wasn’t getting the money for me being here then i would never have had to come.

have you finished? he asked.

no. yes.

he smiled. you do speak your mind.

i only got one mind to speak so i ain’t got no choice, i said.

i suppose not, he said. though the rest of the world does not think in quite such a clear way. why don’t you sit down?

i shook my head.

why not?

i don’t like to.

all right. now what exactly is the matter? i did promise your father i’d look after you so if something’s wrong you’ll have to tell me.

there was a knock at the door. edna stuck her head round. sorry, mr graham, she said. mary, you’re not to bring every problem here. mr graham’s a busy man.

he ain’t that busy, i said. he’s just sat here.

mary, edna hissed.

mr graham smiled. she’s all right. she’s fine here, edna. leave her with me.

she’s got jobs to do and you’re busy.

i said you can leave her with me. thank you, edna.

edna went and closed the door behind her.

i know it’s not what you’re used to, being here, but you have to give it longer. you will get used to it.

i won’t.

look, mary, mr graham said. my wife likes you. that’s what i care about.

but i don’t care about any of you.

mr graham laughed. what are we to do with you?

let me go home.

not that, no. i have to go out straight after breakfast so look after my wife well today. try and get her to eat something. her appetite’s poor. o, and mary –

what?

i’ll tell edna to sort you out some new clothes.

ain’t nothing wrong with these.

they’re the only ones you have, aren’t they?

i only got one body to wear them.

but you could wash them occasionally. cleanliness, you will find, is next to godliness. you are god’s servant as i am and i must rush for i don’t like to be late.

where are you going?

he smiled. i didn’t know i had to tell you my whereabouts. i am seeing a parishioner. happy now?

no.

now give it a chance here, and remember, look after my wife.

i got the white room ready for mrs for when she come downstairs. i laid the fire and i put the cushions straight and i opened a window for to air the room like what edna showed me.

and then i had to go in the kitchen only i was careful to stay clear of edna’s hand. and she gave me a jug of hot water and told me to go up the stairs and see mrs for mrs asked for me to go and no one else.

i knocked on her door and she said come in and so i did.

i put the hot water down and went to the window and pulled the red cotton off the glass. i opened the window so the air could come in and she could hear the birds.

it’s a summer day, mrs, i said. the sun’s shining and i got the room ready for you down there so you can lie on the thing what you got what you lie on.

thank you, mary.

and i got hot water so you can wash your face.

yes, i can see.

so you gonna get up?

i’ll need you to help me.

and so i did. i helped her wash and then i had to help her in to her clothes.

when she was done she lay back against the white cushions and she was pale as them. i went to the window and looked out. i could see up the hill behind the house and i thought of the farm the other side of it and the day when we were all laid down at the top of the hill and dreamed of what it was we all wanted. and who would say i would end up in this house and be doing this. and i didn’t remember wishing for that.

downstairs i made sure mrs was settled and though it was warm outside the sun wasn’t yet round that side of the house so i lit the fire and closed the windows.

mrs watched all the while but she didn’t say nothing. her head was back on the pillow and her hands was by her sides and her arms looked like they was made of china like a clay pipe. and when i was all done i was gonna walk out the room only she called me back.

mary, she said. stay with me.

i got to help edna, mrs.

tell edna i said i want you here.

all right. but i’m gonna get you summat to eat.

i don’t want food. sit down here. she pointed at the chair.

i don’t like to sit down in the day, mrs. my legs got too much life in them for that.

don’t you ever get tired?

if i am i go to sleep.

you make everything sound so simple.

it is, i said.

if only you were right. tell me, did my husband go out?

yes, i said. he says i am to look after you and make you eat for he says you do not eat much. he says your appetite is poor.

then you had better get me something to eat. and while you are in the kitchen tell edna i asked that you be allowed to stay with me.

and so i went and told edna and then she went out in to the garden to get some fruit for she was to make a steamed pudding and i made mrs her food. i got some bread and cut small pieces of cheese. and i lay them on a plate and put it all on a tray with a pot of tea and i took it to the white room. and i put it down on the table next to her.

that’s your food, i said.

she looked at the plate. bread and cheese?

yes, i said.

is that what you eat on the farm?

we wouldn’t have no cheese for breakfast. we’d be having bread and tea.

o, she said. she smiled. that is not what i normally have.

well i didn’t know that, i said.

it’s all right. i’ll eat it, she said. you made it for me so i will eat it.

go on then.

but not now. i’m not hungry, she said. talk to me, mary. you cheer me up. tell me what your farm’s like.

ain’t gonna talk till you eat summat.

i told you i’m not hungry.

and i’m not in no desperate need to talk about anything.

i folded my arms and stood there. i didn’t say nothing and the clock ticked and she started smiling.

and if i eat you’ll talk to me?

i nodded.

she picked up a small bit of bread and ate it. i stepped closer. go on, i said, and she ate a bit more. when half the bread was gone and some of the cheese was gone i went and stood by her.

sit down, she said.

and so i did. i perched on the edge of the chair for it was daytime and i didn’t never sit down in the day and i started to talk.

all farms are the same, i said. so i don’t know what there is to say. we got a house and some places where the animals sleep and there’s mud and in the summer the fields is full of stuff what grows and what’s got to be cut to dry in the sun.

i know you have sisters.

i got three.

and you never had any brothers?

father says he wishes there was but there ain’t nothing he can do about that. he’s stuck with us, he says, and none of us can work as much as a man and none of us has got the sense of a man.

mrs laughed. do you talk a lot when you are at home?

they say i talk too much, i said. mother says i come out talking.

what is she like? do you take after her?

she’s always doing summat. making bread. cream. cheese to sell. she don’t have much time for talk but she says i can help her long as i don’t prattle on but then i can’t stop my self so she just has to stand it. only there isn’t just me prattling on cos father’s father lives with us. and grandfather is a talker too and they say i get it from him.

what’s he like?

well he’s all right. he sleeps downstairs cos his legs is no good. and i go in to see him cos he can’t move round much and he’s on his own a bit.

i can tell from your voice you like him.

i can’t hide nothing in my voice, mrs. least you know where you stand with me. don’t reckon i could lie if i was ordered to.

that’s a good quality.

depends whether you wanna hear what i got to say.

i suppose, yes.

i get in some terrible troubles with being like i am.

do you?

yes i do. can you lie?

i waited for her to say summat but she never. and i was about to go on talking some more but she’d gone quiet. her skin was white and her eyes like glass. you all right? i asked.

i’m a bit warm, she said. could you open the doors?

i went to the big doors what opened in to the garden and unlocked them and pushed them open. the fresh air come in and i stood there a while looking at the grass and the table out there and i could hear the birds.

i knew what time it was though i ain’t never read no clock in my life. the milking would be done now and they’d be back in the house. grandfather would be eating his breakfast. if they remembered to get him from the apple room.

mary?

yes.

would you brush my hair? but i need you to be gentle. my scalp gets tender.

i stood behind her and started to brush. how’s that?

perfect.

she smiled as i brushed and i thought she was falling asleep but then she spoke. don’t stop. you do it so well.

i put the brush down on the table. i’ll only carry on, i said, if you have a bit more to eat.

mrs laughed. all right. just a little.

she took a lump of cheese and held it up and looked at it then she put it in her mouth and ate it. happy now?

happier, i said.

she laughed. are all farm girls so cunning? she asked.

i dunno what you’re saying, mrs.

it was time to cook the food and edna sent me out to get some vegetables. the man was in the garden and he stopped working and watched me walk up to him.

you harry? i asked.

he nodded but he didn’t say nothing.

edna sent me to get potatoes and beans, i said.

he just looked at me.

you got ears? i asked.

he turned and walked off and then came back with a spade. he stuck it in the soil and turned it over and the potatoes was there. i bent down and picked them up.

they’re early, i said. and your beans is early.

he still didn’t say nothing.

you do the horse and that, i said. edna says you do everything round the place.

i picked up the last potato and stood up straight. glad i came out, i said. good to have a chat with someone. i walked over to the beans and looked through for the big ones. he passed me a basket and i started to pick.

don’t take them all, he said.

i ain’t gonna, i said.

first ones is only for the vicar and his wife.

really? i said. you surprise me. i thought first ones was gonna be for me. thought you’d grown them all specially for me cos you heard i was coming.

that night i went on up the stairs and got in to the bed under the roof. i lay there for a bit then edna come in.

she got in to bed but she never blowed out the candle. she lay there and then got out of bed again. she pulled out a box what she kept hidden under her bed. and lifted it up on to the mattress and opened it and she called me over. come and see, she said. come and see what i got.

she lifted the lid of the box and inside there was a blanket spread over the things. she took out the blanket and put it on the chair. then she took out the things in the box. one by one. she unfolded them and held them up for me to see. i made these, she said.

she passed me one.

what are they? i asked.

shrouds, she said. for to be buried in.

and she held them up. one by one. each of them was embroidered with small crosses. and the stitches was all perfect.

this one’s for me, she said, and this one’s for my husband only i ain’t got one. and this for if i have a child that dies.