The Colour of Milk (9 page)

and mother?

she’s all right. nothing ain’t changed. except – and then violet pulled her shawl to the side and put her hand right over her belly. i’m in trouble, she said.

what trouble? i asked.

she took my hand and put it on her belly. it was tight and hard and then i felt something move under the skin. it drew right across like she had summat in there. i pulled my hand back.

it’s a baby, she said.

o.

yes, o.

you told anyone?

no.

i know whose it is, i said.

she didn’t say nothing.

it’s ralph’s, ain’t it?

she nodded.

you told him?

she shook her head. i don’t know what to do.

i don’t neither.

so we sat there and we said nothing. the damp seeped through in to us and the night birds called out and the wind stirred the grass and the leaves above in the apple trees.

the moon was near full and lit up the edges of the clouds.

i dunno what to say, i said.

nor do i.

and so i stood up. i better go, i said.

she stood up too. you want me to walk you back?

no. i’m all right.

i started back towards the house and then i turned. violet was stood watching me. we looked at each other in the dark light and then she set off up the hill. halfway up she turned back and i turned back and we both saw each other but neither of us waved.

next day i was in the garden and i was gathering apples from the tree to take in to the kitchen and i had a basket and a long pole and i was poking them and then trying to catch them for if they land on the grass they can bruise and a bruised apple is not a good apple and it can make the others bad.

and as i was poking the apples and then catching them i saw ralph walk through the open windows of the house and across the grass towards me.

the next apple i missed and it landed on my head and he started to laugh.

i stared at him but he still laughed then i poked another apple and he caught it and put it in the basket.

i don’t need help, i said.

i think you do.

i turned my back on him and got my next apple only he jumped forward and put his arm on me and caught it from under my nose.

i’m leaving soon, he said. will you miss me?

i’ll never miss you, i said. where you going?

time to go up to oxford, he said.

what you doing there?

university. studying. getting myself an education.

i poked the stick and a few apples fell down and he caught two but others fell to the grass.

thought you was gonna catch them, i said.

i did.

you gotta catch them all. i was better when it was me doing it.

give me the stick.

and he started pulling down the branches and hanging on to them while i pulled the apples off.

when we filled the basket i went to take it in the kitchen like edna told me. you want me to carry it? ralph asked. he reached out and touched my hand.

don’t go touching me, i said. i know what you’re like.

he laughed. don’t worry. i’m not going to do anything to you. you’re safe with me.

my sister wasn’t.

not that again. you can be boring for someone who’s normally fun.

she’s having a baby.

what? he said.

she is having a baby. her belly is fat.

very funny.

she came to see me yesterday. she said it’s your baby.

you don’t know what you’re talking about.

i am a farm girl. i know what happens. she showed me and i could feel it moving.

if she is, it’s nothing to do with me.

o, i said. that’s strange cos that’s not what she says.

girls will say anything.

not violet.

of course she will. they go off with strange men and then say stupid things like that.

but i heard you that night in the yard. and i saw you.

if it was night then it was dark and you wouldn’t be able to see me. and, he said, even if it was all true i won’t be here anyway. i’ll be many miles away.

will you?

yes. o dear, come on now. don’t look so serious.

and he took the basket from my hands and walked off.

i am stopping now for i need to lay down and rest.

there is much to tell for you need to know it all and then you will understand.

my arm aches.

my hand has the cramps.

if i close my eyes i can go back and remember everything.

we spent a whole day peeling apples and onions and weighing fruit and measuring vinegar before we cooked a vat of chutney so strong it caught our throats as it boiled and we had to open the doors and windows.

and i was given a pile of wheat straw and i sat with edna and she taught me to weave it in to a doll and then some others in to wreaths and bells and hearts and horse shoes.

and i took the straw doll i liked the most in to mrs and showed her only she was lying there and she looked more pale even than normal and ralph was sitting with her on the chair. and i asked her if she was all right.

no, she said.

can i get you summat? i asked.

persuade my son not to go away.

i don’t think even your precious mary could do that, ralph said. anyway, she’ll get over the shock, won’t you? he patted her hand.

i will miss you, mrs told him.

tell her she’ll be all right, ralph said.

he’s right, i said. you will be all right, mrs. i’ll keep you company. you have me and everyone else here.

you see, ralph said. he stood up. i told you everything would be all right. stay with her, mary.

and then he was gone.

and we was there in the room with the ticking of the clock and the licking of the flames and the weak sun coming in through the big windows.

sit with me, mary.

only for a moment. i got jobs i got to do.

i stayed for a while then she rested back against the pillow and closed her eyes. her breathing got deep and slow and i let go of her hand and got up to go.

i stood at the door and looked back at her and she was pale and her breathing slow in the quiet room.

in the kitchen edna was making a pudding and mixing suet in to the flour. she told me to peel the potatoes and the carrots and so i did bring a colander and a pan of water to the table and started.

when’s ralph’s leaving? i asked.

tomorrow. i been packing his bags.

he was in with mrs, i said. she’s sad but i don’t know why. she don’t know what he’s really like. he don’t care about nothing.

i put the first potato in the pan of water.

people never see the bad, i said, when it’s that close to them. like the pig when she lies in her own shit.

you wanna watch your mouth.

why? i can say what i want.

you got a good job here.

ain’t a job. i don’t get paid. i just got told to come here and live here and work here instead of home.

your father gets paid for what you do.

but i don’t.

you got a roof over you. got a bed. got your clothes. you get good food. edna picked up the rolling pin and waved it at me. you wanna be watching it.

what do i wanna watch? i asked. that pin? you ain’t gonna hit me with that. i reached out and took the pin from her, put it on the table. i ain’t grateful, i said. i ain’t never gonna be grateful for what i got here.

i told him you’d be trouble when he said you was coming, she said. i told him. i said you don’t wanna be getting one of his girls. your father’s temper’s got to be in you all.

you shouldn’t talk about him like that, i said.

why? you ain’t gonna try and tell me he ain’t like he is.

no, i said. but it’s for me to say things about him. not you.

and then the door to the kitchen opened and mr graham came in. mary, he said. bring me a pot of tea to my study, please.

dunno why he asks you, edna said when he was gone. i used to take him his tea.

he wasn’t sat in the chair where he normally sat. he was stood by the window looking out and he was wearing his suit and he saw me and rushed over to clear a space on his desk for me to put the tray.

and then he closed the door behind me and told me to sit down and i did.

ralph is leaving tomorrow, he said.

yes, i said. mrs told me.

i want to talk to you for i believe her health has been deteriorating for some time and i am concerned about what effect this may have upon her. i want you to spend time with her, keep an eye on her.

yes, sir.

i can rely upon you, can’t i?

of course you can.

that’s excellent. pour my tea, will you?

i put the milk in and balanced the strainer on the cup and poured. i passed him the cup and saucer and when i leaned forward to put it in his hands i saw his pen and an open book.

what’s that? i asked.

what?

that book there, i said.

it’s a note of all the birds that have come in to the garden.

o. why’d you wanna do that?

i don’t know. no one’s asked that before. i suppose i like to know which ones are returning year after year. keep a record of how they come and go with the seasons. i record their mating patterns and whether anything changes if there’s a cold winter or a mild spring.

so you do that and the being a vicar?

yes.

and that’s writing sermons and telling people what to do.

he smiled. that’s not quite how i’d describe it, but i see what you mean.

don’t seem much for a job.

maybe it doesn’t to you. i suppose you were always surrounded by workers. i mean on the farm. people working all day.

if you don’t work, i said, you don’t eat.

of course.

why’d you do this?

what?

this being a vicar?

he put his hands together and looked out of the window.

i felt called to it. and, i suppose, i followed my father in to a profession. and then of course my wife’s health was not good and so it seemed perfect for i would be able to come in and out of the house and look after her.

only i look after her, i said.

he stared at me. you really are outspoken.

am i, sir? i just think i say the truth.

perhaps.

only people don’t want to hear it.

not always, no.

but i can’t be no other way. cos that is what i am.

i stood up.

can i go now? i asked.

yes. but before you go. what do you know about birds?

me, sir?

he nodded. yes. you.

i know there’s different ones and they come depending on what crop we grow in what field. and i know there’s some what stays in winter and some what goes and then comes back.

and do you know their names?

some, i said. father told us the ones what eat what we try and grow. he told us the ones what he wants to kill. the ones what you can eat if you ain’t got nothing else.

would you like to know some of their names? he asked. i could teach you.

if that would make you happy, i said.

but would it make you happy? he asked.

i didn’t know you was worried about what made me happy, sir.

he stared at me and then i was gone, closing the door behind me.

that night i went in to the white room for to tidy and lay the fire for the next morning. and it was late and mrs had gone on up to bed. the door was closed and i opened it and i went on in and i did have a candle and i knelt in front of the fire and the ashes were still too hot to clear and so i went back on my heels and i was looking at the ashes and thinking about the rabbit what was hung in the scullery and what edna was gonna make with it cos she said she might make a pie but then she might make a stew. and there was this voice behind me and it made me jump so hard i near enough fell in to the ashes.

mary?

i turned round quick and where my eyes was getting used to the light on the one candle i could see the shape of her lying down.

what you doing? i asked. i thought you was in bed.

i know. i couldn’t rest so i came back down.

you need to rest, i said.

i can’t.

i carried the candle over and put it on the table by her.

you want summat to eat or drink?

no.

you want me to do anything?

no.

i put a blanket over her and felt her hand. you’re cold.

i can’t feel it.

you are.

i got another blanket and put it on top.

why don’t you go up to bed? i’ll come and make you comfortable.

i’m not going anywhere.

i knelt down on the floor by her. then i ain’t going nowhere.

we were there for a while. the air in the room was getting cooler and after a bit i went over to the fire and i put on some kindling and the heat lit it and then i put on some small logs until the fire was burning again.

thank you, mrs said.

that’s all right.

i broke something, she said. i was trying to open the piano.

i carried the candle over and saw the broken china cup on the floor. i picked up the pieces.

i wanted to hear it, she said. i used to play a lot when i was young.

you want to hear it now? i asked.

can you play?

i laughed. no. where d’you reckon i’d learn to play? in the pig sty? in the hen house?

your life was very different there, wasn’t it?

it was.

i wonder what will happen next to you.

i’ll sleep and wake up and the bread’ll be made. and i’ll do the cleaning and all my jobs. there ain’t nothing else gonna happen to me.

i opened the lid of the piano and even in the dark i could see the white keys and the small black ones. i pressed one down only there wasn’t no sound.

press harder. quicker.

i pressed quickly and the sound came out.

it still sounds the same, she said.

you want to play it?

she shook her head. no.

i closed the lid.

come and sit here, she said.

i carried the candle over and i sat down on the rug. she reached her hand out and touched my hair and i didn’t move but stayed there and then she stroked me like i was a cat.