Friday reading

Deb waits for a reply from Rose and explains why she hung in for so long with the Guiding Light Mission.

Anyone might have thought me and Colin the vegetable man (My friends call me Colly, as in cauliflower, he joked one day) were having an affair. Except that he was about thirty years older than me. More like an uncle than a ride. I dangled around him anytime I was on kitchen duty and managed to finagle my way into that job most days after giving him the letter to Rose. It was easy to swap duties with the other girls who hated scrubbing the floors and pots and pans and vegetables, and Hilda. I still thought of her as Hilda Ogden although I had to call her Twenty One.

The day I was introduced to her she laughed and said, I know, love, it’s a long time since I was twenty-one. When her mouth gaped I saw that she only had about three teeth in her head. No wonder the vegetables were all boiled to a mush. I didn’t mind her too much but some of the others thought she was lazy, leaving all the chores to us while she sat in a chair in the corner with her apron flung up over her face. Just taking forty winks, she’d say, although it was more like forty thousand and forty. But you can’t fool me, I’ll know if you’ve been slacking. Checking the vegetable delivery didn’t count as slacking and so I hovered waiting for him to slip me a letter from Rose.

You’re probably wondering how I stuck it for so long or why I didn’t just jump into Colley’s van and drive away with him while Hilda was napping. Part of me was afraid although if you asked me what exactly I feared I’d have to say I wasn’t sure. Initially, I was weary and having run that far felt like I had hit a wall or a dead end. In some ways I felt safe there, safe from the world outside but also saved having to make decisions or choices. As long as I carried out my duties and prayed no one would bother me or ask anything of me.

The other big reason I stayed, however, was that I believed Heather when she told me that she would help me find my real father. I had given her all the information I had, which wasn’t much and she said, Leave it with me. I thought maybe some of the people who came in the evenings to the prayer meeting would be able to help, they were such serious, officious-looking types.

Photo by Rodolfo Marques on Unsplash

Once a month there was a board meeting. Heather and Jonah attended and a few suits, with one woman in their midst, shoulder pads and peplum, all carrying brief cases or folders. They met for about two hours in their private dining room, and each month one of us was selected to serve tea and biscuits to them. It was regarded as an honour to be given this job.

Came the day Heather chose me to carry in the tea tray. I swear I felt like I should be wearing a black dress with a little white apron and cap, they made such a fuss about it, with the tea pot in the top right hand corner of the tray and the biscuits arranged in a neat circle, counted of course. Woe betide the one who might fall victim to the Devil’s temptation and steal a biscuit! By the time my turn had come around to serve the board members I was beginning to doubt Heather. I was beginning to wonder too why she and Jonah had names when they made such a case of the rest of us being numbers. The clouds in my head were parting, slowly but revealingly.

  Hilda and one of the other, older women, whose name I knew to be Dilys, set and checked the tray and handed it to me. The weight caught me off guard and but that Dilys shot her hand out to support the tray, the whole perfect arrangement would have clattered to the floor. When I felt balanced she nodded and led me up the stairs to the dining room. At the door she held her finger to her lips and cocked her ear to one of the panels where there was a crack in the wood. Her long face lengthened even further and she nodded soberly at whatever she was hearing. My eyebrows shot up questioningly but she twitched her head dismissively and rapped on the door.

  Come, called Heather’s voice in its most imperious tone.  

  Dilys opened the door wide and let me in, pulling it to behind me.

  Focusing all my attention on the tray I walked slowly to the side of the table where Heather sat. So far so good, I thought and, pleased with myself, glanced up. My eyes met those of the man facing Heather. He gave me a kindly look over his gold-rimmed glasses. He had white hair and a soft amber coloured moustache. I don’t know whether it was the kindness in his eyes or just my ineptitude but instead of landing the tray square in front of Heather I jarred it against the edge of the table toppling the milk jug and sending a few cups spinning to the floor.

  What are you doing you stupid girl? Heather lashed out at me, scraping her chair back to avoid the milk spillage.

  Oh shit, I’m sorry, I said and tried to haul the tray up enough to land it on the table’s surface.

  And well you might be, Heather ranted. What kind of a cretin are you? One simple thing you’re asked to do and look at you.

  I’m sorry, I flushed puce. I wanted to scream back at her but she was terrifying in her rage.

  The kindly man leaned across the table and asked me, Are you all right?

  I nodded, plonking the tray down, then stooping to gather up the fragments of broken china.

  Leave it be, Heather hissed. Fetch Dilys and tell her to bring a cloth.

  I bowed my way out of the room, mumbling sorry all the way.

  The man said softly, Don’t worry about it. There’s no great harm done.

  I almost knocked Dilys down in my rush to leave the room, because she hadn’t left her listening post.

  What happened? She asked looking even more startled than me.

  I banged the fecking tray. There’s milk everywhere and a few cups broken. Heather says bring a cloth.

  Ha! Does she now? Dilys smirked. It’ll take more than a cloth to mop up the mess she’s made.

  I followed her down to the kitchen. What’s she done? I asked when we were out of earshot of the dining room.  

  Oh, mum’s the word, the older woman clamped her mouth shut.

  Please, Dilys, you can’t give me a hint and not follow it up. That’s mean, I fretted.

  To be resumed, she bowed and snatching a cloth, made of cut-up knickers, from a drawer, she pounded up the stairs and knocked on the door again.

  I had to wait a couple of weeks before Dilys did resume her tale, and by then I was beginning to wonder if she was a bit cracked and enjoyed the attention that her air of mystery drew, or if she was just having a laugh at my expense. But one day Heather disappeared. We filed into breakfast as usual and lined up at the counter to get our bowls of porridge and plate of toast and butter. The girls on duty that morning looked a bit shell-shocked and one of them mouthed to me, Heather’s gone.

  Gone where? I leaned over the counter eager to hear more.

  She shook her head and said nothing more.

  We sat down and as usual waited for Heather to say grace before meals. The refectory remained still, the only sounds the thrum of the big fridges and steam gushing from the boiler in the corner. After a couple of minutes, watching our porridge congeal in front of us, Jonah appeared, a rare event in itself. We all looked up expecting him to say grace. First, he told us he had an announcement to make.

 Heather, our dearly beloved sister in God, has been taken ill, he said. She is unable to be with us today, or for some weeks. Let us pray.

  A murmur went around the room but Jonah raised his hand and demanded silence for the prayers.   

  I looked over at Dilys who sat at the far end of the long table. She jutted her chin at me and half-closed her eyes, as much as to say, I know all but I’ll choose when to tell.

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