Being Magdalene

by Fleur Beale

  Zillah said, ‘Abraham, what will you do if the Elders won’t let you marry her?’

  His face darkened. ‘They’ll say yes if they know what’s good for them.’

  We talked about easier things — the wedding would be at the end of January and they would fly to Auckland that very day.

  When the boys had gone, Zillah came and sat on my bed. ‘Will he marry her if the Elders say no, Magdalene? He’ll go to Auckland and be dead to us. Talitha mightn’t want to be dead and damned.’

  I sat up, my chin resting on my knees. ‘He must’ve talked to her about that. I hope he has.’

  But, when I got the chance to ask Luke the next day, he said, ‘Yeah, I asked him that too and he just patted my head and told me not to stress. Annoying!’

  Each day, when the boys and Father got home from the hire centre, Abraham would stomp in the door and say, ‘No word from on high.’ On Tuesday, a whole week after he’d asked the Elders for their permission, he didn’t say anything at all. His face was set and angry. We didn’t dare speak to him — it seemed to me that he was only just holding on to his temper and one little push would bring forth a string of words Father would have to punish him for saying.

  Even Father picked up his mood, because he said, ‘Be patient, my son. All we can do is pray.’

  Abraham gave him a scorching look — there was no way he’d be praying. We knew that, even if our parents did not. It was a total mystery to me that they could be so blind.

  We all found the days of waiting hard to bear. Father’s face became grim. Mother either snapped at me and Zillah, or she followed us around preaching scripture at us. The boys took to staying late at Abraham’s work, coming home to dinner only after the rest of us had finished ours.

  Then at last, on Christmas Eve, the three of them came home together at the proper time. Abraham burst in the door. ‘Yes! The ancients have finally given us their blessing!’

  Mother collapsed on a chair, grabbed the skirt of her apron and sobbed into it. ‘Thank the Lord, Abraham! The Lord be praised! He has answered my prayers and you will be saved, my son. Talitha is a good and godly woman. She will keep your feet on the path to salvation.’

  Abraham patted her shoulder and rolled his eyes at us. ‘Calm down, Mother. We’ve only got a month to prepare for this wedding. I told Talitha and her mother that you and the girls would help.’

  Mother gave her face a final wipe, stood up and put her hands on his shoulders. She had to reach up, he was so much taller than she was. ‘We are blessed to be able to help. We will visit them tomorrow.’

  That night, when I went to bed, Zillah was waiting for me. ‘Helping means doing heaps of sewing, doesn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘I’m afraid so.’ I loved sewing, but it made her miserable even though her stitches were neat enough for Mother not to have a reason to scold her. There was no way either of us could get out of it.

  It was Christmas the next day. I thought longingly of the frivolities worldly people would be enjoying on this day. Elder Stephen preached about how they celebrated the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ with coloured lights, overeating and giving each other gaudy trinkets.

  I’d have loved a box full of gaudy trinkets. Zillah — she’d want a box full of spanners and hammers.

  Elder Stephen said worldly people gave no thought to the birth of our Lord Jesus. For that alone, he told us, they would be damned to spend eternity burning in hell. He said they got drunk, they fought, they cursed and blasphemed when they should be turning their minds to saving their rotten souls.

  For Faith families, the day wasn’t very different from any other. Father gave thanks to the Lord for the birth of his son and that was the only way we celebrated Christmas.

  Abraham drove Mother, Zillah and me to Talitha’s house in the afternoon. He didn’t come in — it wasn’t the custom for young men to spend time with the girl they were to marry, other than half an hour on Sundays during the lunch break at worship.

  Talitha and her mother greeted us warmly. It was easy to see her parents were delighted with their daughter’s quiet happiness. It lifted my heart to see it, but Zillah was subdued all afternoon. The question of how to comfort her nagged at me, even though I knew nothing would help her. Unless she really did run away. My needle jabbed my finger.

  ‘Magdalene! You are getting blood on that cloth!’ Mother snatched her handkerchief and flattened it against my finger. ‘Can you not concentrate, even for a little while? This will have to be washed.’

  She went to take it, but Talitha said, ‘Sister Naomi, with your permission the girls and I will go out for some fresh air. They have done such good work.’

  Mother didn’t want to let us go, but Sister Priscilla said, ‘That is a kind thought, Talitha. And you are right — they are such good workers. Sister Naomi, you must be proud of your daughters.’

  Pride was a sin. Sister Priscilla must know that. Maybe she didn’t worry about obeying all of the Rule either. Talitha held the door open. ‘Come, girls.’

  ‘Do not forget your scarves,’ Mother called after us.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said once we were well away from the house.

  Talitha smiled. ‘I needed a break too. And I want to talk to you both about your brother. But we will wait till we’ve climbed the hill. There’s a park at the top. If we’re lucky we’ll have it to ourselves.’

  We were lucky — there were no worldly people to stare at us. Zillah didn’t stay beside me but ran round and round. There were trees at one end. She tied a knot in her skirt and began climbing. I didn’t try to stop her. Talitha wouldn’t tell on her.

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  She sat down on a bench, patting the space beside her. I joined her, but before she could speak I asked the question that had been bothering me. ‘Talitha, did he tell you he was going to go to Auckland even if the Elders said no to your marriage?’

  She stared out at the distant mountains and didn’t speak.

  I should have kept my worry to myself. ‘I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I shouldn’t have asked.’

  Her attention seemed to come back from far away. ‘It’s all right. Of course you want to know, to understand.’ She gave me a smile. ‘Yes, he told me and he told my parents. I’m going to go whatever they decide. That’s what he told us.’

  I sagged with relief. ‘Thank you for telling me. But Brother Ebenezer … wasn’t he angry?’

  She was looking out at the mountains again and her voice was kind of dreamy when she answered. ‘No. He told Abraham he honoured him for his honesty. He said the decision to marry him must be mine alone.’

  ‘But, Talitha … the Elders mightn’t have given him permission. Or they might have said yes, but not till he was twenty. They don’t like us — they like to punish us.’

  She took my hand. ‘Peace, Magdalene. I told your brother I would go with him to Auckland whatever they said. If he would take me.’

  ‘What?’ Surely I couldn’t have understood her. ‘You’d leave the Faith?’

  ‘It didn’t come to that in the end. There is no need to think of it further.’ She gave me a funny little smile, and I knew I couldn’t ask her if Abraham had said he’d still marry her if he left the Faith.

  Instead, I said, ‘What did you want to ask me?’

  ‘Just tell me about him. I don’t know him at all, not really.’ She gave a grin. ‘I just know all the girls gaze at him during breaks on worship days.’

  I thought of Carmel. This news was going to break her heart and it was no comfort that I’d tried to warn her. I didn’t know what to tell Talitha.

  ‘Start with the Rule,’ she said while I was trying to think what to say. ‘Why doesn’t he believe it?’

  That was easy enough — though I checked first to make sure we really were alone. ‘He says it’s just things a bunch of old men make up. He doesn’t believe Elder Stephen hears the word of the Lord.’ I slid a sideways look at her, wondering if I should continue.

 
; She was nodding. ‘I often feel the same. Go on. These are good things to know.’

  I thought she could just be the ideal wife for Abraham, but I said, ‘He’s different from you though, Talitha. You’re always seemly. You’re a good and godly person.’

  ‘I know how to appear so to the Elders,’ she said. ‘At home, we worship the Lord in our own way. Mother and Father believe the Lord wants us to love each other. They have taught us all to be kind to each other. Mother said the Rule used to be good. That was years ago — before I was born. Then one day they realised the Elders were changing it. They say it’s got much worse over the last few years.’

  ‘They’ve made it mean and horrible. I hate them!’ I would burn in hell for saying that. Or would I? I wished I knew what was true.

  ‘Look at me!’ Zillah shouted. She was hanging upside down and her skirt had fallen over her face. We could hear her laughing.

  I jumped up. She mustn’t do that. It was so unseemly. Father would growl and pray and send her to the discipline room. I was running when Talitha caught me. ‘There’s nobody else to see her. Let her be happy.’

  I stopped. ‘Yes. Of course. Thank you.’ I called to my sister. ‘That’s clever, Zillah!’

  Later, as we walked back to the house, I said to Talitha, ‘You’ll leave the Faith, won’t you? You and Abraham — you won’t come back from Auckland.’

  Zillah grabbed hold of her arm. ‘Don’t leave, Talitha. You’re nice and Abraham’s nice. We don’t want you to go away and be dead to us.’

  I thought Talitha would reassure her, that she’d tell a lie and say of course they’d come back. But she said, ‘Abraham loves his work and we both love our families. I pray we’ll come back but — you must have noticed — the people are uneasy. Father says it’s died down a bit since Brother Jedidiah took his family out, but we think that’s because they’re scared. Elder Stephen is powerful and he doesn’t like being challenged.’

  Zillah said, ‘Is that what Brother Jedidiah did? How did he challenge him?’

  Talitha sighed. ‘I shouldn’t tell you, so be careful. Okay?’

  We nodded and I felt a shiver of fear. If Elder Stephen suspected I knew something forbidden, he’d punish me for ever. But I wanted to know. ‘Please tell us.’

  ‘Brother Jedidiah wanted his children to have a proper education. He asked the Elders to allow it. Father supported him, and so did some of the other men.’ She stopped and I guessed she didn’t want to say our own father had refused to go against the Elders.

  I took Zillah’s hand. She was trying not to cry.

  Fourteen

  RACHEL, SAUL AND HOPE had dinner with us that night to celebrate Abraham’s betrothal. Rachel held our brother’s hands and her face was glowing with happiness. ‘I am so pleased for you, Abraham. Talitha is such a good choice for you. She was always kind to us when we worked in the kitchen.’

  She didn’t notice she’d said us and we. Usually she was careful not to refer to Rebecca in any way.

  Saul shook Abraham’s hand. ‘We are pleased for you, brother. May the Lord bless you both.’

  Rachel began to help us prepare the meal, but Mother wouldn’t hear of it. ‘Sit down, daughter. You are well? What does the midwife say?’

  Zillah and I went about our tasks quietly, hoping we might hear something real. But married women seemed to speak in a code that meant nothing to us.

  Rachel said, ‘She says the baby is growing as it should. But the scan showed I will need to have a Caesarian section.’

  ‘Oh, Rachel! What is the reason? How can she tell? You still have six weeks until the baby is due.’

  Rachel looked serene. ‘Do not worry, Mother. I am in good hands. It is called placenta praevia. The Caesarian is necessary to keep both of us safe.’

  Zillah ignored my warning head-shake to ask, ‘What does that mean, Mother? I don’t … do not understand.’

  ‘You do not need to know, Zillah,’ Rachel said. ‘Will you pray to the Lord to keep the baby and me safe? Will you do that for me, little sister?’

  ‘Yes, I will pray,’ Zillah said in the dead, defeated voice she used when her life seemed hopeless. But I was angry. I wanted to slap people — Rachel, Mother, every single one of the Elders and Father. I was certain he hadn’t supported Brother Jedidiah in his quest to get proper education for his children.

  Neither of us talked during dinner. Abraham was cheerful. Saul helped Hope with her meal so Rachel didn’t have to do anything except eat. Every now and again the two of them exchanged a private smile. They loved each other and I knew I should feel glad for them instead of furious. Marriage put up a wall, and if you weren’t married you got shut out. Doors got banged in your face.

  Something half-remembered niggled at my mind. It was to do with the time Daniel and Esther got banished. No, it was before that. With no warning, the entire memory smashed into focus and I flinched.

  ‘Magdalene! What is it now?’ Mother asked, frowning at me.

  ‘When Zillah was born — you had to be cut open, Mother. Rachel, do you have to —’

  Father silenced me. ‘That is most unseemly, Magdalene. Go to your room. You will spend tomorrow in the discipline room, repenting for your sinful immodesty.’

  I went to get up, then I stopped. ‘Father, how can I know what is unseemly if I have no knowledge? I did not understand it was a transgression.’

  ‘Your good sense should have guided you. Go and pray to the Lord for forgiveness. At once, Magdalene.’

  I went to my bedroom, but I didn’t pray. I wondered if Father truly believed I would. I sighed. Yes, he’d expect me to obey him because the Rule said children must obey their parents. If we didn’t obey we would be damned to go to hell where we would burn for eternity.

  I went to the window. There were no clouds in the sky now. I wished Mother loved me and Zillah. Rachel had become so like Mother that it was useless even to think about asking her for answers. She’d looked truly shocked by my question.

  I picked up my pillow and smashed it against my bed, over and over again until I felt calmer. Damn the discipline room!

  Swearing was a wicked sin. I would go to hell for sure.

  Zillah would have to get through tomorrow on her own. I huddled into a ball on my bed. It wasn’t fair. Nothing about our lives was fair. In a few days I’d be thirteen. In six months’ time I’d be working in the kitchen on worship days — I’d be one of the kitchen girls. Elder Stephen would read my name out and he’d read out the names of boys who could ask to marry me when I turned sixteen.

  I wished Zillah and I could live with Abraham and Talitha in Auckland. We could all live there for ever and I wouldn’t have to get married and turn into Mother the way Rachel had.

  It seemed a long time before Zillah came to bed. She leapt at me and wrapped me up in a hug. ‘Father’s mean. It’s not fair.’

  But I was calm now. ‘Zillah, I’ve been trying to remember. Shall I tell you about when you were born?’

  ‘Yes!’ She wriggled so she could lean against the wall. ‘Father would be so angry!’ She grinned at me.

  Yes, he would. I didn’t feel even a speck of guilt. ‘Okay, I can’t remember everything. It all got mixed up with Daniel and Esther being banished.’ I pushed away the memory of them both stumbling down the aisle at worship — Daniel bleeding and limping from where the Elders had beaten him, and Esther with her arm around him, helping him. His blood was on her white blouse. ‘I’d just started school.’

  Zillah nodded. ‘Yes, because you were five and school starts in February and my birthday is the second of February.’

  ‘Mother was sick. She stayed in bed one morning and Esther said she shouldn’t be by herself, but Father prayed and said the Lord would keep her safe.’

  ‘Did Esther defy Father?’ Her eyes sparkled at the idea of it. ‘Did she disobey him?’

  ‘It’s lucky for you she did. She called an ambulance and they took Mother to hospital. They had to cut her open to get you ou
t.’ I picked up the hem of my apron and held it out to show her. ‘I’d just learned how to sew like this.’

  She pulled a face. ‘Herringbone stitch.’

  ‘Yes. I asked Mother if the doctor sewed her up with herringbone stitch.’ I couldn’t remember what her answer had been.

  ‘What was I like when I was that little? Was I like Hope when she was new?’

  I shook my head. ‘You were tiny, much littler than Hope was. They had to keep you in a sort of glass case and you had tubes stuck in you. You were pretty sick and we didn’t know if you’d live.’ I grabbed her and tickled her. ‘But you’re tough. You survived.’

  She turned it all over in her head for a bit, then asked, ‘Is that what Rachel was talking about? Will they have to cut her open to get the baby out?’ She frowned and I knew what she was going to ask next.

  ‘I don’t know how babies get born if they’re not cut out. And if you ask Rachel she’ll just say you’ll find out when the time is right.’ And Mother would punish her for being unseemly.

  We were quiet — so much to think about. So many questions.

  My birthday was just before the New Year. The Children of the Faith didn’t celebrate birthdays. When I came in to breakfast, Mother only said, ‘Now you are thirteen, Magdalene, I hope you will be more responsible.’

  I sat down. Her comment hurt my heart. What did she want of me that I didn’t do already?

  Something kicked my ankle and I looked up to see Abraham rolling his eyes. I was comforted.

  When Zillah and I were doing the dishes, she said, ‘You are responsible! It’s not fair. Father never growls at Abraham and he speaks unseemly all the time.’

  I put the final dish in the rack. ‘Daniel got growled at. He had to learn lots of psalms. But he didn’t want to work with Father. That’s the only reason Abraham doesn’t get growled at.’

  She threw cutlery into the drawer. ‘I want to work with Father too, but I get growled at and prayed at.’

  Mother called from her sewing room. ‘Hurry, girls. We need to leave or there will not be time to sew Talitha’s dress.’