The Colour of Milk

by Nell Leyshon

  you know what i’d dream? violet said. i’d dream that i had a school where all the children came every day.

  who’d be the teacher? beatrice asked.

  me, violet said.

  hope laughed. you couldn’t teach, she said. you can’t read nor write nor nothing.

  shut up, violet said.

  that’s a stupid dream, hope said.

  yours was stupid, violet said.

  stop fighting, beatrice said. we better get back down. father’ll be awake and looking for us all.

  the three of them stood and brushed their skirts down. wrapped their shawls around them.

  violet nudged me with her boot. come on, mary, she said.

  i took in a deep breath and the fresh air went down in to my lungs. it felt new and different from the air down there.

  violet called my name again but i just looked up at the sky above and watched the birds and the moving clouds.

  come on, beatrice said. we got cows to milk.

  she’ll come down, hope said.

  they started to run down the hill and i listened to the three of them. laughing. shouting. calling to each other.

  i sat up and watched till i couldn’t see them no more.

  and then i lay back down on the new grass even though the cold had worked its way through my skirt. i watched as the sky changed its colours and the sun climbed upwards.

  when i stood up i could see the farm and the shape of the house and the lane and the fields.

  what was it i would dream if i could dream something and it would come true?

  what was it i would say if anyone ever asked me?

  i didn’t know. i knew i had dreams but i didn’t know what they were.

  he was in the yard waiting for me. he didn’t say nothing. i didn’t say nothing. i walked towards the house and he watched me for a bit then he stepped forward and grabbed my arm. and he dragged me in to the house. and hope and violet was watching me. and he pulled me through the kitchen and mother stood by and i was shouting and she stood and watched me.

  he dragged me up the stairs and he was pulling my arm and my hair to keep a grip. he kicked open the door to my room and kicked it shut when we was in.

  i don’t like to tell you all this.

  i don’t. but i remember that day and i know it was the day when things changed.

  and i told my self i would tell you everything.

  you know that.

  i said that.

  i don’t know what he hit me with. i don’t know how many times he hit me. i closed my eyes and let him do what he did.

  he made noises. he kicked the bed. he kicked the door.

  then it stopped. he threw me on to the bed and he left the room. i lay there. i held my hands to my face and waited.

  the door opened and beatrice came in. she tried to pull my face round to look at her but i never wanted to. she took my hands away one by one and she got a damp cloth and she washed me. i couldn’t open my eyes like normal but i could see her looking at me.

  mary, she said. you all right?

  i couldn’t nod but i could speak. it was worth it, i said.

  i am sitting by the window and i am writing this with my own hand and i have to write in the hours of sun for there is light and the moon does not give enough light for it is dark at night and when it is dark i can not write.

  i remember that day and i know it was the day when everything changed.

  summer

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

  in this year of lord eighteen hundred and thirty one i am still sitting by my window. the wind comes through the cracks in the frame.

  i am tired from doing this and my wrist aches from doing this.

  but i promised my self i would write the truth and the things that happened. i will do that.

  and my hair is the colour of milk.

  the crops was growing fast and the blossom come and went. and the early green leaves come. and the birds was out. and the air was warm and the weeds was growing so fast that when we cut them down it seemed like the next morning we was out there with the hoe again and it did rain but not too much. and when the rain stopped the sun was out and that is why the crops grew so high.

  and there was a lot of grass.

  and the horse and the cows and the pig had a lot to eat. and the horse got sore hooves for the grass was so rich.

  and they said that it was the best year for growing some could remember.

  i drew water from the well and took it in to where mother was in the scullery. and she told me to carry the cheese in to the kitchen where i put it on the table. and it was heavy. and she got the wire from the drawer. the wire has two wood handles on it and she gave it to me.

  mind you cut it right, she said, for if you spoil that cheese there’ll be trouble.

  and so i lined up the cheese and lay the wire on it and got the two handles and put the wire at an angle and so it would cut in to the cheese. i pulled the wire tight and then down hard and slowly it went through the cloth and down in to the cheese.

  and i pulled down until the cheese fell in two pieces. and the inside was yellow and the smell was strong where it come out the middle of the cheese.

  now cut it again, mother said. and i cut off a big slice. and we wrapped the rest in a cloth and put it away.

  mother took the wire and sliced off a bit of the cheese and she give it to me and said the person what tastes a new cheese first will get a baby.

  so i put it in my mouth and it was strong near enough to burn my tongue.

  i waited till i swallowed then asked, how will i get a baby from that cheese?

  you just will, she said.

  but how?

  you don’t never stop asking and asking, she said.

  i like to know things, i said.

  she took the wire and did more slices.

  mother, i asked, if i had a baby, would it have a leg like mine?

  don’t know, she said. you don’t never know what you’re gonna get. see what i got with you.

  she turned away and wrapped up the pieces of cheese with hunks of bread.

  hope and beatrice were with the hoes and working and at first i could not see father nor violet. but then as i got close i could see them at the side of the field. violet was sitting on the grass. and father was standing over her.

  father turned round to me and asked me what i’d been doing and why i was so long.

  i told him i’d been doing jobs and here i was bringing the food.

  took your time, he said.

  went fast as i could, i said.

  well your fast ain’t fast enough.

  what’s wrong with violet? i asked.

  she’s lazy.

  i ain’t lazy, violet said. i ain’t well.

  father took his bundle from me and he walked off and sat in the shade of a tree. beatrice and hope came over and it was all four of us sisters. and i gave them their bread and their cheese.

  violet unwrapped her food then turned away and was sick in the grass.

  dirty cow, hope said.

  she can’t help it, beatrice said.

  we been doing all her work, hope said.

  i passed violet the flagon of water and she wiped her face with it and then dried it on her skirt.

  we got to finish today, hope said, or he’ll be having us work by the moon.

  i’ll be all right, violet said. she lay down on the grass in the sun and closed her eyes.

  have summat to eat, i said.

  she shook her head. i can’t.

  that’s when father called me over to him and told me to bring violet’s food if she wasn’t eating it.

  so i went on over and passed him her bundle what he unwrapped and ate.

  i stood there till he was done with the bread and cheese and he took the flagon off me and had a drink.

  sit down, he said.

  i sat down on the edge of the patch of shade what was made by the tree.

  m
r graham up the vicarage, he said, his wife ain’t well. and so i told him you’d go up there and help them.

  me?

  don’t be thick.

  why’d they want me?

  their housemaid’s left and they can’t get no other help. he said could i spare one of you.

  and you said yes.

  he’s paying.

  why me?

  cos you ain’t exactly doing the work of a man down here. trailing that behind you. he pointed at my leg.

  when have i got to go?

  tomorrow.

  is it just for the day?

  no.

  so how long i got to go for?

  till they don’t need you no more.

  o.

  father drank more from the flagon and i watched him swallow and saw the lump on his neck move up and down.

  am i to go up each day? i asked.

  no.

  i waited. he didn’t say nothing for a bit.

  you’re to live in, he said.

  father gave me the flagon. he stood up and picked up his hoe. the others saw him move and they all stood up and they walked off with their hoes and got to it.

  now there’s things you got to know.

  i hadn’t never slept in no bed but my bed i share with one of my sisters.

  i hadn’t never been far from the house no further than when we take the sheep up to the top field by the church.

  grandfather was in his chair and i went in and i sat in front of him.

  there you are, he said, and he smiled. know what, mary? i’d give anything to be out in the sun working. i spent all them years moaning about the state of my back, now i’m moaning cos i ain’t bent down looking at the soil. it’s only when you can’t do it no more that you miss it. mind, spose i ain’t never known nothing else in life.

  spose.

  yeh. all they years just turning soil over then putting in the old seeds. bringing up a calf then milking her. ain’t never done nothing else. funny really.

  yeh.

  mary?

  what?

  what is it? ain’t got nothin to say? devil got a hold of your tongue and pushed it back down your throat?

  father told me i’m going up the vicarage.

  i know.

  how d’you know?

  he told me this morning.

  you never said nothing.

  i said it now.

  tomorrow i got to go.

  he told me. but you’ll be back.

  but he said i got to sleep there. said i’m to live in.

  you’ll be away from him.

  but i’ll be away from you.

  that what’s eating you?

  yeh.

  thought you’d be glad to be shut of an old man.

  glad to get shut of father. not any of you. not you. not the farm.

  you’ll be all right, he said. they’ll look after you there. and you ain’t gonna be no more than a half of a mile from us.

  that night we ate in the kitchen late and went out again to do the last jobs before the dark come. grandfather sat out in the yard in his chair and he watched us cleaning out the barn which we was getting ready for to bring the new harvest in. the air smelled sweet from the warm and the pollen and it was full of dust from the hay we was clearing out. and we was all working together. and the birds swooped in low and ate on the wing. and the sun set red. and we all sang.

  later we went on in to the house and we was sat in the kitchen and mother give us some bread and the window was open with the warm air and the moths come on in and started flying around the flame.

  mother, i said, have i got to go?

  you know what your father’s gone and said, she said, and you know what he’s like so fighting him ain’t gonna get you much where.

  and soon as she said that father come in to the room and no one said nothing else.

  i went on up to the bedroom and laid out my things ready for the morning. skirt. under skirt. apron. stockings. shawl. i picked the dry mud out of my boots and put them by the bed. there wasn’t nothing else to lay out.

  beatrice came on in to the room. she picked up her bible and held it tight.

  let’s say a prayer for you, she said.

  no.

  come on.

  she dropped to her knees and pulled me down with her. the floor was hard under me and she opened up her bible and looked at it like she was reading out only i knew she weren’t.

  lord, look after your child.

  i ain’t no child.

  shush, mary. lord, look after your child and keep her well and content in her new home.

  it ain’t my new home. this is my home.

  shush. thank you, lord. amen.

  we climbed in to the bed and lay in the dark. i heard her breathing go quiet and slow and when it was steady i got back out of the bed and went to the window and looked out.

  down in the home field the cow was by the gate with her black and white.

  the year is our lord’s of eighteen hundred and thirty one and i am fifteen years old and i think again of that evening when we was outside in the warm. where grandfather was on his chair and we was clearing out the hay and mother was helping and we all four girls was doing it. and the air was warm and smelled of summer and the farm.

  and if i could stop time that is what i would do and i would stay in that minute for all my life and for ever.

  but a minute can not last for ever.

  i lay all night next to my sister upon the feather mattress. my mind was moving round startled like a new calf and i could not get it to settle. i tried to wonder what it would be like at the vicarage but i didn’t know cos i wasn’t there yet.

  and i ain’t gonna pretend i was all right.

  i ain’t gonna say i wasn’t scared cos i was.

  but i think i got some sleep.

  i must have got some sleep cos i woke up.

  and i was the first up and i laced my bodice and put on my skirt and boots and i got my stool and bucket and was the first to get to the house cow and as i leaned in to her and pushed my head against her i breathed in the smell of milk and shit.

  and then when the bucket was full i let her back in to the home field and took the bucket of milk in to the scullery and covered it with a cloth then i went back in to the house and got my self bread and some apple scrape on it and i ate that with some tea which i drank quickly before i picked up my things what i had wrapped in my shawl. and then i went in to the apple room.

  grandfather was stretched out in his bed between the boxes of apples and he looked at me as i walked in the room.

  and i was gonna say summat but i heard father call my name.

  i better go, i said.

  go on then.

  but i couldn’t move.

  you’ll be all right? i asked.

  grandfather laughed. course i bloody will. i lived all these years, ain’t i? i ain’t gonna be dying just cos you ain’t here to keep me company. go on. get on with you.

  the sun was on our backs as we walked and father walked faster than me and i was carrying my bundle and the sun was on our backs.

  i ran to catch up only father didn’t slow down. and so i was walking behind him and i could see his neck was red with the sun and there was lines on it with dirt in them.

  father, i called out.

  what?

  slow down.

  said i’d be up mid morning.

  will i be able to come home and visit?

  dunno.

  will i be back for harvest?

  father stopped. all i know, he said, is they gonna give me some money and you gonna stay there.

  how long?

  c’you shut up and get walking. they’ll be waiting.

  i followed him up past the church to the vicarage house. there was one door in front what was painted green with a brass knocker and letter box. and some flowers in the garden. and some windows which were big and were painted green same as the door. we went round the side and there was
the vegetable patch and the garden and a man was there digging. and there was the back door. which was open.

  father knocked with his hand and hollered and then a woman come. she was short and wide and wore a white apron and she had a small white hat on and she told us to stand there for that she would tell mr graham the vicar we was there.

  it wasn’t long before he come to the door. hello, he said and he and father shook hands though father’s hands were filthy.

  this is mary, father said.

  mr graham smiled. welcome.

  she’ll be no trouble, father said.

  i’m sure she won’t. thank you for bringing her.

  right better get back then, father said. he nodded at me and then was gone.

  mr graham smiled. you’d better come in, mary.

  we walked in to the house. then along the stone floor corridor and in to the kitchen where the woman with the white apron and the white hat was.

  edna, this is mary. and mary, this is edna. you’ll be helping her while my wife is ill. isn’t that right, edna?

  that’s right, edna said.

  show mary where she’ll sleep, mr graham said, and she can put her things there.

  i ain’t got much, i said.

  that’s all right. edna will look after you, he said, and show you what’s to be done.

  and mr graham left the room and went off down the stone corridor.

  edna looked at me up and down and walked round me. you a good girl? she asked.

  yes.

  you a clean girl?

  try to be.

  follow me.

  we went along the stone corridor then up the stairs and then up the other stairs right under the roof where the ceiling sloped. there was a room with two beds in it.

  you’ll be in here with me, she said. that’s yours.

  she pointed at the bed over by the window and i put my bundle on it.

  you got an apron?

  i got this, i said, and i unwrapped my shawl and took out my apron.

  it’s filthy, she said. that all you got?

  i nodded.

  she looked at my shawl and my stockings and underskirt.