Being Magdalene by Fleur Beale Page A

places in my heart. But I knew she loved me and that was a true comfort.
    Abraham was in the kitchen when we went into breakfast. Zillah threw herself at him. ‘You’re still here, Abraham!’
    Mother frowned at her and Father said, ‘Zillah, kindly do not behave in such an unseemly manner.’
    She dropped her head and walked to her chair. Before our father could tell her to pray for forgiveness, Abraham said, ‘Remember what I said yesterday, Zillah?’
    Father set down the knife he was using to butter a piece of toast. ‘What did you tell your sister yesterday, Abraham?’
    My brother pushed his chair back a little, swivelling it to face Father, who sat at the head of the table. When he spoke, the challenge was back in his voice. ‘I promised the kids I wouldn’t leave without telling them I was going.’
    Neither of them saw Mother’s face go dead white, as white as my bloody blouse. I wanted to comfort her, but there was no way I could ease her pain.
    Father was first to drop his gaze. ‘I would hope, my son, that you value your immortal soul enough not to do anything so foolhardy.’
    Don’t say anything, Abraham. Please don’t say anything to grieve our parents.
    I gave a moan as I saw him open his mouth. He whipped around to look at me, then banged the flat of his hand on the table. ‘I’ve given them my promise and I’ll stick by it. But that’s all I’m going to promise.’
    Father said, ‘We will all go to the study and pray for you.’
    Now it was Zillah who whimpered, and I wanted to cry too — I didn’t know if I could stay upright on my knees for a prayer session, and this would be a long one. All morning, at least.
    Abraham stood up. He was perfectly calm, but itwas a calm that felt like solid steel. ‘You pray if you want to, Father. But these kids are not going to spend the day on their knees. Not today and not tomorrow. This is between you, me and the Elders. Don’t punish the kids.’
    Father said, ‘It is not a punishment to pray, Abraham. However, I feel you have some justice in what you say. Your mother and I will spend time in prayer. The children may choose to add their prayers to ours if they wish.’
    When none of us said we’d pray too, he spoke each of our names in turn. He began with Luke. I was so glad I wasn’t the oldest. ‘My son, will you help me plead with the Lord to set your brother’s feet firmly on the path of righteousness?’
    Luke was silent and, when I sneaked a look at him, his face was thoughtful. ‘I will not pray in the study, Father,’ he said at last. ‘I will instead remind my brother of Psalm 121 and discuss its meaning with him.’
    Father seemed happy with that. ‘You are a good son, Luke.’ He turned to me. ‘Magdalene, will you add your prayers to your mother’s and mine?’
    A weight pressed down on me, squeezing and hurting. What could I say? And what about Zillah?
    Abraham’s voice cut across my scrabbling thoughts. ‘Enough, Father. They’re not going to spend the day on their knees. I’ll drive them to school. Luke can talk about the scripture on the way.’
    Father raised a hand to stop him. ‘Kindly let your sister speak for herself, my son.’
    All at once, I thought of Doctor Alex Masters. Let her sleep , he’d told Father. Talk to her about things that trouble her . Father would do none of those things and, if he’d prayed for me, it hadn’t helped. I lifted my head to look at him. ‘No, Father. Zillah and I will both pray in our hearts for Abraham. We do not need to be on our knees.’
    Zillah wriggled to the edge of her chair so that she could clutch my arm.
    But Father still made her speak for herself. ‘Zillah, will you come into the study and kneel in prayer with me? It is for the safety of your brother’s soul.’
    Abraham gave a small cough to make Zillah look at him. He winked and shook his head.
    But her hand gripped hard on my arm as she whispered, ‘No, Father. I’ll pray with Magdalene.’
    Father stood