shilling. I just wanted to please my missus.
3
Friday
got up on time i was glad not to be late fire would not take i was happy when it did porridge too salty i was disappointed fed hens with missus fed pig on my own i like the hens but not sure about pig ripped a hole in my apron on the fence i was not at all pleased about that swep and dusted rooms and got dinner potatoes burnt but i was hungry and ate every pick missus showed me how to clean silver i was pleased then she showed me the garden vegetables i was interested and where the sheep got in to eat them last year i was shocked then i carted about a ton of manure across yard i was highly delighted when that was done while working i was thinking about my mother if only she was still alive and doing her good works especially with the poor men down on their luck just a smile from her and a kind word as she passed by on her way to worship brightened their day she was truly an angel sent from heaven
4
What I Did Not Write
That was what I wrote in the book. But that wasn’t all what happened on the Friday, not by a long chalk. For instance when I went into the kitchen that morning the missus was already up, it seemed like she had been waiting on me for as I walked in she jumped to her feet.
“Ah, there you are,” she says, very excited.
Her face was pale and there was shadows under her eyes, she had the look of someone that had not slept overmuch. I give her good morning and went to light the fire but as I passed her by she reached out and gripped my arm.
“Let the fire wait,” she says. “There’s something I want to do first.”
She released my arm then stood aside and gestured to a straight-back chair in the middle of the floor, she must have moved it there before I came down.
“Sit,” she says.
When I had done as bid she started walking to and fro in front of me her hands clasped behind her. She had on a lovely charcoal coloured silk frock, the skirts whispered to me as she moved back and forth, the cut of the cloth showed off her slender frame. A real Aphrodite she was, only with arms. After a moment or two she stopped pacing and looked at me, straight in the face.
“Now Bessy,” she says very stern. “Do you trust me?”
“Marm?” I says. “In what sense?”
She hesitated, then she says, more kindly, “I mean—do you think I would do you any harm?”
“No marm,” I says and was surprised to realise I meant it.
“So you do trust me,” she says.
“Well yes,” I says.
“Good,” she says. “Now—be a good girl and close your eyes.”
“What—what for, marm?”
“Do you trust me, Bessy?”
“Yes, marm.”
“Then close your eyes.”
I closed them.
She walked about me a bit more like a big whisper and then she stopped nearby, somewhere to my left. I waited, not knowing what to expect. I
1/2
imagined that I might all of a sudden feel her touch somewhere, a stroke on the cheek maybe, her breath on my face or her fingers in my hair but she kept her distance and after a moment of silence she announced very loud in the flat voice, “Stand!”
I got to my feet then waited to be told where to go but all she says, again in the flat voice was, “Sit!” So I sat down and—thinking I had disappointed her in some way, began to open my eyes.
“Keep them shut!” she says quickly. And then she says again, “Stand!” in the flat voice. And so I did. And then she says again, “Sit!”
What she was up to I hadn’t an inkling. She just kept on in the flat voice, Stand! Sit! Stand! Sit! I was up and down like a drabs drawers until about the 5th time of asking I could not bear any more to be told what to do whereupon I opened my eyes and says a bit sharp, “Please missus I’m not going to do this any more so don’t make me please.”
She was gazing at me, her eyes glazed over, she looked for all the world like she was in a Trance but when I spoke she nodded and muttered to herself, it sounded like, “Of course. Of course she
3
Friday
got up on time i was glad not to be late fire would not take i was happy when it did porridge too salty i was disappointed fed hens with missus fed pig on my own i like the hens but not sure about pig ripped a hole in my apron on the fence i was not at all pleased about that swep and dusted rooms and got dinner potatoes burnt but i was hungry and ate every pick missus showed me how to clean silver i was pleased then she showed me the garden vegetables i was interested and where the sheep got in to eat them last year i was shocked then i carted about a ton of manure across yard i was highly delighted when that was done while working i was thinking about my mother if only she was still alive and doing her good works especially with the poor men down on their luck just a smile from her and a kind word as she passed by on her way to worship brightened their day she was truly an angel sent from heaven
4
What I Did Not Write
That was what I wrote in the book. But that wasn’t all what happened on the Friday, not by a long chalk. For instance when I went into the kitchen that morning the missus was already up, it seemed like she had been waiting on me for as I walked in she jumped to her feet.
“Ah, there you are,” she says, very excited.
Her face was pale and there was shadows under her eyes, she had the look of someone that had not slept overmuch. I give her good morning and went to light the fire but as I passed her by she reached out and gripped my arm.
“Let the fire wait,” she says. “There’s something I want to do first.”
She released my arm then stood aside and gestured to a straight-back chair in the middle of the floor, she must have moved it there before I came down.
“Sit,” she says.
When I had done as bid she started walking to and fro in front of me her hands clasped behind her. She had on a lovely charcoal coloured silk frock, the skirts whispered to me as she moved back and forth, the cut of the cloth showed off her slender frame. A real Aphrodite she was, only with arms. After a moment or two she stopped pacing and looked at me, straight in the face.
“Now Bessy,” she says very stern. “Do you trust me?”
“Marm?” I says. “In what sense?”
She hesitated, then she says, more kindly, “I mean—do you think I would do you any harm?”
“No marm,” I says and was surprised to realise I meant it.
“So you do trust me,” she says.
“Well yes,” I says.
“Good,” she says. “Now—be a good girl and close your eyes.”
“What—what for, marm?”
“Do you trust me, Bessy?”
“Yes, marm.”
“Then close your eyes.”
I closed them.
She walked about me a bit more like a big whisper and then she stopped nearby, somewhere to my left. I waited, not knowing what to expect. I
1/2
imagined that I might all of a sudden feel her touch somewhere, a stroke on the cheek maybe, her breath on my face or her fingers in my hair but she kept her distance and after a moment of silence she announced very loud in the flat voice, “Stand!”
I got to my feet then waited to be told where to go but all she says, again in the flat voice was, “Sit!” So I sat down and—thinking I had disappointed her in some way, began to open my eyes.
“Keep them shut!” she says quickly. And then she says again, “Stand!” in the flat voice. And so I did. And then she says again, “Sit!”
What she was up to I hadn’t an inkling. She just kept on in the flat voice, Stand! Sit! Stand! Sit! I was up and down like a drabs drawers until about the 5th time of asking I could not bear any more to be told what to do whereupon I opened my eyes and says a bit sharp, “Please missus I’m not going to do this any more so don’t make me please.”
She was gazing at me, her eyes glazed over, she looked for all the world like she was in a Trance but when I spoke she nodded and muttered to herself, it sounded like, “Of course. Of course she
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