My Name's Not Friday (13 page)

Gerald’s still lying in the grass beside me, looking up at the clouds, when I pick up the book. ‘I been ungrateful, Gerald and I apologize. I don’t know where I’d be without you bringing me books, and I’d like to read this one if that’s still all right with you.’

We go down through the darkened woods, a long line of us Baptists, with me out in front, holding Sicely’s hand as we head to the river bank. She’s in her new white dress and her hair’s tied up in pretty new rags. Her fingertips are soft to the touch and I weren’t expecting that, but it’s nice to hold hands and it’s strange being here in the dark with Sicely.

I don’t know which of us is more scared – her or me.

I’m trying to think what I’ll say when we arrive and how I’m going to lead these people in worship. I don’t know why I ever thought this was a good idea, and I’m praying to myself, ‘Don’t drop her. Oh Lord, whatever you do, please don’t let me drop Sicely in the water.’

We get to the river bank, same place we always go, and Henry sets the cross up on the grass and we start singing and dancing, same as we always do. We work ourselves up into a steam and Sicely takes her hand from mine, but she stays close to me in the circle and she’s shuffling her feet on the grass and her hips are swaying in her lovely white apron. I can still make out the shape of her beneath the cotton of her dress and she never looked as lovely as she does now. When I close my eyes, the smell of her lingers in the air beside me and I feel like a honeybee, all covered in the goodness of her, feeling like I might drown if I breathe too much of her in, but we’re both swaying with the will of the Lord and singing softly of the psalm as it is told.
By the rivers of Babylon, where we lay down and wept.
We got our hands up in the air.
Singing take me to the river, take me down into the water.

I reach out for Sicely. Everyone parts to let us through when we step from the bank of grass and go down into the
water, just the two of us, and then we step again, the water rising to our knees, so cold it takes our breath away, and Sicely comes closer to me, her fingers held tight around mine and I whisper for her to trust me, tell her it’ll be all right, and we step again, we go right up to our waists and her dress rises to the surface like a lily on a duck pond.

I put my arm around her waist to hold her steady. She’s got her hands up at her chest. They’re clasped together, real tight in prayer, and her eyes are closed and her teeth are chattering away as I raise my voice. ‘Before God we die and are born again. We take our name before God as a confirmation of our love of Jesus Christ.’ Sicely smiles and shetrembles in my arms. ‘You already know this young girl’s name.’

Lizzie calls it out, as loud as she dares. ‘Sicely!’ She looks to the left and right of her. ‘I named her myself the very day she was born and I called her Sicely!’

So then the rest of us chant her name again, singing it softly like a beautiful song that we all know. ‘Sicely! Sicely! Sicely!’

Well, I ain’t so nervous now. I’m full of the power of the Lord and I ask ’em to spell it out, same as they do in class, and they call out the letters like I taught ’em to. Sicely says it too, whispers it softly under her breath, but loud enough that I hear her hiss that S.

‘Sicely, do you promise to keep the commandments of God?’

‘I do.’

‘I didn’t hear you! I said, do you promise to keep the commandments of God?’

Sicely opens her eyes and shouts out, ‘Yes, I do!’

‘And do you reject Satan and his wicked ways?’

‘Yes, I do!’

‘Well, Sicely gives herself to God.’ I lift one arm in the air while still holding her sweet waist in the other. ‘I bathe this girl in the holy waters of God’s love, I bathe her in the light of Jesus and let Him cleanse her soul so she might enter into the kingdom of heaven, just as He Himself intended.’

I pause, coming closer to her ear. ‘Get ready,’ I whisper. ‘Here’s where I’m gonna dunk you.’

Her fingers dig into my arm and I clench the back of her dress, praying that I won’t let her slip, not for the life of me. ‘In the name of the Father, of the Son and the Holy Ghost, I baptize you sweet Sicely.’

I plunge her down into that dark water till she disappears completely. One … two … I bring her up on the three, all gasping and fresh, like a newborn baby with startled eyes, just how Joshua looked the moment he was born, though she don’t start crying like he did and I don’t slap her either. I wouldn’t dare. Not for the life of me.

Sicely breaks into a smile and everyone on the river bank starts clapping and shouting out, ‘Praise the Lord!’ without a care of being overheard.

Lizzie wraps us both in blankets as we step from the river and then the two of us sit on the grass, all shivering and smiling in each other’s arms, feeling like we’re the bravest and most beautiful people in the whole wide world.

I never felt so close to God as I do right now. Every nerve in my body is fizzing and alive. And I could be Moses. I really could.

Connie was returned to his owner the week after I baptized Sicely, and the whole thing was done sneaky, so maybe that’s what upset me. One minute he was in my life and the next thing I knew, Connie was gone and I never even had the chance to say goodbye.

The two of us were in the yard when Hubbard told Connie to make the wagon ready instead of going to the field. ‘You gotta come with me,’ he tells him. ‘We gotta fetch a couple of sows from a farm about ten miles down the road.’

Connie lifts his hat up and scratches at his head. ‘Which farm’s that?’

‘The one up by the crossroads,’ Hubbard answers him calmly. ‘Up near Hare’s End. We’re meeting a farmer there. He’s coming to us from over near the border and he’ll give us the pigs to bring back.’

I should’ve guessed we didn’t have the money to be buying pigs, and even if we did it wouldn’t need two fellas to bring ’em here. Connie mumbles something about seeing me around and turns away from me, all cold and distant. ‘Whaddya say?’ I ask, and catch his arm.

He turns back to face me, though he won’t hold my eye. ‘You take care while I’m gone.’

That was the closest I got to a goodbye, and all I got to say in reply was, ‘Sure.’

After lunch I’m cleaning the dining-room windows when I see Hubbard come back up the drive and he don’t have no pigs and he don’t even have Connie sitting next to him on the wagon, so I know immediately that something’s wrong and I hurry downstairs.

Hubbard is seeing to the horse when I reach the yard. ‘Is everything all right?’ I ask him, my voice all high and breathless.

That big man barely turns to look at me. ‘Everything’s fine, Friday. Why wouldn’t it be?’

‘You didn’t come back with no pigs and Connie ain’t with you either. Is he hurt?’

Hubbard stands upright and steps closer to me. ‘He ain’t hurt. Why would he be hurt?’

‘Cos he ain’t come back?’ I can feel the panic rising up into my throat. I feel like screaming, feel like crying out in pain and I need to know why that is, even though my guts already ache with the truth of it, cos Connie ain’t coming back. I already know it. He’s gone. Just like my daddy left. Just like all the men who’ve ever looked out for me.

Hubbard seems unsure of what to say, but then he shrugs. ‘I suppose you’ll find out sooner or later. Mrs Allen asked for him to be returned to his master before the end of his contract. I’m sorry, Friday, but he won’t be coming back.’

‘Why’d she want to do that?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘But it ain’t fair!’ I shout out, feeling like he’s lit my fuse. ‘You could have told me! You should have said he had to go!’

‘The missus decides how things get done,’ Hubbard tells me matter-of-factly and turns back to the horse like that’s the end of it, but I’m all full up with a hurt and righteous indignation that won’t be ignored.

‘I’ll ask her myself!’ I turn on my heels and head back for the house where I know Mrs Allen will be working on them uniforms.

‘Now hold on there!’ Hubbard shouts to my back. ‘Don’t you go …’

My head’s all light and giddy, like I’m walking on clouds that carry me inside the door and on into the hallway where Mrs Allen is already there before me, walking down the staircase on her way to the parlour, with her arms all full of shabby.

‘Excuse me, miss?’

I pretty much run towards her, taking the first few steps in one long stride so that she looks alarmed. ‘Friday? Whatever’s happened? Is everything all right?’

‘No, ma’am. No, I don’t think it is.’

Hubbard bursts through the door at my back. ‘Friday!’

‘Is someone unwell?’ Mrs Allen asks the both of us.

‘No, ma’am,’ I tell her. ‘No one’s ill. It’s not that. But I want to know why Connie left.’

Hubbard grabs a fistful of my shirt and pulls me two steps back down the staircase. ‘That ain’t no way to speak to the missus. Now you get back outside and stop your bothering—’

‘Hubbard, let him go.’ Mrs Allen looks surprised at the sudden fuss. ‘Whatever the matter is, I’d prefer to hear about it.’ Hubbard releases his hold of me, but he stays right there, all breathing down my neck and ready when he’s needed.
‘Take this into the parlour, Hubbard.’ Mrs Allen offers him the folds of cloth and he takes them reluctantly and carries them downstairs.

‘Mrs Allen?’ Harriet comes to the top of the stairs with the baby. ‘Do you want me to bring Virginia to you?’

‘Not right now, Harriet. Come and find me in another half hour.’

When Mrs Allen eventually turns back to me she has such concern in her eyes that all my anger disappears. ‘Are you upset about Connie?’ I swallow hard. I got tears welling up and she can see ’em; I know she can. I nod.

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Friday, but needs must. I don’t have two cents I can rub together at the moment, and once his owner let it be known he’d take him back without my having to pay up the contract – well, I have to say, I jumped at the opportunity, and anyway it’s November tomorrow, so there ain’t as much to do as there was.’

‘But you should have told us, ma’am!’ I blurt out. ‘I’d have liked to have said goodbye to him properly.’

Mrs Allen cocks her head to one side like a listening dog. ‘I hadn’t realized the two of you were close.’

‘Yes, ma’am. He looked out for me when I first came here. He’s someone I can go to for advice.’

It strikes me then that Connie wouldn’t be here to tell me when it was time to leave and I wouldn’t know those boats were here till I saw ’em with my own eyes. That’s just about the last straw and a tear slides over my cheek towards my mouth. I lick it away just as Hubbard reappears. ‘Come away, Friday,’ he says, more softly than before. ‘You’ve had your say. Now let the missus get on.’

Mrs Allen puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘Come with me.’ She leads me briskly towards the parlour, with a rustle of
her petticoats. ‘Hubbard, you may leave us. Thank you for your help.’

She shuts the door behind us and pours me a glass of water from the jug on the side table. ‘It’s never easy losing those we’re fond of, Friday, but I always think these things are better done with a minimum of fuss. Sometimes it doesn’t do to let things stew.’

I hold the glass to my chest, not sure what I should say. The missus takes a sudden interest in her fingernails before she says uncertainly, ‘I myself left behind a loving family in Alabama when I married Mr Allen. I still possess both my parents and I have three sisters of whom I am particularly fond.’ She nods at the glass in my hands, meaning for me to drink, and I take a sip of it, enough to wet my lips. ‘It’s such a long way for them to come and stay,’ she continues. ‘I do find that hard.’

She collects a small oval frame from the mantelpiece and holds it up for me to see the picture of a young lady who looks a lot like her, although she possesses an easier smile. ‘This is my younger sister, April. Until two years ago we did everything together. I must admit, I wondered how we’d cope with being apart, but she writes to me often and I believe she’s managing quite well. I have less time to think of her now that I have a whole new life here that needs my attention.’

‘I have a younger brother, miss.’

She looks alarmed. ‘Do you?’

‘Yes, miss.’

Her eye twitches as she pours herself a glass of water. ‘And your mother and father?’

I shake my head. ‘It’s just me and Joshua, ma’am. It’s only been the two of us for a while now.’

‘I see.’

I smile weakly, uncertain whether I have said too much and wondering how much more she might ask. She puts the picture back in its place. ‘Well, I’m sure he’s coping well without you – just like April has to do without me. All of us are stronger than we think we are, Friday – I can tell you that.’ She hesitates, then adds, ‘It’s important that we make the best of the cards life deals us. That way we become stronger.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

She smiles at me. ‘I’ve been watching you work and I have to say I’m very pleased with the way you apply yourself.’

‘Thank you, ma’am. I try to do my best.’

‘You’re not like the others. You have a quality about you, Friday, a certain something that marks you out. I’d say you have the makings of an excellent foreman if you were to work hard.’

‘Thank you, ma’am.’

‘Would you like that?’

‘Yes, ma’am. I suppose so. Thank you, ma’am.’

She takes my glass and places it back beside the jug. ‘You need to run along now, but I’m glad we’ve made time to have a chat, Friday. I really should have done it before, though with the war on I find there’s so much to be done and so little time to do it all.’

I leave the room feeling all stirred up, like a glass of muddy water. Something has happened between us but I don’t know what it was, and when I reach the yard Hubbard is still there, waiting for me to come outside, and he watches me walk away towards the fields.

That evening Mrs Allen comes down to the cabins before prayers. She knocks on Lizzie’s door, but opens it herself before we have the chance to answer. Leaning inside the cabin, she sees me. ‘May I speak with you, Friday?’ she asks, and when I get to the door I see Hubbard standing at her back, looking all uneasy.

‘I’ve decided to move you,’ Mrs Allen tells me. ‘You need to collect your things and go across to stay with Hubbard.’

A shudder passes through my chest and runs down to my feet. I don’t think there’s a piece of me that don’t feel a fright. ‘How do you m-mean?’ I even stammer a bit, and that’s not like me.

‘You need to come along with me,’ Hubbard says gruffly. ‘You’ll have to bring your mattress with you as I only have the one.’

Lizzie must’ve heard what was being said cos she appears at my back. I can feel her come right up behind me and I want to lean back into her, I want to sink right back into her chest as she puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘Oh no, missus, there’s no need for that.’ She takes hold of the door and opens it out wide so we all got a good view of one another. ‘I’ve got plenty of room for him here, and he’s friends for Gil. He looks after him. Now that Milly’s gone and Sicely’s sleeping up at the house, it’s good for me to have him here to help.’

‘That’s kind of you, Lizzie, but the change will be good for Friday.’

Lizzie steps past me and stands just outside the door. ‘But the boy should be with the other kids, ma’am. He don’t wanna be cooped up with a grown man on his own. It won’t be good for either of ’em.’ She turns on Hubbard. ‘You don’t want to be looking after a boy of his age. You don’t
know what they’re like, of course, but I’m telling you. They’re messy. They can’t cook and they don’t clean up. My Sicely don’t have a good word to say for him, but I don’t mind him, see, and I’m used to having a full house. It keeps me from thinking too much.’

Hubbard has got nothing to say on the matter – he simply stands waiting, his head slightly bowed – but Mrs Allen is resolute as always. ‘I’m not prepared to argue with you, Lizzie. This boy’s never known a father and he’s at an age where he needs a strong male figure in his life. I reckon Hubbard fits the bill about right and he’s willing to take him on and show him how to behave.’ Lizzie shakes her head but so does Mrs Allen. ‘He’s past the age of mothering, Lizzie. I realized that when we spoke this afternoon.’

‘But, ma’am—’

‘That’s enough, Lizzie. It’s not as if he’s going far, so be done with it.’

‘You better fetch your mattress,’ Hubbard says again. ‘I’ll clear a space for you.’

Lizzie comes back inside and watches me take the mattress from the wall as Hubbard and Mrs Allen walk over to his cabin.

‘What about our lessons?’ I whisper as I walk out past her.

‘I don’t know,’ she mutters, and shakes her head as though nothing good can come of this. She follows me outside and watches as I walk across the strip of mud that divides our cabins. Hubbard has left his door open and I take my mattress inside.

He closes it behind me and when I turn round he’s standing there, blocking the way out. In the shadow I can hardly make his face out. I nod at the mattress. ‘Where’d I put this, sir?’

Hubbard steps across to me. He reaches out, takes the mattress from me and places it on the floor in the opposite corner to his own. At least I’ll be a distance from him when I go to sleep.

‘I’ll cut you some new fir to stuff it with,’ he tells me. ‘It’ll make it more comfortable.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Don’t call me sir,’ he snaps back, making me jump half out of my skin. But when I look again I can see he looks as nervous about me as I am of him and that’s strange. He seems somehow … ashamed? Can that be right? He softens his voice. ‘I ain’t the master here, am I?’

‘No, sir. I mean – no, Mr Hubbard, you ain’t the master.’

Hubbard walks to the small hearth, takes a pot that’s hanging there and fills it with pone. ‘Have you eaten?’

I take a deep breath. ‘Lizzie cooked me something already.’ I think of the half-finished bowl of food still sitting on her table and know it won’t do to work in the field tomorrow without having had a decent meal.

Hubbard nods at the only other chair. ‘You don’t have to stand. You can sit down.’

He unwraps a side of bacon, takes a knife and cuts enough for himself, rendering the lard and saving it for shortening the biscuit, the same way Lizzie always did. I know how to do it, but he doesn’t ask me to help. I thought he would have wanted me to work for him, but he don’t seem to. He just carries on as though I’m not even here and he don’t talk to me at all.

This is the first time I have been inside Hubbard’s cabin. It’s larger than the others – I reckon about three feet longer – and it has two windows, one either side, so there’s a bit more light than in Lizzie’s.

Everything is neat and tidy. He has a set of shelves up on the wall above the hearth and he stores his cutlery and plates in wooden boxes. A spare set of clothes hangs from a nail on the wall. He also has a few possessions of his own, the sort of thing Lizzie couldn’t afford, such as a proper brass oil lamp, the same type that the missus uses to guide her on the path when she comes to the cabins in the evening.

That night, when Mrs Allen reads to us from the Good Book, I say a little prayer of my own, asking God to keep me safe, and once we finish I follow Hubbard back to his cabin and retire straight to bed where I pray again, making a show of it by kneeling at the side of my mattress so Hubbard can see I’m doing it properly, though I don’t know if he cares. I whisper the words under my breath, asking God to take as good care of me as he has with Joshua, cos the truth of it is I feel like Daniel in the den of lions.