The Wet Nurse's Tale (13 page)

“Oh no,” said I. “I quite enjoyed myself. It was strange to me, it’s true, but it was different.”

Mr. Abrams laughed. “Some would call ‘strange’ and ‘different’ both to be bad things. I see that you do not.”

This confused me so I said nothing. But I did look up and smile and they smiled back.

“Mrs. Rose,” said Miss Abrams, “must you return to . . . well, where is it that you go to?”

“I’m a nurse for a family in Compton,” said I, “but I’m having my half-day.”

“Well then,” said she, “come with us to have some supper. Our mother will have cooked a lovely Sabbath supper and she always prefers to feed more than just us. Do come.”

“We will not bite, if that’s your fear,” said Mr. Abrams. “Neither will you eat anything you’d rather not.” He smiled when he said it, and I knew he referred to the fairy tales we hear where the Jews are can nibals, like.

His sister laughed and pushed him a bit, so that he stumbled. “You’re an imp, Harry Abrams. Whatever will Mrs. Rose think?”

“Please,” said I, “call me Susan, do.”

“So you’ll come?” said Mr. Abrams. “Good.”

Their rooms, which were behind Mr. Abrams’s dentist’s parlor, were clean and proper though not so much as to size. Their mother welcomed me very nice and we sat to a dinner of beef and potatoes with white bread in a braid. We drank a glass of wine and after dinner, there was stewed apples. It was very pleasant and I told her so. I learned that Miss Abrams did fancy sewing, and that her work and her brother’s kept the family since their father, who had been a spice seller, had died with an abscess not two years before.

They asked questions of me and I answered as I could. I told them the story of Ellen at the Great House and part of how I had become a nurse. I left out the part that Freddie played in the story and let them think that I’d had a husband and lost him. I felt my nose swell like I would cry when I told them about my Joey.

“Look, my weeds are in this parcel,” I said, pointing. “It’s just today I’ve bought this frock at the old clothes seller near your temple.”

“Just today,” said Henrietta in a pitying way.

“I lost two,” said her mother, and we sat quietly for a moment til Harry told us a joke to shake us from our sighs.

Supper had been lovely but it soon came time for me to go along home. When I said so, Harry said he’d walk me which I accepted his favor, though it wasn’t at all far. It was dark though, so I was glad for the company. We chatted a bit but were mostly silent as we walked the short mile.

“Thank you for walking me,” I said. “And thank your mother again for me, because I had such a nice time. It’s not usual for me to sup away.”

“Well then, you shall come again,” said Harry. “Next time you have a half-day.” And he shook my hand and I went inside to the twins, who were more than very glad to see me.

I wondered if I would have been invited to dinner if my hosts knew that indeed, not a drop of heathen blood flowed in me. I thought not. And so I was glad for my lie, for I had a very nice time that evening.

Soon enough Mrs. Chandler returned to her husband and babies and for two days she was glad to be there. Quicker than ice melts, though, she turned snappish and it was all the maids could do to please her. I kept myself out of her way and hardly left the nursery if she was at home. The babies were growing up lovely and strong and they were beginning to eat a little oatmeal from a spoon now. I thought to when they should no longer need me and what I should do. Twas a complication: I did not want to put the idea in Mrs. Chandler’s head as to when I wasn’t needed no more, but neither did I want a surprise about it one day. If I could’ve asked her, please, ma’am, might you know how long I should expect this employment, just like that, straight out without being scared that it would give her the idea, I would have rested easier. I knew her well enough, though, to know that I couldn’t ask lest she stamp her foot and say, “Well, just go now, if you need to know so much.”

When it came time for my next half-day, Cook begged me to stay and help her rather than take my time off. Mrs. Chandler had invited twelve for a fine dinner party for that very night and Cook was up to her ears in eels and asparagus.

“I’ll cover for you some other day, Susan dear, if only you’ll stay and help us this afternoon,” she begged. “Twelve’s so many, and if you bring the babies down to the kitchen while she’s out, you can surely lend your hands, can you not?”

I agreed to help her though it meant I’d miss the Hebrew Sabbath. I’d been gleeful thinking of it since the last time; how I’d sit in the strange temple again, how I’d perhaps take dinner with the Abramses again; how, to tell it truthfully and since, Reader, you’ve guessed it anyway, I’d see Mr. Harry Abrams again. When I did walk down to their district the next time I had some chance, I did not see anyone I knew and I felt too shy to call at his door.

RACHEL CHANCER’S REASON

I cannot read nor write but have never been the less for it. If ever I had got a letter, which I never did, I might have gone to the Reverend Battle with it for he can read, and write too. But it were never necessary.

I married when I was but sixteen, and it’s just as well to do it young, for most girls do it sooner or later, and there’s no need in waiting if you’re ready. My Dick and I were set to make a home together for we’d been courting since I was fourteen and he but a year older. My sister had already married her man and had a happy life and I was set to have my own home just as she had hers.

Dick farms his bit of land with straw for the hats they wear down in London. I can weave a hat as pretty as you would like. The weaving brings in good money, but the straw brings in better, so as the children came, we would all work the fields with Dick, and I would weave at night or during the cold months or when the weather was too poor to be outside or when I was too big. That last was often for I had my share of brats and several of them lived.

I suckled all of them that would suck and that was six. I birthed ten in all, but four of them died as they was born, two with the cord wrapped around, one from breech, and one lived for a day but could not learn to swallow. Every one that died I cried more than with the last. Losing a baby is not a thing that you could ever get used to, I don’t believe.

My youngest child who lived—twas Ann—was born in June just as the straw was a’coming in. The crop was very big, as Dick had applied with the manor house to plant a extra parcel of land and had been granted it. Twas a fine crop, for the spring had been wet and then dry, just as the straw likes it. Our family had worked very hard in the fields all the spring and was hoping for enough to buy a horse with the money that the extra crop would bring. If we had a third horse, we could keep Peg and Nag as plough-horses, and use the third as a dray which would set Bill, my oldest, up just fine.

When Dick asked me nicely if I would be able to bring in the crop I kissed him and said yes I would. I walked over to my sister’s house—her name is Rebecca Rose—and gave Ann right into her arms and asked her to keep her for a week. Rebecca had a babe-in-arms and was not nursing anyone else’s babe at the time, which I knew, for we are devoted sisters and take a meal together twice a month if we can. She said, “Well, I’ll do it but I’ll take a bonnet for my trouble.”

By all of us working from the dawn til the dusk, we was able to bring in the crop in just a week. Dick and Bill went and bought the horse and it was a good horse, but it died by being struck by lightning, which was a freak accident and no one could have expected it. Bill is a hard worker though and has since bought another. Ann grew up very lovely, and I kept her away from the manor house, for I had a niece that came to a bad end there and it broke her mother’s heart.

Six

E
very now and again on a Sunday morning, when the Chandlers were gone to church, I would bring the babies to the kitchen so as to take a cup and a chat with the servants downstairs. This day, being a fine spring one, we were enjoying a lovely gossip when there came a knock at the back door.

“I’ll get it then,” said Barbara. She came back from the vestibule with a odd look on her face. “It is a man for you, Susan,” said she.

I could not fathom who in the world it could be and I felt afraid, for always did I fear bad tidings about my mother who, now that Joey was gone, was the person I loved best in the wide world.

I quick gave the baby I was a’holding to the cook, and went up the stairs and looked out. Was I not surprised! For there was Mr. Abrams. He stood very proper on the back stoop and smiled when I looked at him.

“Why,” said I, “Mr. Abrams! What is it you do here?”

“Hello,” said he, and then he opened his mouth to say more but no more came out.

“Are you quite well?” I asked him, for I noticed that he pulled at his collar with his forefinger.

“Yes, yes,” he said, and then he laughed, which seemed to make him more easy in himself. “I have come to return something to you, which I think you dropped when you supped with us. I had hoped to see you on our streets, but as I did not, I thought to come and return it myself.”

“I cannot think of what I dropped,” said I, “for I take care of my things.” After all, those of us as has few things to begin with must take care, lest we have fewer.

He held it up and, Reader! It was nothing more than the thumb’s length of ribbon I had filched from the old-clothes seller in the Hebrew district. And though I had not much experience with a man’s feelings, neither was I stupid, and I knew that a person did not walk a minute, much less a mile, to return something so small, without that that person wanted something else.

I thought that what Mr. Abrams might want was somewhat like Freddie had wanted. Freddie had wanted a bit of company but took what I gave him in its stead. Not that he snubbed what I gave him, no indeed. But as I have told you before, if I could have talked to him about books and such, well, he might have forgone the other.

I did not think that about Mr. Abrams. I thought that what Mr. Abrams wanted was . . . well . . . everything. He wanted to talk to a woman about his day and hers. Plus he wanted a lass to drink a glass of gin with and if that drink should lead to a squeeze and that squeeze to a kiss and that kiss to somewhat else, well then, that would be fine with Mr. Abrams. He did not tell me any of this, of course. This is just what I guessed from that bit of ribbon in the palm of his hand.

And, Reader, I felt the same. I liked him very much, and if I could have told him so, I would have. But of course I could not, for it would appear very forward in his eyes, and I wished to seem like a good girl, for in my way, I was. So I made my face look innocent and I said, “Ah, I wondered where that had got to. Thank you very much for your effort in returning it to me.”

He smiled a nice smile and I smiled at him. We stood for just a moment and then I said, “I hope your mother and sister are well?”

“Very well,” he said.

I wished I could invite him inside but of course, him being a Jew, I could not. So I said nothing and he was about to say his good-bye, I believe, when there came the sound of a baby’s wail, very loud.