Read Online My Name's Not Friday by Jon Walter - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jon Walter
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too hard, and that big wooden fan begins to swing in its metal frame above the table.
Mr Chepstow has a finger to his preacher’s collar as he leans closer to Mrs Allen. They’re still talking ’bout the war as Master Gerald helps himself to ham. He takes a slice of the cucumber and a piece of the bread. Across from him, the preacher half turns in his chair and flicks a finger at Sicely. ‘Would you find me some mustard?’
Sicely goes to fetch it, leaving me alone by the wall, still pulling on that rope to make a breeze.
Mr Chepstow continues where he left off. ‘You are so right, Mrs Allen, so right indeed. And that is why a regular prayer meeting is the only thing to do. These Negroes must know whom God favours in this war, and to that end I have made it my mission to go to the plantations hereabout and preach the good word to ’em all. I would like to come here too if you would be so kind as to allow it.’
I watch as Gerald cuts a square of the juicy ham and sneaks it from his fork to his fingers, holding it under the table so only I can see it. I don’t know why he’s doing that. He looks again at Mrs Allen and the preacher, making sure they haven’t noticed, before tossing the ham onto the floor at my feet.
I try to ignore it but I can’t. I keep pulling that rope, behaving as though there’s nothing there, but there is; that ham’s right there at my toes, all glistening and pink.
I start to sweat. I begin to pull the rope a little faster and when Mrs Allen claps her hands in excitement, I nearly jump out of my skin. ‘Oh yes! Then we shall do it,’ she says loudly. ‘Of course we shall! A meeting to be held here on the second Sunday of each month, to hear the word of God spoken clearly in these troubled times. We shall all attend, Mr Chepstow. We shall pray for deliverance through hard work and for the victory that our men deserve!’
She’s got her back to me, same as Gerald has, but that preacher has a view straight across the table to my feet, and if he weren’t so concentrated on Mrs Allen’s speech he’d be sure to notice that piece of ham right in front of me, so I kneel quickly, pick the ham up off the floor and pop it in my mouth. I daren’t swallow it though and the ham seems to expand in size, getting trapped between the back of my tongue and the roof of my mouth.
Sicely comes back into the room. She takes the mustard to the preacher, puts it down in front of him and comes to stand beside me while we wait for them to finish their lunch. They’re still planning and talking about the state of the world as I chew slowly, but I manage to swallow without being seen, and when they stand to leave the room, Gerald looks to see if the meat is still on the floor and he smiles when he sees it gone.
Once the sliding doors shut, Sicely tugs at my earlobe. ‘Don’t just stand there. Help me get these plates downstairs. And don’t go pinching any of that ham either, cos I know how much there is of it left.’
She gives me a look like I’m the Devil himself.
Now I don’t know much about girls – I haven’t had the opportunity of finding out. But I sure hope they ain’t all like Sicely.
Chapter 6
Once the meal is over and the preacher has left, I’m stood outside the cookhouse looking like a little lost boy. Mrs Allen thinks for a moment, putting a hand to her forehead. ‘Have him go in with Lizzie, will you, Winnie? It’ll help make up for her loss. And have Nancy put the kettle on too. I’ll take tea upstairs. If Harriet is in the kitchen, have her bring Virginia to me in the nursery. Would you do that?’
‘I’ll deal with the boy first,’ says Winnie, and she leads me out across the yard. She’s got one of those walks where she don’t hardly seem to move her legs and yet she scoots along pretty quick for an ol’ girl. I can tell she knows what’s what around here and I got a whole lot of questions as I chase after her skirts. ‘Where we going, Winnie? And who’s
Mr Chepstow has a finger to his preacher’s collar as he leans closer to Mrs Allen. They’re still talking ’bout the war as Master Gerald helps himself to ham. He takes a slice of the cucumber and a piece of the bread. Across from him, the preacher half turns in his chair and flicks a finger at Sicely. ‘Would you find me some mustard?’
Sicely goes to fetch it, leaving me alone by the wall, still pulling on that rope to make a breeze.
Mr Chepstow continues where he left off. ‘You are so right, Mrs Allen, so right indeed. And that is why a regular prayer meeting is the only thing to do. These Negroes must know whom God favours in this war, and to that end I have made it my mission to go to the plantations hereabout and preach the good word to ’em all. I would like to come here too if you would be so kind as to allow it.’
I watch as Gerald cuts a square of the juicy ham and sneaks it from his fork to his fingers, holding it under the table so only I can see it. I don’t know why he’s doing that. He looks again at Mrs Allen and the preacher, making sure they haven’t noticed, before tossing the ham onto the floor at my feet.
I try to ignore it but I can’t. I keep pulling that rope, behaving as though there’s nothing there, but there is; that ham’s right there at my toes, all glistening and pink.
I start to sweat. I begin to pull the rope a little faster and when Mrs Allen claps her hands in excitement, I nearly jump out of my skin. ‘Oh yes! Then we shall do it,’ she says loudly. ‘Of course we shall! A meeting to be held here on the second Sunday of each month, to hear the word of God spoken clearly in these troubled times. We shall all attend, Mr Chepstow. We shall pray for deliverance through hard work and for the victory that our men deserve!’
She’s got her back to me, same as Gerald has, but that preacher has a view straight across the table to my feet, and if he weren’t so concentrated on Mrs Allen’s speech he’d be sure to notice that piece of ham right in front of me, so I kneel quickly, pick the ham up off the floor and pop it in my mouth. I daren’t swallow it though and the ham seems to expand in size, getting trapped between the back of my tongue and the roof of my mouth.
Sicely comes back into the room. She takes the mustard to the preacher, puts it down in front of him and comes to stand beside me while we wait for them to finish their lunch. They’re still planning and talking about the state of the world as I chew slowly, but I manage to swallow without being seen, and when they stand to leave the room, Gerald looks to see if the meat is still on the floor and he smiles when he sees it gone.
Once the sliding doors shut, Sicely tugs at my earlobe. ‘Don’t just stand there. Help me get these plates downstairs. And don’t go pinching any of that ham either, cos I know how much there is of it left.’
She gives me a look like I’m the Devil himself.
Now I don’t know much about girls – I haven’t had the opportunity of finding out. But I sure hope they ain’t all like Sicely.
Chapter 6
Once the meal is over and the preacher has left, I’m stood outside the cookhouse looking like a little lost boy. Mrs Allen thinks for a moment, putting a hand to her forehead. ‘Have him go in with Lizzie, will you, Winnie? It’ll help make up for her loss. And have Nancy put the kettle on too. I’ll take tea upstairs. If Harriet is in the kitchen, have her bring Virginia to me in the nursery. Would you do that?’
‘I’ll deal with the boy first,’ says Winnie, and she leads me out across the yard. She’s got one of those walks where she don’t hardly seem to move her legs and yet she scoots along pretty quick for an ol’ girl. I can tell she knows what’s what around here and I got a whole lot of questions as I chase after her skirts. ‘Where we going, Winnie? And who’s
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