CHAPTER FOUR

Abigale waited at least ten minutes after she heard the front door close. Rising, she placed her right hand under the bed and pulled out the white porcelain pail that was used for night soil during the night for her small family. Wriggling her nose at the stench of stale urine, she quickly proceeded to the outhouse and disposed of it. She always made it her duty to take care of this part, no matter how unpleasant the task. She knew that Sean would not mind doing it if he had to, but she saw this as part of a woman’s duties.

After dumping the waste, she walked to the closest drum, behind the house, poured some water and soap in the pail, and left it to soak. She tarried outside, lifting her face towards the clear blue sky, and took a deep breath of the clean, fresh, country air.

Splashing some cold water on her face, she lifted some to her mouth and gargled. After spitting out the water, she went back to the drum to get some fresh water to prepare breakfast. She stood rooted to the spot staring at her reflection in the water. She was looking at a stranger. Boy, the years had not favored her well, she thought.

She had never been beautiful, but she had some compelling features; which sometimes had passers-by stop to give her a second look. Her once thick, coarse black hair was now thin with a few strands of silver, barely taking a one plait. Her skin was dry, and rough, no doubt from too many days spent in the sun. Her once oval face now was a bit gaunt and a pair of large grey eyes looked up searchingly at her. The only thing going for her was her stature and her hands. She had lovely hands. She has always been slender in shape with just enough womanly curves. Even after bearing two children, she was able to maintain her size.

Pulling herself together, she slowly made her way back into the hut and promised herself to avoid using this particular drum on a morning. There were two extra ones in the shade away from the sunlight. There was simply no need for her to see herself.

When she entered the kitchen, a few minutes later, the smell of burnt bread assaulted her nostrils. Her daughter, Suzie, was bent over the coal-pot trying to make breakfast, whilst Suzie’s six-year-old brother, Josh, sat spread-eagled on the kitchen floor with his thumb in his mouth, watching his sister’s every move. In his left hand, was his pillow, clutched as if it were a lifeline. Josh never left his bed on a morning without it. As soon as Josh saw Abigale, he wobbled up to her; she picked him up and placed loud kisses on both of his cheeks. Josh was small for his age. Barely over two feet tall and weighing forty pounds, he was the baby of the family.

He had short dark hair; brown skin, and had he had inherited his father’s honeydew eyes. Carrying him on her hips, Abigail walked to the coal pot, noting the misshapen slices of bread that Suzie had placed to toast. She walked to the living room, returned Josh to his seat on the floor, and went back to assist Suzie.

‘Morning, Ma. Has Papa left for the fields?’ Suzie asked.

Placing her hand on Suzie’s shoulder, she whispered “Yes he has. He left very early whilst you guys were sleeping.”

‘I hungry Mama,’ Josh’s small voice floated over to her, ‘I want porridge.’

‘What is the password, Josh? Abigale berated him. ‘I want some porridge please, Mama,’ he corrected himself.

‘There will be no cereal this morning, baby. Your sister has prepared some toast we will have it with jam.’

 Suzie looked apologetically at her, ‘Sorry Ma. I burnt the bread.’

Patting her shoulder, Abigale responded, ‘Do not worry about it; burnt bread has never hurt anybody. I have eaten many burnt pieces in my lifetime. A few more will not harm me.’

 Abigale saved the last remaining four pieces from the fire, placed them on the large platter, and generously smeared each piece with jam.

Josh came towards them when he saw the jam and picked up the spoon, which had a glob still stuck to it. He started licking the spoon; Abigale looked up at her son and smiled. ‘Breakfast is almost ready Josh.’

‘Yummy!’ He mouthed, swallowing and licking jam from the utensil. In less than five minutes, the Montgomery family were sitting and eating breakfast.

***

After breakfast, Suzie washed the dishes and neatly placed them on the worn cupboard and covered them with a towel. Suzie looked around their small home and smiled. She had to give Ma credit. She was quite resourceful; she did all her sewing. She had managed to complete and hang up the living and kitchen room curtains she had been working on for the past week. The material was light yellow, with white and navy blue pots or flowers in some sort of pattern. It was lovely. The bright colors certainly brought the room to life, totally transforming the décor.

Their home was always squeaky clean because her mother was a clean freak. Every dish was to be washed and stored away, no matter how late one ate. The floor had to be washed or mopped every day after cooking lunch. Leaving dirty dishes was like committing a sin to Ma. She always told Suzie that one could discern so much of someone’s character based on the way that individual kept his house. Suzie did not mind all the cleaning and washing, but it sometimes made people uncomfortable when they visited them. It was not Ma’s fault, Pa mentioned once; it was the way she was brought up. Who could fault her for that? After all cleanliness was a virtue, or so she had heard.