Wednesdays were Hester’s days off. Funny that. She still had to cook
breakfast and straighten the house. But if she hurried, the madam would let her
go before lunch. Hester was counting on it today. She didn’t want to be late
for her meeting.
The night before Hester had left the
kitchen spotless. This morning the sink held two smudged whisky tumblers, an
oily pot encrusted with burnt popcorn (takes forever to scrub), a greasy bowl
and two mugs with dregs of milky coffee.
The madam and the master must have
had one of their good evenings together. Shared popcorn, whisky and coffee.
Alcohol to make her more agreeable and coffee to make him stay up. Hester
sniggered. The master got a bargain last night. When he entertained his
mistress at home the time his wife and kids went to the seaside, he served
lobster with sparkling wine.
“Good morning, Hester. The children
will have soft-boiled eggs with toast for breakfast.”
“Yes, missus. What will the master
have?”
The madam moved her mouth into a
tight smile that faded before it began. “Probably nothing, Hester. He’s running
late this morning. I’ll just pour the coffee.”
Perhaps if the master took as much
trouble with his wife as he had with his mistress, the smile would’ve been
genuine.
Heavy footsteps on the stairs didn’t bode well. The master stomped in
like a buffalo with tight testicles. A chuckle bubbled in Hester’s throat. Good
for the madam not to have been seduced with a bowl of popcorn.
“I’m late,” the master’s growl was all buffalo too, “and the coffee’s
bloody hot.”
“Sorry. Let me put some more milk in it.”
He took another sip. Scowled. “That makes it too weak.”
The madam handed him a paper bag. “I’m very sorry, Gordon,” she
repeated. “Here is some dry sausage and fruit for your breakfast. Would you
like to take a lunch sandwich as well? It’s ready.”
“No, I’ll get something at work.”
Hester was sure he would. Not once and not twice did she launder traces
of lipstick off the master’s business shirts.
***
“I’m late,” Gordon said, “and the coffee’s bloody hot.”
Annette felt her stomach cringe. It was all her fault. She should have
got up earlier. “Sorry. Let me put some more milk in it.”
“That makes it too weak.”
Annette still hoped to make amends as she handed him a paper bag. “I’m
very sorry, Gordon. Here is some dry sausage and fruit for your breakfast.
Would you like to take a lunch sandwich as well? It’s ready.”
He didn’t want it. Perhaps he realised she hadn’t made his lunch with as
much love and devotion as a wife should. When they were newlyweds fourteen
years ago, she would hide little “I love you” notes in his sandwiches, but
Gordon complained he kept biting into the pink paper, so she stopped.
When they were newlyweds fourteen
years ago, Gordon had this contagious laugh that started in his belly and burst
out like gunshot from his mouth. What had happened to that laugh? Had she
killed it?
“Bye, doll.” Gordon called out.
For old times’ sake, Annette wanted
to say, “Bye, honey.”
She couldn’t.
***
“Bye, doll.”
Doll. Well, the madam
did look like a porcelain doll, and she certainly acted like one, too, whenever
the master was around.
With the puppeteer gone, the doll regained control of her own strings.
“Hester, I’m going grocery shopping later on. What do we need?”
Hester recited a long list of foodstuffs and cleaning products, and the
madam wrote it all down. The whites couldn’t remember things, which explained
why they had to be so good at reading and writing.
The clock hurried on without mercy. Hester changed the baby’s nappy,
straightened the beds, picked up the dirty clothes, washed up after breakfast,
changed another nappy. Beth was getting hungry. Hester was getting restless.
“Shall I make up the bottle, Missus?”
“No, I’ll feed Beth myself. You may
go now. Please take the sandwich from the fridge, if you like.”
“Thank you, Madam.” The sandwich was
bound to contain something more interesting than Hester’s usual apricot jam
with a slice of pink Polony sausage.
Free at last. The madam would make
her own lunch and gobble it all up, away from the master’s controlling gaze.
For dinner, the family would go out to a restaurant in order to relieve the
white woman’s workload. After all, the madam was bound to be tired from
lying by the swimming pool all day, painting her nails and pretending not to
gawk at the gardener’s muscles covered with forbidden black skin.
Hester glanced at the clock. Just
enough time to catch a taxi van to the illegal meeting.
***
Annette glanced at the clock. Just
enough time to drive into the city for her meeting.
***
