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Authors: Fleur Beale

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BOOK: Being Magdalene
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RACHEL HAD NEWS FOR
us. ‘My family, the midwife says I need to go into hospital to wait for my baby. She wants me to go in a week from tomorrow.’

Mother’s face went white. ‘Rachel! It is too soon! That will still be a whole week before the child should arrive.’

Saul took my sister’s hand. ‘It is to keep her and the baby safe, Mother Naomi. The specialist has explained everything to us. It is necessary and right.’

‘But …’ Mother glanced at Zillah and me, and snapped her mouth shut in a tight line.

‘We have prayed about it, Mother,’ Rachel said. ‘We believe the hand of the Lord has guided our decision.’

Zillah said, ‘Will you take Hope to the hospital with you, Rachel?’

The adults seemed relieved to turn their minds to an easier topic, but it was Saul who answered her, not our sister. ‘No, but I will take her to visit each day. My mother will care for her.’

Mother stared at Rachel, tears in her eyes. It should
have been her — but I knew why our sister had chosen Saul’s mother instead.

Father said, ‘It is wise. It is good of you both to spare your mother at this time, Rachel.’

Mother said no more. She didn’t say another word, not even in the car on the way home.

That night, in our bedroom, Zillah said, ‘We’d have been the ones looking after Hope. Rachel should have let us. We couldn’t go to school if we had to look after her.’

In the morning, Zillah got ready for school without saying a word. I found myself wishing she’d still fight against it. I didn’t want the life squashed out of her but I could see it happening day by day.

Mother was in the kitchen. ‘You are well again, Mother?’ I asked.

‘Praise the Lord,’ she said. ‘Magdalene, you must stay home this morning.’

I waited for her to say more, but when she didn’t I said, ‘All right, Mother. Please tell me why?’

She sniffed. ‘Your common sense should tell you. You picked all those tomatoes and just left them. Today you will make relish and think about the sin of waste.’

Before I could stop myself, I shouted at her. ‘And you should think about the sin of sloth!’

‘Magdalene, apologise to your Mother,’ Father said. ‘When you have finished what she has asked you to do, you will go to the discipline room.’

I jumped up, throwing my serviette on to my plate so that I wouldn’t throw it at Mother. ‘Not being grateful is a sin too. So is being mean and unfair and
that’s what you are, Mother. You’re not fair!’

I fled to the bedroom. Why had I said those terrible things? I should have kept my mouth shut — I’d had enough practice at choking back what I wanted to say.

I sat huddled on the bed, my head on my knees. I was so cold.

Somebody put a blanket around me. ‘You won’t be made dead, will you, Magdalene? Promise you won’t die.’

I lifted my head and tried to smile at my little sister. ‘Father might kill me. Then I’ll really be dead.’

She put her arms around me. ‘He won’t. I won’t let him.’ Then she said, ‘Mother might though.’

It made me laugh and I felt better. ‘Thanks. That’s a great comfort.’

Father appeared in the doorway. ‘Zillah, it is time for you to leave for school. Magdalene, to the kitchen. At once.’ He didn’t wait to make sure we obeyed. He knew we would.

I got off the bed. ‘Zillah, be careful today. Remember what Luke said about Elder Stephen?’

‘I
hate
Elder Stephen.’ She didn’t promise to be careful and I knew better than to insist. Besides, I was too tired.

But there was no escape for either of us. I went with Zillah to the kitchen. ‘I apologise for my unkind words, Mother.’

I hoped she’d apologise too, or that she’d thank us both or just say something kind. She didn’t even look at me — simply pointed at the basket of tomatoes.

Father drove away in the car. He could have given
Zillah a ride to the bus, but he probably didn’t even think about it. I said, ‘Mother, I will accompany my sister to the bus stop. She should not walk by herself.’

Still my mother didn’t speak to me. She turned to Zillah. ‘You are eight years old. That is quite old enough to walk by yourself.’

I kissed my sister goodbye, watching her till she disappeared around the corner.

I made the relish. It took all morning and my mother didn’t speak a single word to me. My life weighed heavy on me. I wanted to sleep for a week. I wanted Mother to bring me tasty morsels. I wanted her to tell me I was a good girl. I wanted her to love me.

When she left the kitchen I made a sandwich and ate it. I cut a slice of ginger cake and ate that too. I made a hot chocolate with three teaspoons of chocolate powder and drank it before she saw it.

There would only be dry bread and water in the discipline room.

Mother came back to the kitchen just before midday. She still didn’t speak to me and she seemed to be preparing a picnic — sandwiches, boiled eggs, ginger cake and nectarines.

Father came home. ‘Are you ready, wife?’

For answer she tied on her headscarf and picked up the basket.

‘Father, please, where are you going?’

‘We are going to visit your sister.’ At least he wasn’t bearing a grudge.

Rachel. Of course. She would be in the hospital
by now. I longed to see her, but it was useless to ask. Anyway, there was Zillah to think about.

He said, ‘I have left the psalm for you to learn, Magdalene. Stay in the discipline room until I call you for prayers tonight.’

‘Yes, Father.’
No, Father
.

They left me alone in the house, with a psalm. I checked the time. 12.45. Where was Zillah? She should be home.

I watched the clock tick away five more minutes — still no sign of her. I ran from the house, leaving behind the shining jars of relish and the psalm.

Sharon’s house was closest. I went there. The bus could be late. Sharon mightn’t be home either. I knocked on the door, calling, ‘Praise the Lord,’ as I walked inside. The family were at lunch.

‘Sister Magdalene!’ Brother Elias said. ‘Is something wrong?’

Yes, something must be wrong, because Sharon was sitting at the table looking good and godly. ‘Sharon, do you know where Zillah is? Did she get off the bus with you?’

The kid’s eyes nearly fell from her face. ‘She did not come to school, Sister Magdalene. I thought she was ill.’

Dear Lord, where is she?
I ran from the room with Sharon’s mother calling after me, ‘Your headscarf, Sister Magdalene! Wait, I will lend you one.’

My headscarf? That was all she could worry about when my sister was missing? I ran before she could tie me up with it.

Where would Zillah go? She wouldn’t run away without telling me.
Think, Magdalene
. All at once, I knew where she’d be — at a school, a proper school. I began running again. There was one in the next block over from where we waited for the bus in the mornings.
Please, Lord — let her be there. Let her be safe
.

The playground was empty when I got there. I followed the signs to the office. A woman behind a counter looked up, her face breaking into a smile when she saw me. ‘You’ve come for the little Faith girl?’

I leaned against the counter, relief making me weak. ‘She’s here? She’s safe?’

‘My dear child! You’ve gone quite pale. Yes, she’s perfectly safe and well. We’ve been trying to … but Mrs Solomon will tell you. She’s our principal.’ She pointed to a door across the foyer. ‘That’s her office. She’ll be relieved to see you.’

Why did I have to talk? I just wanted to grab Zillah and take her home before Mother returned. But I was used to doing what I was told. I knocked on Mrs Solomon’s door.

The woman had a kind face. She stood up and came to greet me, her hands out to take mine. ‘You are the sister of our mystery pupil? Welcome. Please, sit down.’

‘Thank you, but I really need to take her home.’ She didn’t understand.

She settled herself in one of the armchairs and gestured at the other. ‘Sit, my dear.’

I obeyed. ‘Please …’

‘Don’t worry — we’re not trying to keep her, although we’d love to. What a bright little thing she is!’ She frowned as if trying to think how to say something difficult.

‘Just tell me. Please!’

‘If you hadn’t come, we were thinking we’d need to tell somebody in authority about her. We’ve been trying all morning to ring the Faith school but none of the businesses we contacted would give us the number.’

They probably didn’t even know it. The only phone was the mobile kept in case of emergency.

The principal frowned. ‘I must say they weren’t at all helpful. We rang several, and every single one of them gave us the same message — no Faith child would endanger her soul at a worldly school.’ She looked disgusted.

I couldn’t understand. ‘But why didn’t you ring our father’s business?’

My question made her smile. ‘She won’t tell us her name. She just said she wants to learn things. She said to call her Sharon.
But that’s not my real name
.’

I gave a crack of laughter. ‘Sharon would never do something so wicked. She’d never break the Rule like Zillah has. Her name is Zillah Pilgrim and I’m Magdalene.’

Mrs Solomon looked at me for so long I had to drop my eyes. ‘She’ll be in trouble for this, Magdalene?’

‘Yes. Bad trouble.’

Her eyes flicked to the phone on her desk. ‘Will she be … physically harmed?’

I sighed. ‘No. She’ll be prayed for. We’ll have to kneel on the floor and Father will pray. She’ll have to stay in the discipline room for a day and she’ll have to learn a psalm. That’s all.’

But it wouldn’t be all. The Elders would hear about it. I couldn’t begin to imagine what Elder Stephen would do about such a flagrant piece of Rule-breaking — by yet another Pilgrim child. He would at last get his revenge on us.

The principal got to her feet. ‘Very well. Come with me.’

She led me to a classroom. It had the number 8 on the door and a sign saying
Welcome to Titoki
. The children were busy at tables making pictures with paints, crayons and coloured paper. Miriam would have adored it. But I couldn’t see Zillah.

The teacher came to meet us. ‘Over there,’ he said.

I looked to where he pointed. My sister was sitting cross-legged in a corner lined with bookshelves, a pile of books beside her and one open on her lap. She was completely unaware of everything else around her.

‘She’s been starved for books?’ the teacher asked.

What a strange way of putting it, but he was right. ‘Yes. We’re not allowed books except for the Bible.’

‘It seems a shame to take her away,’ he said.

Weight thumped down on my heart. ‘Yes. I wish …’ But wishing was useless. I left the two of them standing by the door and went to my sister. I didn’t say anything, just knelt down beside her.

She knew I was there, but she turned another page.
‘Look, Magdalene. This is a book about stars. It’s all about the universe.’

She turned the pages, scanning each one until she got to the last and closed the book. ‘I have to go home now, don’t I?’

I stood up, holding out my hand to help her to her feet. She gave me a brief, fierce hug. ‘I don’t care. I don’t care if I have to learn a hundred dumb psalms.’

I stroked my hand down her braid. She didn’t have her scarf on either. I didn’t tell her the trouble would be worse than psalms could ever be.

WE WALKED HOME HAND
in hand. Zillah chattered about the wonders of her day. ‘It was Finn’s birthday, Magdalene. Isn’t Finn a funny name? He had a birthday cake with eight candles on it and Mr Hetherington — he’s the teacher — he lit the candles. Then they all sang happy birthday to you and Finn blew them out, then we all had a piece of cake.’

‘I remember birthdays. They were fun.’ I’d been to a real school too, for half a year before we moved to Nelson.

‘But that wasn’t the best part.’ She turned her face up to mine, her eyes shining. ‘We played with little sticks and made squares out of them and Mr H — that’s what the kids call him — said it was maths. We had to work out how many we’d need and then we used real sticks to see if we were right.’

‘You got it right?’ Not that I doubted it.

She gave a skip. ‘Yes! And, Magdalene, did you know that earthquakes happen because —’ she paused, screwing up her face in an effort to remember —

tectonic plates
move! It’s not because the Lord is angry like with the flood and Noah.’ She gave another skip. ‘I’m going to believe Mr H because he’s nice and he’s got lots of books and they say that too. I read three books about earthquakes! All of them said earthquakes come because tectonic plates move around and none of them said it was the Lord.’

That was good to know. I made my face look horrified. ‘Gosh, Zillah! That must mean Elder Stephen’s a liar!’

She giggled and skipped and chanted, ‘A big fat liar!’ all the way home.

She fell silent when we came in sight of our house. ‘I’ll have to confess to Father, won’t I?’ she said.

I wanted to say no — nobody will know. But I knew they’d find out. One of the businessmen might already have asked Father about the phone call. Sharon’s father would ask him if we’d found Zillah. Her mother would say something to Mother at the Circle of Fellowship on Wednesday.

‘Yes. It’ll be best.’ I opened the gate, slamming it hard behind us.

We went into the house. Mother wasn’t back yet. I was supposed to go to the discipline room and learn the psalm Father had left for me, but I had no heart for it. Besides, I didn’t want to leave Zillah by herself. She wouldn’t run back to the school, I knew that, but it would be hard for her waiting alone for Father to come home.

‘I’ll make you something to eat,’ I said. ‘You can tell me more school stuff.’

So that’s what she did, her face all lit up and her words tumbling over themselves. She stopped only when I put a plate of food in front of her. I knew her mind was far from the house we were in — it was back with the wonders she’d learned in less than a day at a real school.

I wanted to throw things. I wanted to kick Elder Stephen. I wished he’d drop down deader than dead.

‘Magdalene.’ She pushed the empty plate away. ‘I’m going to write a letter to Father. He gets angry when I cry but I won’t cry if I tell him in a letter. I’ll tell him I went to a proper school and I’ll ask for his forgiveness, but I’m not going to ask the Lord for forgiveness because the nice Lord is pleased I went to that school.’

‘That’s a good idea. You’re a brave girl, Zillah.’ I decided not to warn her that Elder Stephen would punish her. She’d find out soon enough.

Father brought Mother home, took one look at me and said, ‘Magdalene, you are committing the sin of disobedience. Go at once to the discipline room.’

Before I could move, we heard a voice calling, ‘Praise the Lord,’ and in walked skinny, mean Elder Hosea who would be our leader when Elder Stephen was called to the Lord.

Lord, help us
.

Mother was all smiles. ‘Elder Hosea! Welcome. Please, sit down.’

Elder Hosea faced Father, ignoring our mother
completely. ‘Brother Caleb, I have received a report of serious transgressions by both your daughters.’

Father glanced at our bowed heads. ‘Magdalene and Zillah? I am surprised, Elder Hosea. What report is this?’

‘Sister Leah says neither of them went to school today.’ He spat the words, making us flinch. ‘That is bad enough, but Sister Judith saw this one —’ he jabbed a bony finger in my direction — ‘running —
running
— around the city
bare-headed
.’ He took a step towards us, leaning forward to hiss, ‘What have you got to say for yourself, missy?’

Mother was moaning, a high wailing moan. I couldn’t look at Father. Zillah’s hand clutched mine. Enough. I lifted my head. ‘With respect, Elder Hosea, I will speak to my father on this matter. The Rule says it is he who will decide if our transgression is a matter for the Elders.’

I will not faint. I will not leave my sister to face his wrath
.

Father’s voice rescued me. ‘My daughter is correct, Elder Hosea. I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention.’

But Elders are not easily turned from the path of vengeance. He cast a look of loathing at us both. ‘It is fortunate I have done so. Such wicked girls would not otherwise have told you.’

Zillah twitched my hand. Of course — the letter. I said, ‘Father, please go to your study. You will find the letter my sister wrote, confessing our sin.’

Elder Hosea didn’t look one scrap holy while he waited for Father to return. He looked furious.

Father came back, Zillah’s letter open in his hand. ‘My daughter is correct. She has confessed all. I understand too why her sister was running through the city.’

‘Let me see!’ Elder Hosea stretched out his clawing fingers.

Father folded the letter. ‘With respect, Elder Hosea, we will follow the guidance of the Rule in this matter. I will speak to my daughters. That will enable me to decide if I need to ask the Elders to help discipline them. Thank you for your concern.’ He went to the door, opened it and waited for Elder Hosea to take himself off.

The click of the shutting door jerked Mother out of her moaning. ‘Wicked, wicked girls! How can you bring such shame upon us?’

Father took her arm. ‘Be at peace, my wife. Rest on your bed. I will speak to our daughters.’ He led her from the room.

Zillah stared after him. ‘He saved us.’

‘Yes.’ I couldn’t quite believe it. ‘He might still tell the Elders, though.’ And they would banish her. I couldn’t think about that, not yet.

She sighed. ‘I know.’ She looked up at me. ‘Magdalene, are you sorry I went to that school today?’

‘No. I’m not. They should let you go every day, but they’ll never let any of us get a real education. That’s what I’m sorry about.’

Father came back. ‘Come to the study, daughters.’

The study meant prayers, it meant long hours on sore knees. We followed him in. ‘Sit down.’

We looked at each other. He never asked us to sit. We always had to kneel or, if we were lucky, to stand while he chastised us.

Zillah shuffled her chair closer to mine. We sat and waited.

Father’s hands lay clasped on the desk in front of him. For ages he just sat in silence with his gaze fixed on something above our heads. At last, he said, ‘Tell me about the school, Zillah.’

She jumped — this was so unexpected. I whispered, ‘Tell him. You can do it. Tell him everything.’

She started with the birthday celebration. ‘It was worldly, Father, but —’ the next words burst from her — ‘it was not sinful. Finn — it was his birthday — he was happy. All the children were happy. The teacher was too. Is it wrong to be happy? The Rule does not say so.’

Father said, ‘Continue.’

I knew she would tell him about earthquakes. She would tell him Elder Stephen was wrong to say they were caused by the Lord’s wrath. She did, but as she was speaking it occurred to me that Father must have studied at a worldly school when he was young. He must have learned the truth of such things. His face gave no hint of his thoughts.

Zillah ended her recital by saying, ‘I was reading a book about the universe when Magdalene came for me.’

My father turned his gaze on me. ‘You guessed where your sister would be?’

‘Yes. I hoped she would be there. I prayed she would be.’

He studied my face for so long I had to drop my eyes. I prayed he wouldn’t ask where I feared she might be. When I looked up again, he had his eyes closed. He was praying.

I prayed too.
Lord, help us. Please help us
.

When Father spoke, I thought perhaps the Lord had heard me. ‘My daughters, you have both grievously broken the Rule.’

‘We are sorry. Please, forgive us.’ Was it a sin to tell such a lie? We weren’t sorry, either of us. We were only sorry for causing trouble and for causing him pain.

‘I must think further on this matter. I will pray about it. Go to the discipline room, Magdalene. Zillah, you will go to your bedroom. You will both learn Psalm 36.’

She said, ‘Yes, Father,’ in that dead, defeated voice.

I couldn’t bear it. ‘With respect, Father, who will cook the dinner tonight?’ Mother wouldn’t be doing it — she’d probably stay in bed for another week.

He rubbed his temples with his fingers. ‘You do well to speak of such a matter, Magdalene. It reminds me how hard and how cheerfully you have both worked while your Mother has been unwell.’ He lowered his hands, closing his eyes to pray some more. ‘My daughters, there must be some penalty for today’s actions. You may learn Psalm 130 together. It is not a long one.’

‘Thank you, Father.’ We crept away, and didn’t speak until we’d reached the sanctuary of the kitchen.

‘Is that all?’ Zillah asked. ‘He didn’t even growl at me.’

I stood at the kitchen bench. ‘I think the Elders will make mischief. Old Hosea — he was pretty mad. We’ll have to watch out, I think.’

‘I think so too.’ She came to stand beside me. ‘The bench doesn’t need all that rubbing, Magdalene.’ She took the cloth out of my hand. ‘I don’t care what the Elders say; I’m glad Father helped us. He was really kind, Magdalene. He was like the nice Lord.’

‘Yes, I’m glad too, so we’d better not disappoint him. Grab a Bible — let’s see how long Psalm 130 is.’

All the time we were learning the eight verses of the psalm, another part of my mind was struggling to understand our father’s actions. Was he at last questioning the Rule and the Elders?

I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope
.

I tried not to think what would happen if he did come to believe the Elders were wrong, but my mind wouldn’t stop. We would have to leave the Faith. Luke would leave too, and Abraham and Talitha. Neriah’s father must have seen the truth about the Elders and the Rule. If Father followed Brother Jedidiah and took us out we would never see Rachel, Saul or Hope again. We would never see the new baby. We would never see any of them.

We’d be able to see Daniel and Miriam and Rebecca and Esther. We’d be able to talk to them, but not to Rachel.

What would Mother do? She would never leave her grandchildren. She’d never leave Rachel. I didn’t think Father would abandon Mother if she insisted
on staying, and, anyway, it was a sin to leave your wife. But it was a sin too for a woman to go against her husband’s wishes. What would happen? I envied Neriah. Her family was still whole but mine was fractured and I couldn’t see how it could ever be whole again.

‘Magdalene? We have to learn this. You have to concentrate.’

‘Sorry. Let’s say the lines loudly. That’s the way Esther used to learn them.’ Her shouting had let me understand that she hadn’t been cast out, that she hadn’t died.

Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord
.

Lord, hear my voice: let thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications
.

Was it true? Could the Lord really hear my prayer? If He could, I wanted the nice Lord to hear us, not Elder Stephen’s Lord.

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