Трейси Шевалье - Falling Angel

Our Jenny looks up at me, curious now. “How do you mean?”

“You know something about her,” I say. “About her and Mr. Jackson meeting in the cemetery. You could say something about that.”

Our Jenny pushes herself up so that she’s sitting. “That’s wicked. Besides, there’s no sin in talk. All they did was talk. Didn’t they?”

I shrug.

She wipes her hair back from her face where it’s stuck to her cheeks. “What would I say?”

“Tell her you’ll tell her husband about her and Mr. Jackson meeting if she don’t give you a good reference.”

“Ooo, that is wicked.” Our Jenny thinks for a minute. Then she gets a funny look on her face, like a thief who’s just spotted an open window in a rich man’s house. “Maybe I could even keep my job. She’ll have to keep me on if I’m not to tell her husband.”

I feel sick when she says that. I like our Jenny but she’s greedy. “I dunno,” I say. “Our pa always says never ask for too much. Ask for just what you need or you mightn’t get any at all.”

“Yeh, and look where your pa’s got to-a gravedigger all his life,” our Jenny says.

“Don’t see as being a gravedigger’s any worse’n being a maid.”

“Anyway, get out with you. If I’m to talk to her I’d best try to get my corset back on.”

From the look on her face I know there’s nothing I can say will stop her. So I go out and down the stairs. I get to the next landing and there are four closed doors there. I listen for a minute but don’t hear no one. I never been in a house like this. Our ma and me sisters share a back-to-back, two rooms for the five of ‘em. Five or six families could live in this house. I look at the doors. They’re all oak, with brass handles shining-our Jenny’s been at ’em with the polish. I choose one and open it.

I heard about rooms like this but ain’t ever seen one. There’s tiles everywhere, white tiles on the floor and up the sides of the walls to just over my head. One row of the tiles at the top has flowers on ‘em, like tulips, red and green. There’s a big white bathtub, and a white sink, with the silver pipes and taps all scrubbed shiny by our Jenny. There’s big white towels hanging on a rack, and I touch one. Where I’ve touched it I leave a black mark and I feel bad ’cause it’s so clean in here otherwise.

In a little room off this one is a WC, white, too, with a seat made of mahogany, like some of the rich people’s coffins I see at the cemetery. I think of the privy and bucket me and our pa use, and it’s so different from this they don’t even seem like they’re meant for the same thing.

I go out and choose another door, to the room at the front of the house. The walls are yellow, and though it’s facing north, too, like our Jenny’s room, there’s two big windows, with balconies you can walk out on, and the light that comes in turns gold when it hits the walls. There’s two sofas pushed together to make an L, and shawls decorated with butterflies and flowers spread over ‘em. There’s a piano and little tables with books and magazines on ’em, and a sideboard with photographs on it, of her and Maude and Maude’s pa and some other people.

Then I hear our Jenny talking out on the landing. There ain’t time to get out of the room, and somehow I know she and Mrs. C. will come in here. I crouch down quick behind one of the sofas. If I was playing hidey-seek with my sisters that’s the first place they would look. But Jenny and Mrs. C. ain’t looking for me.

For all my brave face to Simon, I was dreading talking to the missus. She ain’t been bad to me over the years, and I do know I’ve sinned. Nor did I like resorting to blackmail. But I need my place here-I need my wages. It felt like I’d been mopping a room and not been paying attention, and before you know it I was stuck in the corner with a wet floor all round me. I’d have to jump far to get free.

When I’d straightened my clothes and put on my cap and splashed water on my face, I went downstairs. As I got to the landing she came out of her bedroom, and I knew I had to do it then. I opened my mouth but before I could say a word she said, “Jenny, I would like to speak with you, please. Let’s go into the morning room.”

I followed her in. “Have a seat,” she said. I sat down on a sofa. I clean in here every day but I’d never sat down before. It’s a pretty room.

She went over to one of the windows and looked through the blinds. She was wearing a dress the color of bone, with a cameo pinned at her throat. The color don’t suit her-she looked tired and pale.

I swallowed ‘cause my throat was dry and I couldn’t speak yet. I hadn’t really thought what I was going to say.

But then it didn’t turn out like I thought it would. Not at all. Never in a million years would I have guessed what she was going to say.

She turned from the window. “I’m sorry to hear of your troubles, Jenny,” she said first. “And I’m sorry about the way Mrs. Coleman must have treated you. She can be very harsh.”

“She’s a bitch,” I said before I could stop myself. Saying that made it easier to go on. “Now I got something to say to you, ma‘am.”

“Please listen to me first. We might be able to help each other.”

“Me help you? I don’t think so, ma‘am. There’s nothing-”

“Jenny, I need your help.”

“You need me? After you toss me out in the street like a wore-out broom, after all I done for you and Miss Maude and Mr. Coleman, just because I-because I- ” I couldn’t help it-I started to cry.

She let me cry awhile. Then she said something real quiet. I couldn’t hear it, and she had to say it again. “I share your predicament.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but the fancy word sounded serious enough that I stopped crying.

“It’s not so… advanced,” she said. “And because of that I can still do something about it. But I don’t know where to go. I don’t know who to ask. I couldn’t possibly ask my friends. And so I’m asking you to help me by telling me where to go to… do this. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

I looked at her, and I thought of the meals she’d missed, and the headaches she’d had, and the naps in the afternoon, and the private washing I hadn’t had to do for her for a couple months, and the penny dropped. I just hadn’t noticed ‘cause I’d had my own worries on my mind.

“Yes,” I said, quiet now. “I understand.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere where I’ll be known. It must be a place far away, but not too far that I couldn’t get there easily. Do you know where I can go?”

Now another penny dropped and I knew what she wanted from me. “It’s a sin,” I said.

She looked out of the window again. “That will be on my head, not yours.”

I let her wait. She was handing the blackmail to me on a silver plate, just like I bring in the post to her in this room each morning. I wouldn’t even have to say nothing about her and Mr. Jackson. Just as well, ‘cause I hadn’t really known what they got up to-till now.

I knew why she was asking me now too. She thought she was getting rid of me anyway, so I’d never tell nobody. But there was a price to pay for keeping me quiet. That’s where the blackmail was.

“It’ll cost you,” I said.

“How much do you want?” She said it like she’d been expecting me to name a price. But I surprised her.

“My position here.”

She stared at me. “What if I gave you some money? For you and the baby, to keep you until you’ve found another position.”

“No.”

“I’d give you a good reference, of course. We wouldn’t have to mention the baby. We could come up with another reason for your leaving-that your mother was ill and you had to look after her.”