by H D Coulter
Sarah looked back and saw Bea was failing to keep up. “Not long now, it’s only a few streets away.”
Bea nodded her head, unable to speak for want of a breath. Now she really needed that cup of tea. As they neared their destination, Bea watched the street-fronts change from the grand town houses to less ornate buildings designed for function. Some were even wooden, tucked between the brick walls, as if they were holding it up, with its brown slats cascading down towards the pavement. As they drew further into this new community, she noticed the people were mostly black, Indian, or dressed in styles hailing from other far-off countries. She was in Sarah’s territory now and suddenly felt awkward being the only white woman walking down their street. She realised, for the first time, a fraction of what it must be like for Sarah inhabiting her small space in their lives.
Sarah came to a stop in front of a large red-brick building and waited for Bea to catch up.
“We will receive a welcome here.”
“And a cup of tea I hope?” Bea blurted out between breaths. Sarah chuckled at the hopeful look on Bea’s face.
She noticed a sign waving back and forth in the light breeze: ‘The African Meeting House.’ She smoothed down her dress and shuffled the bonnet on her head, then registered the stairs leading up to the door.
“We can leave the pram out here; it will be perfectly safe.”
Without uttering a word, Bea parked the pram at the side of the building and slowly lifted the sleeping Grace to her chest.
She heard the bell chime out as Sarah held the door open for her. An apprehensive sensation grew inside in her stomach. What would she find on the other side of the door? She glanced back at Sarah, who was smiling and gesturing for her to venture further in. She trusted Sarah, knowing she would never bring them somewhere she would be mocked or made to feel uncomfortable. As she stepped forward, the light of the room washed over her. It was more like a church than a hall. She heard a voice speaking out from the back of the room, very much like that of a preacher, and saw a man standing on a podium positioned in the centre of the hall. A few of people turned round and examine her with questionable faces until they saw Sarah coming in behind.
“Sarah – welcome. And your guest - please join us.” Bea felt herself being gently forced forward and directed towards a nearby pew.
Once they were seated, the speaker continued, and all turned towards him once more.
“Is this a church?” Bea whispered to her guide.
“No, it is a meeting house.”
“A meeting house for what?” Sarah gestured her head for Bea to listen, so she did.
“Before we finish this meeting, I would like to read from a letter, sent to me by a conductor in the south; a reminder of why we are here, and a push for what we need to do next. He paused for a moment, unfolding a sheet of paper.
“I was hoping to write this letter to you, informing you of a new passenger travelling north, but I have not had many ask for my aid over the past few months. There seems to be a self-imposed lock down, spreading across the plantations, instigated by our own children. After one brave rioted against his owner at the head of his fellows, killing the man and his family, managers have used his uprising as an excuse to use brutality for the slightest reason, the punishment never living up to the crime. It has therefore been quieter in this area, until two weeks ago, when a certain man came into my store, holding a list from his master. We started talking. He couldn’t read English, but he told me tales of the land they took him from, and the family he had left behind. Once I knew I could trust him, I informed him of the railroad path, and the tracks that could take him northward. We arranged passage for Monday last, but when the time arrived, he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he hadn’t the chance to get away, maybe he had changed his mind. The next day I waited for the usual Tuesday order from his master, but another young man greeted me at my shop door. I politely asked after the other, who had first delivered the list and was informed that the manager had found him out in the woods two miles from the plantation. “The dogs had got to him first. He fought the leader with a branch, killed it with one blow, but the other got a hold of his groin and wouldn’t let go, dragging its catch back to their owner.” my face showed him sadness, grief, the losing a friend, and in that moment, he seemed to age in front of me, exposing his own sadness and despair to my own, before leaving the crumpled piece of paper on the counter. I realise these facts may dishearten; still I thought it best you discover what we are up against down here, and the embedded fear now strangling the hearts of all who live in shackles. I will write again soon to update you further on the situation; pray for us.”
The room was still. No one shuffled or made a single sound; not even Grace dared a murmur, as if sensing the grief. Bea stared at Sarah with too many questions for her to answer. The words blurred themselves into her mind, connecting all the dots to form a picture she hadn’t known how to see.
“Shall we end the meeting with a prayer for all those in our thoughts: for the imprisoned, and for those who risk it all for freedom.”
The congregation bowed their heads as one and poured out their thoughts in silence.
“Lord we ask you...”
“Hear our prayers...”.
Everyone moved soberly out of their pews, greeting a fellow friend, and made their way to the back room. Bea held Grace close to her and waited until the nearby folk had joined the others.
“Shall we join them for a cup of tea?”
“Why have you brought me here?”
“To have a rest and a cup of tea.”
“But, why here?” Bea gave Sarah a quizzical look whilst smiling awkwardly at the new acquaintances.
“You asked me to take you somewhere that we could go to rest; there is no other place we can do that but here. My quarter would look at you with suspicion, and in the white area of town they will not permit us sitting down together, unless I’m.... But if you wish for us to leave, we can?”
“No, of course not. It is just... not expected, that’s all.” Looking around the room, she could imagine her Da here, standing in the corner having a debate with a fellow member. A tiny ember ignited deep down. Maybe this is what she needed. “I was wondering, the letter, what that man said – I had heard stories like that before but – did you, have you – ever seen something like that?” Bea kept her gaze on Grace who was drifting off as she lent her head against her mother’s heart. She had perhaps stepped too far.
And yet Sarah had brought Bea here.
“Yes.” A single word that said so much. “Shall we go through?”
Bea allowed Sarah to show the way as she nested Grace close to her, a protective barrier against the eventual onslaught of questions.
The slim door opened up to a square room filled with twenty extraordinary people: black, white, men and women, chatting in small groups. A rectangular table stood against the far side, set with cups and saucers. Two large teapots sat next to a plate filled with homemade biscuits. Bea hovered in the doorway, not knowing how to behave, unsure on what to say. She still wasn’t sure what members did. Last year, she had spent a few evenings outside the pub, eavesdropping in on the reformers’ talks, hoping for a chance to be a part of it all. And now that she was here, what would be the impact of choosing such a journey as this? Then Sarah was at her arm again.
“For you,” Bea welcomed the perfectly made cup of tea with a single biscuit balancing on the saucer. “I can take her whilst you have your tea?” Without waiting for an answer, Sarah sat the tea down and carefully transitioned Grace from one set of arms to another without a single stir.
Sarah showed her around the assortment of people with as much pride as if she had been her own child. Bea watched each member place their hands out and rest them upon Grace’s sleeping head, blessing her into the group. Bea guessed Sarah must have told them about Grace, by the way she introduced the child, and the acknowledgements she received. Bea kept her back against the wall, pretending to be the flower i
n the wallpaper, content merely to observe and marvel at the group of friends before her. There was not a single drop of judgement, and all stood equal to one another. This is what the world should be like, she thought to herself. Not to see the colours of skin, or the shape of gender, but simply look face to face each at a human being and the actions they might account for. She was grateful to Sarah for sharing this rare moment, and such a precious heaven on earth. Bea reflected on what she had heard earlier and saw Sarah’s pain in a whole alternative way. Bea gazed at the other black men and women standing before her and wondered if they were born free, or if they had escaped the cruelty of the south.
“You must be Mrs Beatrice Mason.”
An older Bostonian stood in front of her, his hand stretched out in a greeting. He had a full head of white hair that bled into long side-whiskers, clashing at his temples like two waves in a surging sea. His suit looked slightly faded against others in the company.
“I am.”
“Allow me to introduce myself.” He placed a hand to his chest and bowed his head slightly, showing off a perfect circle of a bald patch. “Mr Robert Taylor. I’m glad to see Sarah finally brought you to meet us. We have heard many a tale of her life with you.”
“Indeed?” Bea panicked for a moment, but then felt herself blush, sensing it was a compliment, by his broad smile.
“All good, all good, I promise. She holds you in great esteem.”
“She has become a dear friend to me. I honestly don’t know where I would be without her.”
“I am pleased to hear that.” He smiled, and she had passed the test.
“Can I ask? Forgive me, that was you, standing at the front, reading out the letter?” he nodded to confirm it, “but - what is this gathering? This place?”
“Did Sarah not tell you?”
“I was only told it was somewhere we could sit down together and have a cup of tea.” She lifted her empty cup and smiled.
“No wonder you think it strange, then. We are an abolitionist group.” Realisation dawned in a flash. “We have been helping former slaves for years, to find a home, to gain honest work, to gather support. In the past eight months we have created a newspaper to spread the word of what we are doing here, in the hope of change.”
“That letter spoke of a conductor and a railroad.”
“I’m afraid that is a story for another time, perhaps, if you come back again?” Across the room, a small group in the corner was gesturing Robert to join them.
“I hope I can.”
“Then I look forward to speaking to you on that occasion, Mrs Mason.” With a single bow of his head, he disappeared into the crowd.
Bea took a deep breath; she was more intimidated, though less fearful. ‘Abolitionist’, even in a free state such as Boston, it wasn’t a word that was used lightly.
“There she is.” Sarah broke through the circle of people in front of her with a wide-awake Grace struggling in her arms, her tiny bottom lip trembling. “Someone was looking for her Mama.”
“Hello my darling.” On hearing her voice, Grace’s head spun round, and her smile soon returned.
“So, this is one of your many secrets? You’re an abolitionist?”
“These people helped to bring me back to life when I arrived here. I am a free woman now, and I wouldn’t be standin’ here without them.”
“They seem such strong, good people. I just never thought...”
“Are you shocked?”
“Maybe a little, but mostly I’m fascinated. This is what the world should be like – all persons together, equal, and in good faith. I would like to come back?” Bea looked at Sarah for approval. This was her group, her family, and the last thing she wanted to do was to interfere where she was not wanted.
“It is why I brought you here, to introduce you to other like-minded citizens. I hoped you would understand what we are tryin’ to do”. Sarah placed a hand on Bea’s shoulder. “There is another formal meeting a week from now.” Something stirred in Bea that she had not felt in a while as she followed Sarah to the door and down the steps: a desire for justice that she shared with her Da, and the fight to believe in change.
Chapter 15
The following day, Beth collected the new emerald dress from Miss Julie’s and Sarah helped Bea prepare for the gala. There were so many questions she still had after her experience of the meeting house, but now was not the time. Instead, Bea was more concerned with convincing a group of social-climbers that she was as much one of them as it was possible to be.
“May I come in?” Beth peered around the door.
“Of course, come and sit next to me, and help calm my nerves.” Bea reached out a hand for Beth to take. “I wish we could have secured a place for you to come too. I do not know what I am going to say to these people...”
“You’ll have Joshua there; I am sure he will look after you.”
“We saw it before at the May Day dance, men go off in one corner to talk about work and politics, whilst the women gossip in another.”
She feigned a moustache with one of her curls and pretended to take a puff of a cigar. The three women burst out laughing.
On the other side of the room, Grace stirred from her sleep at the sudden commotion in the room. Instinctively Bea rose from her seat but felt the pressure from Sarah’s hands on her head.
“I’ll get her. You stay and make ready.” Sarah turned her head towards Beth. “Do you mind finishing?”
“It would be my pleasure, like the old days.”
Beth waited for Sarah to exit the room with a now-grumpy Grace in her hands. “I am sure you’ll be fine - you have had time to accustom yourself to things here now, and you are in a better place... in your head. You have a stunning gown which I’m sure Joshua will approve of. Besides: it is just one night, if you find yourself in a huddle of gossipy wives, well - allow them to talk, and simply nod your head like so...” Beth lifted her nose up high and pulled a familiar face, causing Bea to burst out laughing, followed by Beth.
“I have missed that, laughing. It has been like living in a fog, clouding every thought or action. But recently it seems to have been dissipating, finding I can smile once more. Enjoy the small things; laughing and playing with Grace.”
“There, done! I haven’t done your hair since the last dance we had in Ulverston, the night you made Joshua fall in love with you.” Beth gave Bea a wink in the mirror.
“I think we both knew there was something there. But so much has happened since. I wonder sometimes if I am the same woman as I was then.”
“A year ago you were still a girl in many ways. Now you are a woman and have lived through so much more. It would make sense you have changed, how could you not? Now you are stronger; you are a wife, a mother and living in a new world.”
Bea shook her hands, as if ridding herself of a wave of emotions. “You are right, I am just being silly.”
“Bea, are you ready?” Joshua shouted from downstairs.
“Am I?”
Beth finished pinning the last braid into the sweeping bun and loose curls. “Yes, all done.” She declared, sealing the hair with a kiss.
Bea stood up, smoothed down her dress and looked at herself in the free-standing mirror. She failed to recognise the woman staring back at her, in a glowing green dress that shone in the candlelight, setting off her warm skin and auburn hair. It gave a curve to her body and an elegance to her frame. “I look like one of them.”
“You look as beautiful as you always do - now go down to your husband.” Beth pushed Bea towards the open door.
Bea could see him standing handsomely at the bottom of the stairs, gazing upwards. He seemed not to have changed since the last dance. How elated she had felt seeing him again there, the daring touch of his hand upon hers - and now they were going together to a gala halfway across the world as husband and wife. Standing at the top of the stairs, she saw his expression change to a delighted smile at the sight of her. One hand on the skirt and the other on
the banister. She glided down the stairs towards him. In one move, he grabbed hold of her and pressed her against his body.
“You look radiant. I am a lucky man to be presenting you as my wife this evening,” he whispered into her ear. Something changed in him. Suddenly, they were how they used to be. His mouth met hers as though it were their first kiss all over again, pulling her tight against him, and they both felt a sense of yearning stirring between them that hadn’t been there for a very long while.
Bea skimmed her lips against his. “Do you remember the ball in Ulverston?”
“The night I fell in love with you? How could I forget?” He stole another quick kiss.
“It felt like an unreachable dream - that one day you would be my husband, standing here, holding me. I hope you know how much I love you.” He leaned in and kissed her again. She felt his fingers press into her back, urging their bodies into one. His hands travelled over her. One slid downwards while the other went north. Her skin became hot and flushed under the dress as a new yearning surged inside of her. Reluctantly, he paused.
“I love you too, more that you’ll ever know – and now I almost don’t want to go to the gala.”
Bea felt her cheeks become hotter at his implication. She pulled herself away from his grip.
“We had better say goodnight to Grace.” She lead the way into the sitting room, and with a disappointed sigh, he followed behind her.
They had positioned themselves on a chair, Grace leaning in as Sarah hummed one of her tunes, rocking her back and forth.
Bea quietly crept up and crouched down beside them. “Sweet dreams my darling, I will see you soon.” Grace, on hearing her mama’s voice, turned and smiled at Bea, but her eyes widened in awe at the sight of the magnificent green dress.
“She will be fine. You go and enjoy yourselves. I will keep her in with me tonight.”
“If she needs a feed, bring her in.” Sarah smiled, seeing Bea’s anxiety at leaving her child for the first time.
“Of course.”
“Sarah and Beth will take good care of her.” Joshua leaned in a little closer, placed a kiss on his hand, and gently laid it upon Grace’s head. “Good night, my sweetheart.”