I Am Not Esther

by Fleur Beale

  She took her hands out of the soapy water and shook them. ‘You must speak for yourself, Esther, and not presume to speak for me.’ She dried her hands on a tea towel, carefully folded it and put it back on the rail. ‘I have prayed about this, and it is the course my parents have chosen for me with love.’ She stared at me gravely. ‘It is you who are to be pitied, Esther. Deeply pitied.’

  Shit and bloody hell.

  We finished the dishes in silence with a great, gaping chasm between me and the four of them. We changed our aprons for clean ones before we went out to join the rest of the community in the Place of Fellowship. Hall.

  Each family sat together. There was a space beside Uncle Caleb that showed Aunt Naomi was with us in spirit. At least, that’s what Rachel told me at afternoon tea. There was no space for Miriam. I sat between Daniel and Rebecca. Apparently we had to sit in order of age. I glanced at Maggie. She was still excited in spite of spending the morning on her knees.

  An old guy with a bit of white hair struggling for survival on his shiny head started things off. ‘Brothers and sisters, we are gathered here today to discuss things of weight and import to our community. We have called on the Lord to bless our deliberations. Let us now begin. Will the Council of Elders please join me.’ What had Charity said, that day in the garden? Something about Damaris’s grandfather being the leader. Old Baldy, therefore, had to be her grandpa.

  There were eleven empty chairs lined up on the stage. There was a bit of movement as the eleven Elders made their way to the chairs. All men, of course. One empty chair. Only ten Elders.

  I didn’t have long to wonder who the other chair belonged to. Uncle Caleb. The first piece of business was whether he should be allowed to sit in it again.

  An Elder, who had to be Damaris’s father because he had exactly the same eyebrows that tilted up at the ends, stood up and said, ‘Brothers and sisters. We must decide if our brother Caleb Pilgrim is fit to lead us again or whether he should be stood down forever from the Council of Elders. The loss of a daughter in such circumstances cannot help but call into question the devoutness of the family.’

  He’d been chucked out because of Miriam?

  Beside me, Daniel sucked in a breath, and I could feel the stiffness of his arm.

  ‘Brother Caleb,’ commanded Old Baldy, ‘you may speak.’

  Uncle Caleb stood up and walked out to the front. ‘Brothers and sisters,’ he began, ‘my family has been visited by much affliction during these past months. We have all prayed to be cleansed of our impurities. We have repented of our transgressions. We ask only to be able to live according to the Rule. My brothers, I would willingly serve the community again as an Elder. But if it is the will of the Lord, I will serve with equal devotion and loyalty as an ordinary member.’

  I had to admire him. Everyone knew he loved being the boss and here he was grovelling on the floor and inviting them all to walk over him.

  Dorcas’s husband, I forget his name, stood up. ‘Brothers and sisters, I have prayed for guidance over this matter and it has come to me that our Brother Caleb has much to offer this community. He should be allowed to serve us.’

  One by one, they stood up and said how the Lord had told them Brother Caleb was a right hot dude and ought to be allowed to work his butt off for them. Damaris’s father was the only one the Lord had told different. But Old Baldy said, ‘Through the Elders, the Lord has spoken. We are pleased to readmit you to the rank of Elder, Brother Caleb.’

  Uncle Caleb got down on his knees and said, ‘I thank the Lord in his infinite wisdom. I promise to serve Him well.’

  Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!

  Daniel’s arm gave a convulsive twitch.

  The next piece of business was the move to Nelson. I felt sick. One by one, the Elders gave their opinion. Always starting with, ‘Brothers and Sisters, I have prayed to the Lord over this matter and it has come to me that …’

  All the Elders were in favour of going. Uncle Caleb said, ‘The world is too much a part of the lives of our children, despite our best efforts. While our children must attend secular schools, we cannot hope to monitor their thoughts and deeds as we would wish.’

  Everybody knew about Miriam. There was a lot of nodding of heads and murmuring after he’d spoken. Old Baldy then invited the ordinary members to speak. Apparently this meant men only and married men at that. Daniel made no attempt to offer an opinion. Even Thomasina’s dorky husband was allowed to have his say — he had prayed, he said, and it had come to him that it would be better to stay in Wanganui because all the men had work here.

  That went down like a dead duck. Apparently the Lord was going to get them all work in Nelson too.

  So they had another prayer after all the men had spoken. I was the only one who didn’t bow my head. I was raging. What about the women? Didn’t those guys care what their wives thought? I managed to duck my head before Old Baldy came to the final Praise the Lord. I didn’t want to be the one responsible for showing how wild the kids were because they went to ordinary schools.

  It didn’t matter. The Lord had decided the community would go to Nelson. They would all leave in three months and …

  I didn’t hear any more. Three months? We couldn’t. I would have to leave school. What if Mrs Fletcher still hadn’t found Mum by then? The shock waves crashed in my brain and hurt my chest. And then I remembered — I was meant to be leaving in a week anyway. Why didn’t it seem real?

  We all stood up and sang. It was difficult to breathe. The high neck of my blouse choked me and I must’ve done up my apron too tightly.

  Daniel touched my hand briefly as we sat down again but he didn’t turn his head to look at me. Not with Ira sitting behind us.

  We stopped then for afternoon tea. I helped put out cream sponges and lamingtons. Sausage rolls and chocolate eclairs. Coffee cake and savory scones. Damaris poured tea with careful concentration. Three months. I saw my hands passing cups and saucers — hands that didn’t seem to be connected to my arms.

  Gideon came to get himself a cup of tea. He waited until Kezia was pouring so that he had to be served by Damaris. ‘I wish you well, Sister Damaris,’ he said.

  ‘I thank you, Brother Gideon,’ she whispered back.

  And that was it. Except that Rebecca came rushing over and not for tea either. She’d already taken Uncle Caleb his. ‘What did he want?’ she hissed at me.

  I glanced at Damaris who was biting her lip and refusing to look at Rebecca. ‘Take Daniel a cup of tea,’ I said, pouring one.

  ‘He’ll get his own,’ she snapped, still glaring at Damaris. ‘He’s not married. Yet.’

  ‘Rebecca,’ I said, feeling so old that I creaked, ‘please take this to your brother. Tell him …’ What could I say to tell him? ‘Tell him my thoughts are with him and tell him to remember Zillah.’

  ‘Why?’ she demanded.

  ‘Just do it. Please.’ I must’ve sounded as bad as I felt, because she took the cup and went.

  We started washing cups and saucers. Damaris said nothing and even Kezia kept her mouth shut.

  The betrothal negotiations were next on the programme.

  ‘Brother Caleb,’ said Old Baldy when we’d all sat down again, ‘your son, Daniel is of betrothal age. The community believes that Damaris Faithful will make him a fitting wife.’

  Uncle Caleb stood up. ‘As is the custom, I ask my son Daniel to speak his mind on this betrothal.’ He sat down and motioned Daniel to come up to the front.

  Beside me, Daniel got slowly to his feet. He walked down the aisle and his shoes went clunk, clunk with every step. He climbed the two steps to the stage. Stood at the side of the row of Elders’ chairs. Took a deep breath. ‘Father, brothers and sisters. I hold Damaris Faithful in high esteem. I know her to be pure in thought and deed. She upholds the Rule and she is good, kind and seemly.’

  I slid a glance sideways. Apparently this was what normally happened. People were smiling and nodding, except Gideon who looked like
he was about to leap up and strangle Daniel. I couldn’t see Damaris.

  ‘However,’ Daniel continued in such a quiet voice that we had to strain to hear it. The silence deepened with that one word. ‘However’ definitely wasn’t in the script. Uncle Caleb’s eyebrows had snapped together. ‘However, I ask to be stood down from marriage negotiations at this point.’

  ‘You are of age,’ huffed Old Baldy, ‘and you have already been given the extra year. Enlighten us as to your reasons, if you please.’ His voice cut the air with slivers of sharp ice. I shivered. Beside me, Rebecca put her hands over her mouth. I saw Luke take Maggie’s hand and hold it. I wanted to hug them both.

  Daniel’s face was white and pinched, but he stood there in front of all the people he’d known for all of his life and he spoke to them. ‘Brothers and sisters, you will know that my mother and my baby sister recently nearly died. Both of them nearly lost their lives.’

  ‘I do not see,’ said Old Baldy sharply, ‘that this has anything to do with your request. Get to the point.’

  Daniel half-turned so he could look at his father and the congregation. He took a deep breath and said in a quiet, desperate voice, ‘I ask to be allowed to return to school. I ask to be given permission to study at university.’ A pause, then the final, flat request. ‘I ask the community to give me permission to become a doctor so that I may serve you all.’

  Good one, Daniel! I felt like clapping and cheering. How could they say no to that? Now he could stay on with them and still be what he wanted to be. Then I noticed the shock waves rippling through the room.

  Old Baldy got to his feet. He leaned on the lecturn in front of him and skewered Daniel with his beady old eyes. ‘Request denied.’ He didn’t even pray about it. ‘You know the teaching of the Rule but I will repeat it for the benefit of any other son or daughter who may be entertaining such iniquitous thoughts: we of The Children of the Faith do not seek education beyond what the state decrees we must offer our children. To study at a university is to invite evil into your life.’ His voice thundered out. ‘It is to embrace Godlessness and to open one’s mind to unseemly sights, beliefs and teachings.’ He struck the lecturn and glared out at the congregation, particularly at the row where we sat.

  ‘Now,’ he snapped at Daniel, ‘you will agree to accept the hand of Damaris Faithful in marriage. You will publicly admit your transgression and we will pray to the Lord to forgive your sins and cleanse you of all iniquitous thoughts.’ He rapped on the lecturn with a knobbly knuckle. ‘We await your pledge.’

  Eternity passed before anyone in that hall breathed or spoke, but at last Daniel raised his head. I watched him, longing to get up and shout or throw my arms around him.

  ‘I can make no pledge.’ Every ear strained to hear the whispered words. He raised his head and spoke directly to his father. ‘I can no longer stay in the Fellowship.’ Each word seemed to be forced out as if he didn’t have enough air, or his throat was clamped tight. Something.

  Uncle Caleb’s face was grey with shock. Daniel dragged his eyes away and looked at Old Baldy. His voice was stronger as he said, ‘You are forcing me to break with my family. You are forcing me to leave. You forced Miriam to leave and now me.’ He dragged in a lungful of air. ‘I love them. I want to be with them, and you are making me leave …’

  His words were cut off by a babble of shouting, then Damaris’s father jumped up, yelling louder than all the rest. He waved his fists in the air and strode to the front of the stage, close to Daniel. ‘The work of the devil is with us this day! I call on you, my brothers and sisters to strike at this evil before it contaminates us all!’ His face was red and ugly. He drew back his arm and punched Daniel hard on the face. The other fist slammed into his ribs so that we heard the breath hiss out of him. He fell to the ground and that great gorilla kept punching and kicking. Uncle Caleb didn’t do anything. Nobody did anything. Stop him! Somebody was shouting the words — I think it was me — but no one made the smallest move to stop him hitting Daniel and kicking him.

  I leapt up. ‘No!’ I howled and the children were crying and shouting beside me. I ran to the stage, grabbed Daniel’s jacket and hauled him to the edge, kept pulling at him until he tumbled over, out of the way of those vicious fists and feet.

  ‘Get up!’ I tugged at him. ‘Get up! Let’s get out of here!’

  He stumbled to his feet and I put my arm around him. His blood dripped onto my white blouse.

  ‘Leave him, girl, on pain of damnation!’ roared Old Baldy.

  ‘Yes, leave me,’ Daniel whispered. ‘I will be all right.’ I said nothing, just hauled his arm over my shoulders to support him.

  ‘You are both damned!’ A voice thundered behind me. ‘Damned and cursed. Contaminators! You are both guilty of moral pollution!’

  We had nearly reached where the children sat, clinging together in shock.

  Old Baldy’s voice boomed out behind us. ‘We expel you both from the Fellowship. Henceforth you are dead to us. Dead and gone.’

  Maggie wailed, a high, keening wail. Just like after we’d seen Miriam. I reached out and shook her hard. ‘Maggie! Listen, we’re not dead! Look at me! Touch me! I’ll just be somewhere else, not here …’

  There was a vicious shove in my back so that I tumbled forward to my knees and now it was Daniel hauling at me to pick me up. ‘Goodbye,’ he whispered to the children. ‘Take care of each other.’

  Together we stumbled down the aisle that was longer than any marathon track in the world. I heard hissing and somebody actually spat onto the floor in front of us. Daniel was limping and he leaned on me. I don’t know if he was crying, but I was. Deep down inside myself where none of the hate-filled faces could see. But not for them, I wouldn’t shed a tear for them. I caught sight of Damaris as we went. She pulled her skirt away as we passed her. My friend. She had been my friend.

  Gideon balled his hands into fists and rocked on his toes.

  We kept walking. There was nothing else we could do.

  The door slammed shut behind us. We leaned against it for a moment. The sun was shining. That surprised me. I’d expected it to be dark outside, dark and with a full storm blowing.

  ‘Let’s get out of here!’ I whispered. ‘I don’t trust them a bit.’

  Daniel wiped at his face — tears and blood. ‘You are right, I think.’ He shook his head carefully, testing for loose bits. ‘We had better try to run.’

  ‘Why? You’ve still got the car keys!’ I thought he would argue, but it seemed to settle him somehow.

  ‘Of course. I forgot.’ Still leaning on me, he limped to the car.

  I looked back as we left the car park but the door to the Fellowship Centre stayed shut. ‘Will they be all right?’ I asked, more to myself than to him.

  But he answered, sounding savage, ‘No, they will not be all right. Magdalene will grieve, Abraham and Luke will be treated more harshly in case they turn out like me, and the twins will have to do all their work and yours as well. My father will never be an Elder again.’

  I cried then, tears dribbling like a leaking tap. ‘Should I go back? Just till Mum comes back?’

  ‘They would not accept you now. And if they did, just how long do you think you would last before you had another fit of hysterics at school?’

  How did he know about that? ‘Bloody Beulah?’ I asked.

  He nodded.

  ‘You’re right. I know you’re right. But Maggie …’

  ‘Be quiet, Kirby,’ he said fiercely. ‘Do not make it worse than it is. Do you imagine I have not thought about all of this? Over and over again? Do you not think that I have tried to live by the Rule? Really tried, not like you. You always knew you could not live that way. It is not as difficult for you.’

  I gulped and swallowed my tears. He was right, but did he know just how bloody difficult it was? I glanced at him. The blood. The puffy eye. A rip in his jacket. Yeah. He knew.

  We went to Mrs Fletcher. She took us into her house, a house warm wi
th books and music and with paintings on the walls. Photographs on the mantlepiece. Her husband and daughter returned the car to the Place of Fellowship and she cleaned Daniel up. After she’d taken photos of the blood and bruises. ‘We may need evidence if you are to get a benefit to continue at school,’ she told him, her face grim.

  I sat on her couch beside Daniel. Once again I was wearing everything I owned in the world. Again I was a refugee. Mum, where are you, I need you.

  Mrs Fletcher woke us in the morning. ‘Both of you are going to school today. It’ll be better to keep your minds busy.’

  She’d organised another uniform for me. It was second-hand, but I didn’t have to turn the waistband over. I brushed my hair with Mrs Fletcher’s hairbrush and cleaned my teeth with the new toothbrush she gave me and as I did these things, I watched my reflection in the mirror.

  ‘Kirby Greenland. Good morning, Kirby Greenland,’ I muttered at it. In the bedroom, I picked up Esther’s clothes. I stood for a minute, holding them in my hands. What should I do with them? Throw them away? Put them through a shredder?

  Suddenly, I decided to keep them. If ever I have children, I will show them the clothes. I will talk to them about what happened. I will not hide this part of their history.

  I put the clothes on the bed. I will, I will not. I am Kirby, not Esther. Why, when I had fought not to change the way I spoke, was I doing it now? I shivered. Esther wasn’t going to vanish without a fight.

  In the kitchen, Mrs Fletcher waved at stuff set out on the bench. ‘Help yourself.’

  I grinned. Daniel would find all this casualness a bit different from home. He came in wearing jeans, T-shirt and a black eye. He held himself stiffly as if his ribs hurt.

  ‘The clothes fit well,’ Mrs Fletcher said. He didn’t have to wear a uniform because he was in Year 13, but I guessed he’d have been a lot happier in one.

  I waved a glass of orange juice at him. ‘Who’s a cool dude, then?’

  He smiled, he actually smiled. I jumped up and hugged him. ‘Sorry if that hurt, but I just wanted you to know you’re a great guy, Daniel Pilgrim.’