I Am Not Esther Read Online Free PDF Page A

tapes.
    Holy cow. Was that blasphemy? No doubt I’d find out since it’s one of the things I say a lot.
    Magdalene smiled at me and chuckled. She looked happy for a split second. Then she said, ‘Are you going to die too?’
    ‘Not till I’m a hundred and three,’ I said, picking her up and throwing her in the air. ‘Why? Who else died?’
    ‘Miriam.’ She ducked her head into my shoulder and wouldn’t say any more.
    I carried her out to the family room, the heavy material dragging round my knees and ankles. So who was Miriam?
    When had she died? What of?
    I opened my mouth to ask Aunt Naomi, but she got in first. ‘Hang out the washing please Esther, and when you have done that, pick some peas for dinner.’
    Esther. I opened my mouth but Magdalene was staring at me, terrified. I shut it and picked up the cane basket full of wet washing.
    I’d never hung out washing. Our flat didn’t have a clothes line so we used the dryer. Magdalene showed me how to do it. She showed me how to pick peas too. That was after I’d pulled the first plant out by the roots. We ate quite a few and Magdalene giggled a lot. Both those things had to be healthy, I reckoned. I started calling her ‘Maggie’ and she giggled harder.
    It kept me from thinking about Mum.
    Uncle Caleb arrived home at ten past twelve for lunch — which was a revelation. Lunch, I mean, not him arriving home. It started off with grace. Not the ‘bless this bunch as they crunch their lunch’ sort. Oh no, this was full on and serious. Five minutes at least and filled with praise the Lords. Then we sat down.
    I ate a sandwich made from thick slices of homemade bread and filled with home-grown lettuce and tomato. I’d just poured a glass of water when I accidentally let loose another hurricane.
    ‘Who was Miriam?’ I asked.
    Everyone just stopped. I swear there wasn’t a sound in that room, even the clock stopped ticking. I looked around. Uncle Caleb, face tight, grey tinged with red. Aunt Naomi, face hard, lips shut tight. Daniel not looking at anyone, eyes on his plate. Rachel staring at the ceiling. Rebecca, lips pinched shut over a bad taste. Abraham shot a glance at his father, then kept his eyes on the table. Luke and Maggie had their mouths open and their eyes were frightened.
    ‘Leave the table,’ Uncle Caleb snapped.
    ‘Why?’ My voice went high and squeaky. ‘Uncle Caleb, that’s not fair! What have I done wrong?’
    None of my cousins looked at me, except Maggie and she had her hands over her mouth and tears were filling her eyes. ‘Leave the table,’ my uncle repeated in a voice cold enough to freeze over hell.
    I jumped up. ‘No! I won’t!’ I thumped my fist on the snowy white cloth. ‘You’re not fair! First youchange my name! Then you make me wear these stinking clothes! And now when I ask something perfectly reasonable you throw a fit!’
    A silence sank over the room, terrible and suffocating. I wanted to run, but I was damned if I’d give him the satisfaction, so I stayed there with my heart hammering its way out of my rib-cage.
    He picked up his knife and fork and put them together in an exactly straight line down the middle of his plate. ‘Miriam was our daughter. She died four weeks ago. Now leave the table. Go to your room and braid your hair in a Godly manner.’
    What did she die of? Where are the photos of her? Why don’t you talk about her? But the questions died on my lips.
    I went slowly to the bedroom. Daniel was seventeen and the twins were twelve. Did she come in the gap between? She’d be my age or perhaps a bit older. Or perhaps she came in the gap between Maggie and the new baby. Why wouldn’t they talk about her? I’d make them, it wasn’t good to keep things bottled up. Then I remembered Mum. My darling mother who told me everything — except the things she didn’t want me to know. She had grown up in this weird faith.
    I shook my head. Don’t think about her . I shut out, too, the feelings