Zachariah 7

London, England

December 24, 1843

                              The Lady & Johnson

The Lady...

The lady was wearing a white, starched apron over a blue dress with thin red lines stitched throughout the soft, wool material. Light complected, a bit on the heavy side, standing at about five feet, five inches, the lady had startling, green flecked blue eyes and long, tightly curled light blonde hair.

The look of this lady familiar. Blinking his eyes, sensing a quickening within his heart, looking at this lady’s face his mouth dropped open because, to Zachariah, the lady was lovely.

More than lovely, she was beautiful.

He was but near five years of age at the time and within his mind the memory of her had become foggy and this lady…

This lady was more than beautiful, because…

Coming from afar in his past imagined remembrance, this lady’s face was the face that filled the void in his dreams.

Remembering, ‘thinking’ he remembered…

Mama! This lady, he thought, had been the face in the shadow. This face the unseen face of the mother of his dreams, and Zachariah smiled.

Zachariah’s smile caused his bright eyes and dirt protected dimples to stand out from his sweat-streaked, filthy face, and…

The lady’s hand going going flat upon her chest. My Lord! Taken back figuratively and — literally taking a step back as the lady noticed this boy’s eyes and the light-blonde stubble on Zachariah’s soot-caked head.

My Lord, she thought, this child has the look of Albert! This child could be Albert’s brother, or the son of my sister if I had a sister.

Hating the thought that this horrible man’s child, or that ‘any’ young child would be forced into this dangerous chimney cleaning business. The very thought of a child so young and so small being forced — knowing that occasionally, when need be, a small fire would be lit in the fire-box to force the child to climb, or at times pins would be jabbed into their bare feet to force the child upward…

Oh, the lady knew that the cleaning of chimneys — in order to prevent deadly flue fires was a necessary thing and she also knew good people were working on a way to preform this needed service other than with the forced use of a small child.

The very thought of this ‘climbing boy’ totally repugnant to the lady. However...

When Zachariah smiled...

Her mood changing. The frown lines on either side of her mouth went up to become a forced smile as the lady’s sadness changed to…?

The lady’s sadness changed to a truly held maternal longing. A deep maternal longing and she desperately wanted to take this boy… To put this boy into a hot tub and to scrub him clean… Then to rock him, as she did her own son, in her arms.

Standing, all but forgotten, Johnson looked from the lady to Zachariah then back at the lady. “Er, Mum?”

The maternal urge to rip those filthy tatters from the body of this small, beautiful boy and to scrub him over and over until the filth that permitted his pores was no more…

“Er, Mum?”

Her eyes did not leave those of the boy.

“Mum!”

Forcing her gaze from the boy, she looked absently at Johnson.

“We’re ‘ere to clean the chimney, Mum.”

“Excuse me?”

She daft? “The chimney, Mum! Me ‘n’ Zachariah ‘ere, we’re ‘ere to clean the chimney.”

“Oh...” shaking her head, trying to clear it “...yes.” Standing aside, “Come in.”

Sighing as she stood aside allowing the man and boy to enter. Closing the door behind them, sensibly— reality returning; after all, this ‘is ‘ England, the lady thought and in England there are countless blue eyed, blonde haired children. Knowing the appearance and resemblance of this boy to her Albert be nothing more than a coincidence.

Looking at Zachariah a moment longer, the lady then walked through the hallway with Johnson and the boy following.

Scattered rugs had been rolled and moved aside, and the drapes, upholstered furniture, and a big, cone-like thing in the corner were covered with soot protecting sheets.

Anxious to be on his way from this house, going right to work, Johnson moved two small tables from before the fireplace as Zachariah spread drop cloths over the sheets the lady had spread, on the floor in front of the hearth, then over the her sheets, two tables.

Standing just inside the living room doorway, watching Zachariah, The boy might be hungry, she thought.

“Might I offer you and your son some food before you start in to work?”

Hungry indeed! Hearing the word ‘food’, Zachariah, hopefully, turned towards her, but…

Having more a thirst than a hunger. “No, Mum, not for us...” Johnson answered “...I’ll be takin’ me leave soon’s ‘im’n’me gets your flue swept an’ I get ‘im...” nodding his head in Zachariah’s direction “...started on what’s to be done ‘ere,” jerking his thumb in the direction of the fireplace.

“You’ll not be staying with the boy? Your son can do all this work himself, without help?”

“Mum, Zachariah ‘ere’s been doin’ this kind’a work for more’in four years an’ ‘e’s real good at it ‘e is, an’ I’ll be leavin’ ya in good ‘ands.”

‘Zachariah’ is the boy’s name. The lady thought, then also, Four years! Underestimating Zachariah’s age by almost a year, Certainly this child could not be more than eight years of age! Incredulously thinking, but not far off: Could he have possibly started in the cleaning of chimneys at the age of four?

Cleaning chimneys from the age of four!

Going onto roofs, climbing and cleaning chimneys at the age of Albert—at the age of her own son?

A country girl brought to the City of London upon her marriage to a wealthy barrister seven years earlier, though things had been done quite differently in the country, the lady was well aware that the ‘apprentice system’ had been in existence for many years.

Her husband and other British barristers along with that writer chap, ‘Charlie Dickens’; as members of ‘The Society For Superseding The Necessity For Climbing Boys’, along with hundreds of well informed citizens, even ‘now’ on this very day, were arguing to have bills approved by Parliament outlawing the forced use of young children in some of the more vile trades that caused illness and death among children—and the chimney sweep trade, with the use of ‘climbing boys’, is foremost among those deadly trades.

Looking from the man to the boy, knowing that, other than dirt, this man shared not one physical attribute with the boy.

Also knowing that no parent, unless of the cruelest sort, would force their child into this type of dangerous labor at the age of four. But, horrible as it was to use one’s own son for this type of drudgery, it was, the lady supposed, for the betterment of the child and the child’s family, if of the most improvised.

But buying a child? A British child! Actually buying and paying for a British child to use as a slave!

“I thought,” she said angrily, “—not that I approve of using children as small and young as this—” glancing at Zachariah, “that I’d contracted for a man and his son… His ‘older’ son!”

Aware that there was action about concerning the continued use of small children for the climbing of chimneys, at the moment however, his his mind elsewhere — actually wondering how fast he might get to the closest pub. “No, Mum,” Johnson accidentally admitted, “ ‘e ain’t me son… Uh…” attempting to correct his lie. “When I saw ya by the back door I told ya it be me’n’me ‘prentice that’d be doin’ the work.”

Surmising that Zachariah was not his son, now hearing Johnson admit that the boy was not his son, further offended by the lie, “ ‘No, sir’!” The lady looked at Zachariah, who was standing in front of the fireplace listening and watching the exchange between herself and Johnson. “I’d not hire ‘any’ sweep using an apprentice! My husband and myself, we don’t hold with any cruelty amounting to slavery!”

“Mum, it ain’t slave…”

“I am ‘sure’ you said I would be hiring you and your son! And at this boy’s age, even that would be bad enough!”

Lately—for the past year, ever since ‘those busybody, do-gooders’ had been appealing to Parliament it had become harder to obtain employment if admitting the work were to be accomplished by himself and his apprentice.

“No, Mum!” lying, “I told ya t’would be me’n’me ‘prentice.” He had done this before, lately more and more often, telling perspective customers that Zachariah was his son rather than his apprentice. “But if’n ya don’t want us we’ll be gone.” Knowing the lady had an affinity for Zachariah. “But it’s to be known by yourself that the lad’n’me I’ll be goin’ ‘ungry on this, the night afore the Lord Jesus was born, ‘cause we ain’t ‘ad but one other bit’a work this whole day.”

Her eyes ablaze with anger, the lady glared at Johnson, then looked again at Zachariah.

Although she then knew that Johnson had lied about telling her that Zachariah was his son, she had no doubt that the boy would be made to go hungry, or worse, if she turned them away, tonight, of all nights. “All right,” she relented, “you may have the work, but at the least stay to help the boy finish!”

Becoming thirstier — and more in need of alcohol by the minute. “Mum, it breaks me ‘eart, ‘avin’ to be leavin’ the lad, but I’ve a ‘pointment that I can’t be missin’, an’ I wouldn’t be leavin’ if I thought Zachariah ‘ere couldn’t be doin’ the work right an’ proper like.” Stopping, he pretended to be in deep thought. “Tell ya what! If ya still be wantin’ to feed the lad, I’ll tell ‘im ‘e’s able to take the time from ‘is work to be eatin’. Just a minute or two mind ya.”

“You’re going to allow the boy to eat!” she said sarcastically. “You’re going to ‘allow him a few minutes to eat’! How ‘splendid’ of you, Mr. Johnson.”

“Yes, Mum, I know...” the sarcasm not registering with Johnson. “...an’ I guarantees ya ‘e’ll do the job good’n’proper or ‘e’ll get what for.” Turning to Zachariah, “Come on...” he said in a demanding tone, “...get to work!”

The lady had no doubt that the boy could do the job ‘good’n’proper’. She also had no doubt that Zachariah did get plenty of ‘what for’ from Johnson. Disgust showing on her face, she looked at the man a moment longer, then raising her arms in in anger and exasperation, she hurried from the room.

Looking after her, no less annoyed by her attitude, he shrugged his shoulders then, as soon as the floor cloth was in place and the firebox properly screened with two overlapping cloth screens, taking one last quick inspection of the room to be sure it was ready for the sweeping, putting the coil of rope around his shoulder and going outside, Johnson climbed to the roof by means of wooden rungs affixed to the rear of the house.

Once on the roof, shinnying up the chimney and dropping one end of the rope into the flue, he called, “Com’in down!” through the long, hollow structure as, waiting for the call from below, he fed the line through the straight flue, till…

“Got it!”

Jumping off the chimney and scurrying down the wooden rungs, Johnson waited as….

Kneeling inside the fireplace, fishing the rope off the soot shelf then pulling about twenty feet through, the boy attached one of the larger green twig brushes to the center of the rope. Then calling, “All’s ready!” up the chimney, Zachariah backed out of the fireplace, re-set the two overlapping drop clothes and tugged on the rope.

With Johnson outside and Zachariah inside, the rope was pulled up and down. The rope was was pulled back and forth through the flue as, dust billowing around the overlapping cloth screens, soot and ash showered onto the fireplace floor.

Back and forth… Up and down… Back and forth and up and down until ash and soot no longer fell, and…

“It’s done, Sir.” Zachariah stopped pulling.

Pulled up through the flue, the rope and brush fell to the earth below.

Coiling the rope. Becoming thirstier by the second. Johnson’s need becoming stronger by the second.

Into the house, “Aye, boy,” whispering, his hand cupping Zachariah’s ear, “I be off to the pub.” Glancing towards the doorway leading from the room. “An’ don’t ya be tellin’ ‘er royal ‘ighness where I’m off to!”

In a louder tone so the lady might hear, “Mind ya, do the work proper an’ no mess or you’ll get what for! The missis, she’s a mind ta be givin’ ya some food an’ I tol’ ‘er it’ll be all right if ya takes some small bit’a time to eat. Do ya work an’ pack up an’ get the ‘quipment outside an’ wait for me there…” jerking his thumb in the direction of the front door, whispering again “...an’ ya be sure she pays ya! Understand?”

Not waiting for an acknowledgment, turning, his footsteps sounding hollow, Johnson walked from the room...Within a moment the outer door opened, then slammed shut.

Sighing, Zachariah stood a moment looking in the direction of the front door. Than going to the tool box and taking the small lantern and lighting it, the boy turned back to the fireplace, parted the screen and crawled inside on his knees then tightening the scarf over his mouth and nose, started into scraping the upper portion of the rear wall with the scrapping tool, until…

What? Feeling a tug on his trouser leg, stopping, pulling the scarf from his face and turning he…

Squatting in front of the fireplace…

…poked his head through the two overlapping drop cloths, and, Lordy!

…My Lord! The lady was so startled by Zachariah’s appearance that, jerking backward and, losing her balance she sat flat onto her derrière.

The boy’s forehead, eyebrows and the bridge of his nose were coated with loose soot and, looking as though he were wearing a black mask, if possible, Zachariah’s face was blacker now than before.

Lordy!

Momentarily unable to comprehend what he saw — the sight of this beautiful, properly dressed lady sitting flat on her ‘rear’ directly in front of the fireplace so startled Zachariah that, his eyes bulging, his mouth dropping open, not knowing what to say, “Mum?” he questioned and, looking at his filthy hand, not knowing if she’d accept his help if he offered it, “Mum,” he repeated, and…

Screenplay

LADY (O/C) Through here. The Lady steps into the room closely followed by Johnson and Zachariah. Zachariah looks around, wide eyed and curious, but quickly returns his gaze to the Lady. Johnson sets his toolbox and cloths down before the fireplace, where Zachariah quickly kneels to put down the coil of rope and drop cloths. Zachariah glances repeatedly at the Lady.

LADY (CONT’D) May I offer you and your son something to eat?

The Climbing Boy 24. Johnson picks up the rope and nods in Zachariah’s direction as he replies. Zachariah stands up holding the bandoleer of brushes and bristles.

JOHNSON No thank ya marm, not for us. Soon as we’ve swept the flue n I gets im started on what’s to be done ere, I’ll be takin me leave to anuvver ‘pointment marm. Johnson steps towards the door, but the Lady blocks his path, aghast at his reply.

LADY You’ll not be staying with your son? Can he do the work by himself without help? Johnson, surprised by her obstruction, balks a little then smiles as he responds.

JOHNSON Marm, Zachariah as been doin this work fer more n four years n e’s real good n all. I’ll be leavin ya in real good ands marm. Y’ve nothin to be frettin about. She gawps at the boy. Johnson takes a step towards the door, but is again stopped by the Lady.

LADY Four years? Dear Lord - I was under the impression Mr. Johnson that I was contracting you and your son, your older son for the work, not a child as young…

JOHNSON Oh e’s not me son marm. Her eyes widen with fury. Johnson quickly backtracks.

Next: Zachariah 8; Albert