Zachariah 8

London, England

December 24, 1843

Zachariah & Albert

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 as looking at his filthy hand and not knowing if she’d accept his help if he offered it. “Mum,” he repeated, and…

Sitting flat on the floor, the lady saw the look on his face and Zachariah’s look of amazement was so complete it was actually a look of stupefaction.

Thinking of the situation, My Lord, in her mind picturing how she must look to the boy the lady giggled and, “My, Lord!” she said aloud, then laughed, and as she began to laugh so too did Zachariah.

Their laughter growing louder and harder, the lady attempted to stand but, weak from laughing... “My, Lord!” ...she only succeeded in falling again.

Catching his breath. Rising from his knees— soot and ash dropping from his clothing. “Mum...” forcing himself to stop laughing, “… ‘ear le’me ‘elp ya.” Offering his hand, Zachariah came out of the fireplace.

The boy looked so pitiful! But yet the situation was so funny the lady could not stop herself and began to laugh even harder.

Zachariah’s filthy hand, “Mum,” reached forward.

Catching her breath. Hesitating, the lady looked at the boy’s soot ingrained hand…

...then clasped it tightly and as their hands touched the laughter stopped.

“Mum?” Helping the lady to her feet, he held her hand a moment longer than necessary, then reluctantly let go.

The lady looked at her hand, which now was coated with soot, then looked onto Zachariah's face, and the two pair of green flecked blue eyes stared at each other until, after what in reality was no more than an extended second or two…

“Zachariah...” she said, forcing her eyes from his “… would you like something to eat? That man, your, uh, ‘owner,’ was kind enough to allow me permission to give you something to eat.”

“Me owner?” If there is a distinction between the two, Zachariah did not know it. “Master Johnson’s not me owner, ‘e’s me master, an’ yes, Mum, I’d surely like somethin’ to eat!”

“‘Master’! That man shouldn’t be master to a dog! He doesn’t have sense enough to…” Seeing a look of confusion on the boy’s face, stopping, she changed the subject. “Zachariah, if you’d care to stop working, I would truly like to give you something to eat.”

“Mum, I’m awful ‘ungry an’ I thanks ya, but me work’s most done an’ soon’s I finish this…” parting the overlapping cloths he stood aside to show her that the fire wall, the back wall, was finished and all that remained were the two smaller and considerably cleaner side walls. “The rest is easy, an’ I’d just as soon be finishished so’s I might rest up ‘fore Master Johnson comes back, an’, if it’s all the same to you, might I eat then?”

“I understand. Whenever you’re ready, come to the kitchen.” Her maternal instinct still at play, without thinking, the lady rubbed the top of the boy’s bristly head then turned, and as she walked through the door into the kitchen, wiped her hand over the front of her apron leaving a wide black streak on the starched, white material.

Other than a push, a slap, or worse from Johnson, rarely touched by another human, the heat of the lady’s hand warming the boy from his head to his toes, Zachariah watched as the lady left the room then, sighing once again, went back into the fireplace and, wanting to finish quickly, increased his effort.

Soon both sidewalls were brushed clean and all that remained was to sweep the debris that was lying on the floor and cart it to the compost bin.

Feeling his stomach growl, Do this later, the boy thought, his stomach growling again, after I eat.

Coming out of the fireplace, Zachariah removed the cloth screens, folded them carefully, folding them from the outer edges inward so as not to spill soot onto the lady’s under— sheet then folded the large cloth that lay directly in front of the fireplace.

Going to the front door, stepping outside and shutting the door behind him, Zechariah shook all three drop clothes, refolded them and placed them alongside the door.

While outside, the boy removed his scarf and coat, shook both and, using the scarf, rubbed his hands, face and head in an attempt to remove as much loose dirt as possible.

Back in the house…

“Mum...” in the parlor “...oh, Mum, I’ve finished!”

Opening the door to the kitchen, standing within the open doorway, “Zachariah, come in here, why don’t you.”

“Oh, no, Mum! I wouldn’t want to get your things an’ nice floors all dirty,” he said sincerely. “Please, Mum...” he asked, pointing to the fireplace “...mightn’t I eat ‘ere?”

Coming a step or two closer, the lady looked at the boy.

Standing before the fireplace, his coat and scarf lying at his feet— out of the long-coat, the lady seeing the tattered, threadbare appearance of his rope-belt tied trousers and his shirt, Zachariah appeared to be even smaller, even younger and even, if at all possible, more pathetic then she’d originally thought.

Not wanting to cause the boy any discomfort, “All right, sit down and rest. I’ll be in shortly.”

She did want to speak to him and would rather he came into the kitchen, but was able to understand why he would feel more comfortable here.

Sitting on the raised hearth, looking about the well-appointed room, the boy’s eyes stopped at the large, sheet draped, cone-like thing standing in the corner.

Noticing something glittering at the top, standing, he crossed the room. It’s a star. A five-pointed star!Curious, “Mum!” Still, a child, curiosity getting the better of him, “Oh, Mum!” he called.

“Yes, Zachariah?” Coming through the door, she saw him staring at the star.

“What is this thing, Mum?”

What is this thing? Thinking, how could he not know?Going to the cone, she carefully removed the sheets.

His eyes widening. “Oh… It’s ‘beautiful’! It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!” Thinking, other than you… “Oh, Mum, what is it?”

“Zachariah, you’ve ‘never ‘seen a Christmas tree? What does that man do at Christmas? What do you do at Christmas?”

Staring raptly at the tree. “Master Johnson, ‘e don’t ‘old with Christmas...” Zachariah answered “...so mostly we do nothin’.” Correcting himself, “I don’t do nothin’. Master Johnson, ‘e gets drunk. ‘e say’s that rich fools likes to buy the likes of ‘im drinks on the day afore Christmas.”

“Oh, yes...” suspecting as much “...that’s the ‘important appointment’ he wasn’t able to miss! I’ll surely be giving your Master Johnson a bit of my mind when he returns!”

“Oh, Mum, ‘no’!”Fear showing on the boy’s face. “Please! ‘e told me not to be sayin’ nothin’ to ya ‘bout where ‘e’s gone off too. Please don’t tell ‘im I told ya!”

Seeing the fear on his face, in his eyes. “Zachariah, no! I would never say a word that would make trouble for you. No! I’ll not mention a word. Rest now till I come back. I’ll finish getting your food.”

Relaxing, “Thank ya, Mum.”

Going back to the hearth. Sitting, he stared across the room at the Christmas tree. Putting his elbows on his knees and holding his head by cupping his chin between the palms of his hands. Leaning forward, putting the weight of his body onto his arms and knees… Zachariah’s eyelids drooped… closed… fluttered open, then closed again. He forced his eyes open… then they closed.

His slumbering mind goes to his comfortable place…

To his clean place.

He is younger, no more than three years old.

Straddling her waist with his legs. His head resting on her shoulder. His arms about her neck, he is sitting on his mother’s lap. He cannot see mama’s face because the mama of Zachariah’s dreams —as in his memory, mama always has her face hidden in deep shadow.

“Ah, Zachariah...” her voice sweet music to the ear of his mind “...my little Zachariah,” she coos, winding a finger into one of the tight curls over his ear, and…

Now! For the first time in his memory. In his dream. In this dream…

Mama…

Putting both sweet-smelling hands onto her baby’s cheeks mama holds his face and…

Mama’s face appeared out of the darkness and…

Mama…

Zachariah is able to see mamma’s face. For mama’s face is the face of the lady and the three year old boy looks at mama closely. Wanting. Needing to etch mama’s face into the eye of his memory. To never forget again!

To never allow the face of mama to be unseen… To never be hidden in shadows.

“Zachariah...” softly “...my little Zachariah.”

Zachariah feels her warm, soft lips on his forehead. Mama. Mama’s hands, Mama’s lips feel so warm, so loving.

“Zachariah…”

Softly, “I’ve brought you your meal… Zachariah.”

The boy’s legs relaxed. His elbows spread and his head slipped from between his hands falling onto his chest. His eyes opening, Zachariah’s head snapped up, and…

Above him it was the face of his dream and for a moment thought it was mama and…

“Mama!” he said happily. Then, his eyes focusing, looking to his right, looking to his left, he realized...

The movement of his eyes, the confused look upon his face… The lady saw his joy, then the sorrow.

“Zachariah, I’m sorry to wake you, but I’ve brought your food.” Kneeling before the boy, she placed the tray onto the floor before him.

Standing at her side there was a small child whom, by the look of him, had just awoken from a nap and now bashfully—or frightfully hid his face in his mother’s skirt.

Seeing the child, Zachariah smiled.

“Albert,” prying her son’s face from her skirt. “Albert, this is Zachariah.”

Albert looked at Zachariah. Seeing his dirt-encrusted face the child bounded back in fear and, grabbing his mother’s skirt again, twisted behind her back and began to cry.

Vanishing... Zachariah’s smile was replaced by a look of extreme pain as he realized that it was him! That it was his appearance that had caused such fear in Albert… A child himself, Zachariah, too, began to cry.

Pulling the little boy from behind and beneath her skirt. Lifting him into her arms while stroking the back of his head, “Shhh,” the lady whispered in the child’s ear. “Don’t cry, my little Albert. This is Zachariah, and he’s just a little boy, too. He won’t hurt you… Shhh.”

Making a half turn she looked at Zachariah and seeing his tears, a thickness came to her throat and her eyes becoming moist, also, This won’t do! she thought. This just will not do! The three of us here bawling.

“Albert!” She said sternly, attempting to force her own tears down. “Albert, stop crying! This is Zachariah and he will not hurt you!”

Thinking a moment, she added, “Zachariah’s here to clean our chimney so when Saint Nicholas comes with all your presents he won’t get himself all dirty sliding down the chimney.”

At this both boys stopped crying.

Saint Nicholas? Zachariah thought.

“ ‘Saint Nicholas’!”

“Yes, Albert, so he won’t get his Christmas suit all dirty when he comes down the chimney.”

Rubbing the silver medallion hanging from about his neck between his thumb and forefinger, Albert’s fear of Zachariah momentarily forgotten. “ ‘Saint Nicholas’ coming?” he enthusiastically asked.

“Yes, tonight, Albert. Saint Nicholas is coming to visit you tonight and Zachariah...” looking at him with a rather stern look “...is cleaning our chimney so he won’t get all dirty.”

Wiggling from his mother’s arms. Standing in front of her and coming closer to Zachariah. “Saint Nicholas come tonight!” Albert happily said.

“Eh, Mum...” looking from Albert to the lady

“...who’s going to, eh, slide down the  

chimney?” he asked disbelievingly.

“Why, Zachariah, I’m surprised at you!” Surely, she thought, he must be jesting. But then again, he had no idea of the tree. The lady further thought. For the sake of Albert, “Don’t you know that on Christmas Eve Saint Nicholas comes to the homes of all good children?” she asked.

“No, Mum. Why’s ‘e come?” he asked sincerely.

Once again amazed at Zachariah’s lack of spiritual knowledge, the lady hesitated because it was beyond her comprehension that there was a child anywhere that did not know of Saint Nicholas. But he does not know, she thought. The poor child does not know! How sad.

Once again, for the sake of Albert “ ‘Saint Nicholas’, he comes to bring presents.”

“Presents?” In the same disbelieving tone: “Who’s, eh, who’s ‘e bring presents to?”

“Children…” looking at her son “...the good children.”

“ ‘’e brings presents to ‘good children’! All over London?” he asked incredulously, thinking, I’m good. Why ain’t ‘e never brought me a present?

Sighing, glancing at her son. “No, Zachariah, Saint Nicholas brings presents to good children…” hesitating because she knew how ridiculous it would sound to this boy “…all over the world.”

And it does. “ ‘The world’?” The size of the world and the amount of people occupying the world far beyond his understanding, but knowing the world is big and that it is occupied by a ‘lot’ of people, “The world! ‘e, this, uh…?”

Hesitating, “Saint Nicholas,” the lady said.

“Yes, Mum. ‘St. Nicholas,’ ‘e brings presents to all them children, all over the world! An’…” Zachariah’s personal experience as a chimney sweep telling him this is impossible, but feeling rather sure the lady would not lie to him “...‘e, eh… ‘slides down’ all them chimneys?”

“Why, uh…” for Albert “... yes.”

After all, why would she lie to him. “ ‘Who-ee,’ ” said in absolute amazement, “ ‘e must be one dirty bloke.”

The little boy; ‘Albert’ had been listening to this exchange looking at Zachariah, up to his mother and back to Zachariah, his head turning as each spoke.

“Zachariah…” for the sake of Albert — and his childhood fantasy, the lady wanted ‘very badly’ to end this conversation “...you’d best eat before it becomes cold.”

Patting her son on the behind to get him started, the boy’s mother followed. When she reached the kitchen she entered, turned back and watched the other boy through a slight opening of the door.

Standing before his mother, Albert looked at the black boy through the opening of the door also.

But Albert was no longer afraid.

Next: Zachariah 9: His Story

                                 Screenplay

 ZACHARIAH (CONT’D) Lordy! They look at each other for several seconds in stunned silence. The Lady smiles, then covering her mouth she laughs. Trying to stand, the Lady slips and lands on her rear again. She laughs hysterically. Zachariah can’t help but laugh too. Standing up, soot falling from his clothes, he offers her assistance. Still laughing she hesitates then takes his hand. As their hands touch their laughter stops. Their eyes meet. For a moment, they stare at each other smiling. The Lady steadies herself on a nearby chair, covered with a dust sheet and catches her breath. LADY What must you think of me? Zachariah shrugs and smiles. She gazes into his bright blue eyes again, then looks away.

LADY (CONT’D) Your owner has given me permission to feed you, if you would like.

ZACHARIAH Me owner? E’s not me owner, Mum. Mister Johnson’s me master. Not me…

LADY Master! He is not fit to master anything, he… Seeing Zachariah’s confusion she changes the subject.

LADY (CONT’D) Never mind. (BEAT) Zachariah I would like very much to feed you if you will pause your work. Zachariah pulls open the sheets curtaining the fireplace and checking the firewall explains.

ZACHARIAH Mum, I’m awful ungry n I’d surely like to eat, but me work’s almost done. If’n it’s wiv yer proval I’d rather ave it finished so’s I can rest after eatin while I wait for Master Johnson, Mum. The Lady smiles mournfully.

LADY I understand. When you’re ready, come to the kitchen. She rubs Zachariah’s head, making him smile. He resumes his work. The Lady walks out of the room, wiping her hand on her apron, leaving a broad black smudge. 28 EXT.

LADY’S HOUSE - DAY 28 Zachariah descends the steps carrying the drop cloths and screen cloths bundled to contain the soot. He takes them to the side of the house and shakes out the soot. The cloths emptied, he folds and stacks them on the bottom step, then peels off his scarf and coat. He shakes off his coat, then uses his scarf to scrub his hands and face as best he can. Zachariah starts putting his coat back on. Hearing a whisper on the breeze, he hesitates as though expecting to see someone, shrugs and heads back into the house. 29

INT. LADY’S HOUSE – HALLWAY - DAY 29 Zachariah stands at the doorway to the Living Room. He looks nervously at the closed kitchen door at the far end of the hallway. Clearing his throat he calls out. ZACHARIAH Mum? – Beggin yer pardon? I’ve done most me work, I’ve only to tidy. The kitchen door opens and the Lady appears.

LADY Come in here Zachariah.

The Climbing Boy 32. Zachariah clutches his coat tightly, glances at the fireplace in the Living Room then smiles at the Lady. ZACHARIAH If it’s greeable wiv ya mum, I’d like to eat in ere. I don’t want to be makin a mess in yer lovely ouse.

Bewildered, she watches him wander into the Living Room.