Zachariah 10: A New Friend
London, England
December 24, 1843
All that was left for the boy to do was to
sweep the pile of soot on the fireplace floor
into the ash bucket, dump it in the trash bin
outside and take whatever equipment was
left inside outside and wait for Johnson to
return for him.
Scuttle in hand, about to put the ash bucket into the fireplace when he noticed movement in the back corner.
Dropping onto his hands and knees Zachariah looked.
Two gray mice looked back. The larger mouse scampered through a chink in the masonry but, standing on its hind legs, its nose twitching, sniffing the air, the smaller mouse remained.
Moving slowly so as not to frighten the creature, Zachariah shifted the steel scuttle from his left hand to his right. Holding it loosely, testing its weight, his wrist moving up and down slightly… slowly… slowly he brought his hand up.
Its nose twitching and its black eyes watching, the small mouse remained frozen in place.
Zachariah brought the scuttle higher, and down…
...But stopping in mid-swing, Zachariah lay the shovel aside, and putting both hands onto the hearth, he leaned into the fireplace in order to better see this fearless rodent.
Dropping onto its four paws, the mouse slowly, carefully, approached Zachariah’s outstretched hands. Stopping just short of his right index finger, it sniffed. Moving to the left, it stopped again, smelled the thumb and, as through sensing approval, looked up, climbed onto the web of flesh between the boy’s thumb and forefinger, looked up again, then crawled under the loose cuff of Zachariah’s shirt and up his arm.
A creature sent by God?
A creature too stupid to realize its inbred fear of death?
“Ai, that tickles!” Zachariah was more than astonished. Zachariah was amazed at the creature’s courage and dumbfounded by its friendliness.
Reaching the collar of the boy’s shirt, the mouse walked across the back of his neck and, rising onto its back paws, gently gentled nibbled on Zachariah’s earlobe.
“‘ey, what kind’a mouse are ya?” Taking the mouse off his shoulder, holding it in his open hand in front of his face, the boy and mouse regarded each other closely.
“Wait a minute!” Zachariah looked to where he’d sat while eating.
There on the hearth was a large cookie crumb. Picking it up and putting it onto his palm, he held it in front of the mouse.
Sniffing a moment, picking the crumb up with both front paws, the mouse hungerly ate it.
Delighted, Zachariah scratched the bumpy surface between the mouse’s ears for a few seconds, then stopped.
Causing the boy to giggle, the mouse lifted its head against Zachariah’s outstretched finger and wiggled it back and forth.
“Aye, ya wanna be me friend do ya? Well, little mouse, me name’s Zachariah. An’ what might your name be?”
Looking over his shoulder to be sure the lady hadn’t returned, Lordy, he thought, she’d think me daft, talkin’ to a mouse.
“I know what!” Bringing his hand closer to his mouth he
whispered into the mouse’s pink ear. “You’re a mouse, right? So’s I think I’ll call ya ‘Mousy’. Yeah, ‘Mous’y! That’s your name from now on. An’ I ain’t gonna tell no one ‘bout ya. It’ll be our secret, just you an’ me. Master Johnson, ‘e never looks by me bed, so tonight, when we gets ‘ome, I’m gonna find ya a somethin’ so’s ya can live in it. An’ I’ll make ya a bed outta some piece a’rag an’ I’ll save ya some crumbs out’a me food to feed ya, an’ we’ll find somethin’ to put water into so’s you’ll have somethin’ to drink, an’… an’, you’n’me, we’ll be friends.
Sitting on Zachariah’s palm as thought actually listening, Mousy’s ears stood straight up.
The boy looked about for some means of transport. Seeing nothing, “Mousy,” still whispering, “‘ow can I get ya, ‘ome?”
His coat! “Me coat’s got a top pocket.” Putting it on and spreading the breast pocket open, Zachariah carefully dropped Mousy inside.
Falling to the bottom of the deep pocket, standing on itshind legs, Mousy scratched at the material until it got a toehold, then, pulling itself up, poked its head through the slit.
“There ya be! You’ll be safe an’ warm there till we gets ya ‘ome an’ then I’ll find ya a proper place to live.”
Thinking, best be done a’fore ‘e gets back ‘ere.
Scratching between Mousy’s ears, the boy gave his pocket a friendly pat.
Containing ammonia and nitrogen, valued as a fertilizer,his arms straining under the weight, holding the handle with both hands, lugging brim-full buckets of soot, he made two trips to the lady’s compost bin.
Finished with all work, looking about the room one final time, Zachariah’s eyes lingered on the Christmas tree foe a few moments… then sighing, not at all happy to be leaving this house, nor the lady— ‘especially’ the lady—he carried the toolbox outside and put it by the door alongside the stack of drop cloths, the poles and coil of rope that had been left by Johnson.
Going to the kitchen door, “Mum...” he called, “...I’ve finished!” and stood back, waiting for her to come out.
The door opened.
Coming to him, the sad look returned to her face and, once again obeying a maternal compulsion, without saying a word, putting her arms around Zachariah, the lady hugged him.
Arms held at his sides, his fingers extended, the boy did not know what to do.
Other than the remembrance of the feel of the lady’s hand caressing his head before he’d eaten, in this young boy’s memory — besides ‘getting what for’ from his master, the closest Zachariah had come to the touch of another human had been earlier on this day when his head had rested upon the shoulder of Marcos the fishmonger, and he’d been asleep then and only became aware at the moment, and for the moment, that he’d awoken.
He ached to hug the lady back, but didn’t want to make her any dirtier.
But, Oh, Lordy! The feel of the starched apron upon his face, the odors of the kitchen and the soft, warmth of the lady reminded him of…
“Mama,” he whispered into the crevice of her bosom.
Reluctantly loosening her hold so she might look at Zachariah the lady pulled back slightly.
Teeth biting lower lips, both attempting to hold back tears, the young boy and motherly lady each looked at the other.
Giving in to an uncontrollable urge, Oh! he thought again as, brushing his hand over the lady’s cheek, leaving a streak of dirt, It’s soft, just like Mama’s. And Zachariah’s eyes became shiny at the thought of never again seeing this beautiful, kind lady. This lady who was so much like his Mama—like the Mama of his dreams.
“Oh, Mum, I’ve made your face dirty. I’m sorry!” He tried rubbing the streak with a finger, but only succeeded in making her cheek dirtier.
“No, Zachariah...” taking hold of his hand, squeezing it, “...it’s all right.”
Backing to the fireplace, bringing him with her, the lady sat on the hearth facing him so that she and the boy might be at eye level.
Reaching into the pocket of her apron, “Zachariah, here, this is for you to give Mister Johnson for the sweep.” Handing him three coins. “It’s a bit more than the agreed price, so as to make sure he is in a good mood when he comes for you.”
Looking at the coins, “Thank ya, Mum.” he put them into his trousers, left side pocket.
“And, Zachariah...” taking his hand. “...this is for you.”
Turning his hand palm side up, she laid a large, silver coin into his dirt-caked hand.
Looking at the coin, “Lordy!” trying to hand it back. “No,Mum! I can’t be takin’ this from ya!”
“ ‘Yes’!” Ignoring his effort to force the coin back into her hand. “Yes, you can! And you must! Zachariah, I want you to hide this from him! Save this for when you want to…” wanting to say, ‘run away’ “...leave Mister Johnson, or when you see something you want very badly for yourself. But it is for you! When you ‘need’ it! For something very important!”
Looking into his eyes. “Do you understand me?”
Nodding his head, “Yes, Mum.”
“You try to remember where I live, if for ‘any’ reason you need me, or if you wish to speak to me.”
Looking into her eyes, Zachariah felt happy with the knowledge that he could see the lady again if he wanted to, and he knew he ‘would’ want to. “Yes, Mum.” He put the coin into his right side pocket.
Looking at him a moment longer, not knowing what more to say, not knowing what more to do. “May the Lord bless and keep you, Zachariah.”
Standing, she swiped the palms of her hands over her eyes, looked hard at the boy one last time, then walked out of the room, into the kitchen, where she completely closed the door behind her.
Zachariah watched as the lady turned and walked away.
He looked at the closed door a moment, then went through the living room to the front door, opened it, stepped through and started to close it, but stopped,
opened it again, looked about one last time and…
“Bye, Mum.” he said softly.
Concentrating, fighting to hold back tears, the boy closed the door.
Zachariah made three trips carrying the equipment down the flight of stairs.
Stacking it neatly on the bottom step, he sat on the step to wait for Johnson.
As he waited he thought about the lady, also about the man that comes down chimneys. The man the lady called…?
‘Saint Nicholas’.
The lady said all good children get presents. He thought, I ain’t never been bad. I’m a good boy, ain’t I? ‘ow’s come ‘e forgets me? ‘e ain’t never come to my ‘ouse! ‘ow’s come I never gets a present? I always do what Master Johnson asks, an’ sometimes I don’t even cry when ‘e ‘its me when I ain’t even done nothin’.
The more he thought, the more depressed he became, then…
skeek… skeek.
Zachariah looked down. “Blimey!” There, poking through his pocket was a small nose and two pink ears. “I’d forgotten ‘bout ya, Mousy.” Smiling, he scratched the small creature’s head.
Waiting… Waiting
For a brief period of time the heavy cover of clouds had opened allowing the sun to shine through. Now though, at midday, heavy, dark clouds were once again filling the temporally blue void.
“Where is ‘e?” Standing, shivering, tightening the scarf about his neck, Zachariah pulled the long-coat tighter about himself.
Leaving his post at the bottom of the staircase, walking past the seven row houses to the corner, looking up and down the street,Where is ‘e? Knowing full well where Johnson was, the boy returned to the stairs.
Having no idea in which direction Johnson had gone to find the nearest pub, Zachariah had no idea from what direction he’d return so — as walking helped keep him warm, he walked to the corner again...then back, past the lady’s staircase to the far corner, then back again.
As the sky grew darker, the air became colder and on the boy walked, from one corner to the other.
On the boy’s third back and forth trip...
A carriage turned the corner onto Broad Street.
The passengers, a man and woman dressed in garishly expensive clothing, were sitting huddled closely together.
The man, his face under the woman’s chin, was nibbling on her neck. His left hand, on her chest, was fondling the weight of an overly stuffed bodice. While in his right hand he held an all but empty flask of brandy.
Next: Zachariah 11; Bit’a Luck
SCREENPLAY
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. 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.
