Zachariah 11: Bit’a Luck
London, England
December 24, 1843
Late Morning
Giggling, “Aye, Elmo, that tickles.” The woman belched into the man’s hairy ear. “Stop now, ya bad boy.” Looking past the man’s near bald head, out of the window. “Eiii! Driver!”
Disentangling one of her arms, banging on the carriage roof, “Stop ‘ere!”
Turning on the spring seat, looking at the frantic woman through the carriage’s small, oval shaped window, “Whoa!” the driver jerked sharply on the reins. “Whoa!”
In an effort to comply with the driver’s sudden command, the two well-trained horses pulled to the side of the cobblestone road even as they struggled against the forward momentum.
“Stop, driver! ‘Stop’!”
Pulling back on the breaking lever, sparks flew from under all four iron-shod wheels and eight iron-hoofed legs.
Within the carriage, the suddenly halted forward momentum caused the man and woman to slide off the seat, onto the floor into a tanglement of arms, legs and hooped skirts.
“What the bloody ‘ell!” the man shouted. “Else, why the ‘ell’d ya do that?”
On the start of a return trip to the corner — his head hunched into the color of the long-coat, Zachariah had hardly noticed the carriage as it rounded the corner. Now, stopping. Standing absolutely still, he watched as the carriage careened towards him, grated against the gutter and—its wheels spewing a shower of sparks on the cobblestone street—slid to an abrupt halt fifteen feet in front of him.
As...
...Else, pulling herself from beneath the man atop her and, with her hat askew, shoving the door open, vaulted out of the carriage onto the street.
Watching as...
…The carriage door sprung open as a disheveled woman wearing a vividly colored, wide hooped, silken dress and a cockeyed, albeit matching, hat hurdled herself onto the street and barreled towards him, and…
His mouth dropping open, “Lordy!” he said. “What’d I do?” As panicking, glancing over his shoulder he hoped that, maybe, it wasn’t him but someone behind him this wild appearing woman was rushing to...
...But there wasn’t anyone behind him.
Bounding into him, almost knocking the boy off his feet, grabbing him, Zachariah winced as the woman, “ ‘Elmo’!”shouted into his ear, “Elmo! I got me one!”
The boy tried to break from her grasp, but hanging onto him, “I got me one!”
“Yeah, Else, I sees.” Carefully — staggeringly stepping from the carriage, onto the street, tottering, Elmo saw his lady friend hanging onto a boy.
“What the bloody ‘ell’s gotten into ya? What the ‘ell ya shoutin’ ‘bout? Who the ‘ell’s this?”
“A ‘sweep’, ya bloody id’jut!” Holding a fear frozen Zachariah at arm’s length, showing Elmo. “Can’t ya see?”
As though the boy were a rag doll, completely lifting him off his feet, Elsa turned Zachariah towards Elmo. “I tol’j’ya I be wantin’ to be touchin’ a sweep afore the New Year! Ya know’s, Elmo, for good luck an’ such.”
Almost taking the wind from him, hugging him, the large, elderly woman squeezed the boy’s head against her well endowed chest.
“Else!” Trying, unsuccessfully, to separate the two by pulling their bodies apart, Elmo looked at the boy, then his hands. “Leave the lad be for Christ’s sake!” he said as, taking a handkerchief from his pocket, Elmo wiped offset soot from both hands. “Else, you’ll be stranglin’ the lad! An’ I ‘ears it ain’t no good luck a’tall to be killin’ a sweep.”
Standing behind her, much to Zachariah’s relief, Elmo was able to pry Else’s fingers from around his back.
“Aye, an’ ain’t ‘e a pretty one I found Elmo? Just look’a them eyes!”
Twisting out of Elmo’s hands, hugging Zachariah again, she kissed him full on the mouth.
Overshadowing the scent of abundantly used cheap perfume, thinking she smelled like Johnson after he’d been drinking, though he’d never been quite this close to Johnson after he’d been drinking, unable to hold back, “Yaght!”Zachariah gagged.
Shrugging his shoulders. Going back to the carriage and wobbly standing on the rung, “Else...” Elmo said, “...best get your arse back ‘ere. We ain’t got all day, ya know!”
“Be with ya in a flash, Elmo. ‘old ya water!” Reaching into the bag hanging from the crook of her arm, rummaging a moment, “‘ere ya be, lad,” pressing a coin into his hand.
“I just know’s ya be bringing’ me some bit’a good luck. Good Christmas to ya, boy!”
“Uh…” thankful to be free of the woman’s arm-hold, and overpowering scent “… thank ya, Mum.” Zachariah replied. “Ya be ‘avin’ a good Christmas, too.”
Winking at him, her dangling hat held onto one fallen curl by a hatpin, Else tottered back to the carriage.
“Aye, Driver!” Elmo pounded on the roof.
“Giddyap!” With a slapping of the reins, the carriage pulled away from the curb.
Loudly belching, “Well, Else, ain’t ya the sight!”
“Me, Elmo? Sure, me ‘at’s a bit off, an’ me ‘air’s a bit messed, but I’ll ‘ave ‘er fixed in a jiffy.” Looking in the mirror affixed to the front partition, “ ‘Yeek’!” Elsa shrieked because her forehead, nose, mouth, and chin, and her scarf, dress, and jacket were caked and shadowed with and by soot.
“Lord’a’mighty!” Taking a handkerchief from her bag, moistening a corner with the tip of her tongue, she absolutely ineffectively dabbed at her nose.
“Else, I don’t think that’s gonna to be a ‘elp to ya. Yeah, Else, this sure be ya lucky day!”
Watching the carriage until it was out of sight, Zachariah then looked at the coin that had been forced into his hand: the same as the three coins given to him by the lady in the house for the sweep.
Wanting to be sure this coin went into the proper pocket, putting his hand under the long-coat, feeling the bulk of the large silver coin, hearing the ‘clink’ of the smaller coin as it dropped it into his right side pocket.
‘Lordy’! A terrible thought occurring to him. Stretching his index finger deeply into the breast pocket of the long-coat, scratching its head — relieved the small creature hadn’t been crushed in Else’s grip. “Mousy, ya sure brought me a bit’a luck today.” Zachariah said out loud, then again looked about to be sure that no one was close enough to hear him.
Other than the boy and mouse, the wind blown street was barren.
SCREENPLAY
Late Morning-Early Afternoon
INT. THE TABARD INN - DAY 30
Johnson is sitting alone at a table in the corner of a dingy public bar, head down, mumbling to himself between sips from his glass of gin.
A WOMAN (30s) is asleep at one end of the bar, while a TALL MAN (30s) whispers in her ear, even though she’s asleep.
A FAT MAN (40s) and a SAILOR (20s) sit in another corner of the bar playing cards. Sitting near Johnson we see CARPENTER (40s), a smartly dressed, bald man drinking ale. Johnson catches sight of him and sneers. JOHNSON What ya all prettied up fer Carpenter?
Carpenter sets down his tankard, belches then replies.
CARPENTER Tis Christmas Johnson ya miserable swine. Why’d ya think I’d be all done up?
JOHNSON Christmas. An this place near empty. Ain’t no cause to pretty yerself if ya asks me.
CARPENTER I ain’t askin ya. (BEAT) So, what ya plannin to do to celebrate? Johnson downs his gin and goes to the counter as he replies.
JOHNSON Ain’t nothin to celebrate cept gettin me fill o gin.
CARPENTER Where’s yer boy? Ain’t ya got nothin planned fer im?
Johnson slams his empty glass down. Nodding at the BARKEEPER (40s) to refill the glass, he slides a halfpenny along the counter, tapping the glass until the Barkeeper approaches. Turning to face Carpenter, Johnson leans back against the counter and grumbles.
JOHNSON Me boy. All anyone ever thinks about is me boy. Why’s e always got everyone’s kindness when not one soul’s ever so much as given me the smell of their breath?
Carpenter takes a mouthful of ale rather than answer.
JOHNSON (CONT’D) I know e’s a good lad. E works ard, never complains, but I taught im what e knows same as old Thornton taught me at is age.
CARPENTER I s’pose it were you what taught im to be cheery n kind n all was it? Carpenter laughs and gulps some more ale. Johnson snatches his refilled glass of gin, downs it and wipes his mouth.
JOHNSON A pox on yer cheery n kind. Least I never fired, whipped or put pins to is feet to get im up the flue like what I ad from Thornton. He wraps the empty glass on the counter and the Barkeeper refills it. Johnson goes to lift the glass, but the Barkeeper grabs Johnson’s fist around the glass and holds it firmly on the counter. Extending his free hand he waits for payment. Johnson looks at him sideways and smiles.
JOHNSON (CONT’D) Aint ya lettin me ave one fer Christmas?
The Barkeeper keeps his hand held out, but says nothing. Johnson digs into his pocket.
Early Afternoon
The lady watching from behind the curtain of a second story window was tempted to invite Zachariah back into the house, but saying ‘goodbye’ once was hard enough, however, suddenly…
“Zachariah! Aye, ‘Zachariah’!” Having rounded the corner, weaving drunkenly towards him, “Com’on boy!”
Looking at him sternly, slapping him on the back of his head as though the boy were the reason for his tardiness, “We ain’t got all day, ya know!” Johnson said. “We’s got one more job to do, ya know! Ol’ ‘obbins, ya know!” Coughing, spitting bloody phlegm onto the street. Holding his hand forward, “Ya gots me money?” Johnson demanded.
Reaching into his left pocket, “The lady, she paid a bit more’n necessary,” the boy said as he fished within its depth a moment, found, removed and dropped the three coins into Johnson’s waiting hand.
Glancing at the coins, somehow taking the over-payment as his due, Johnson dropped the coins into his trouser pocket without comment.
Turning, going back to the steps, Zachariah hoisted the unequal bulk of the equipment around his shoulders and into his arms.
From the window above, watching until Johnson and Zachariah were out of sight. Sighing, “May the Lord Jesus be with you, my boy.” The lady pressed her palms together in prayer. “May the good Lord be with you!”
The drapes in the window of the second floor bedroom fell into place.
Next: Zachariah 12; The Magician
Reminder: Fire, undeniably, is one of the worst possible disasters that might befall any household.
Superstition often having a basis in fact: If a house were to burn and along with it all of the inhabitant’s worldly possessions, that, in fact, could definitely be considered bad luck. As flue fires were most often the cause of these disasters, it was then thought that once a chimney sweep entered a house and plied his trade that house would be immune from fire, thus it came to be believed that it was good luck to have a chimney sweep in the house. Even to this day, upon seeing a chimney sweep, some people will come to touch him, hoping that bit of luck might rub off on them…
As did Else.
