Slave Sisters

(15) Slave Sisters

30th October, 1804 

The first thing that Mrs Wicker did on a Saturday morning was to push me out of the house with money, ordering for me to buy more food.

It was an extremely windy day; actually, I wished that I could be wearing one of those thick coats that Mrs Wicker tended to wear to church. My feet were kept quite warm from the tightness of my shoes, although I again wished to be wearing one of Mrs Wicker’s pairs of shoes.

With it still being morning the paths were still somewhat deserted. Reaching the town square, I was surprised to see it quite filled with people. Fancy-looking people were entering the place the same as me; women were just exiting shops with their needed; I released a loud exhale, wondering where exactly to go first.

From what I remembered, there was still foods such as bread and eggs present in the kitchen, along with drinks such as Jane’s favourite fruit wine, plus tea and coffee . . . what exactly was I meant to buy?

I pursed my lips tightly, thinking it through properly. Before I could receive any more strange stares from my miniscule, unsure footsteps, I set off positively to the sweets shop.

***

“Fank yer,” I said to the till man, handing him over what I was sure to be the right amount of money. He poked out a delicate smile and then took the cash from my hand. I watched as he counted the coins and then put some of it away, handing the remaining money back to me.

Instead of replying he only nodded. I did not take his action offensively – at least he came across as more polite to me than many others that I had come into contact with. After having exited the meat shop I happily smiled, glad with the many bags that I now held in my hands – the amount that I had bought so far was certain to last us a long time.

The day had now brightened up, as had my mood. Not only had I bought the ingredients for muffins and cheese – Victor’s favourites – but also other foods that I had never heard of or cooked before,  like pickles; I had even made the most of my trip to the sweets shop by buying a small bagful of tablet for Jane, iced almonds, pastils and barley sugar.

Beaming, I set off on my way to another shop.

***

Before I could make my way up the pathway I heard a clear, “Tamara!”

“Wha’?” Immediately I froze, opting to move away from the Wicker house’s front path. Although the call was clear and loud, it still seemed to sound distant. No one visible was outside anywhere nearby – I could not decide on whether this was a good or bad thing.

“Behind you!” This time the call was much closer; to avoid what had happened before I gripped on protectively to my bags as soon as Millie had approached me. Her chest heaved up and down noticeably as she panted; she leaned a hand onto my shoulder to steady herself.

I smiled unsurely, “Wha’ ‘ave yer been doin’?” A picture of her was made in my mind as her being a pale person in her tired state – those deeply blossomed cheeks . . .

All Millie could do was shake her head as she spent the next couple of moments trying to regain her breath. I briefly glanced up at the mansion, watchful to spot any slightly-open curtains that had eyes peeking out down onto me: Mrs Wicker’s eyes, most importantly.

“I saw you in the town square from faraway . . . Goodness, you walk fast!” I quietly laughed at her explanation.

“Yer could’ve called when yer firs’ saw me,” I said, shifting the bag handles in my fingers around a little. Realisation hit her face – this was soon gone when she shook her head again.