A Home in the Country by Sheelagh Mawe

Author:Sheelagh Mawe [Sheelagh Mawe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780719814846
Publisher: Robert Hale
Published: 2014-02-15T05:00:00+00:00

TEN

Out of nowhere, it seemed, Cathy was beside me, hissing in my ear, shaking me, dragging me off the bed. ‘You gotta get a move on … get downstairs. Agnes has gone crazy-mad. Been screamin’ and yellin’ all mornin’ long. Poured boilin’ water on Sally’s hands ’cause she was washin’ slow and, boy, wait’ll you see the blisters….’

I couldn’t make any sense out of what she was saying. My head felt so fuzzy and my mouth so dry I couldn’t think at all. Cathy pulled me harder and I rolled over on my hand and instantly I remembered everything. The pump! The blood! My finger! Uncle Larry! Oh, Jesus! Oh, God!

‘He gone?’ I gasped, ‘Uncle Larry?’

‘Left yesterday,’ Cathy answered and paused a moment to smile. ‘Took time to give Agnes a black eye ’fore he left though!’

Oh, how I wished I’d seen him do that! And oh, how I wished he was still there to keep Agnes away from me.

‘What you s’pose she’ll do to me now?’ I gulped.

Cathy looked as scared as I felt. ‘Whatever it is, it ain’t gonna be nice,’ she said, pushing me towards the stairs.

From the bottom step I could see Agnes at the wash tub and quickly slid my bandaged hand behind my back. Agnes turned and saw me. ‘Hope you’re feelin’ rested bein’ all you done since yes’t’day is sleep,’ she growled.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Hope you ain’t ’spectin’ no breakfast.’

‘No, ma’am.’

‘What’s that you got behind your back?’

‘Um … my hand, ma’am.’

‘Your hand, huh? Bring it here. I been wantin’ to have me a looksee. Cathy, go get me my scissors.’

Scissors? ‘No!’ I gasped, backing away. ‘Please, Mother….’

‘I ain’t your mother,’ Agnes snarled. ‘I was you’d be dead! It’s on account of you my own kids don’t come near! On account of you I had that pig, Larry, beatin’ up on me yesterday! Get over here!’

I struggled as hard as I could but she got my hand out from behind my back and slammed it down on the table. Cathy handed her the scissors, then gave all her attention to the floor. Agnes cut the bandage away, tugging where dried blood had stuck it to my skin.

‘Why … this ain’t nothin’ but a itty-bitty scratch,’ she glowered staring at my discoloured, grossly swollen finger. ‘And that old fool put in four stitches? Jesus! Must think my name’s Rockefeller! Cathy, honey, let’s us take ’em out! Leastways, two. Go get me them little pointy scissors out of Betty’s room.’

More scissors? Little pointy scissors? While desperately trying to tug my hand free of Agnes’ vice-like grip, I begged her to leave them alone. ‘Please, ma’am … ’ I sobbed. ‘They already hurt real bad and the doctor said he’d maybe take a couple out Friday.’

‘You ain’t goin’ no place Friday, girl,’ Agnes snarled. ‘What? Pay that old fool extra when if I’d had my say I’d have just lopped the top of that finger right off. For free, too! Damn them interferin’ men!’

Over the racket of my screams

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