Seed. Lisa Heathfield
I try to concentrate on my thanks, but my mind keeps drifting to Elizabeth’s swollen belly. I imagine the child, curled like a nut, growing day by day. Waiting and growing and blinking into the inky, wet darkness. I will look at its face when it’s born and see if it is like me. I’ll look for signs to see if it is my true blood sister or brother. Yet I won’t be able to treat it differently.
‘Begin to eat,’ I hear Papa S say softly, and so we all lower our heads and start to pass our bowls towards the vat of cooling porridge.
It’s not my favourite food of the day. Elizabeth’s magic has long gone by the time the bowls are put in front of us. There’s always a rubbery skin on the top and the spoon has to pop through to reach the slightly sludgy porridge below.
‘It’s delicious, Elizabeth,’ Jack says and I know he means it. He has a warmth you can almost touch. I eat mine quickly, looking forward to the fresh bread and melting jam.
When we have finished eating, we clear the plates and bowls quickly. There haven’t been so many warm days this summer, and as the Kindreds rest at the table, we want to make the most of our free time.
‘Thank you, Pearl,’ Rachel says, as she passes me her bowl. Papa S smiles at me, and my arms tingle with pride. But he doesn’t say anything and there’s no flicker of recognition in his eyes. I wish I had the courage to ask him. Have you seen? Have you seen that I am a woman? But I gather their spoons and walk back to the house without saying a word.
Even though it’s only mid-morning, the kitchen is becoming uncomfortably warm. Jack has hooked the door open, and the windows looking over the meadow are as wide as they can go, but there’s no breeze.
‘Hurry up, you lazy bunch,’ Jack says, tickling Ruby and Bobby until their legs give way and they collapse on the stone floor.
‘You’re not exactly helping,’ Kate says, flicking bubbles from the bowl at Jack. He laughs as he wipes them from the braces holding up his trousers.
‘That’s enough,’ says a voice from the doorway. Heather doesn’t normally sound annoyed. Earlier she had been so warm towards me, but now her eyes are dark and her mouth is tight. ‘Papa S would like some more milk,’ she says to no one in particular.
‘I’ll get it,’ Ruby squeals, dropping her tea towel on the side and running towards the fridge.
‘No, it’s OK,’ Heather says, reaching for a glass from a cupboard above the sideboard. Ruby’s face sinks into disappointment, but Heather doesn’t even seem to notice. She takes the jug from Ruby’s hand and pours milk into the glass. We all watch her as she puts the jug back, closes the fridge door and walks back towards the meadow.
‘What’s up with her?’ I ask.
‘She’s jealous of Rachel, I reckon,’ Kate says. ‘I bet she was hoping Papa S would choose a new Companion.’
A new Companion. Will it be me?
‘She can’t be jealous,’ Ruby says, her little face shocked. ‘It’s not allowed.’
‘You can’t stop your feelings, though, can you?’ says Kate. She looks at Jack, so quickly that if I’d blinked I wouldn’t have seen it. But I know I didn’t imagine it, because in that instant, Jack’s cheeks flush red and he looks down at his feet.
A strange feeling suddenly creeps from my throat, down to my tummy. I don’t know why it’s there, and I don’t know what it is, but then it’s gone.
They do not know that I am here, locked away forever at the top of the house. That I watch them. That one of them is mine.
They do not know my memory of growing my baby in me. And when it was time, the thunder in my stomach cracking me open. The stinging turning to burning and tearing and the final release of a head. I pushed the flesh and bones from me. My child.
I hadn’t expected the slippery, snake-like cord that held my baby to me. My baby’s screams as that cord was cut through.
‘Are you hurting it?’ I remember asking. I didn’t know whether I had birthed a boy or a girl.
‘The baby is fine.’ The Kindred had smiled as he pressed a cold flannel to my forehead. He wasn’t doing it to help me. It was to keep me down.
‘Can I hold my baby?’ I asked. But then the cramps took over my body again. My mother stood between my legs and she pulled that severed cord.
‘What’s happening?’ I screamed.
The Kindred only smiled again. ‘Trust us,’ he said. ‘Trust us.’
He won’t cry. Even though the drops of blood squeeze through the crack in his skin, I know he won’t cry. So Bobby just screws up his face and keeps his eyes shut tight as I check his foot for any more thorns.
‘They’ll give us blackberries in the autumn,’ I say, gently touching the brambles with my fingertips. ‘So we can forgive them for this scratch.’
Bobby’s face stays scrunched as he watches me pick a bracken leaf. I press it onto his cut. He tries to move his ankle away, but I hold it tight, waiting for the leaf to work.
When it’s done, I stand up and brush the dry mud from my skirt. ‘Come on, let’s get back before it rains.’
Bobby leans his head into me. ‘Thank you, Pearl,’ he says. And as we stand like this, I want to tell him: I think you’re my true brother. Because I knew, those five years ago, as soon as Elizabeth and Rachel reappeared with their empty bellies and the Kindreds carrying two mewling babies. I knew the moment I saw Bobby that he was mine.
But I say nothing. Instead, I take his hand in mine and we pick our way carefully back through the forest, back towards Seed.
The rain comes soon, when we are busy helping Elizabeth in the kitchen. It’s the first time it’s rained in the three days since I’ve been a woman. Kate walks in and she dips her finger into the soft cheese as I squeeze it in the muslin cloth. I laugh as I try to snap it shut, but she pulls her hand away.
‘Hey, dreamer,’ she says to me. ‘You’d gone to worship before I’d even opened my eyes.’
‘I went out early with Bobby.’
‘We found a robin,’ Bobby says. ‘It spoke to me.’
‘We managed ten rejoices before it flew away,’ I say.
‘I ended up going out on my own,’ Kate says, that wicked smile tipping at her lips. ‘I chose mud.’
I don’t understand why she’s saying such things these days. I want to ask her, but something is holding me back.
‘There’s beauty in everything,’ Elizabeth says, just as Ruby rushes in and the rain outside beats louder. We put down the cloth and go to the open door to watch it.
‘I like the way it bounces on the ground,’ Ruby says.
‘We’ll have to go out in it later. We’ve carrots to pick,’ Elizabeth says. She stands next to us, one hand on Bobby’s shoulder, the other pressing gently onto the glass.
I look at Elizabeth’s fingers and put mine next to hers on the glass. I’m sure our hands look the same. We both have slender fingers and small wrists.
She looks at me and smiles. ‘They’re just hands,’ she says, and I wonder how she knows my mind.
‘Come