CHAINS TO FREEDOM.✔

Chapter Six

Mary released the breath from her lungs. Her shoulders sagged. Darkness seemed to enfold her.

Alice came around the table and put her arm around Mary's shoulders. "What is it, Mary? Have I upset you somehow?"

"Tis nothing, Alice just an old woman's silly emotions getting the better of 'er." Mary lifted the corner of her apron and wiped the tear from her cheek.

"Is it the convicts that are upsetting you?"

Mary nodded. She was very fond of Alice. It was times like this that made her think more intently of her own transportation and the family she had lost because of it. Alice was a little younger than her own daughter would be. "I is just thinking of me husband and me daughter Beth. What a fool of a woman I was for stealing that leg of lamb. It were 'er birthday ye see." Mary took a deep breath to try and control the tears running down her face. "Having the convicts come makes me think of all the years I got left to serve and how many of them birthdays I'm gonna miss out on." Mary sobbed. "I may never see them again." She shook her head in dismay. Once again the little grey curls jiggled and danced from beneath the hat's brim. Mary closed her eyes. She could see herself creeping into that kitchen as if it were only yesterday.

It was dark. With no candle to assist her she drew open the curtains to allow the moon to light up her room. She dressed in her white skirt and blouse, tucked her curly greying hair into her mop hat. Mary looked into her looking glass at her face and watched as she chewed nervously on her tongue. The habit now distorted her features giving her unfamiliar creases, which ran from her nose to the outside edges of her mouth. This, and the dark shadows cast there, made her look much older.

She touched her skin. It was no longer taut and sagged with the weight of her years. It saddened Mary that her youth had gone. Tears caught in the folds of her flesh. The map of her life. She looked from her face to her body's silhouette. Its round hips and plump breasts seemed to belong, not to her, but to another. It was better this way. Better not to look quite like herself. It would make it easier when light of day came and she would have to look into others eyes and deny any knowledge of what she was about to do.

The hallway was dark. She needed to rely on her senses. Mary knew it was exactly eighteen paces along the hall to the top of the stairs. She had walked this hall and counted those steps many times before. The brick wall had a sandpaper texture. Her hand felt this as she made her way, ever so slowly toward the flight of stairs. She could feel little sharp grains of stone buried within the brick surface. There were gentle curved indentations here and there. The bricks were cool. Mary leaned her forehead against them. Should she continue, she wondered. It seemed the pounding in her head would never cease until she had completed her task.

As she took step number seventeen Mary felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. It twisted and churned, surging like a wave through her body. When it peaked, it crashed in her chest causing her to struggle for breath. Mary hesitated on the top step.

Seven, she knew there were seven flat even steps before she reached the rough, cold sandstone floor, with its hollows and mounds.

Number three, step number three, she counted them to be sure she didn't stumble.

Four.

What was that?

A noise!

Mary was certain she had heard a noise.

There again!

What is it?

The crushing wave began once more. It pounded in her ears, humming in morbid constancy. I must calm myself, she thought. Mary wiped the sweat from her hands and face on her apron. She breathed slowly and listened. She heard the sound again. The loose shutter on the kitchen window above the sink? It always rattled in the wind. She continued, satisfied with herself.

Six.

Seven. Yes seven steps.

Mary nodded in the darkness approving of how right she had been. She took two steps across the sandstone floor and grasped the doorknob. It filled her palm. Mary closed her eyes and took a breath. She turned the knob. Her heart pounded. When she had the door fully open she stepped into the kitchen and slowly released the knob. She didn't want to alert anyone she was there. Mary walked slowly but surely to the pantry door and quietly opened it.

The leg of lamb was in her hands. As she turned and closed the pantry door she thought she heard a footstep. She listened closely. She must have been mistaken. Mary rolled the lamb leg in her apron and walked back across the kitchen floor to the doorway and stepped through it.

As she closed the door quietly Mary let out her breath in a sigh of relief.

Alice patted Mary's shoulder. Mary jumped at the feel of it. "It'll be all right, Mary. You'll see them again, I'm sure of it."

Mary nodded at the floor and took another big breath. She straightened her back, lifted her apron, wiped her face, and then in a stern voice said, "Yes, I'm sure I will. I'm just being a fool. Now let's get on. Are we all organized, Alice?"

Alice smiled. "Yes, Mary. We're all organized."

The feel of a hand on Mary's neck touched her like ice. Her master lit his candle and smiled at her. "Well, Mary what do we have here then?" he said as his hand patted her apron.

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