Maid

The Mat

Folder: 
Simple Thoughts

"Say it ain't so,

trapper in her own little world,

the sounds, smells,

and whirl of the ceiling fan

 

spins unnoticed, 

unfelt,

with the security 

and familiarity of her headphones.

 

The music,

unknown, 

the art that is decorating 

her time

 

sealing away

the ugly world around her.

Given unto her

the superpower

 

to make the whole wide world

completely melt away.

Her eyes never breaking 

a horizontal plane,

 

not out of submission, 

but from avoidance.

The lack

of eye-contact

 

can be unsettling to some, 

perhaps to the ones 

who cannot stand silence.

 

But in silence she works,

folding her laundry,

being sure to block all view

of any unmentionable 

 

she plucks up

to fold.

To the observation 

of the outsider,

 

an observer

would see or anything 

practically any and all

back story

 

only to be

most likely 

incorrect.

 

And she will never care,

never know

she is the topic of light scrutiny, 

so that script can be written, 

 

the unaware volunteer

for the unwarranted play

playing in front.

For there is nothing but a scene,

 

of washers and dryers,

an incredibly clean location, 

and with the only movement 

being the one

 

who has made a point

that she does not want

attention; 

she becomes the only subject 

 

on stage.

A boring play.

Smelling of fragrance;

after the rain."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Memories of a day at the laundry mat.

Maid Servant

She scarcely has any dreams,


She only seems,


Like a shadow,


Alive with sorrow.


 

Each day appears to be same,


Has nothing to claim,


Only companions of her,


Being the kitchen utensils all over.


 

Even if she is tormented,


She is not permitted,


To raise her voice,


Lives like a mute doll, she has no choice.


 

When the children,


Leave for school then,


She thinks about going occasionally,


But fate has chained her desires eternally.


 

Out of so-called kindness she is given!


The waste and stale food now and then,


Which she devours like a famished lioness,

 

To live on, to exist in the race, loveless!

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ALICE AND THE LADY'S MAID.

Mary, the kitchen maid, stood behind Mrs Broadbeam the cook in the kitchen. His Lordship wants to see me? Mary asked, looking at the cook's broad hips and behind. That's what was said, Mrs Broadbeam replied, rolling out pastry on a huge table. What's it about? Mary said. How would I know, the cook said, I'm in no position to ask that. Mary wiped her damp hands on her apron. Steam rose from pots on the stove. Who asked for me? Did he come down himself and ask for me? Mary said, standing beside the cook, looking at her worriedly. No, his Lordship didn't, that new nanny, Miss Spingle, came down. Said it was to do with the child, Miss Alice, the cook said, giving the maid, a hard look. You best get up and see his Lordship, I need you back here; there's lots to be done. Mary felt a cold finger run up and down her narrow spine. It wasn't her fault the child had crept into her bed the other night, it wasn't her fault that the child had asked her to be her adopted mother. The child must have spoken. Unless someone had seen the child leave her room the other morning, or saw her creep into he room during the night. Mary felt nauseous. She was done for. Out of a job and home. Who'd employ her after this? Shall I go now? Mary said anxiously. The message was for you to go see his Lordship as soon as you were back, the cook said. There was an annoyed tone in her voice. Mary hesitated, looking around the kitchen as if for the last time. Go on then, the cook said firmly. Mary wiped her hands as dry as she could on the apron. Am I all right as I am? Mary asked.   His Lordship wants to see you about something, he's not taking you out to dinner, the cook said. Mary limped out of the kitchen reluctantly. The corridor from the kitchen to the stairs up the next landing, seemed like a walk towards doom. She pushed her fingers through hair, adjusted her apron and dress. She climbed the stairs slowly. Another maid passed her by, carrying laundry, she nodded, walked on and away. Mary felt as if her whole insides were about to drop between her thighs. She limped onwards and pushed open the door that lead to the upper landing. The floors smelt of polish and flowers. Everything looked as if it had been polished to a bright shine. She limped nervously across the floor, looking at the paintings on the walls, vases with flowers. When she came to his Lordship's room she stood and waited. She ought to have emptied her bladder become coming, she felt full and on the edge. Mr Fedge, the butler, opened the door before her. Ah, Mary, you are here; right his Lordship is waiting for you, go on in, he said, his dark eyes moving over her as if she were a young puppy with wet paws. Mary entered the room. The butler closed the door behind her. She stood looking at the room. His Lordship was sitting at a desk at the far end of the room, the new nanny was by the window looking out. Mary stood with her red hands in front of her. Her hip ached. Her bladder seemed about to explode. His Lordship looked at her over his desk. Ah, there you are, Mary, he said, come up here and sit on the chair. I want to talk to you on matters concerning my daughter Alice. Mary felt herself go red in the face; her limbs stiffened. The child had talked. Now she was done for. She limped towards the desk, her hands shaking at her sides. The nanny didn't look around, but gazed out the window. Sit here, his Lordship said, pulling out a chair, beside him. Mary limped to the chair and sat down. He studied her deeply. Now, since my wife and Alice's mother is unwell and in a place of safety, I am hard pressed to keep the child happy and at the same time out of my hair. Nanny Spingle, here does her side of things, but I need someone to be with the child at other times when she is not at her school work and seems to wander about the house like a street urchin. Mary looked at his Lordship's face. He didn't seem angry with her or anything, but why was he telling her about needing someone for the child. The child was not her concern. She was just a kitchen maid. I can do my best to discipline the child and Nanny here does her work, but I cannot spare time or energy chasing after her all of the time. The nanny turned around, her eyes settled on Mary, then on his Lordship. The eyes mellowed on meeting his. Alice needs a lady's maid, the nanny said. Yes, that's it, his Lordship said, a lady's maid.  Mary stared at them both. Were they going to ask her if she could recommend someone? One of the other maids? I'm not sure I know who could do the job, your Lordship, Mary said. The nanny gazed at her, her eyes darker, less friendly. We thought you could do it, the nanny said. Yes, Alice seems to have taken to you and that is a good start, his Lordship said. Mary stood open mouthed. Me? she said softly. Yes, you will be ideal, he said, smiling, eyeing her. Of course you would have to sleep in her room and be there most of the day and some of the night, the nanny said. And of course a new uniform and an increase in your wages, his Lordship said. Mary pushed her knees together. Her bladder seemed about to explode. I would love to, Mary said, do my best for her, she added. I've no doubt you will, he said, looking relieved, wiping his hands together as if a dark deed had been done. When shall I start? Mary asked, thinking of the cook waiting for her below stairs in the kitchen. Nanny looked at his Lordship. I will ask Fedge to look around for a new kitchen maid, she said. His Lordship nodded agreement. Next Sunday you will begin, his Lordship said, taking Alice to church and keep her near and well behaved. The nanny looked at Mary searchingly, then at his Lordship. She smiled at him. Mary sat waiting; her stomach turning over. Right, that's settled, nanny said, you may go now. Yes, Mary, thank you. I will inform the child of your employment, he said, his eyes looking her over briefly, then back at the nanny. Mary stood up and bowed her head and limped from the room, self conscious of her being stared at. She went out the room and closed the door behind her. She stood there vacant. Her mind was rushing with words and ideas and visions and her bladder about to burst. She limped away from the door, along the polished floor, through the thick door separating the upper rooms from lower orders. She limped slowly towards the staff toilet on the second floor, her mind in both a state of joy and at the same time feeling out on a limb, out of her depths. She entered the toilet and shut the door. Footsteps moved across the room above. Voices called from along the corridor. Some one laughed. She sat and closed her eyes; her bladder emptied, her heartbeat slowed, her nerves calmed. A lady's maid. She repeated it in her mind; turned the phrase over and over in her mind like a boiled sweet. What would Mrs Broadbeam say? How would the other staff be with her now? She saw the child in her mind. How had she crept into her bed? And why? Suddenly, unexpectedly, Mary began to cry.

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ALICE AND THE NEW DAWN

Mary wakes from
her, troubled, uneasy
sleep. She turns and
sees Alice behind her

 

looking at her. What
are you doing here?
she asks, sitting up,
looking down at the

 

child. Wanted to be
near you, Alice replies.
You can't come into

my bed, what will

 

they say if they find
you here? Mary's voice  
rises higher than she

meant. They won’t,

 

Alice says, no one
knows. They'll miss
you, Mary says, look

for you, and if they come,

 

what then? The child
sits up, rubs her eyes.
I'll hide, she says. Mary

sighs, lays back on the

 

bed, looks at the ceiling.
The child lies next to her,
head on her thin shoulder.

You can't do this, Alice.

 

But I have, the child says.
Your bed's lumpy. If they
find you in here, I’ll lose

my job and God knows

 

what'll happened then.
There is black spider
creeping along the dull

ceiling, slow movements.

 

We mustn't tell them,
Alice says. She runs a
small finger along

Mary's arm. You can't

 

stay here, Mary says,
you must go back to
your own bed before

they find you've gone.

 

Don't you love me any
more? Alice softly asks,
looking sideways at the

maid beside her. Yes,

 

of course I do, but this
mustn't happen again.
I'll be gone, then who

will you have to love,

 

now your mother's ill
and locked up? Alice
frowns and looked at

her hands, small, white,

 

pink. Mother used to
let me into her bed and
cuddle her. Her pink

fingers join and she

 

makes. I'm not your
mother, Mary says,
I’m just a maid who

wants keep her job.

 

Alice looks at her.
You said you'd be my
adopted mother. Mary

looks at her biting a lip.

 

Yes, I did. She looks
away, at the window
where lights begins

to show. All right,

 

but you must go back
now, before you're
missed. Can I come

another time? Alice

 

asks, her bright eyes
gazing. Yes, if I say so,
no creeping into my

bed at night unless

 

I know, Mary says.
Alice nods her head.
Best get back then,

she says. Be careful.

 

I will. And if I’m seen,
I’ll say I was sleep
walking, Alice says.

You mustn't lie, Mary

 

says. Should I tell them
the truth then? Alice asks,
smiling, getting down

from the bed. Be careful,

 

sleep walk just this once.
The child nods, opens the
door and closes with a

click. Mary gets out of

 

bed, opens the door, looks
along the dim passage.
The child has now gone.

Silence. Cold morning

 

air. A hard frost maybe.
What if she's seen? What
then? She shuts the door,

pours cold water from a

 

white jug into a white bowl.
Morning wash. Hands
into the water and throws

into her face. The coldness

 

wakes her. Far off a bird
sings. What if she's found
out of bed? What a turn up.

Poor kid. Me another mother

 

Nearby a church bell rings.

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ALICE AND THE STABLES.

The stables
where horses
snort and move

 

and grooms work
and sky dull
and greyish

 

Alice walks
holding on
for dear life

 

to the hand
of Mary
the one she

 

has chosen
to be her
new mother

 

fingers red
with washing
chores and things

 

but it's warm
as she holds
the hand tight

 

Mary talks
of cold nights
noisy bed

 

attic mice
and spiders
in corners

 

of the room
Alice says
I could stay

 

in your room
keep you warm
cuddle up

 

hold you close
as I did
with Mother

 

in her bed
before she
was locked up

 

with illness
of her brain
Mary sighs

 

feels the hand
in her own
small and warm

 

small fingers
tiny nails
pink and pure

 

different class
than her own
we will see

 

Mary says
stable sounds
horses snort

 

their large heads
looking out
big black eyes

 

large white teeth
busy grooms
at their work

 

Alice looks
inner fear
but draws near

 

wants to stroke
Mary lifts
Alice up

 

her red hands
wedged beneath
small armpits

 

mother's love
smells the soap
in the hair

 

on the blue
pinafore
Alice smiles

 

feels the horse
smooth and hot
on her hand

 

Mary holds
feels the heart
beating soft

 

as she holds
Alice up
to the horse

 

secret child
adopted
in her heart

none must know
of this love
secret pact

 

lift her on
a groom says
Alice thrills

 

lifted there
Mary holds
the groom laughs

 

in loud barks
in the blood
this horse love

 

the groom says
Alice smiles
happiness

 

shining out
of her eyes
Mary holds

 

her tightly
keeps her there
on the horse

 

safe and sound
then later
after that

 

lifts her down
to the ground
as the horse

 

with the groom
walk away
come on then

 

Mary says
let's go back
your father

 

will wonder
where you are
Alice nods

 

holds the hand
soft and warm
wants to be

 

close to her
but she sees
by the house

 

Nanny stand
arms folded
grim features

 

dressed in black
Mary holds
the child's hand

 

tighter still
walking back.

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ALICE AND THE SECRET KISS

Alice sits
in the room
with blackboard

 

and easel
and small desk
and small chair

 

with Nanny
stern and strict
pointing at

 

the blackboard
with her stick
teaching her

 

her letters
the grammar
paragraphs

 

sentences
by long rote
and command

 

and Alice
knows now that
any cause

 

of Nanny's
discontent
will bring her

 

punishment
her father's
hard hand smacks

 

whack and whack
she sits still
taking note

 

but bored she
stares out high
windows at

 

tall tree tops
and blue skies
thinking of

 

her mother
locked away
(ill in her

 

head Nanny
coldly said)
then she thinks

 

of her new
adoptive
mother who

 

works below
stairs(low stairs
her father

 

often says)
the one with
the red raw

 

fingers thin
and young who
secretly

 

said she would
be her new
adopted

 

mother but
to strive to
learn to do

 

her best and
so she does
but thinks of

 

the time when
lessons are
over she

 

can sneak down
below stairs
and along

 

passageways
to where her
adoptive new

 

mother works
and feel her
embrace her

 

earthy smell
her soft cheek
against that

 

rough cloth of
apron the
red fingers

 

caressing  
her long hair
whispering

 

words but still
the nanny
drones on the

 

lesson now
taking its
toll boredom

 

sinking in
wishing her
adoptive

 

mother would
come and take
her away

 

for a walk
to the horse
stables or

 

into town
holding her
hand the red

 

hand holding
her pink one
or dreams of

 

snuggling
up to her
in her bed

 

feeling her
motherly
tender warmth

 

but Nanny
still drones on
the long lesson

 

word on word
keeping her
from the arms

 

and caress
and earthy
smell of cloth

 

of her new
adoptive
young mother

 

below stairs
Alice yawns
secretly

 

her small hand
over mouth
knowing this

 

blowing soft
from her palm
to her young

 

adoptive
mother a
secret kiss.

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ALICE'S NEW MOTHER.

Alice stands
in the room
by the stairs,
at the end
of the house;
the low end,
servant's end,
Father said,
don't go there,
but she does.

 

She goes down
the back stairs,
down long dark
passageways,
watching staff
in their world,
the kitchen,
scullery,
the wash room,
other rooms.

 

And this room.
She watches
the thin maid
called Mary
ironing.

 

Why're you here?
Mary asks.

 

To see you,
Alice says.

 

Why see me?
Mary asks.

 

I love you,
Alice  says.

 

Mary frowns.
You shouldn't
use those words,
Mary says
turning round.

 

Alice stands
her small hands
in pockets
of her blue
pinafore.

 

But I do,
I love you.

 

Why is that?
Mary asks.

 

You are kind
like Mother
used to be
before she
had to leave.

 

Mary heard,
rumours spread,
the mother
had to leave,
had problems
in the head,
locked away
so they say,
for a year
and a day.

 

She'll be back,
Mary says.

 

Alice sighs,
I love you,
I want you
to stand in
for Mother,
between us,
Alice says.

 

Mary sits
on a chair,
flushes red,
between us
I can be
I suppose,
Mary says.

 

Uncertain
of her pledge
she gazes
at the child
standing there.

 

Need a hug,
Alice says,
motherly.

 

Mary feels
at a lost
what to do.

 

Can I sit
on your lap?
Alice asks.

 

Mary nods
and opens
her thin arms.

 

Alice walks
to Mary
and climbs up
on her lap,
lays her head
on Mary's
silky breasts,
smells apples
and green soap.

 

Mary hugs
her closer,
kisses on
the child's head.

 

Love you, too,
Mary says.

Our secret,
Alice says,
none must know.

 

None will know,
Mary says,
just we two.

 

Nanny's voice
echoes down
the passage
Best go now,
Mary says,
learn for me
at lessons,
do your best,
my daughter
adopted.

 

Alice nods,
kisses quick,
then goes up
the back stairs
out of sight.

 

Seen Alice?
Nanny asks.

 

Not at all,
Mary lies,
sees the dark
cruel eyes
scan the room.

 

She'll be pained
if she's caught
down this end,
Nanny says.

 

Then she gone,
her black skirt
swishing loud,
the black shoes
going click,
clack, click, clack.

 

Mary gives
a rude sign
with fingers
behind fat
Nanny's back.

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ALICE AND THE HORSES.

Alice walks with
the thin maid
to the stables, holding
the thin hand with

 

red knuckles, the
mild limp crossing
the narrow path like
a wounded ship. Do

 

you like the horses,
then? the maid asks,
bringing the eyes
upon the child,

 

holding tight the
pale pink hand.
Alice nods, yes,
I like the black one,

 

like its dark eyes
and coat. The maid
eyes the pinafore,
the hair tidy and neat,

 

the shiny shoes, the
tiny hand in hers.
Have you ridden
any yet? the maid

 

asks. No, not allowed
as yet, Alice says,
feeling the red thumb
rub the back of her

 

hand. Shame, the maid
says, perhaps soon.
Alice doesn't think so,
neither her father nor

 

the new nanny will
permit that; her mother
says she may, but that
amounts to little, in

 

the motions of things.
She can smell the
horses, hay and dung.
The red hand lets her

 

loose. The stable master
stares at her, his thick
brows bordering his
dark brown eyes,

 

conker like in their
hardness and colour.
Have you come to
look at the horses?

 

he says, holding a
horse near to her.
She nods, stares
at the horse, brown,

 

tall, sweating,
loudly snorting.
The maid stares
at the horse, stands

 

next to the child,
hand on the arm.
You're not to ride
them yet, he says,

 

but you can view,
I'm told. Alice runs
her small palm down
the horse's leg and

 

belly, warm, smooth,
the horse indifferent,
snorting, moving the
groom master aside.

 

The maid holds the
child close to her.
Be all right, he won't

harm, he says, smiling.

 

He leads the horse away,
the horse swaying to
a secret music, clip-
clop-clip-clop. Alice

 

watches the departing
horse. Come on, the
maid says, let's see
the others and lifts

 

the child up to view
the other horse in the
stable over the half
open door, then along

 

to see others in other
half doors. Alice smiles
at the sight and smells
and sounds. She senses

 

the red hands holding
her up, strong yet thin,
the fingers around her
waist. Having seen them

 

all, the maid puts her
down gently. Ain't that
good? the maid says.
Alice smiles, yes, love

 

them, she  says. She
feels the thin hand, hold
her pale pink one again,
as they make their way

 

back to the house, the
slow trot of the limping
gait, the maid's thumb
rubbing her hand, smiling

 

through eyes and lips,
the morning sun blessing
their heads through the
trees and branches above.

 

if only, Alice thinks, looking
sidelong on at the thin
maid's smile, her father
did this, and showed such love.

 
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Forever and........

Folder: 
Marriage ?
Forever and........
 

Fresh maid and English rose.

I doffed my cap !
And hitched my heart unto a star,
Entwined with broken thorn.
That what, with time, was sublime.
Though in the myriad of life
Didst not stand the test of time.
 
   Giajl © Jim Love 
Extract from the diaries of "Jock Love A Soldier & A Poet" : On the Road :   Hellenbach CFT 1986.
 
 
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