Chapter 5
Hope was dressed before anyone else on the first day of the new school year.
Her bag was packed, she’d scrubbed her face and brushed her hair, and she was even wearing the dress her father had told her she looked so pretty in last Sunday at church.
But when her father came down to the kitchen for breakfast and saw her sitting there with her brothers at the table, who were all moaning about their day of classes ahead, he didn’t smile like he had the week before.
And he certainly didn’t tell her how nice her dress looked.
‘Where do you think you’re going all dressed up like that, young lady?’ he asked.
‘I’m going to school,’ Hope said, not understanding why he was asking her. How did he not know what today was?
‘I know your brothers are going to school, but aren’t you a bit old for the classroom now?’
Hope felt her eyes widen. Too old? Her brother Pierre was older than her, and no one was asking him why he was going to school still.
But Hope knew not to say that. If she did, she’d have her mouth washed out with soap for disrespecting her father, and all her dreams of the school year ahead would be over.
‘If she stays home, she’ll only get under my feet,’ her mother said, coming to the table with a pan full of eggs and scooping out a large helping for Hope’s father before anyone else. ‘It would be easier to just let her go for one more year.’
‘She’s twelve years old, she should be learning how to look after a house,’ he grumbled. ‘What’s the use of her going to school anyway?’
Hope saw the way he grabbed her mother around her wrist, and she quickly looked to her brothers, but they hadn’t even seemed to notice.
Her mother winced, and her father only tightened his hold as Hope watched on in horror, wishing there was something she could do.
Wishing she was brave enough to yell at him and tell him to stop.
‘Do you not think I know what’s best for my daughter?’ he asked.
‘Yes, sir, she does,’ Hope said, meeting her mother’s gaze. ‘Mother said to me that I’ll need to do all my chores when I get home, and that I can only go if I promise to help more around the house.’
Hope hadn’t known she was holding her breath, until her father finally let go of her mother’s arm and she let out a big gasp.
‘A girl’s place is at home, not having her head filled with learning,’ he went on. ‘There’s nothing worse than a woman with an opinion, or one who knows too much.’
Hope looked down at the small amount of eggs on her plate as her mother gave her the last scoop, not daring to glance at her brothers’ plates.
She knew they would be laden with at least twice the amount of food as hers.
But as long as she could go to school and get away from this house for the day, she wasn’t going to moan about her growling stomach.
When she looked up, once her father was busy reading the paper, she found her mother staring at her. But instead of feeling that her mother was grateful for her speaking up, all she received was a frown as her mother rubbed at the nasty red mark blooming on her wrist.
‘I’ll speak to her teacher,’ her mother said, ‘and make sure she knows school is secondary to Hope’s duties at home.’
Hope balled her fists beneath the table as tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she refused to cry.
If she wasn’t allowed to learn mathematics at school, then so be it. She’d just steal her brothers’ books when they weren’t using them to teach herself. But she was not staying home, and as far as she was concerned, not even her father could stop her.
Hope stood beside her mother in the kitchen later that day. Her brothers were outside playing, and every time she heard them laugh or shout to one another, she felt the tug to join them like a pain in her chest.
‘How was school today?’ her mother asked.
She smiled. ‘It was good.’
‘Did you learn anything interesting?’
Hope nodded. She found everything interesting, but she knew she had to be careful about how much she said.
‘I don’t want to stop going to school,’ she whispered, telling her mother what was on her mind.
‘It’s not fair that we have to be in here in this hot kitchen, getting dinner ready, and the boys do whatever they want. Why can’t we choose what we do, too?’
Her mother sighed, before setting down the knife she’d been using to chop vegetables and turning to Hope. ‘It might not be fair, but it’s a woman’s job.’
‘But why? Why is it a woman’s job? Who says so?’
This time her mother just shook her head. ‘Hope, you ask too many questions. The world is just the way the world is. There’s only so long your father is going to let you go to school. He won’t let me decide for you for much longer.’
She bit down on her lip to stop from saying anything that might upset her mother, even though she wanted to ask why it was that her father made all the decisions for the house.
‘I wish things could be different for you, Hope. But it’s not an easy road being a woman.
Sometimes we just have to accept the life we’ve been given.
’ Her mother looked out of the window, as if she were in her own little world, and when Hope saw her brush at her eyes, she reached for her hand, holding it tightly in her own.
She didn’t know what was wrong; all she knew was that her mother was sad and she wanted to help make the tears go away.
‘Did you wish for a different life, Maman?’ she whispered.
She watched her mother’s throat move as she swallowed, and when she finally looked back down at her, her tears were gone.
But she knew her mother had wished for more one day, she’d told her so.
Her mother had once lived in England and often spoke English at home to Hope, even naming her after one of her favourite English names, although Hope knew her father had wished for a traditional French name for his eldest daughter.
‘Questions like that only lead to disappointment,’ her mother said. ‘Now hurry along and finish those vegetables, and then you can go and play with your brothers for a little bit. I know you want to be out there climbing trees.’
Hope didn’t need to be told twice, and she quickly chopped and peeled until they were done. But as she was untying her apron, her mother dropped a kiss onto the top of her head.
‘You’re a good girl, Hope,’ she murmured. ‘I’m so very proud of you.’
Hope looked up at her mother, and it was only then she noticed a bruise colouring the side of her neck.
She quickly looked away, but as she ran outside, she couldn’t stop thinking about how tightly her father had held her mother’s wrist that morning, and she hoped this new bruise had nothing to do with her mother saying she could go to school.