Tuesday, 8 May 2007

A piece of Yellow Soap - Frank Sargeson

She is dead now, that woman who used to hold a great piece of yellow washing soap in her hand as she stood at her kitchen door. I was a milkman in those days. The woman owed a bill to the firm I worked for, and each Saturday I was expected to collect a sum that would pay for the week's milk, and pay something off the amount overdue. Well, I never collected anything at all. It was because of that piece of yellow soap.

I shall never forget those Saturday mornings. The woman had two advantages over me. She used to stand at the top of the steps and I used to stand at the bottom; and she always came out holding a piece of yellow soap. We used to argue. I would always start off by being very firm. Didn't my living depend on my getting money out of the people I served? But out of this woman I never got a penny. The more I argued the tighter the woman would curl her fingers on to the soap; and her fingers, just out of the washtub, were always bloodless and shrunken. I knew what they must have felt like to her. I didn't like getting my own fingers bloodless and shrunken. My eyes would get fixed on her fingers and the soap, and after a few minutes I would lose all power to look the woman in the face. I would mumble something to myself and take myself off.

I have often wondered whether the woman knew anything about the power her piece of yellow soap had over me, whether she used it as effectively on other tradesman as she used it on me. I can't help feeling that she did know. Sometimes I used to pass her along the street, out of working hours. She acknowledged me only by staring at me, her eyes like pieces of rock.

She had a way too of feeling inside her handbag as she passed me, and I always had the queer feeling that she carried there a piece of soap. It was her talisman, powerful to work wonders, to create round her a circle through which the more desperate harshness of the world could never penetrate.

Well, she is dead now, that woman. If she has passed into Heaven I can't help wondering whether she passed in holding tight to a piece of yellow washing soap. I'm not sure that I believe in Heaven or God myself, but if God is a Person of Sensibility I don't doubt that when He looked at that piece of yellow washing soap He felt ashamed of Himself.

Frank Sargeson, 'A Piece of Yellow Soap' in 100 NZ Short Short Stories edited by Graeme Lay.

8 comments:

Maryke said...

I am a high school student and we studied this text in English. It's beautifully written, but absolutely heart breaking. Thank you for posting it.

Unknown said...

hi there...great post..it radiates a sense of depth..found only in stories with great innocence
Do check this post i came across recently??
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Thanks..cheers!!

Serena said...

This is a really good story and most of NZ students learn about this at school. It also contains a lot of meanings! It's really amazing!!!

Unknown said...

She is a wonderwoman. How sad that she already died. But anyway, nice story. Thanks for sharing.

Ever
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Unknown said...

don't drop the soap 😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳

Anonymous said...
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Leif said...

Hi,