Under Copp's Hill

by Katherine Ayres

  Fires—they made Innie’s stomach knot up sometimes, but other times it almost felt as if the flames spoke to her and called her by name. She stared at the stove, banked down for the night. Only thin lines of red showed.

  She tugged open the door and looked into the fiery coals. “Oh Mama, oh Papà, where are you now? Why can’t I ever remember what you look like?”

  She got no answers, but she really didn’t expect any. Just talking to Mama and Papà helped push away the chill, so she kept talking to them for a while. And in the dim light, she let her mind carry her away to a place where nobody ever got burned or hurt, and nobody ever felt lonely.

  CHAPTER 4

  NEW GIRLS

  “Welcome to the library club.” Miss Guerrier sat in a low chair at one end of the meeting room, with the Wednesday afternoon girls sitting in a circle on the rug in front of her. The room was so grand, even twenty girls didn’t make it feel crowded. Today Miss Guerrier looked grand too, with soft lace edging the collar and cuffs of her white blouse. Innie closed her eyes and imagined herself growing into such a fine woman and living in such a splendid house.

  “We have three new members today, girls—Teresa and Innie Moretti, and Matela Rosen. Please make sure you welcome them to the club.” Miss Guerrier pointed in Innie’s direction.

  Innie looked around the room and felt her face grow warm. Some of the girls she knew from school, including a couple she wished she didn’t know—Maria and Stella.

  Those two were always tattling to the teacher for little things, like when Innie teased them for being scared to turn cartwheels, or when she hid their homework in the wrong desk. Other girls were strangers, and they were looking at her. It made her wish, for once, that she played quiet games in the playground and kept her dress tidy.

  Miss Guerrier went on. “We’re also very excited to have moved into our new building here on Hull Street. Miss Brown and I think that deserves a celebration.” She turned toward a doorway, and two older girls walked in carrying trays. The smell of chocolate filled the room.

  After a long day in school and a cold, damp walk to the settlement house, the scent made Innie’s mouth water. Soon every girl in the room was warming her hands around a sturdy mug of the hot chocolate. The older girls disappeared again and returned with plates of large, round sugar cookies. Innie took a bite and let the sweetness sit on her tongue, melting slowly.

  Even if they didn’t have books here, this club would be wonderful, Innie thought. It was warm and clean and pretty. Nice ladies fed you treats. People didn’t scold you or boss you around. Instead, they said please and thank you. This was some place, all right. She’d come here forever.

  “We’ll start a new book today,” Miss Guerrier said. “It’s called The Prince and the Pauper, by Mark Twain. I’m sure you’ve all heard about princes, but does anyone know what a pauper is?”

  Innie didn’t. Nobody else raised a hand to answer.

  “Well, then,” Miss Guerrier said. “A prince is the son of a king, a rich man. A pauper is a very poor man—a person who lives in a desperate situation. This book is about one of each. Shall we begin? In the ancient city of London, on a certain autumn day in the second quarter of the sixteenth century, a boy was born to a poor family of the name of Canty, who did not want him.…”

  Miss Guerrier read on for half an hour, telling the story of poor Tom Canty and how he met the Crown Prince of England. The prince wanted to sample the footraces and river play of rabble boys, so he traded places with poor Tom. Innie sat so still she hardly breathed, but her mind fairly flew along with the words. Oh, to be that Tom Canty, turned into a prince, or a princess in her case. She felt like royalty, all right, sitting in a cozy room sipping chocolate while a spring rain speckled the windows.

  “More next week,” Miss Guerrier said, closing the pages at last. “Now you may select a book to borrow for the week. Please sign your full name on the card in the pocket. Then leave the card at the desk before you go.”

  Oh, Innie thought, how could you choose just one book when there were so many?

  As girls left the circle to browse, Innie hurried to the shelf where she’d hidden Little Women the day before. She reached to the back of the shelf to retrieve it, but it wasn’t there. Frowning, she selected another book by Miss Alcott, then checked the nearby shelves and finally spotted Little Women sitting crookedly in plain sight on the D shelf. She tugged on Teresa’s arm to show her just as Miss Brown entered the doorway carrying a crate. Innie saw Miss Guerrier look up in surprise and walk quickly across the room to join Miss Brown.

  Most of the girls were already waiting in line across the room to check out their books. But Innie and Teresa stayed where they were, partly hidden by bookshelves, and listened as Miss Brown spoke quietly to Miss Guerrier.

  “Look, I found the missing crate. But the food’s gone.”

  How bad is that? Innie wondered. It was just some nuts and raisins and crackers, wasn’t it?

  Miss Guerrier lifted out a tea tin and smiled. “I guess the thief doesn’t care for Earl Grey. He left both tins of tea for us.”

  “The ruffian may not like our tea, but he certainly coveted your teapot. It’s gone, along with the food.”

  No, thought Innie. Not her grandmother’s silver teapot. Poor Miss Guerrier.

  “Gone. Oh, my.” Miss Guerrier sighed. “And where did you discover this crate?”

  “That’s the oddest thing. It was down in the basement, tucked behind the kiln. If I hadn’t been arranging the shelves, I might have missed it.”

  “And of course you searched for the teapot?”

  “Everywhere. It’s truly gone.”

  No, Innie thought. It can’t be gone.

  “Oh, Miss Brown.”

  “We’ll have the locksmith come,” Miss Brown said. “If there’s a thief around, we need a lock on our apartment door. Wouldn’t hurt to have the front door latches checked as well.”

  Good for you, Miss Brown, Innie decided. She looked away from the ladies and scanned the bookshelf once more. Maybe that thief had been in here too, searching through the books.

  “Look at this, Teresa,” she whispered. “Somebody moved my book.”

  Matela joined them. “What do you whisper about?” she asked. “It is secret? Or will you tell me?”

  “Innie says someone moved a book, as if that’s a crime.”

  “I didn’t say it was a crime. But how could it happen? Look.” Innie picked up Little Women and showed it to Matela. “Yesterday I hid this book. You even helped me, remember? But we were the last girls in this room yesterday and the first to get here today. So who moved it?”

  “Stop looking for trouble,” Teresa scolded.

  “Hush, Teresa. Maybe the person who stole from the ladies was messing about in here. Did you hear them, Matela? Miss Brown found the missing crate, but things had been taken from it.”

  “Yes, I hear them talk,” Matela said.

  Teresa shook her head. “Innie, you’re making a big fuss over nothing. A silver teapot—that’s important. But a moved book?”

  “It’s not nothing, Teresa,” Innie argued. “There’s been a thief in the house.”

  Matela smiled and raised her eyebrows. “Maybe not a thief. Things are moved, not stolen. When odd things happen in my house, Mama blames a mazik.” She made her voice sound low and spooky. “So maybe a mazik comes here too—in the night.”

  “What’s a mazik?” Teresa asked. Innie had never heard of such a thing, either.

  “You don’t know maziks?” Matela explained. “Maziks make mischief. They are naughty, wicked spirits. They come and go, but nobody sees. My bubbe—my grandmother—back in Russia, she tells me all about them.”

  Teresa glanced out the window at the burying ground just across the street, and her face went pale. “Do you mean a ghost?”

  “Come on, Teresa, there are no such things as ghosts,” Innie said. But a shiver ran down her back all the same.

  “Look,” she sai
d. “I’m going to hide another book in the same spot.” She pulled a blue-covered book from the shelf and tucked it behind the other books, where Little Women had been. “Next time we come, we’ll check the shelf to see if it’s been moved too.”

  Then she quickly signed out Little Women for the week and tucked it among the schoolbooks in the hallway. As she walked back into the meeting room, she stopped and scanned the bookshelves again. One book just didn’t seem like enough for a whole week. There were so many books on the shelves, Innie thought. How could it hurt to take one more home?

  She looked around the room. Some girls were milling about, while others were still in the hallway tucking their library books into their coats. After another glance around, Innie darted back to the A shelf and helped herself to a second Alcott book, Little Men. She quickly carried it to the hallway and hid it under her schoolbooks.

  Innie wiped her hands on her skirt, trying to calm down. Surely nobody had seen her. Besides, she wasn’t stealing, she was only borrowing. She slipped back to the meeting room, where girls were settling themselves into a circle again.

  Just then, a new woman came in. She had dark hair and looked Italian to Innie. The woman made everybody stand and stretch up tall. Then she passed out songbooks, and soon the girls were singing at the top of their lungs. Miss Guerrier stood to one side and smiled.

  After the singing, Miss Guerrier led them upstairs to a room where a mirror covered one whole wall, making two of everybody. Miss Guerrier showed a few simple steps to an English country dance, then started the Victrola. Innie stared for a moment as music floated out of the contraption. Then she began following the steps the other girls were making. She had never done this dance before, but she loved it, jumping and kicking and skipping along with the others.

  Afterward, Miss Guerrier led everyone back to the second-floor hallway. As the Wednesday afternoon girls pulled on their coats to leave, laughing and chattering, Miss Guerrier spoke to the three newcomers. “Did you enjoy the library club today, girls?”

  “Oh, yes, yes,” Innie said. What a place this was. A girl could make noise and prance about, and nobody scolded. And that Miss Guerrier was a real lady, Innie decided. She’d just found out about the missing teapot, but she still took the time to smile and make them feel at home.

  “We come back next Wednesday,” Matela promised.

  “I hope to see you sooner,” Miss Guerrier said. “Each girl helps out one day a week for an hour or so. ‘House time,’ we call it. Dusting shelves, checking library cards, packing pottery—we have lots of jobs. Most girls choose Saturdays.”

  Teresa shook her head. “We can’t help on Saturdays. Innie and I have to work in Papà’s vegetable stall then. It’s his busiest day. But we might be able to come some day after school.”

  “I too cannot come Saturdays,” Matela began. “It is Shabbos for us, and we can do no work at all.”

  “Very well. How does Thursday sound, then? You could help out downstairs, where the pottery and shop are located. Would that work?”

  “All three of us, together, on Thursdays?” Innie asked. “We’ll have to ask at home because of chores, but I think it’ll be all right. Do we start tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow would be lovely. When you arrive, find Miss Brown in the pottery studio. It’s on the first floor, in the back.” Miss Guerrier smiled and turned toward the kitchen.

  Innie pulled her coat from its hook and slung it on. “I’m so glad we can work together,” she said, thumping down the stairs to the front door. And while she was helping tomorrow, she might just have a look around, she thought. Maybe she’d find the missing teapot and be a hero. Wouldn’t that be grand? “You ready, Teresa? Matela?”

  “I am, but …” Teresa turned to Matela. “I’m sorry, we can’t let my brother Tony see us walking together.”

  “And why not?” Matela asked. Her pale cheeks flamed, and her dark eyes seemed to grow even darker. “I am not good enough for you?”

  “No, no,” Innie began. She frowned at Teresa.

  Teresa explained. “Papà says we should spend time with Italian girls. If Tony sees us, he’ll tell, and maybe Papà won’t let us be friends with you.”

  Innie scowled. “I can do as I like, Matela. I don’t have a papa.” She threw her arm around Matela’s thin shoulders. “I pick my own friends.”

  Teresa looked as if she might cry. “I want to be friends too, but please, we can’t let Tony find out. If we walk home together, let’s step apart before we come to our tenement. At Luigi’s, the butcher’s shop. Please.”

  “All right,” Matela said with a serious look on her face. “My papa, he too is not so happy if I make friends with girls who aren’t Russian and Jewish. So we will keep a secret … and me, I like secrets.” She grinned at Innie.

  As Innie pulled open the front door, a rainy gust blew in. Right outside, under a big black umbrella, stood Zio Giovanni, waiting for them as he always did when it rained. “That’s Uncle,” she warned Matela. “We have to go now. We’ll see you tomorrow at house time.”

  “Oh, Papà,” Teresa teased as she stepped out the door. “Why must you always come with the umbrella? What am I, salt?Will I melt?”

  “No, bambina. You’re sugar, the sweetest sugar in the world.” He stepped out into the middle of the sidewalk, shielding both girls with the umbrella.

  He didn’t call me sugar, Innie realized. Nobody ever does. I’m not sweet at all. I’m the salt.

  Rain spattered harder on the umbrella as they started down the sidewalk. Innie glanced across the street and saw Matela walking home, all alone. Behind Matela, the iron gates of Copp’s Hill Burying Ground stood open and dripping in the gray afternoon.

  Innie couldn’t help but shiver. If there really were ghosts or maziks, this would sure be a good place for them.

  CHAPTER 5

  HOUSE TIME

  It wasn’t raining on Thursday, but it might as well have been. A chill April damp blew across the harbor, smelling of fish and salt. Innie hurried up Salem Street, dodging old ladies with grocery sacks and urging Teresa and Matela along. They were heading to the settlement house to do their house time chores, and Innie wanted to get there quickly, before the Thursday girls started their club meeting. “Let’s sneak into the meeting room before we start to work. I want to see if anybody messed with that book I hid yesterday.”

  “Any mazik, you mean,” Matela said. “Not anybody.”

  “We’ll get in trouble,” Teresa warned.

  “If anybody asks, I’ll just say that we’re looking for Miss Guerrier so she can show us where to help. Come on, let’s hurry.”

  The settlement house was warm and welcoming. It smelled of hot chocolate and fresh-baked cookies, not salt and fish. Innie hurried upstairs, still wearing her coat. Matela and Teresa followed. Outside the meeting room, a few Thursday girls were whispering together as they hung their coats on the hooks. To Innie, they looked older, thirteen maybe.

  Innie led the way into the empty meeting room. At the A shelf, she poked her hand behind the neat row of books. She found the hidden book exactly where she’d left it yesterday afternoon.

  “What did you expect?” Teresa whispered over Innie’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” The Thursday girls were beginning to wander in. Teresa took Innie’s arm and steered her toward the door. “Hurry up. We’ll get caught. We’re supposed to go and find Miss Brown downstairs.”

  They made their way down to the first floor, passing other Thursday girls on the stairs. They hurried down the first-floor hallway to the pottery decorating room in the very back.

  Innie peered in the doorway. The room looked like an old kitchen. At a long wood table, several older girls, including Carmela, sat with tiny paintbrushes, applying what looked like muddy paint to bowls and plates. At one end of the table, a girl of about fifteen was reading poetry aloud. The painters seemed to be listening intently as they worked. Windows lined the back wall and one side, so that even on a gray day l
ike this, the room was plenty bright.

  Some job, Innie thought. No wonder Carmela liked this better than sweating away in a dark, crowded sewing shop with loud machines and a mean boss too.

  Miss Brown set down a bowl and walked toward Innie, Matela, and Teresa. “Are you my helpers for today? I’ve been watching for you. Miss Guerrier said there’d be three.”

  Innie nodded.

  “Welcome to the pottery studio. I’ll give you a tour.” She smiled and led them back through the hallway to the middle room, which held cupboards and a table. “This is a storage room for our studio, and it’s also the eating room for our pottery girls. You may hang your coats here when you come to work. You’ll find cleaning supplies in this cupboard.”

  After hanging their coats, the girls followed Miss Brown to the front room. “This is the shop where we sell our pottery,” Miss Brown explained. “You’ll dust and sweep to keep it nice for the customers.”

  Innie looked around, admiring the colorful bowls and plates set out on tables and simple wood shelves. Some of the dishes were plain, but Innie found her eyes drawn to the painted pottery—big vases with flowers, and tiny plates and bowls with funny little chickens and rabbits. Next to the door sat a small table with a notebook and a metal cash box like the one Zio Giovanni used at his vegetable stall.

  “Once you’ve tidied the shop,” Miss Brown said, “the rest of your chores will be in the basement. Follow me, please.” She led them back through the hall to a narrow door, which opened to a rickety set of steps.

  Innie shuddered as they started down. After the bright kitchen and shop, the basement stairs seemed dark and shadowy, with only a thin railing to keep her from pitching over the side. An electric lamp glowed to show the way, but it was so dim that Innie had to step slowly and carefully.

  When they reached the bottom, Miss Brown showed them the basement’s three rooms. In the very back, under the room where Carmela and her friends painted, was the room where the pottery was made. In the dim light, Innie could make out molds for pottery, barrels filled with clay, and worktables holding bins of tools.