“What do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t care. The weather?” she said wryly.
“It’s raining again.”
The fact that he hadn’t even cracked a smile hurt. “You know I was joking.”
His eyes went back to his tea, and she slammed her hands on the counter. “Look at me, Danny.”
This time his reaction was a swift glare, shot at her through blazing eyes. Many men would back away from that look, but Danny didn’t scare her. Not in that way, anyway. The only thing that scared Audrey was the fact that he was using that expression on her.
“What do you want from me, Audrey?” he demanded. “I’m doing all I can.”
“No, you’re not.” She was determined not to wobble. “You’re doing all you can to ruin our marriage is what you’re doing. I need you to pull yourself out of this, Danny.”
“Out of what?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. All you want to do lately is moan and groan and drink and be mean to me. You must hear it in your own voice.”
He leaned back in his chair, stretched his leg out in front. “You want me to pretend? You want me to say I’m happy, you’re happy, we’re all one big happy family?” He threw his hands in the air. “Oh, that’s right. We’re not even a family. I can’t seem to get you pregnant, can I?”
They didn’t often speak of that, and Audrey’d never even think to blame him for it. In fact, she thought it was probably her fault; she’d grown up so poor that she’d starved her body, made it too difficult to have a baby. But she didn’t admit to it. Now didn’t seem the right time to soften on any subject.
“You are the only family I have, Danny, so yes. You’re ruining our family.”
“And it’s all my fault? While I’m out there working hard to make a penny, you’re chatting with the upper crust, rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. Becoming a celebrity of some kind. They’re still laughing at you, you know. You’re only giving them more to laugh at, going to this party of yours.”
He’d been so quiet about the party she’d almost thought he’d forgotten about it. Apparently not. “That’s your opinion. I disagree. I feel welcome there. In fact, Mr. Antoine was shocked when I told him I didn’t think I could go, that I—” She stopped and her face was suddenly hot. She’d said too much.
Danny regarded her carefully. “That you what, Audrey?”
There was nothing she could do but go on. “I told him I had nothing to wear, so he sent me to the dressmaker’s, and he bought me a gown.”
His jaw dropped. “He . . . bought you a gown?”
“Y-yes. Mrs. Antoine’s clothes are all too big for me, and he said he wanted to make sure I was there, to meet all his friends. Oh Danny, can’t you see? He wants to help us! He wants to introduce me to families so I can paint for them. You and I can have a better life after that. You told me a long time ago that you’d be mad to ask me to stop working, that we needed the money. Well, none of that has changed.” Her voice had risen steadily now that she felt on solid ground. She knew he’d remember saying that, back at his parents’ home. How she longed to be back there! Emotion was starting to edge its way into her words, but she fought it back, needing to stay strong. “You’re being unreasonable, and you know it. Well, I’m going to be practical, and I’m going to enjoy myself while I’m at it. I’m going to that party, I’m going to meet people, and I’m going to bring home some money. Maybe then you’ll stop all this miserable self-pity. I want you to come with me, but you are just too stubborn.”
“You have no idea, do you?” he said quietly.
She frowned at him, taken off guard. “About what?”
“About me. About what it’s like to be me, to be a man, to be a husband and watch you doing this. I have all sorts of responsibilities, and you just turn it all around with your parties and your fancy dresses. Life is hard, Audrey. You can’t just dance around like a little girl, you know.”
“You’re making no sense.”
“You just don’t understand me.”
“But I do!”
He shook his head and held her eyes. “I used to think you did. Now all you care about is yourself.”
Words stuck in her throat, and tears overflowed. “What are you talking about?”
Something she hoped was regret flickered behind his beautiful, cold eyes then was gone. “I’m going to work.” He hobbled to the counter and picked up the lunch she’d made for him, then he leaned heavily on his crutch and left again. “You go on and have a nice day now,” he tossed over his shoulder.
By the time the door had closed behind him, she could hardly breathe. She sank to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest, rocking with sobs, letting them come as loudly as they wanted. She hoped he heard every one of them, hoped they tore at him just as they did her. If she could just be swallowed up by them, melt into the floor and disappear from everything, that would be so much better than the pain that ravaged her heart.
“Danny,” she managed to whisper to herself. There was no one else to hear his name, but she needed to say it. “Oh, Danny.”
It was a while before she was about to breathe normally again, and she didn’t move until she felt sure she was steady. Then she stood carefully, propped herself against the counter, and paused a moment, just breathing.
“I won’t give up on you,” she promised weakly.
Because if she did, if she followed his directions and left him alone, what would happen to him? How would he survive without the hope of her love flickering at the end of his tunnel? It was a heavy promise to make. It thickened in her chest and she waited for it to settle in for the duration. For better or worse, they had said. Please God, let this be the worst.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed her grief away, determined to temporarily change direction and do something for herself. She’d been looking forward to this women’s meeting, had even pulled together a couple of posters she’d made for the London women. Maybe she’d show them what she’d done in the past. Perhaps she could be of some help here too.
The church hall was crowded, filled to capacity with women. Audrey didn’t know a soul, and she looked over the crowd, searching for expressions as lost as her own. Instead, she met the hawklike gaze of a beautiful, red-haired woman who gave her a startling grin and stalked toward her. To Audrey’s surprise, the woman stuck out one hand, seeking hers.
“I’m Catherine Metcalf,” she stated. “And you are new here. Welcome to the club.”
Audrey warmed to her immediately. “Audrey Baker,” she said, returning the smile and shaking her hand. “Thank you.”
“Do you know what this is all about?”
“Oh yes, I think so. I’ve been to similar meetings in London.”
Auburn eyebrows shot up, evidently impressed. Catherine’s lips twitched in a conspiratorial smile. “Really? Well, how positively international of you, dear Audrey. This will seem like child’s play after that.”
“I doubt that. It’s all very important, no matter where it’s happening.”
“True enough. Are you meeting anyone in particular?”
“No. I just saw the poster and thought—”
Catherine grabbed Audrey’s hand. “Well, come along then. There aren’t very many seats left, but we have an extra in our section.”
Audrey went willingly, glowing inside about the first new friend she’d made since leaving Jeddore. She was led to a spot near the front of the room, three rows back from the standard long table and the customary microphone. Catherine introduced her to four women who welcomed her, saying it was always lovely to see a new face in the crowd. Five other women sat at the table, two in black, one in brown, and the other two in grey. Audrey settled into her chair and pulled out some paper and a pencil, easing her adrenaline rush by quickly sketching some of the faces around her.
Even now, Audrey blushed with pride when people complimented her work. For so many years her art had felt like a guilty pleasure. Fortunately, now that she was earning a little money she felt more justified, but she still felt lucky to be doing something she loved so much.
“Thank you. I like to paint portraits, and there are some fascinating faces here.”
Catherine scrunched her nose with distaste and pointed at one pencil outline. “Fascinating indeed. That’s Shirley Hampton. What an old nag.”
Audrey giggled and transformed the face of the woman in question into the long, angular outline of a horse, and Catherine let out a hoot. “Priceless!” she exclaimed. “Oh, my dear! That’s wonderful.”
The meeting was called to order, and a woman in brown stood at the microphone to start the proceedings.
“Welcome, ladies, to tonight’s meeting of the Council of Women of Halifax.” She smiled broadly around the room. “For those of you attending your first meeting, I would like to personally welcome you to the movement that is changing the world. We believe in equality for women and are successfully waging the battle that will enable us to vote. Many of the provinces across Canada have already seen the light and are allowing women the right we have always been denied, and we feel certain Nova Scotia will soon join their ranks. For those of you who are acquainted with our meetings and our cause, welcome back. We are honoured that you choose to be here with us, and we respect the sacrifices you have made on our council’s behalf.”
Minutes were read and voted upon, and everyone waited patiently for the new business to start. When it was time, the speaker turned to the table.
“And now I’d like to welcome the president of our local Council of Women of Halifax, Mrs. Agnes Dennis, who will bring us up to date on the upcoming parade and convention.”
Agnes Dennis stood and walked to the microphone, smiling sweetly at the speaker. “Thank you, Marion,” she said quietly. Then she faced the audience, who had gone silent with expectation.
Agnes was a small, sturdy woman. Her long black hair had been pulled back into a bun, and a stiff, white lace collar folded over the high neckline of her black dress. Audrey guessed her to be about thirty, and at first she looked to be nothing more than a gentle motherly type. But before she spoke again, her eyes travelled over the women seated before her, and Audrey saw the intelligent steel shining from within.
“Good morning, ladies, and thank you all so much for being here. This meeting is in preparation for the parade and convention coming up in February, during which we will feature both our inspirational member Mrs. Edith Archibald from the Women’s Christian Temperance Union—”
She was interrupted by a burst of spontaneous applause, and she smiled and nodded with encouragement. As it died down, she spoke again. “Ah yes. Well-deserved applause for my dear friend Mrs. Archibald. She has been very busy of late and speaking on a regular basis with our province’s honourable premier, George Henry Murray. Through her persistence and his own intelligent nature, Mr. Murray has a good understanding of our movement, and as such he has agreed to be a speaker at the February convention. After having spoken with Mrs. Archibald, we have good reason to be optimistic that the women of Nova Scotia will finally achieve our goal and get the vote!”
Cheers and applause broke out again, and she waited calmly for quiet. When it came, her voice was strong and vibrated with reverence. “This is an age of great progress, my friends.”
The hair on the back of Audrey’s neck stood, and a thrilling sensation swept through her, making her surprisingly emotional. She was suddenly proud to be a woman in this place, in this time.
“Victory is almost upon us,” Mrs. Dennis continued. “I believe that centuries of inequality will soon be at an end, though the hard work will continue. We have done momentous things over the past few decades, made undreamed-of progress, spurred on by the inspiration and sacrifice of the dedicated women around the world who first brought our cause into the light. Just look at the accomplishments of women across this great country of ours. Women in Ontario, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta, and British Columbia are all voting in their provincial elections! It is indeed a time to celebrate!” Mrs. Dennis glanced at the papers in her hand, then back at the cheering audience, always smiling, always patient.
“Now on to the business at hand,” she finally said. “The event will be on the eighth annual International Women’s Day, which will coincide with the celebration being held in many cities worldwide. We will require everyone’s participation in the parade, of course, and hope you will each bring a group of like-minded women and men with you on that day. As we all know, there is strength in solidarity. We will also need help setting up the conference itself, with speakers and tickets and advertising, among other things, and there will be smaller events going on at the same time, all of which are being planned already. We have a few sign-up sheets here at the front, so if you would be so kind as to line up at the conclusion of this meeting, we’re asking you to put your name down as a volunteer. We all have our strengths, so please do not be shy.”
She smiled again, sharing confidence among the troops. “And now we shall have nominations for various committee heads. I believe we shall start with ticket sellers . . .”
The meeting of the local suffragette chapter went on for another half hour, and afterwards, Audrey went out for a cup of tea with Catherine and a couple of her friends. Since she was new to their group, the ladies asked all the questions one might expect—if she was married, if she worked, if she had any children—but they didn’t make her uncomfortable. She told them she’d been married less than a year, that her husband worked at the docks, and that she painted. In a rare moment of self-promotion, she told them about the dinner party at Antoine’s, coming up the very next night.
Catherine dropped her spoon with a clang on her dish. “No!” she said, grinning. “It can’t be! My, what a small world. I’ll be at that dinner party. So it’s you Pierre’s been going on about. What a wonderful coincidence. And it’ll be lovely to meet your husband as well. I understand he’s some kind of war hero?”
Audrey’s smile faltered. “Well, he was injured in the war, yes. But . . . unfortunately, he won’t be at the party tomorrow night.”
“Oh no?”
“He’s . . .” Audrey searched frantically for an excuse. She could say he was sick, but then they’d expect her to stay home and tend him. “They’ve asked him to work an extra shift Saturday night, and he’s agreed. Some kind of major shipment coming in, I imagine,” she bluffed.
The women exchanged a glance, and the look in their eyes told Audrey they were all thinking the same thing. She knew exactly what that was too. If she were painting expressions of pity, they would look just like that. At least they were pitying her for her lack of money, not her marital struggles. Somehow that would have been worse.
She’d lived happily in Sussex, blissfully ignorant of her station. Life had shipped her to a broken-down farm in France where she’d lived off milk and egg money for years, having little idea that she might someday have the ability to earn more, do more. She’d fallen in love with a crowded old house on the Eastern Shore of Nova Scotia with a small but perfect bedroom built just for them. Now she barely survived in their Richmond “home,” working, sleeping, waking in a city where she’d learned that just about anything could be bought or sold. She’d never known real money before they’d come to this place, and only after she’d seen what it could buy had she recognized it as something she didn’t have. She couldn’t bear it if her new friends saw through her and realized she wasn’t one of them, couldn’t afford to buy what she wanted.
“That’s a shame,” Catherine said. “But I’m sure we’ll meet him another time. Especially since his wife is about to become such a celebrity!”
Audrey laughed and waved her off
. “Hardly that. But I am looking forward to the evening.”
Catherine and the others said farewell a short time later, stepping into a cab as Audrey purposefully headed in the wrong direction. There was no way she was going to let them see her walk toward the slums of Richmond.
Danny Baker
December 1917
TWENTY-FIVE
Danny was losing her. He felt it getting worse every day. And there was nothing he could do about it. He’d taken to going out with Johnny, Red, MacDonald, Franco, and the rest, sucking back drinks and coming in late. Sometimes the boys stayed the night in Danny’s little house, flopping on the living room floor, so when Audrey came out of the bedroom in the morning, she’d be surrounded by half a dozen stinking, hungover dockworkers. But she poured tea for them all, even made up some kind of meal, depending on if she’d had time to buy groceries that week. Sometimes when she did that, it reminded him of their first meeting. The way she’d welcomed the whole battalion to the farm and fed them breakfast, her eyes shining with innocence. And in those brief moments he almost wished he was back in France, smelling gunpowder and blood, just so the two of them could go back to those first intimate times together.
She didn’t like what Danny was doing. That was no secret. Didn’t like the smell of old liquor, the unwelcome men in their house. She didn’t like being separate from Danny and didn’t like the way he stared at her after she came home from a day at the Antoines. He knew all of that, though she rarely said a word. In fact, she said very little these days.
Danny’s heart grew colder over time, chilling the anger within him to a dangerous temperature. The only thing he had ever cared about was Audrey, and now even she was turning away from him. He hated living in the city, freezing cold with barely enough fuel to run a fire in their horrible little house, penned in by other ramshackle buildings, listening day and night to the clunking and shrieking of freight trains, neighbours yelling through paper-thin walls, and the lonely hooting of ships. When he was working he spent almost all his time standing, so the pain in his stump became a constant agony. The sores blistered and burned.
Tides of Honour Page 19
