No one can hide a baby for long – they make all kinds of noise, and even the best of them, like our good little Eddie, cry often. The nurse at the clinic says it's how they exercise their lungs.
Don't be frightened, Eddie, I'm coming to get you. I won't be long. I remember the way you fussed when Elsie Bates got too close to you that time in the garden – that's how I know you don't like her. If only you could hear me, Eddie. But don't fret, Father and Hamish and I will find you. Be brave a little longer.
I strain to hear if a child is crying, hoping to hear Eddie, but there is no sound. Where do I begin to find him? Even if I discover which house he's been hidden in, what do I do next?
Do I ring the doorbell or knock? Suppose Mrs. Bates won't answer the door? Suppose she's got Eddie secreted away someplace and is spying through the window? What then?
I could run and get Constable Albert. Maybe I should have done that right away, but that might really scare her and she might never come out of hiding. Or worse, suppose I do run and get the constable, and she slips out of the house with Eddie before we get back? She might get a ride out of town, or leave on a bus, and we'd never find the baby. He's still so little, she could hide him under her shawl and no one would even notice.
I decide to walk up the street, as close to the houses as I dare without attracting attention. Most of the windows are open to catch the slightest whisper of a breeze, so I'm bound to hear a baby cry. I pause and listen. Footsteps pound up the street behind me.
“Millie, Millie, wait!” Hamish is here – his face is scarlet and he's perspiring, his hair still damp from swimming. He catches my arm and pulls me across the street. I've never been so glad to see him! Suddenly the task ahead doesn't seem so daunting.
“Where's Father? Are you sure you remember which house Mrs. Bates came out of?” I ask him.
“I'm sure. I wrote where to find us on the note you left. Pa's bound to see it when he gets back from the cemetery.”
We walk about half a block up the street, past a sign that says PIANO LESSONS, and I ask him if he knows what time Father left the house.
Hamish shrugs his shoulders, then he points, “That's the house there, the plain brick one.”
“Let me do the talking, Hamish, I'm the oldest.”
He doesn't answer back for once and I'm relieved.
We climb up the porch steps at the front of the house. A small sign in a side window says ROOMS.
I look at Hamish, knock on the door, and wait.
“Louder,” Hamish orders.
I knock again. This time we hear someone coming, and a moment later, a man opens the door.
“If you've come about selling tickets for the bazaar, you'll have to come back tomorrow. The wife's gone to Sunday service.”
“Please, sir, we're here to see Mrs. Bates. She's expecting us,” I fib politely, desperately hoping that Hamish has not made a mistake.
“She came in a while ago. Come to say good-bye, have you? She said she's leaving in the morning.” The man points upstairs. “Her room is the first one to the right. You're welcome to go up.”
I feel sure my heart's beating loud enough for him to hear. “Thank you very much, sir.”
As soon as we get to her door, Hamish says, “Eddie's in there, I can hear him.” He's right, that's Eddie's whimper.
I force myself not to go rushing in; something tells me that scaring and threatening Mrs. Bates isn't the way to get her to give our brother back. “Hamish, we must be patient if we're to outsmart Elsie Bates,” I whisper. “Did you hear what the man said? She's planning to leave town!” He nods, and I knock on the door.
A voice asks hoarsely, “Who is it? I'm busy right now; you'll have to wait.”
Hamish shakes his head and mouths No! He turns the door handle. The door isn't locked, and we step into a stuffy little box of a room.
The woman stands with her back to the window, holding my brother – almost as if she really had been expecting us. “Come to look at my beautiful baby, have you?” After her first glance at us, she turns back to Eddie.
I choose my words carefully: “Thank you for looking after the baby for us, Mrs. Bates, but it's almost his bedtime, and we've come to take Eddie home now.” It takes every bit of strength I have not to show how much she frightens me. Doesn't she realize what a wicked, cruel thing she's done? Surely she doesn't think that I would ever let my brother stay with her?
Suddenly Eddie begins to cry – tears roll down his cheeks, settling into the creases under his chin. He never cries like that at home; he must have recognized my voice. His face is hot and red, and no wonder – the window is tight shut. The room smells as though the window hasn't been opened for days and the drapes are closed.
I search for the right words … words that will make the traveling woman understand that she must give Eddie back to us. I want to go over to him so much – to wipe his little face, to tell him he'll soon be home with us – but I know I have to wait.
Hamish does not move from the spot, but asks Mrs. Bates in a small gentle voice I scarcely recognize, “Where did you find the baby, ma'am?” How does Hamish know that this is the way to speak to Mrs. Bates?
And she responds to him, the way she did long ago to Mother: “I was walking along and looked over the fence. I saw him lying there all alone, under the tree, without a soul to take care of him. So l knew then that I was meant to find him. It was always meant to be. The tea leaves showed me the way, just as they did when I followed the road that led to your house, that time I first came east. I read the tea leaves to your mother, and I told her what I saw. I spoke the truth, the truth the tea leaves showed me. The tea leaves never lie.”
I am so frightened that I grip Hamish's hand. He does not pull away. I wish we dared move closer to Eddie. There must be a way….
She goes on speaking: “I picked up the baby and brought him here. I am going to take him to see my sister, like I promised. She's waited a long time to see him. I'm keeping this one. I won't ever let him get away, no, not like my other baby. I'll be a good mother to you, won't I?” She tightens her arms around Eddie and he whimpers a little. The sound is almost more than I can bear, and I grip Hamish's hand more tightly.
This time he draws his hand away, slides it into his pocket, and says, “I've brought you a whole quarter, Mrs. Bates, to buy your baby a present.” He takes a small step towards the woman, holding out his hand to offer her the money.
I hold my breath and wait. Clever Hamish, will his ruse work?
The woman motions towards the coin, and at that moment, her shawl slips off her shoulders. I see that she's holding Eddie with only one arm, in order to grab the coin from Hamish's outstretched palm.
I rush forward to snatch Eddie away from her. She loses her balance and cries out in anger, but I have the baby safe. Hamish quickly steps between us, giving me time to make a dash for the door. It opens, and we almost fall into Father's arms. We are safe!
“Father, you found us!” Father puts one arm round me and Eddie and one around Hamish.
“Well done, both of you. Constable Albert and I were outside listening, waiting for the right moment to come in.”
The constable has moved over to Elsie Bates and has got her seated in the chair. “You just sit down on this chair, nice and quiet for a while, Mrs. Bates, before coming along with me. Then we'll find a cup of tea for you, after you've seen the chief constable and told him all about yourself.” He stands close behind her, his hand firmly clamped on the woman's shoulder.
“You are free to take your family home now, Mr. Carr. I'll be along later to get a statement.” He smiles at us and says, “You did very well. I could not have handled the situation any better myself. You should both feel mighty proud of yourselves.”
Father takes Eddie from me and we're almost through the door when a compelling whisper stops us: “Wait!”
Father stands still, nods, and we turn back into the room.
Elsie Bates has risen from her chair, even tho
ugh Constable Albert still keeps a firm grip on her. She stares into my eyes, and says, “I meant no harm, miss, none. I only wanted to hold him the way I told you before. Hold him, that's all, and look at him. There's no harm in that, is there? His mother's left you all, like I said she would. So now I'll take care of him. It's all happened for the best: I can be his mother.”
I hear Hamish beside me, swallowing a sob. It's almost unbearable listening to this crazy woman speak about Mother. How can Father stand and listen to her?
That first time when Mother saw her, she said she thought Elsie Bates had suffered some great sorrow. I'm standing between Father and Hamish, and their closeness gives me the courage to speak: “No, Mrs. Bates,” I burst out, “you are not Eddie's mother, and you never will be. It was cruel to take Eddie away from us.”
Father whispers, “Come away, Millie. She is a sick woman who does not understand the wrong she's done.”
Mrs. Bates struggles to shake off the constable's hand. “I've told you: I was meant to find him, to keep him!” she shouts. Her voice changes to a whine: “You let me go, and I'll show you the things I bought for the baby. Everything he needs – a bottle, a little comb – and I've my bus ticket all paid for. I'm taking him home tonight, the way I planned….”
“That will do. You've said enough now, Mrs. Bates. I'll help you get your things together.” The constable's voice is firm.
We leave, but the haunting cry of her husky voice, calling, “Don't let them take my baby away,” follows us down the stairs.
Outside, the air is sweet and fresh. Eddie has fallen asleep against Father's shoulder. I kiss Hamish's cheek, put my arms around him, and say, “Thank you, Hamish. We would never have got him back so fast without you! You knew where she lived, and you tempted her with the quarter – how did you ever think of that? You are the smartest boy in the whole world.”
Hamish pushes me away, red-faced. “Pa, stop her, someone will see. Aw, Millie, don't do that!” He wipes his face and wriggles away to Father's other side.
“Father, she had a bus ticket. What if we had arrived too late?” I say, and shudder at the thought of Eddie being carried away, out of town and into the night. Might we have lost him forever? Father does not reply….
Hamish says, “We'd have stopped her, wouldn't we, Pa?”
“Yes, son, we would have, and now let's go home.”
Much later, when the baby has been fed and changed and sung to, and each one of us has tiptoed upstairs to check that he's still fine, my father asks me to tell him and Hamish everything – from the moment I first saw the traveling woman to the present. I'd forgotten that even Hamish hadn't heard the full story. All I'd ever done was to warn him never to let the woman into the house. Now, I can't think why I kept all my suspicions to myself. After I finish telling them both, I feel a great sense of relief.
Father says, “I do remember … it had been an unusually fine spring day, and Lillie told me about meeting Mrs. Bates. She said that there was something odd about her. But we'd got accustomed to sad people passing through town – people who'd left everything behind, hoping for something better than relief vouchers. I thought Mrs. Bates was just one of your mother's stray lambs.”
“When she came back to the house after Mother died, asking after the baby and wanting to hold him, I didn't know if I should tell you, Father. I thought you'd say I was imagining things, and that she was just being kind,” I say.
“Don't ever blame yourself for what happened, Millie,” Father says. “Even if you had mentioned that the woman had called again, I'd have said not to worry about her.”
There is a knock on the door, and Hamish runs to let Constable Albert in. He tells us he's come to hear our statements, and reminds us to tell him every detail, however long it takes.
Constable Albert writes down everything we say in his notebook, stopping now and again to ask a question, or to ask Hamish or me to repeat a detail. At long last, we are finished, and he puts his notebook away.
All I want to do is to forget this awful, frightening day.
“You deserve a happy ending,” Constable Albert says. “I wish all our cases ended up so well.”
I can't help wondering how he can speak of happy endings. Even though Mrs. Bates almost succeeded in kidnapping Eddie, there is a little part of me that feels sorry for her. She has lost everything for the second time, and will be punished all over again.
Hamish asks, “Will Mrs. Bates be locked up in the County Jail for ever and ever?” I can see he is thrilled at the idea.
“There's no need for you to worry about anything more, Hamish,” Constable Albert says. “She won't trouble this family or anyone else. Mrs. Bates is under close medical supervision, and the county magistrate will be handed a full medical report before he decides what's to be done with her. We've notified the husband and sister. I'll keep you fully informed, Mr. Carr, and now I'd best be on my way. It won't do to keep the chief constable waiting for my report. I'll see myself out.”
Hamish looks pale and tired. It's been such a long day and he's only ten years old.
I pour Father some tea and he raises the cup to his lips, puts it down again, looks at us, and says, “Thanks to you both, we got Eddie back very quickly. Let's agree to keep this whole sad business to ourselves; I don't want to hear any wild talk of kidnapping. I told the constable, while we were waiting outside Mrs. Bates's door, that if I got you all back safe and sound, I would not press charges.”
“But, Pa, why won't you? She did something bad. She's wicked!” Hamish is indignant; his fists are clenched.
“I think Mother would say ‘A poor unhappy woman borrowed Eddie for a little while, but we have him safe at home, and there's an end to the matter,’” Father says.
Hamish gets up from his chair. “But, Pa …”
Father puts his hand on Hamish's arm. “Sit down, Hamish, and listen to me. Mrs. Bates did wrong, and she'll suffer for it, but Eddie has come to no harm. No one but us needs to know. I've said the same thing to Constable Albert. If anyone from your tea party asks about Eddie, Millie, all you need to tell them is that he was brought home.”
I can just hear Mrs. Wilmot saying to poor Miss Tracy, “Didn't I say so? A storm in a teacup, that's all it was….”
Father continues: “People can be unkind, and children cruel, without meaning to be. There's no need for Eddie to be pointed at as the boy who was stolen when he was a baby. It's bad enough that he will never know his mother.”
“But not as bad as if we'd given him away, right, Pa? We'd never do that.”
Hamish surprises me sometimes, the way he never forgets a word Father says.
“That's right, son. I was six years old when my father went to a war from which he never returned. Before he left, he told my younger brother and me to look after our mother. We tried our best: we carried water from the pump for her to do other people's laundry; we scrounged for bits of coal from the delivery wagons; and on Saturday nights at the market, we waited for leftover vegetables, bruised fruit, or a bone, to bring home for supper. It was a while before I noticed that Mother never seemed to be hungry – she gave her share of the food to us. She had to sell our furniture, piece after piece, and still there wasn't enough money to pay the rent. One day she took us to the orphanage, and told us she'd come and get us as soon as she could get on her feet again. She died before she could keep her promise. My brother, Frankie, was adopted, and I was one of hundreds of orphans sent to Canada for a better life. I was twelve years old when we boarded ship. Home Children, they called us. We were children who'd been given away.”
“Say it was a better life, please, Pa,” Hamish pleads. My little brother has had enough of sad stories.
Father says, “In the end, it turned out just fine, but it took a long while. I met your mother on board ship, but seven years passed before I ever saw her again…. After we got married, we decided to put the sad times behind us, and that's what we are all going to do too.
“Now then, off
to bed with you both. Hamish, you're half asleep. I'm counting on you to be awake in the morning, seeing how it's going to be your first time shoeing a horse!”
Hamish seems to grow half an inch taller. “Pa, you mean it? Pa, I was thinking … I'll learn to drive the truck long before Eddie does, won't I?” He clatters upstairs, not waiting for an answer.
I hope fervently that Eddie won't wake up tonight. I follow Hamish, begging him to remember his brother is sleeping.
Lying in bed, I listen to the house settle. Father's treading on the creaking top step, which he's been promising forever to fix one of these days. I hear him stop and open the boys' door – to look in on them last thing, the way Mother used to. He crosses the landing, knocks on my door, and opens it quietly.
“Still awake, Millie? You're the only thing that's held us all together these last two months. I wanted to tell you that before you go to sleep and to thank you. And, Millie, if I forget to make time to listen to all of you, will you remind me? Sometimes I need reminding. Good night.”
After Father leaves, I stay awake thinking about everything that's happened today. I remember Mother saying, “You and Hamish and Father and our new baby are all I want.” We are still only four, and it's a different family without her, but we are still a family and on our way to being happy again.
THE SCENT OF LAVENDER
Setting off for school on the first day after summer vacation is difficult. Mother is not standing at the door to wave us off or to wish us luck. She will not be waiting to greet us when we get home, or there to hear all about our day. Not that Hamish ever volunteers much information beyond that it's fine, or that his new teacher is mean, but I really miss sharing all the details with Mother.
It's strange without Miss Tracy too. Our new teacher is Mr. Ambrose, Mr. Sidney Ambrose. He's tall and thin and looks young, not much older than Miss Tracy. His hair is black, and he wears it in a center part. The girls think he's very handsome, but he seems pretty strict – if anyone fidgets or whispers, he walks down the aisles between our desks, staring at every bent head and pausing beside someone he suspects of mischief. I bet he never has to use the cane at all.
When the Bough Breaks Page 9
