Flame and Ashes

by Janet Mcnaughton

  I think it’s noble of her to want something for Mama most of all. I still long for my bed.

  Friday, September 2nd

  Winsor & Son Mercantile Premises

  The sun has finally shown itself again, so we can hope that Alfie’s voyage home will be a pleasant one, but all this waiting must be having a bad effect on me. I had such a terrible dream last night, and it still clings to me like cobwebs on my face. We were on the north side, meeting Alfie, just as we will tomorrow. He came down the gangplank with Ruby, but he didn’t notice me at all. When Papa took us all for ice cream (as he plans to do), Alfie only wanted to sit with Ruby. He’d forgotten all about me. The dream was so vivid when I woke up, I was convinced it was real. Only when I saw Alfie’s bed, made up and ready for him, did I realize it was a dream. Alfie will be home tomorrow and I wonder, might my dream come true?

  Papa has hired back so many shopgirls now, I am no longer needed (and Sarah and I start back to school again next week in any case). This day is going to drag.

  Friday evening

  I was wrong about the day. When I finished writing, Mama proposed an outing. She may have been trying to keep her mind off the furniture that is waiting for us still. Today Papa had to visit some cabinetmakers in the west end who are going to build fine new cupboards and counters so we can get clear of all these packing crates. In time these furnishings will be moved into our new store.

  There was a crate of canning jars in with all the new housewares, and Mama said we could make good use of our mountain of sugar by picking blueberries for jam. The South Side hills are covered in blueberry bushes. When Mr. Matt learned we were going berry picking, he offered to accompany us. He has taken two weeks off, and tomorrow he’s sailing home to Trinity to visit his family. (When he returns, he will bring all the tinsmithing tools he needs to resume working for us again.) So he was at loose ends too, just waiting to leave. Mama even prevailed upon Sarah to take an hour away from her hats so we could have a proper outing.

  Nettie found some tin bowls for berries and packed bread and molasses for a lunch, and off we went. We found a drung that led between two gardens into the barrens high above the houses. I could look right down on the roof of our warehouse and see the saucy seagulls perched on it.

  We spread out to hunt for berries, and I soon found myself at a good patch, seated near Mr. Matt. Mama and Sarah were not too distant, but out of earshot. Berry picking is a grand way to pass an afternoon and I should have been happy, but I couldn’t shake the heaviness that bad dream had laid upon me, so my bowl filled slowly.

  Mr. Matt noticed. “Triffie my maid, you’re dragging your tail feathers today. What’s wrong?”

  “Alfie’s been gone so long. What if he’s forgotten me?”

  Mr. Matt laughed, but not in a mean way, reminding me Alfie hasn’t been gone for two months. “Do you imagine he’d forget you in so short a time?”

  I said that so much has happened, it seems like years.

  “And you still find fault with Ruby for taking him away, do you?” he asked.

  I stopped picking and sighed. “Ruby was trying to be good. I know that now. I hope, when she comes back, I will be good enough to forgive her, but it may be beyond me.”

  I expected the kind of moralizing lecture that adults are bound to give at such moments, but Mr. Matt surprised me. “Fair enough,” he said. “Guaranteed I know how that feels.”

  We picked on in silence. Until then, I had thought he was just angry with Miss Rosy. It never occurred to me that he might wish to forgive her, but find himself unable to. I spent a long moment of careful thought before I spoke again. “She’s very sorry she threw you over,” I said at last. My voice was quiet, so Mr. Matt could pretend he hadn’t heard me if he wanted.

  His jaw dropped. “How would you know such a thing?”

  “Everyone knows,” I told him. “You never look at her, so you don’t see.”

  “Out of the mouths of babes,” he said. He picked a few handfuls of berries, then he said, “You’ve given me a lot to think on, Triffie my maid.”

  That was all. I couldn’t help hoping it would change everything, that Mr. Matt would come back from berry picking and sweep Miss Rosy off her feet. I’ve always wanted to see what that would look like, but it didn’t happen. Instead Mr. Matt went off to Fort Amherst to see if he could buy some cod for supper. Tomorrow Alfie and Ruby come home and Mr. Matt leaves. If he’s not able to forgive, how can I?

  Sunday, September 4th, Home

  When I look at the lovely row of jars filled with jam, it seems hard to believe how sad I was when we picked the blueberries. On Saturday morning, everyone was too excited to notice my apprehension. Liza and Ned had never tasted ice cream before, so they were mainly looking forward to the treat. As they’d never met Alfie, no one could blame them. Mama hummed as she straightened the old quilt on Alfie’s bed at least a hundred times, and then she’d hug Sarah, or Papa, or me, whoever happened to be nearest, every minute or two. I placed all Alfie’s tin soldiers at his bedside table.

  When dinner was finally over, Mama said, “We had better get into our Sunday clothes now.”

  “The Prince Le Boo isn’t really royalty, Mrs. Winsor,” Mr. Matt joked.

  Mama smiled. “Professor Danielle isn’t royalty either, but you’d never know it. His restaurant’s only that little shed of a place at Beck’s Cove now, but he still calls it The Royal and I’m sure he’s just as likely as ever to ask you to leave if your manners don’t suit him.”

  Nettie remarked it was a wonder he’d never learned humility, as this was the second time in his life he’d been burnt out.

  None of this talk was helping Ned. “Perhaps I’d do best to wait with the rodney,” he mumbled.

  “Ned Shamler, don’t you dare!” Mama replied.

  “Sure,” Liza said, “I got that suit from London fixed up so fine, everyone’s going to think the Winsors have been hiding their older son away.”

  “Maybe you was off to England, getting a fine education to go with that suit,” Phoebe teased.

  Mama allowed that Ned could handle a spoon as well as any of us, and that was that. Then we all went to get ready.

  Sarah and I went into our little packing-crate dressing closet to change. I pulled my rose satin dress over my head, remembering the horrible mauve dress from London, all spattered with tea stains. Professor Danielle would stop a dress like that at his door. It was true, what Mama said that day, “Not all charity is kind.”

  As Sarah did up my buttons for me and tied the sash, another dress popped into my mind — the scratchy wool one I’d given Ruby last Boxing Day, which now seemed like a hundred years ago.

  Just now I stopped writing to leaf back through this book so I could read exactly what I thought when I first started this diary. Those who are unfortunate enough to be poor should at least have the grace to show gratitude. My words could have been written by a stranger, a girl I’d never want for a friend. I knew that dress was itchy, I knew it wasn’t pretty, and I burn with shame to see how annoyed I’d been with Ruby for failing to seem properly grateful. She’d had no one to tell her she could cast that dress aside, no one to make it into pincushions for her. She was stuck with my unkind charity.

  But I must swallow my shame and continue with my story.

  When Sarah and I joined the others, Papa remarked that we are now a more respectable looking crew than we were in the weeks after the fire. Liza puts her sewing machine to good use, so even the hand-me-downs from their days in the park fit smartly now, but on Saturday Phoebe, Liza and Miss Rosy were decked out in their finest. Miss Rosy wore a midnight blue velvet hat trimmed with white satin roses. The brim was so wide, her face was mostly hidden, and I thought that a shame, because Mr. Matt might want to take a better look at her now. It seemed clear he had no intention of sweeping her off her feet, and I wondered if she would be doomed to live with a broken heart forever.

  When we’d all piled into the rodney, Mr. Matt and Ned to
ok the oars together. “I won’t be here to help you row back again,” Mr. Matt said. He had a little valise with him. Sarah and I were in the prow with Miss Rosy. Mr. Matt and Ned faced away from us.

  “I’ve been known to put my hand to an oar from time to time,” Papa said.

  Then Mama told Mr. Matt she didn’t see how anyone could go away for two weeks with such a small case. She was laughing when she said this.

  “Oh, Mother’ll have new clothes waiting when I gets there,” he replied. “I’ll need a bigger one for the trip back.” Then he and Ned began to row in earnest and they fell silent.

  The city slowly got closer. When I look at it now, all the lost and ruined buildings rise in my mind’s eye — the Athenaeum, the Kirk and pretty Ashton Cottage where I told May I would live when I grow up, and our school just up the hill, all gone. The very city I imagined I’d live in when I grow up is gone. New buildings of unpainted, raw lumber sprout among the ruins now. Most are just shanties, but a few are built to last.

  Mr. Matt drew our attention to a vessel that had just sailed through the Narrows. “That might well be the Prince Le Boo.” The ship was far away, but it came steadily closer and soon I could make out a small boy and a girl with red hair standing by the rail.

  “Look, you can see Alfie,” I cried, standing up. The rodney’s a stable boat, so nothing happened, but Miss Rosy took me by the hand and very firmly sat me down again.

  “Try to keep yourself out of the harbour, dear,” Mama said. “That’s still your one good dress.” Everyone laughed because I was never in danger of falling in.

  Alfie didn’t see us. The rodney is small and he would have expected us to meet him with a carriage. The Prince Le Boo sailed steadily toward the wharf at Clift’s Cove where we knew it would dock. Ned brought the rodney into Beck’s Cove and everyone scrambled out from the back of the boat, until only Sarah, Miss Rosy and I were left. Papa helped Sarah up, then he said, “Up you come, Triffie. I’m not about to risk having you fall in.” The others were already walking to Water Street, but I waited while Papa joined Mama. Miss Rosy was the only one left now. She looked up at Mr. Matt and her face was as blank as a sheet of paper. After all these weeks of silence, she expected nothing from him now.

  “Rose,” he said, “will you give me your hand?” He extended his to her.

  Her smile was like the sun coming out on a gloomy day. It seemed as if all the colour poured back into her world. “Thank you, Matthew,” she replied. “I would be happy to,” and he helped her out of the boat. They walked away not touching, but with their heads together like two people who had a great deal to say to one another. I think they had forgotten all about me, so I scooted past and caught up with Mama, who took my hand in hers.

  It’s a short walk from Beck’s Cove to Clift’s Cove, and the Prince Le Boo was putting out her gangplank when we arrived. Alfie had changed so much! He was brown as a berry with hair bleached almost white by the sun and he looked so strong and healthy. As soon as his turn came, he ran down the gangplank and straight into my arms. “Triffie! I’ve been gone so long. Did you miss me?”

  I hugged him tight. “Every day.”

  Papa swept him up and Mama hugged him and Papa together, then he was passed to Sarah. Ruby stood there on the wharf, alone and unnoticed. Her plain brown dress looked new and homemade. I wondered what it must be like for her, leaving her family to come back to this strange new life of ours.

  While Alfie prattled on about his summer and all the fun he’d had — jigging off the wharf, feeding the chickens, making bonfires on the beach — I went over to Ruby. “Looks as if your crowd took good care of him,” I said. “Welcome back. Everything’s different, but we’re getting used to it.” I told her that Papa was treating us all to ice cream and she was invited. Then I offered to introduce her to everyone she hadn’t met.

  Ruby’s smile told me that she could see things really were different.

  Professor Danielle seated us himself in The Royal and, if we’d only closed our eyes, we could have imagined his little shed was a palace. And Mama was right, the fire hadn’t changed him at all. He was eyeing Ruby’s homemade dress as she sat beside me in my good rose satin, but before he could say anything, I gave him a look and he suddenly remembered he had other customers to mind. Everyone else was busy with their menus, so only Mama saw. Later, she told Sarah I could have stopped a clock with that look, but she said this in a most approving way.

  Ruby and Alfie seem exhausted by their summer. Both fell asleep early last night and they’re already sound asleep now. Mr. Matt is gone, but Miss Rosy isn’t sad. She’s asked if she can borrow my writing desk, and I believe she will be writing to Trinity. Sarah and I start school tomorrow, and Papa still hasn’t found the time to see about our furniture!

  Wednesday, September 7th, Home

  I am writing at our dining-room table! We only recovered half the chairs, but that doesn’t matter. Our attic is transformed by all the fine furniture. But even before the furniture arrived, Monday began like Christmas for me. I was resigned to going back to school in my worn out everyday dress, but when I woke, I found a lovely new dress lying on the quilt! It’s made of forest-green poplin, and almost feels too rich for everyday wear. Mama and Liza planned the surprise together. Liza “borrowed” my rose satin one night while I was asleep to get my measurements, working late hours to finish it. It is perfection and I felt like a little queen when I left the warehouse.

  Papa engaged Mr. Morrissey to take us over in his carriage so we wouldn’t have to walk from a wharf to school our first day. (Though it’s only a few blocks from the harbour and we have been walking since.) I think Ned might have been put out by Papa’s decision if not for Alfie, who was staying home because his school didn’t open until yesterday. As soon as they met, Alfie seemed to decide Ned is exactly the person he would like to be one day, and he’s rarely from his side. I’m not jealous. It will do Ned a world of good to have someone looking up to him for a change, and I have love enough in my life that I can spare a bit of Alfie’s.

  It still feels strange to be with all the other girls in this old schoolhouse (which still gives off a smell of empty neglect). So many of the girls were in dresses that are worse for wear, I was almost embarrassed by my good fortune. (I had to explain to Mama and Liza why I chose to wear my old cotton calico today.) But May and I have been promoted to Class III! Now, we have Miss Lily Simms for our teacher. She only graduated herself a few years ago and has a very pretty smile, which she’s not afraid to show in class. I’ve watched for Susie Verge to see if she’d be back at school with us but, so far, she hasn’t appeared. I heard they’ve opened a school in the park and I wonder if she’ll be staying there. I hope not. She’s so clever, she deserves to be in a good school.

  Sarah and I came home after school to find the shop humming, but Mama and Papa were nowhere to be seen, and Nettie told us they had finally gone to see about the furniture, taking lucky Alfie with them! We could only wait outside to watch for wagons, and soon three appeared! I ran for Nettie.

  There was a wagonload of smaller things, and two filled with furniture. “My bed!” I cried, and then I paused. “Or perhaps it’s Sarah’s.”

  Sarah replied that it hardly mattered, since we’ll be sharing the bed, whoever it belonged to, but Papa said not just yet, as Mama would not allow the mattress home.

  Mama’s noise wrinkled. “Heaven knows what vermin it might hold now. I told the constables to burn it.”

  “Oh, look,” Sarah cried. “The china cabinet!” And Mama, pointing underneath, drew Nettie’s attention to the kitchen cupboard. Papa called for Ned, and soon we were all carrying things upstairs. The heavier pieces went up through the loophole under Ned’s careful direction. Alfie was agog to see how well he handled everything.

  We are grateful to the police, of course, but I feel oddly thankful for the many looters who emptied our house while the fire raged. And Mouser, who played a role, I allow, for Mama would have locked the do
or without her. And Alfie’s weak chest. As I write, I can picture people grabbing things and rushing away as the fire loomed ever closer. Almost everything came from the first floor. Of all the upstairs furniture, only that one bed survived. In the end, Sarah and I decided it should go to Mama and Papa rather than ourselves.

  The china cabinet looks the same as ever, except a pane of glass in the hutch is gone. The good china sparkles inside, and I’m sure it must be glad to be home again. The dining-room table looks only a bit strange with our barrel chairs around it. Best of all, the parlour carpet is back. It’s a fine Turkey carpet in a Tree of Life design worked in pretty colours — navy and red and gold. Sometimes, when no one is looking, I slip my shoes and stockings off and wiggle my toes in it.

  All of Mama’s wedding crystal is gone, and so is her pottery and glass collection, except for one blue glass vase. Mama has placed it on her whatnot, which once held a dozen or more of its kind. Today, she just sat looking at it and I thought she was missing all the others until Sarah put her arms around Mama’s neck and said, “I wish you still hadn’t lost so many, Mama.”

  She kissed Sarah and smiled. “You know,” she replied, “I believe I value this one vase now more than I did the whole collection, back when we had so much.”

  And that might sound strange, but as she spoke I caught sight of my forest-green poplin on the hook above my bed, glowing in a shaft of late sunlight. I knew that no dress would ever be more beautiful to me and I believe I understand exactly how Mama feels.

  Epilogue

  Like many St. John’s merchants, Triffie’s father was able to weather the economic depression caused by the bank crash of 1894 and his store continued, even though many employees in all walks of life lost their jobs and left Newfoundland for New York, Boston or Toronto. Sarah graduated from school when she was sixteen and, a few years later, became engaged to a young lawyer. They had a long and happy marriage, and Triffie loved her little nieces and nephews dearly.