“Wouldn’t you prefer that he should never know?”
“He has a right to the truth and I’d never wish to deny him that.” Lisa could recognise from Minnie’s tone of voice that what she was asking was a prelude to something more. “Are these questions linked to what you have to tell me?”
“Yes. Indirectly.”
While speaking they had overtaken Harry, who had found some small rocks for them.
Lisa swept him up with a laugh and held him high, breaking into a run to bear him the last few yards until the trees parted and the lake spread out in a sparkling blue entirely rimmed by forest. Harry wriggled to be set down at once and when released he began to play with stones on the shore at the water’s edge. Minnie put down the picnic basket she had been carrying and flung herself full length on the grass in the shade. Lisa sat down beside her, keeping an eye on Harry.
“Well?” she prompted.
Minnie gazed skywards, an arm under her head. “The Jacksons are moving back East for Evangeline’s sake. Mr. Jackson has gone ahead to start work for a new firm in Ottawa and get a house there. His wife and daughter are to make the journey in two stages. They’ll stop somewhere along the line in Alberta and find a place where Evangeline can have her illegitimate baby. Then Mrs. Jackson will pretend it is hers when they arrive in Ottawa and nobody will ever be any the wiser.”
There was a pause before Lisa spoke. “What was your role in all this?”
“I was an equal partner with Evangeline in the escapades that led to her getting in the family way. We met two young loggers working at the boom outlet in the bay. They would never have been allowed to call at the house and we began to meet them secretly.”
“Where was that?”
“In the forest behind the house. They worked during the day, but they would come across to our side of the bay at night. Evangeline and I used to climb out of our bedroom window once her parents had gone to bed.” She sat up and tore angrily at a blade of grass. “Before you start censuring me, I tell you it’s impossible to describe how boring it was in that household. Mr. Jackson was so strict and his wife so strait-laced. I hadn’t noticed the monotony of everything when I was younger, because I found it wonderful to be in a real home, but gradually I didn’t know how to endure the rules and restrictions. Evangeline kept up a constant battle with her parents and her temper displays were devastating, made all the worse when Mrs. Jackson held me up once again as an example of good behaviour.”
“I have a certain sympathy with Evangeline there.”
“Oh, I agree. I suppose it was a natural culmination of everything that, when she and I did break loose, it should be with reckless abandon. You see, we found the loggers, Don and Billy, so much fun to be with. There were jokes and laughter and horse-play and games that maybe we shouldn’t have played. Unlike Evangeline, I never touched the liquor they brought with them. Not because I was being goody-goody but because I knew I mustn’t lose my head. I’ve heard enough in my life about what it’s like for girls who have landed themselves with a bun in the oven.”
If the whole discourse had been less serious, Lisa might have smiled at the old English euphemism that she had not heard since leaving her homeland. “You showed good sense there,” she endorsed quietly.
“Billy didn’t think so. He became steadily more sulky about not getting his way with me. One night he flew in a rage about it and blackened my eye. At the same time Evangeline, having realised by now she was well and truly in the family way, was screaming at Don for declaring bluntly that he was not the marrying kind. In the midst of the quarrelling, Mr. Jackson arrived unheard with a lantern and shotgun to discover all four of us. The boys fled and we never saw them again. They were gone from the site with, their gear when Mr. Jackson went in search of them next day.”
“What happened then?”
“Evangeline denounced me as having persuaded her into all of it against her better judgement. I said nothing. All I wanted was to get away from there. Reservations about your Alan’s attitude towards me had to be overcome, something that had always daunted thoughts of rejoining you, or else I was going to find myself homeless. That’s when I wrote to you.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Lisa said sincerely.
Minnie leaned forward and hugged her. “This is the third time you’ve rescued me. Twice from Mrs. Grant’s clutches and now from being turned out by the Jacksons with nowhere to go. I hope that one day I’ll be able to do something as a small return for all you’ve done for me. Will you remember that?”
Lisa merely smiled at the well meant offer. She thought how good it was to have Minnie’s company again.
The rest of the afternoon at the lakeside passed pleasantly. They both swam, splashing about in the shallow water where it was warm, with Harry, naked as a cherub, between them. He slept in Minnie’s arms all the way home.
Two days later Lisa went to pick up her shopping basket and found that it still contained the undelivered notices that should have cancelled the motion picture show at the hotel that same evening. They had completely slipped her mind, firstly through the trauma of her reunion with Peter and afterwards when Minnie had arrived to occupy her time and neighbours had offered them hospitality in welcome to the newcomer.
It was too late to distribute the notices now. There was only one course of action. She knew how to load the reels and run the projector. The show should go on as programmed. Minnie could take her place as ticket-seller and the custom of Harry being delivered into Mrs. Saanio’s charge should go unchanged.
Minnie was overjoyed to be of assistance with the movie shows sooner than she had anticipated. “What fun! Do I get to see anything of the programme? I’ve never seen a motion picture.”
“You can remedy that this evening when it seems as if the last latecomer has drifted in. Any drunks have to be barred. You can summon Risto Saanio to get rid of them by a special emergency bell if he’s not there. He’s the young man who has always been so helpful to Alan and to me on these cinema evenings. The proprietress knows it’s good for business in the saloon and the restaurant to have such crowds of people coming to the movie shows, which is why we have an arrangement with her for Risto to be free of his other duties when we need him.”
Lisa transported the cinematograph apparatus by automobile to the hotel that afternoon. It was Alan’s policy always to leave it under lock and key except in his own home. Risto was surprised to find her in charge as he came down the hotel steps to unload the heavy projector in its carrying box. When she explained that she had overlooked the distribution of the cancellation notices, he congratulated her on taking on the show. As he set up the projector, a task to which he was well accustomed, the pianist arrived to watch the run-through of the reels and adjust her music accordingly. Risto, who was free of his duties elsewhere, lounged back in one of the chairs with his long legs stretched out before him and watched the whole programme through. One reel had not been rewound before delivery by the distributors and appeared backwards and upside down when projected, giving Lisa and him some spontaneous amusement. The pianist, ill-tempered as usual, merely banged her fingers away from the keys and tapped her foot irritably until the reel was put to rights.
In the early evening Minnie arrived at the hotel, having handed Harry safely into Mrs. Saanio’s care. Risto, setting the ticket-table into place, straightened up and stared at her as Lisa made the introductions.
“Glad to know you,” he said, bowing his head in the Finnish manner to which he had been brought up. He wanted to go on staring at her. Her willowy figure and clear-formed face made her appear fragile and forceful at the same time. He was intrigued and showed it.
She, in her turn, was almost struck dumb by his unfamiliar courtliness, which was at odds with his brash young appearance. Nobody had ever bowed to her in her life before. Neither could she remember ever seeing such smiling eyes as his. The very depths seemed to twinkle at her.
“I’m pleased to meet you, too.”
&n
bsp; “Is Mrs. Fernley your sister?” he asked her.
She exchanged a quick smile with Lisa who was setting out a roll of green tickets. “We’ve always been asked that and we feel like sisters, but there’s no blood tie between us. I hear that you keep order if anyone gets objectionable, Mr. Saanio.”
“Call me Risto. Yes, I’m the hotel’s right-hand man.” “Cinema assistant as well?”
He grinned at her. “That’s linked to my hotel work more than you might think. The motion picture shows give most of the male patrons a powerful thirst, and they crowd the saloon afterwards where I join the other barmen in serving them. We expect to be extra busy there tonight. That’s why I won’t be able to walk you home.”
She arched her eyebrows. “What makes you think I’ll need an escort? I’ll be riding with Lisa in the automobile.”
“That’s okay then. We’ll make another arrangement. I have a couple of hours to myself every afternoon. I’ll call for you tomorrow at two o’clock.” He turned his attention inquiringly towards Lisa. “If that’s permissible, Mrs. Fernley?”
“Hey!” Minnie exclaimed, setting her hands on her hips. “Hold your horses! Maybe I don’t want you to walk me any-where.”
He saw she was having difficulty in keeping at bay the smile playing at the corners of her rosy mouth. “Then we’ll sit and talk somewhere. We have to get to know each other some way.”
She had a gurgling laugh and could no longer restrain it. The merry banter between them would have lasted longer if Lisa had not called the situation to order by getting Minnie to sit down at the ticket-table to have everything explained to her.
The movie show that evening maintained its usual standard. Fortunately there was no hitch or misloading of reels, nothing to reveal to the appreciative patrons that it was the first time Alan Fernley’s wife had managed a show on her own. As the audience departed she faced with confidence the next two evenings for which the programme was booked. Soon she and Minnie were alone in the room, the only sound the rewinding of the reel, which was done by hand. To her surprise, the girl made no move to come forward to assist, but remained leaning against the wall where she had previously joined those obliged to take standing room, her gaze still directed on the blank screen as if she were transfixed:
“I’ve never seen anything more wonderful than when William Humphreys took Julia Swayne Gordon into his arms,” she breathed, her eyes starry. “Such passion! Then later when he rejected her, how her tears flowed. Oh, those clothes she wore, and the jewels in her hair. It must be the greatest thrill in the world to be a movie star.”
There flashed through Lisa’s mind what Alan had told her of the lives of movie people whom he had met in New York. There had been harassing by rival companies, film cameras shot to pieces by hired gunmen, and exhausting hours of filmed acting in broiling sunshine on flat roof tops to capture maximum light. Perhaps everyone would fare better in the exodus to California. She had read in one of the movie distributors’ news-sheets that a valley of cultivated fruit orchards named Hollywood was being used with the landowner’s permission for the taking of some film sequences. It sounded idyllic.
“I should think in the right location film acting would be enjoyable,” she agreed.
Minnie bestirred herself and came across, her eyes still dream-laden. “I’ve played Portia and Juliet and Lady Macbeth. Mrs. Jackson would read the other parts while Evangeline and I were a cast of two to recite our lines. Evangeline always acted with such verve and quite outshone me.” Her voice grew more ruminative. “Yet last Christmas when we gave a performance for a few people I saw Mrs. Twidle wipe her eyes when I expired as Juliet. Wasn’t that strange?”
Mae Remotti entered the room just then. “Congratulations, Lisa,” she said with satisfaction, advancing with the click of heels and a shimmer of dark blue satin. “I hear the show was a big success. Alan will be proud of you. You could put on a programme every night of the week if you wished.”
“Three evenings in a row will prove to be plenty, I’m sure.”
Mae wagged a well-manicured finger admonishingly. “Don’t make any hasty decisions. These motion-picture evenings mean extra dollars and cents to me as they do to you. In business nobody throws away a chance to make more money. I know the equipment is heavy for you to handle on your own, but that’s no problem. Risto can collect and deliver it again for you every day in one of the hotel wagons. What do you say?”
“Go on, Lisa,” Minnie urged eagerly. “Remember you have me to help you.”
Lisa’s thoughtful expression showed that she was beginning to mull over the possibility more seriously. “I have to think of Mrs. Saanio. She can’t be expected to take care of Harry six evenings out of seven, but she might allow Tuula, her eldest girl, to sleep at my house each night to be with him. I’m sure the girl would welcome some pocket money.”
“That’s settled then,” Mae declared quickly.
“Not quite,” Lisa countered. “I’ll extend the present programme to six evenings on a trial run and see if the attendances keep up.”
“They will,” Mae replied confidently.
She was right. There was no lessening of numbers in the audiences. On the contrary, when Friday and Saturday night came a “House Full” notice had to be placed outside half an hour before the show was due to commence. The only crisis arose with the pianist’s temperamental refusal to play each evening for a whole week. She gave notice and walked out minutes before the show was due to begin. Mae dealt with it by allowing Risto to leave the bar and run the reels while Lisa took the vacated seat at the piano. He became established as the projectionist, his skill at mending broken film at lightning speed appreciated by the audience, who always began to stamp their feet when there was a breakdown. With Tuula Saanio sleeping at the house overnight in charge of Harry, all Lisa’s immediate problems were solved.
Minnie gave up driving home with Lisa in the automobile when the evenings ended. Instead she chose to sit beside Risto on the wagon when he followed with the cinematograph equipment stowed aboard. Their friendship was advancing steadily and each enjoyed the other’s company. He eventually took a chance and stopped the horse and wagon to put his arms about her in an attempt at a kiss, but she gave him such a shove in the chest that he was almost unbalanced from the driving seat.
“Okay!” he exclaimed good-humouredly. “I’ll wait until you beg me to kiss you!”
She giggled as he knew she would. What was good between them was their ability to laugh at most things together. He felt she had had little laughter in her life and suddenly everything was fun for her. It was as if she were blossoming before his eyes, all shades of the past cast away. It never occurred to him that she was falling in love with him as he was with her.
Lisa began to organise her daily routine on different lines. The distributor’s agent, whom she had been expecting on the day of Peter’s reappearance into her life, arrived most opportunely when her decision to continue the film shows had been made. He arranged that certain movies she required urgently should be rushed to her and listed her requirements for the next eight weeks. She could not look beyond that span for personal reasons, not knowing what might have happened or where she would be when that time had elapsed.
It was for this reason that Lisa began to instruct Minnie on how to accompany on the piano whatever was being enacted on the screen. If she had not been going away she would not have surrendered the piano to anyone else, but she had no choice. The girl was quick and alert, which was important, and her musical talent vigorous and enthusiastic, only needing guidance to moderate for gently romantic and quieter scenes. Lisa’s instruction took place during special morning showings of reels run by Risto.
“It’s rush-about music for comedies,” Lisa explained, “and some of the French light operas provide just the thing. When there are lulls in the film story some neutral music is in order. Rousing overtures for cowboys and Indians, heavy opera for dramatic scenes, something sweet and tender for love and one
or two set pieces for scenes of pathos.”
Minnie did well for a first attempt. As the sessions progressed and she snatched every free minute for practice, she became steadily more proficient until Lisa felt that eventually Minnie would be able to take over from her when she herself had gone away with Peter. She was determined not to leave Alan bereft of consideration and had decided to appoint a respectable middle-aged widow in the settlement to keep house for him in addition to caring for Harry until he could stay with her at frequent intervals. She found it heart-breaking to think of being apart from the child, and clung to the hope that with time Alan would find it convenient for Harry to be with her for longer and longer periods. The presence of the housekeeper would provide chaperonage for Minnie and preclude the kind of talk that indirectly had precipitated her own marriage.
Risto took great interest in Minnie’s practising at the piano. “When are you to play for a show?” he asked her.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d like to be given a trial run but maybe Lisa thinks I’m not ready yet. At least she can be sure that I could step in if an emergency with Harry or some other unexpected crisis should keep her away.”
It would have suited Minnie to have been the full-time pianist, simply because if the first “House Full” notice was not displayed before the commencement of the show she never managed to see the earlier reels, and she had become a film addict. She and Risto discussed the main movies at length, both of them seeing each one enough times to observe backgrounds, spot faults, and note acting tricks and mannerisms. The snatches of dialogue flashed onto the screen to clarify the plots became so familiar to them after the five days’ viewing that they could repeat whole lengths to each other, speaking the individual roles with dramatic gestures and exaggerated eye-rolling and much hilarity. Quotes from the current movie of the week would pepper their normal conversation, creating private jokes between them, so that when the words appeared on the screen she, standing by him at the projector, which had become her usual place, would sometimes become so convulsed with giggles that he was infected by her mirth and had difficulty in concentrating on the task in hand.
What the Heart Keeps Page 24
