by Kit Pearson
Praise for A Perfect Gentle Knight
Shortlisted for the Ruth and Sylvia Schwartz
Children’s Book Awards in the
Young Adult/Middle Reader category
Nominated for the SYRCA Snow Willow Award
Shortlisted for the CLA Children’s Book of the Year
“A Perfect Gentle Knight shows Pearson at her best: Great writing in a great and gritty tale, told with realism and compassion.”
—The Hamilton Spectator
“Pearson does a masterful job of creating three dimensional characters, which are not only meticulously crafted for their age but also for the period, and weaving them into a story that is poignant and ultimately heart-warming.… A Perfect Gentle Knight is another Kit Pearson gem, destined for awards and, even more importantly, a lot of satisfied readers.”
—What If? magazine
“A story that’s engaging, suspenseful, and deeply poignant—a psychological novel about both the joy of make-believe and the need to end the pretending.… Perhaps her greatest strength however, is her pitch-perfect sense of the middle-grade novel.”
—Tim Wynne-Jones, Quill & Quire
“Pearson’s gift is to always write straight from the well of childhood feelings. Corrie’s inner conflicts and longing will fly right into the hearts of her readers…”
—Toronto Star
“[An] excellent novel.… Pearson has given her readers a rich and involving story of a family’s life, a beautifully imagined and executed one, and a set of characters difficult to leave once this book has been put down.”
—The Globe and Mail
“Kit Pearson is such an accomplished writer that even if A Perfect Gentle Knight didn’t brim with surprising detail and events, her perfect grasp of the child psyches would make it a page-turner.”
—The Georgia Straight
“Governor General’s Award–winning author Kit Pearson has crafted a compelling story about loss, loyalty, and what it means to be a family.… Pearson’s talent for creating believable, sympathetic characters is at its peak in A Perfect Gentle Knight. Rich in detail, the novel gently evokes the quiet desperation that engulfs the family, and its honesty will leave a lasting impression long after the last page has been read.”
—The Chronicle Herald
PUFFIN CANADA
A PERFECT GENTLE KNIGHT
KIT PEARSON was born in Edmonton and grew up there and in Vancouver. Her previous seven novels have been published in Canada, in English and French, and in the United States, Australia, New Zealand, Japan, the Netherlands, Germany, Great Britain, China, and Korea. She has received numerous awards for her writing, including the Governor General’s Literary Award for Awake and Dreaming and the Vicky Metcalf Award for her body of work. She presently lives in Victoria. Visit her website at www.kitpearson.com.
Also by Kit Pearson
The Daring Game
A Handful of Time
The Sky Is Falling
Looking at the Moon
The Lights Go On Again
Awake and Dreaming
This Land: An Anthology of Canadian Stories
for Young Readers (as editor)
Whispers of War: The War of 1812 Diary
of Susanna Merritt
A Perfect Gentle Knight
KIT PEARSON
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700,
Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Canada Inc.)
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
First published in a Puffin Canada hardcover by Penguin Group (Canada),
a division of Pearson Canada Inc., 2007
Published in this edition, 2008
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 (OPM)
Copyright © Kathleen Pearson, 2007
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Publisher’s note: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Manufactured in the U.S.A.
* * *
LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION
Pearson, Kit, 1947–
A perfect gentle knight / Kit Pearson.
ISBN 978-0-14-331258-1
I. Title.
PS8581.E386P47 2008 jC813’.54 C2008-902729-9
* * *
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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For Lizzie and Gretchen, once my fellow knights,
and for
Joe Mitchell
A Knight there was, and that a worthy man,
That from the moment that he first began
To go on journeys had loved chivalry,
Goodness and honour, freedom and courtesy …
And though he was of high rank, he was wise,
And in his manner meek as is a maid.
He never had to any person said
A word that was not tender, kind and right.
He was a truly perfect gentle knight.
GEOFFREY CHAUCER, THE CANTERBURY TALES
(MODERN ENGLISH VERSION BY KIT PEARSON)
A Perfect Gentle Knight
1
Meredith
“Corrie, please may I play at your house after school today?”
The bell rang, and Corrie had no time to answer before she and Meredith had to line up silently at the girls’ entrance. All afternoon Corrie worried about Meredith’s question.
Meredith was a new girl. Most of 6A had been together since grade one. The five girls who had always set the rules in the class—Darlene, Gail, Donna, Sharon, and Marilyn—had already decided that Meredith was to be ignored.
Ever since school had started two weeks ago, Corrie had watched Meredith’s eager advances being coolly deflected by the rest of the class. It didn’t help that Meredith was plump and wore babyish clothes, that she talked too much and wanted so desperately to be like
d.
Meredith had turned to Corrie from the start. She stood by Corrie at recess and chattered at her nervously until the bell rang. Now she acted as if she and Corrie were friends. She walked part of the way home with Corrie, and one day the week before she had even invited Corrie over to her house after school.
Corrie’s curiosity had made her accept, even though she didn’t need friends. Why couldn’t Meredith realize that? The other girls had always respected the barrier Corrie had put up and left her alone. Meredith didn’t seem to see that barrier.
The trouble was, Corrie liked Meredith. She liked how she spoke in italics, how her dark eyes shone with enthusiasm, how passionate she was about animals. The Five had come back to school talking about rock and roll, and movie stars. Meredith, like Corrie, wasn’t interested in those boring topics.
Most of all, Corrie liked Meredith’s tidy, clean house, her room full of books, and her friendly parents. Meredith’s mother had offered them milk and chocolate chip cookies, and her father had tenderly bandaged Meredith’s scraped knee. They were like parents in a TV show.
Corrie dipped her pen into her inkwell, trying to concentrate on copying the spelling words on the board. This was the third time Meredith had asked to come over. If Corrie kept saying no, Meredith would probably never ask Corrie back to her cozy home.
When the bell rang Meredith caught up with her at the door. “So, can I come?”
Corrie shrugged. “I guess so. Is it okay with your mum?”
“Yup! I told her at lunch I was going to your house.”
So it was all set. Corrie couldn’t help smiling. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go and get the twins.”
“AND COULD YOU PLEASE ensure that they wash their hands before coming into the classroom?” asked a frazzled-looking Miss Tuck, the twins’ grade one teacher. Corrie nodded, trying to get away. Every day Miss Tuck had another complaint about Juliet and Orly. They lost their notices. They wouldn’t sit still. Orly galloped around the classroom with a ruler for a sword, and Juliet growled whenever she was asked a question.
Corrie grasped two grimy hands and dragged the twins into the rain, despite their protests that they wanted to play with the class hamster.
“I’m fattening him up,” boasted Orly. “I sneaked pieces of my sandwich into his cage. He’s going to grow as big as a rat!”
“You’re not supposed to feed him—only Miss Tuck does that. He’ll get sick if you do. I’ve told you that, Orly. Why can’t you remember? Wait, let me do up your jacket.”
But Orly had dashed ahead with Juliet. Both unzipped jackets were half off as the twins jumped into puddles and skimmed their hands along wet hedges.
“They’re so wild,” said Meredith. “Like two little savages!”
“They are savages,” said Corrie grimly. “They don’t listen to any of us except Sebastian. Yesterday afternoon Juliet climbed onto the roof and almost fell off. Sebastian was out. The only way we could get Juliet down was to bribe her with marshmallows. She ate so many she threw up all over the kitchen table.”
“Sebastian is the oldest, right?” said Meredith. She was always trying to find out more about Corrie’s family.
“Yes, Seb’s fourteen and Roz is thirteen.”
Meredith’s mother had asked Corrie about the rest of the family. So Meredith already knew that Corrie’s mother had died three years ago, that her father taught Shakespearean literature at the university, and that a series of daily housekeepers had looked after them.
“What school do Sebastian and Roz go to?”
“Laburnum.”
“What’s that?”
Corrie kept forgetting that Meredith was new to Vancouver. “It’s the junior high school. I’ll be going there next year—so will you!”
“Junior high, yuck! Let’s not even think about it until we have to!”
Corrie grinned at her. Juliet and Orly raced back with a dead robin. “We can have a funeral!” said Juliet gleefully. Corrie stroked the soft, limp body. Its feathers were already faded. She helped Juliet wrap it in leaves.
“Who takes care of the twins?” Meredith asked. “Your dad? Your older sister? The housekeeper? Who washes and dresses them?”
Corrie laughed. “Not my father! He never notices what any of us look like! Roz tries to, but they don’t stand still long enough to be washed or have their hair combed. They would for Sebastian, but he forgets. And the housekeeper only looks after the house.”
Meredith looked longingly at the twins’ tangled hair and torn clothes. “They’re almost identical—like Freddie and Flossie in the Bobbsey Twins! They’d look so cute in matching outfits. And their hair is so blond, it must be nice when it’s washed. Why don’t you try to clean them up?”
“They aren’t dolls!” snapped Corrie. “They’re fine the way they are.”
Uh-oh. Now maybe Meredith wouldn’t like her. Corrie shivered under her sopping jacket. Her feet were soaked as well. There were no boots in the family that fit her, and she kept forgetting to ask Roz to buy her some. She glanced enviously at Meredith’s yellow rain slicker and matching yellow boots.
“Sorry, Corrie,” said Meredith. “I’ve always wanted a little sister or brother. I was just imagining what I’d do if they were mine. You’re so lucky!”
“It’s okay,” muttered Corrie. “I guess they are pretty grubby. And sometimes I do try to wash them. But Juliet bites!”
Orly, who’d rushed ahead again, ran back and pinched Meredith. “Monkey tree, no pinchies back!” he shouted.
“Ouch!” Meredith rubbed her arm. “What are you talking about?”
“Quit it, Orly,” Corrie told him. “Meredith’s from Calgary. She doesn’t know that game.” She explained to Meredith how every time you saw a monkey puzzle tree you were supposed to pinch someone and say what Orly had said. Then the other person wasn’t allowed to pinch back.
“They’re sure weird-looking trees,” said Meredith as they continued down the steep street. She looked around carefully until she saw another tree with long prickly branches that looked like monkeys’ tails. Then she caught up to Orly. “Monkey tree! No pinchies back!”
Orly giggled and ran ahead to the house.
“We’re here,” said Corrie shyly.
“What a huge hedge!” said Meredith. They pushed open the sagging gate. Juliet and Orly dashed around to the back to bury the robin.
“Wow,” said Meredith. “Your house is enormous! Your family must be rich!”
Corrie was confused. “I don’t think we’re rich. This used to be my grandparents’ house. After they died, my parents moved into it.”
Meredith gaped at the tall grey house. All the lower windows were obscured by overgrown shrubs. “How many rooms are there?”
Corrie shrugged. “Lots.” She led Meredith up the mossy steps, through the hall, and into the dining room and kitchen. If only there were chocolate chip cookies warm from the oven waiting on the table!
The kitchen smelled sour. Mrs. Oliphant was reclining on the easy chair she’d dragged into the kitchen, smoking a cigarette and flipping through a movie magazine. She never baked cookies. “If you want something fancy you can make it yourself,” she had told them.
She glared at Corrie. “Your younger brother has been driving me crazy,” she said. “He comes down every hour asking for something to eat. I’m only here to cook and clean, not take care of sick children. And that damned cat threw up furballs in the den. I refuse to put up with all this extra work. I’m going to speak to your father!”
Corrie ignored her. She grabbed a package of soda crackers, a knife, and a jar of peanut butter and hurried Meredith out of the kitchen and up the back stairs.
“Is that the housekeeper?” whispered Meredith, clutching the railing on the slippery stairs. Up and up they climbed, to Corrie’s room on the third floor.
Corrie cleared a space on the rug and motioned Meredith to sit down. Her heart sank as Meredith noticed the spiderwebs on the ceiling, the peeling iro
n bedframe, the tattered eiderdown draped over the unmade bed, and Corrie’s books and clothes mounded on the floor.
Meredith’s room contained twin beds covered with pink counterpanes. Each bed had its own white night-stand. Her curtains were frilly white organdy and she had something called a “dressing table,” with a pink skirt gathered around it. The material in the skirt matched the counterpanes.
If Corrie had known Meredith would be coming she would have tried to tidy up. None of the housekeepers had ever properly cleaned the bedrooms, and Mrs. Oliphant was the worst; she said there were too many stairs.
Meredith was staring at the far wall. “Is that something growing?”
“It’s just a vine that came in through the top. The window won’t close because it’s warped,” said Corrie, trying to sound nonchalant.
They leaned against the bed, nibbling crackers spread with peanut butter. “Your housekeeper isn’t very friendly!” said Meredith. “What’s her name?”
“Mrs. Oliphant. She only came a month ago. She’s such a grouch! We call her the Elephant.”
Meredith giggled. “Does the Elephant stay all day?”
“She shops for food for us and comes at ten, just before Fa goes to work.”
“Does she eat with you?”
“No, she leaves us dinner in the warming oven.”
“How many housekeepers have you had?”
Corrie thought a minute. “Five, I think. They all quit because the house is too big to clean. And before the twins started school, no one lasted long looking after them all day.”
“Is the Elephant a good cook?”
“Terrible! Everything tastes the same. Aunt Madge was a good cook. She made great desserts, like gingerbread with lemon sauce, and chocolate pudding.”
“Did your aunt live with you?”
Corrie hadn’t meant to say anything about Aunt Madge. “Yes,” she said quietly. “She came after … after my mother died. But she only stayed for a year.”
“Why did she leave? Didn’t you like her?”
