Maud

by Melanie Fishbane

  Maud could see her father was excited by this new opportunity, but she wasn’t sure what to think. Her whole life her father and grandpa had been Conservatives, and hadn’t Father’s positions been given to him because of Prime Minister Macdonald and his party? He must know what he was doing.

  But before her father could begin campaigning, the arrival of her baby brother took over the household. Her father looked so proud when Mrs. McTaggart brought a sleeping baby Bruce into the parlor, all pink, swaddled in the blanket Maud had knitted during all those long nights she had been forced to listen to Mr. Mustard.

  In those first few weeks after Bruce arrived, Mrs. Montgomery was happy too. She smiled and was even kind to Maud, thanking her for all that she had done. Perhaps her stepmother’s boorish behavior had been because she was tired from her pregnancy?

  Father talked cheerfully of a bright future, his business, and the election. He didn’t discuss how the paper was calling him “a renegade,” or how people were criticizing him for “crossing the floor,” as her stepmother had warned that they would.

  Maud didn’t attend school, nor did she see her friends for those first few weeks. She would snuggle with her two siblings on the bed in Southview. She couldn’t get enough of Bruce’s little, darling toes and nose. Katie would cuddle up beside them, reaching her arms out to hold him as if he were one of her dolls. “Mine!” she’d say.

  “He’s ours,” Maud would say, letting her little sister pet him.

  In those quiet moments, Maud almost believed a peaceful home was possible.

  Unfortunately, Mrs. Montgomery’s predictions were right, and in the first week of March, the news came out. Father had lost.

  Her father had been so light of heart and full of fun since Bruce’s birth, but now he lost his joy. It worried her. What would this mean for them? Would his auctioneer business be enough to sustain them?

  As the weeks progressed, Father and Mrs. Montgomery fought more and more. They fought about going back to Ontario, with Father in favor but Mrs. Montgomery staunchly opposed. They fought about money, particularly about “extra people in the house who didn’t pull their own.”

  It was too much—not to mention unfair. Now that she had stopped going to school, and was helping with Katie and the baby full-time, she felt busier than she’d ever imagined, preparing meals, doing the laundry, and cleaning the house. Maud loved her siblings, but this was not how she saw her future. She took advantage of the fact that Father had hired a quiet Métis girl named Fannie and asked if she could go back to school, at least to finish the year. While Mrs. Montgomery complained that she didn’t want to be left alone in the house with just the children and the “help” for company, Father allowed Maud to return.

  “At least you can say you’ve finished what you’ve started,” he said. Maud leaped up and hugged her father.

  But time away had romanticized Maud’s memories of high school. As soon as she got there and saw Mr. Mustard and his thin mustache, she realized nothing had changed.

  Her first day back went downhill fast. First, Will slipped her a note, inviting her to go tobogganing that night at the barracks, but this time Mr. Mustard saw it and forced her to show him, telling her she was “wasting her time” and giving them both detention.

  Then Douglas came in dripping wet from being pushed in the snow, and Mr. Mustard made him go stand in the corner for being tardy.

  When the students were working not-so-diligently on their geography, Maud caught her teacher staring forlornly out the window, as was his wont…but there was a new darkness in his expression that frightened her.

  Frank and Willie M. behaved as they normally did, roughhousing and teasing when they should have been studying—but then again, no one was really studying. Perhaps it was because Frank had already been warned that his “outbursts” would have “dire consequences,” or maybe it was because Mr. Mustard had been staring out the window longer than usual, but when Willie M. shoved Frank one time too many, Mr. Mustard marched over to them, grabbed Frank by the collar, and shoved him against the wall. Frank clutched the teacher’s arms, pulling them off him, and swung—

  Maud turned away. She couldn’t watch. Burying her head in between her arms and her desk, she stared at the crack in the floorboards as she heard a slap and then another and then a grunt. Someone—Willie M.?—cheered, but then there was the slap of a ruler against skin and it grew silent.

  A few minutes later, Mr. Mustard dismissed them.

  It was over. Maud slowly lifted her head to see Frank doubled over in pain, and Willie M. rubbing his palm against his leg. The floor creaked as Frank fell to his knees.

  She felt sick—she had never seen such violence in the classroom before. But then she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder.

  “Maud,” Will said. “Are you okay?”

  “Will, I—”

  Her head felt as though it was mired in mud.

  “Frank got the worst of it, getting punched in the stomach,” Will said, helping her stand. “But he did get in a few blows. I don’t think Mr. Mustard will be hitting him again.”

  She looked over at her teacher, who was now back to staring out the window, arms crossed against his chest, a slight bruise forming on his chin.

  “I heard—” She swallowed. She couldn’t even describe what she had heard.

  “Come.” He guided her out. “I’ll walk you home.”

  Three days later, Fannie quit without notice or reason, leaving Maud once again in charge of Bruce. After six months of fighting, Maud resigned herself to her fate. She did not return to high school.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  There were few people in her life Maud had truly hated. She used to think she hated Clemmie, but her feelings toward Mr. Mustard were altogether something new. Bile would rise in Maud’s throat when she saw him. After the brutal incident in school, she never felt safe with him. She wished to never see him again. But now that she was no longer his student, he seemed even more inclined to come over almost every night, staying sometimes until eleven o’clock. Even with the election over, Father still found excuses to go out, and often Mrs. Montgomery would follow, leaving Maud to tend to Bruce and Katie alone.

  In her journal, Maud tried to overcome her loathing by making her former teacher into a figure of comedy. It was easy to do, as he was so awkward, having no idea how to read social cues.

  What was worse—if one could get any worse than being a deplorable human being—was that Mr. Mustard was intolerably boring. Every night it was the same conversation, rehashing the same stories Maud had heard now at least a thousand times. If it wasn’t about the new Presbyterian church being built, it was about how much he detested card playing and dancing. The conversation would eventually lead to his school days and then to ancestry and nomenclature.

  Even worse, people at church were starting to talk about their supposed connection. At Bible Study, Mrs. Stovel and Mrs. Rochester both asked Maud if things were serious with Mr. Mustard.

  She had to talk to Father.

  A few weeks after she had left school, Maud found her father looking over some auctioneering papers in his study.

  “Father, I know you are busy, but I desperately need to talk with you,” she said.

  Father put his papers down with a tired smile. “Well, I need a distraction from these bills. How can I help?”

  Maud took her time explaining the full business of Mr. Mustard’s dreary, dogged courtship, being sure to keep her tone even. She didn’t want it to sound as though her detestation for the man was coloring her words.

  “Mr. Mustard is a teacher, Maud,” Father said. “He will probably make a good husband.”

  “Husband!” Maud said. She was only sixteen! “That man is a bore.”

  Father chuckled. “Don’t be unkind, Maud. I know that Mustard is a bit, shall we say, awkward, but your stepmother can vouch for his good character.”

  Given her stepmother’s own character, Maud had doubts about that endorsement. Sh
e had to try another tactic. “Grandma would never let me be alone in a room with a man.”

  Father hated being compared to Grandma, and the dig at his wife was unmistakable. Her father picked up his pen and then placed it in the ink. “Perhaps. I trust you, Maud. You’ve grown up in the past few months, taking on more responsibility.” He gave her a long look. “Preparing yourself for a life as mother and wife.”

  Even if her stepmother wanted her to be strapped to Mr. Mustard, Maud couldn’t imagine that Father—no. He disliked Mr. Mustard, didn’t he?

  “I don’t feel that way about him,” she said, barely choking the words out.

  “If you are not interested, you need to tell him. It isn’t proper to lead a man on. People will talk if a woman gives a man the wrong idea.” He picked up his pen again.

  But she had done everything in her power to deter Mr. Mustard. She had been rude to him both inside and outside of school. There was also Will. “I’m not sure what else I can do,” she said. It wasn’t as though she could tell him directly. That would be too mortifying for both of them.

  “You are an intelligent young woman,” he said. “Now, I need to get back to this.”

  Maud left her father to his papers and went to the backyard.

  Everything was so out of sorts. Sitting on a large piece of chopped wood, Maud wrapped her shawl around herself and allowed a few quiet tears to come. She’d been doing that a lot lately—crying. Too much crying. Each time, she knew what Grandma would say: she was being too sensitive.

  “Are you all right?”

  Maud looked up to see Laura standing there, wrapped snugly in her warmest shawl.

  “It is too cold to be outside,” Maud said.

  “I could say the same thing to you.” Laura picked up a large round log, sat down, and kissed her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about.”

  “Nothing for me to worry about!” Laura put her arm around Maud. “My friend is crying in the cold, and there’s nothing for me to worry about.”

  Despite herself, Maud laughed. “I truly don’t want to burden you.”

  “Please,” Laura said. “Burden me. Weren’t you the one who said we are twin souls finding each other? If you cannot tell your twin soul, who can you tell?”

  Maud traced the frozen mud with her boot. There was always so much mud in Prince Albert. She was tired of that too.

  “Is it your stepmother? Is she working you too hard?”

  “That is my lot here,” Maud said, with a wry smile. “But no, this is something else.”

  Laura was quiet. They listened to the last of the ice cracking on the river.

  “Father says it would be a good match.” She buried her head in Laura’s shawl. “Perhaps I’m wrong?”

  “Who? Your old school teacher?”

  Maud raised her head.

  “I see him here most nights. He’s persistent.” Laura gave Maud a mischievous grin. “Will isn’t happy.” She placed her hand against Maud’s cheek. Maud buried herself back in the soft shawl. “But I know you, and I suspect if it’s gotten you this upset, there is nothing you did wrong.”

  “I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do.” She sniffed. “I’ve feigned disinterest, was rude to him in school, and, well, even Will helped to give the impression we were—you know.” The ball of her foot cracked the frozen mud.

  “I don’t think you and Will were acting at all.” Laura nudged her. Maud lifted her head up and giggled. “And I suspect that has upset Mr. Mustard and made him more persistent.”

  “But how can I stop him? No matter what I do, he keeps coming.”

  “Is your father going to sit with him?”

  “He’s rarely here now.” Maud realized that her Father had never really been around.

  “Maybe you can get permission to come over to our house?”

  “One never knows with Mrs. Montgomery.”

  “I’ll help you,” Laura declared. Her smile reminded Maud of the look Will got when he was up to something.

  “What are you planning?”

  “What is the thing the good teacher is most uncomfortable with?”

  “Will and I passing notes,” Maud said, remembering.

  “Besides that.”

  Maud sat up straight, and for the first time in a while, she believed she could actually control this situation. “Anything interesting.”

  “Right!” Laura said. “We are going to make his time here more…interesting.”

  Maud giggled, but quickly sobered. “The problem is, there’s no rhyme or reason to his visits. How on Earth will we plan something if we don’t know when he’s coming?”

  “There must be a pattern,” Laura said.

  Maud thought for a moment. “Well, he does tend to come on Mondays when Father and Mrs. Montgomery go out to the lodge,” Maud said.

  “So he is a bit conniving, isn’t he?”

  “I swear…my stepmother is behind this.” Maud had suspected it, long suppressed it, but now, saying it out loud made it truth.

  “She would stoop that low, wouldn’t she? And she probably thinks he is a good match.”

  Maud laughed. “How did you know?”

  “Because it is the sort of thing Mrs. Montgomery might say.”

  “Even the congregation knows. And last night Father couldn’t ask me for the mustard without chuckling!” Maud sighed. “It is mortifying. I hate that man so much. No one is on my side.”

  Laura clasped Maud’s hands and kissed them. “I’m always on your side.”

  —

  Over the next few evenings, Laura made sure she was nearby in case Mr. Mustard dropped by. The first night, Laura instructed Maud to move the clock in the parlor a half hour ahead so he thought it was 10:30 p.m. when it was actually 10 p.m.

  The following evening, Father and Mrs. Montgomery went to visit the McTaggarts, and Laura arrived just as Maud was putting the baby and Katie to bed. When Mr. Mustard showed up at 9 p.m., they moved the conversation into a heated debate on theology and the doctrine of predestination. Mustard upheld it, Maud opposed, and Laura played devil’s advocate on both sides, even though she was a deep believer.

  But the very next evening, Laura was sent home to help her mother take care of her siblings, so Maud was left to endure the miserable visit on her own.

  Between caring for her siblings and Mr. Mustard’s visits, Maud was not getting any rest—let alone finding time for writing or reading. Rundown and exhausted, she picked up a nagging cough that no amount of tea could quell.

  Every time she even picked up a book, Bruce would cry, or Mrs. Montgomery would call her for something. They had finally hired a woman to do the laundry, but all of the other chores were left up to Maud—with no gratitude from her stepmother.

  One morning, she woke up with coughing spasms, as if knives were plunging into her chest, making it almost impossible to breathe. Maud complained to her stepmother, who promptly said Maud was exaggerating. There was no respite from the round of daily chores. Even the indefatigable Mr. Mustard didn’t notice, staying until after eleven o’clock that evening.

  The following day, Maud woke up sweating and cold, the cough threatening to tear her chest apart. Through a dazzling haze of fever, she thought she heard her father say, “You have whooping cough.”

  Mrs. Montgomery and the children stayed at her family’s house so they wouldn’t catch it. Aunt Kennedy came by to help the doctor and Father take care of Maud. It was a double blessing; Mr. Mustard kept his distance and she did not have to contend with her stepmother.

  Sometimes Father sat with her and told some of the old Montgomery clan stories. She felt like she was back in Cavendish around her grandparents’ table or in Park Corner with Aunt Annie. Maud almost asked him about the Commonplace Book, and about Mother, but she didn’t want to disturb the new peace in the house. She never wanted it to end.

  —

  After a quiet, heavenly three weeks of only her and Father in the
house, Maud was well enough to come downstairs. Sadly, it also meant that it was time for Mrs. Montgomery to come home, and Mr. Mustard’s visits would most likely begin again.

  Still a bit weak, Maud entered the parlor to greet her stepmother. Mrs. Montgomery was cuddling Bruce while Katie was taking her nap, and Father was reading the paper.

  “It’s nice to be able to come downstairs,” Maud said.

  “I’m sure you enjoyed your little holiday,” Mrs. Montgomery said.

  “Being sick isn’t a holiday,” Maud said.

  “What about all of the things that fell on my shoulders while you were upstairs sleeping?” Mrs. Montgomery said. “I think you might have been sick at first, but afterwards, you simply wanted an excuse to do nothing.”

  “That’s enough, Mary Ann!” Father yelled. He never yelled. Maud almost leaped into his arms. He had finally stood up for Maud—against her.

  Mrs. Montgomery glowered and bounced the baby.

  “I truly don’t know what you’re upset about,” he said, more evenly.

  Mrs. Montgomery stood up and put Bruce in his bassinet; he immediately started crying. Maud went over to pick him up, but her stepmother stopped her.

  “I’ll do it. He’s my child, after all.” She picked up the wailing baby. “You coddle her, Hugh. She was sent here to take care of me and the children, not go tobogganing or take part in Bible Studies or even go to school.”

  Maud slid into a nearby chair. She was almost too weak to be angry. “I came to be with my new family and go to school,” she said.

  “You silly girl.” Mrs. Montgomery flounced over to her with a sniveling Bruce in her arms. “Is that what you think? Your old-fashioned grandparents sent you here from that little nothing of a village because you shamed them with your behavior. And from what I can see by the way you walk around with that Pritchard boy, nothing much has changed. I had hoped you might finally see what a good match Mr. Mustard is, but you don’t know when something good is presented to you. Yes, that’s right. Do you think with your Father’s meager salary at the auction house and his recent political setback that we can afford to keep you? We planned you might find a good match so you would be provided for.”