by Lesley Crewe
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” the wife finally said.
“No. Your sort never does.”
Two days later there was a knock on the front door, which was odd, since everyone knew to come to the back door. Dog lay like a lump and didn’t move a muscle. He was seriously flawed in the watchdog department. I missed my old Dog.
I opened the front door. A man holding a leather case under his arm tipped his hat. “Good day, madam. I’m Cyril Brooks and I was wondering if you’d be interested in a set of encyclopaedias. Let me tell you why they are worth your time and money.”
He delivered this last sentence in a big hurry, as if he was afraid I’d shut him down before he had a chance to say his spiel.
“Why don’t you come in?”
He looked so surprised, it was almost funny.
“Let’s go into the kitchen and you can tell me about it.”
Ever since that day at the store, I’d been thinking of the encyclopaedias and how they might be just what I needed on a cold winter’s night. I wasn’t much for borrowing books from the library because I couldn’t always get them back in time, but the thought of books of knowledge at my fingertips intrigued me. I had a few dollars stashed away and never spent them on anything. I was interested to hear more.
He was indeed a good salesman. A bit pushy, but informative. It was only after ten minutes that I realized his attention was not entirely on the subject matter.
Out of the blue, he said, “Do you live here alone?”
My skin prickled. “No. My husband will be home any minute.”
He smiled at me. “But you’re the spinster on the hill, aren’t you? I was picturing an old lady. Imagine my surprise when you opened the door.”
I stood up. “That’s enough. Please leave.”
He stood up as well, and for the first time it registered that he was a big man. Just as I was thinking I never should have let him in, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to him. He pressed his mouth against my ear. “You must get lonely up here all by yourself. I bet you’d like to have a man teach you a thing or two.”
I wrenched my wrist from his grasp and ran across the kitchen to the sink. I picked up a knife. “Get away from me this instant. If you think I’m afraid of you, you’re wrong. You don’t scare me in the least. You’re a bully, which means you’re a coward.”
He got red in the face and charged me. I held up my knife, but he batted it out of my hand as if it were a fly. Now I knew that I was in deep, deep trouble.
Fighting as hard as I could, I scratched and bit him and screamed for all I was worth. Dog ran in but the man kicked him and he slunk away. The salesman punched me in the face and I fell to the floor. He was on top of me in an instant, so heavy I couldn’t breathe.
“I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew if I wanted to live, I needed to stop fighting. He liked the power it gave him. I went limp and stayed that way, even after he was done. I kept my eyes closed.
I heard him get up, still breathing heavily. “You shouldn’t have tempted me like that. It’s your fault this happened. Do you hear me?”
Time had stopped. I wasn’t sure how long he was gone before I opened my eyes. Dog was in the doorway, whimpering. I held out my hand and he came over and licked my cheek. I held on to him for a long time, because I didn’t want to get up. If I did that, then I’d have to acknowledge that this had happened. All these years, thinking I was in charge of myself, thinking I could handle my life, and in one moment, my security was shattered.
When I finally got to my feet, I ached all over. I boiled water to add to the warm bathtub water. I scrubbed myself clean over and over again. When I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw that I had two black eyes, I burst into tears and cried all night long. I know I called out for George, but because of my own foolishness, he wasn’t there to comfort me.
For a long time after that, I panicked when anyone knocked on my door. I had locks put on both doors and I bought myself a rifle. I had the man who sold it to me show me how to use it. I’d practise shooting at tin cans out back. The animals didn’t like it; neither did I. But it was a necessary evil. I’d never be without a way to defend myself again.
Just before Christmas, something unexpected happened, but I found myself glad of it. A young couple moved into the small cottage at the bottom of the laneway. It was a comfort to see the smoke from their chimney and lights burning through the trees at night. I didn’t feel so alone anymore.
Two days after Christmas, a woman carrying a wicker basket trudged through the snow up to my back door. She held out her hand to shake mine.
“I’m Maggie Landry. My husband, Gervais, and I are your new neighbours. I thought I’d introduce myself.”
Because I was so pleased to not be alone on the laneway anymore, I was more pleasant than usual. “Please, come in. I’ll put the kettle on.”
“I made some cookies. I thought you might like some.”
“Thank you. Sit down.”
At first glance Maggie looked a bit roly-poly, short and squat, but when she took off her cloak I could see she was very pregnant.
“Goodness. When is your baby due?”
“New Year’s Eve.”
I put on the kettle and settled back at the table. “Is this your first?”
She nodded happily. “I’m more nervous than I thought I’d be. Do you have children?”
“No. Not unless you count critters.”
“If you have to feed them, it counts.”
I liked Maggie. She had an innocence about her. “Is this your first home?”
She nodded. “We’re from New Brunswick originally, but Gervais wanted to help a friend of his so we came here and, with the little bit of money we saved, we were able to buy the cottage. Gervais works in the woods. He’s gone a lot. I’m so happy to know I have a neighbour close by.”
We finished our tea and cookies and she asked me if I knew a Dr. Mackenzie. Someone had recommended him to her. I gave her his phone number and reassured her that he was a wonderful doctor. She was pleased.
Her baby held off until a week after New Year’s Eve, so George’s parents were able to go to the New Year’s Eve dance at the legion. The only reason I knew they were going was because I made Jean’s dress. She loved my first one so much, she had commissioned a few more.
Maggie brought the baby up to see me a couple of weeks after she was born. I felt like a heel that I hadn’t gone down to see them. I hadn’t been sure what to do, to be honest. I wasn’t in the habit of visiting people.
Maggie unwrapped her baby bundle. “You can hold her if you like.”
“I’ve never held a baby before. I might drop her.”
“Nonsense. Sit on the chair if it makes you feel better.” So that’s what I did. She placed the child in my arms and I was so surprised to see the baby’s eyes open and look straight at me.
“Hello,” I whispered.
“Her name is Jane. After my grandmother.”
“Hello, Jane. You have a beautiful name.”
“She’s such a good baby. She never cries. It’s almost worrying that she hardly makes a peep, but Gervais says I’m looking for trouble where there is none.”
“I imagine mothers do worry more than fathers.” Then I realized what I said. Sometimes mothers didn’t worry at all. Had my mother loved me when I was this small? Had she been happy holding me? I couldn’t remember her ever kissing or hugging me. The longer I held Jane, the sadder I got.
“You best take her,” I said.
Maggie gave me a funny look, but took Jane in her arms and smiled happily down at her daughter. “I always wanted a girl. Gervais was hoping for a boy. You know men. He wants me to have another baby right away. I told him to hold his horses! He didn’t like that very much.”
>
Maggie came up to see me often. More than I would’ve chosen, as I did have a lot of work to do, but I realized she was lonely and so anxious to show off her baby. By the time spring rolled around, I’d made Jane a few outfits to surprise her mother and decided to take them down to their cottage. I’d never been in it before.
Maggie had made the space as homey as she could. But when she’d said they didn’t have a lot, she’d meant it. When I gave her the pinafores and dressing gowns for Jane, her eyes welled up.
“Thank you so much! This is the nicest gift I’ve ever received. Oh, I can’t wait to try them on my Jane. She will look adorable.”
She made me a cup of tea and we shared a few oatcakes while Jane sat quietly on her mother’s lap. We all jumped when the back door opened with a bang. I assumed it was Gervais standing there looking put-out. I hated him instantly.
Jane started to cry, and I didn’t blame her.
“Gervais, what are you doing home so early?”
“Never mind.” He looked at me. “Who are you?”
“Gervais, this is our neighbour from the top of the hill. You remember. I told you about her. Nell Sampson. Look at what she made for Jane. Aren’t they beautiful?”
He completely ignored her as he slammed the door shut and sat in a chair by the wood stove. “Where’s supper?”
I stood up. “I think I’ll go, Maggie. I’m glad you like the clothes. I’ll see you again.”
As soon as I got outside, I took deep gulps of air. Gervais and the salesman had exactly the same kind of stink. Their disrespect for women. They were the total opposite of George.
Now I had something else to worry about: Maggie and Jane living in that cottage with the big bad wolf.
3
1940
I spent a lot of my time listening to the wireless, following the news about the war. It still seemed impossible that young Canadians were being sent overseas to fight. I ran into Jean one day at the gas station and had to ask about George. I’d heard rumours that he was already overseas and was possibly married. It was better to know than not know.
“He hasn’t enlisted, has he?”
“No. Part of him would like to go. You know men. But he’s valuable to the hospital and he has a family to think about now.”
Having known it would eventually happen didn’t make it any easier. “So, he did marry Mavis?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like her?”
I caught Jean’s slight hesitation, but she covered it well. “She’s a pleasant girl. Likes her creature comforts.”
She was spoiled. Poor George.
“Do they have children?”
“Not yet. Soon, I hope. Donny’s married too, but no sign of babies. If they don’t get on with it, Joe and I will be too old to chase our grandchildren around.”
I lay in bed that night thinking of George. I wondered if he ever thought of me. Probably not. He’d been so angry and disappointed the day he left. He’d moved on with his life and I was a memory. Just as well.
At daybreak, I went to the barn to milk my two cows. It was my favourite thing, to lean against their warm, soft bulk and swish the streams of milk into the bucket. There were times I actually dozed off in the middle, that’s how relaxed I’d get, but this morning I had company. I heard Jane before I saw her.
“Nelly! Nelly!”
“I’m in the barn!”
Four-year-old Jane appeared with her nightgown and housecoat still on, her blond curls a tousled mess. She often wanted to see me first thing, and I told Maggie that she wasn’t in my way. It gave Maggie a break. Anything I could do to make her life easier. She was less chatty now and often had a sad look around her eyes. I knew who’d put it there.
“Nelly, my dolly broke.”
She held out an old rag doll she carried around with her. I took it from her and wrinkled my nose. “This doll has had the biscuit.”
“Biskit?”
“You need a new dolly. You and I are going to make one, how’s that?”
She smiled.
I finished my milking and Jane followed me into the house. I fed her a bowl of porridge with lots of cream and brown sugar. She was such a spindly little thing. I was afraid she wasn’t eating enough, so I stuffed her full every chance I got.
We ventured into the workroom and I gathered the material I’d need to make a doll. The first thing I did was have Jane go through my button collection. “You look for the prettiest buttons for the dolly’s coat.”
“Can she have a red coat?”
“Of course.”
We were so caught up in making the doll, we didn’t hear Maggie at the back door.
“I hope you two are in here, or I’m a very bad mother! It’s almost noon!” She appeared in the workroom and Jane jumped off the chair and hugged her mother’s knees.
“Wait ’til you see!”
Maggie came over to the table. “Oh, my goodness! What’s this?”
“My new dolly! She has a red coat.”
“A red velvet coat! Goodness, Nell. You shouldn’t have wasted velvet on a doll.”
“Nonsense. She’s almost done.” I sewed a ribbon onto the top of the doll’s head, with soft yellow yarn used as the hair. I painted a Kewpie-doll face, and by the time I was finished, the doll actually looked like Jane.
I held her up. “What do you think, Jane?”
“I love her.”
“You thank Nelly for this wonderful gift,” Maggie said.
Jane hugged my knees.
“What shall we call her?” I asked.
“Bridie,” said Jane.
Both her mother and I laughed.
“That was quick,” Maggie said. “Why Bridie?”
“I like it.”
“Do you know anyone named Bridie?”
“No.”
We never did find out where she heard the name, but it didn’t matter. Her doll was the best thing ever.
While Jane played with her new friend, I made Maggie a sandwich. She looked pale and out of sorts. I urged her to eat.
“Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “Gervais has been drinking more often. He says he can’t find a steady job, but I think it’s because he’s late for work. The foreman, his friend, can’t rely on him, so he doesn’t ask for him anymore. I try and tell Gervais that, but he doesn’t listen to me.”
“Is there anyone you can talk to? Family?”
“I only had my parents, and they died within six months of each other, before I married Gervais. Sometimes I think I married him just so I wouldn’t be alone.”
I reached over and held her hand. She gave me a grateful smile.
The whole world thinks of December 7, 1941, as the day Japan bombed Pearl Harbor. I remember if for a different reason. I was sewing the hem of a dress when I heard something not quite right. I listened, waiting to hear it again, a shout or a cry. There it was. I leapt up from my chair and looked out the living room window. Jane was running up the laneway as fast as her little legs could carry her. I dropped everything and ran out the door, not caring about the dusting of snow on the ground.
“What’s wrong?” I shouted at Jane.
She was breathless when she got to me. “Nelly…”
I grabbed her arms and bent down to look her in the face. “Tell me.”
“Mama won’t get up.”
I picked her up and ran down the laneway as fast as I could. The thought of what I might find scared me, but I kept going. The cries were coming from the house. I shoved open the door and saw Gervais kneeling over Maggie. He had her in his arms and his sobs were genuine.
“No! No! Maggie, don’t go!”
I put Jane down and ran over to him. “What’s happened?”
He didn’t hear me, so I shoved at his shoulder and made
him look at me. “Gervais. What’s happened to Maggie?”
“She fell down the stairs. She tripped and fell down the stairs.”
It looked like he was telling the truth. She was at the bottom of the stairs with a clothes basket on end beside her and clothes strewn all over the floor.
“Let me see her. I need to see if she’s breathing.”
I elbowed my way between them and could tell by the way Maggie’s head was hanging to one side that her neck was broken. She had no pulse. She looked like a dead animal.
“I’m going to the house to call the doctor. I’ll take Jane with me.”
Gervais was holding his head in his hands, wailing. I picked Jane up and ran back to the house.
“What’s the matter with Mama?”
“Everything will be all right, Jane. I’ll make sure you’re all right.”
Dr. Mackenzie arrived and pronounced Maggie dead. Gervais was next to useless. I smelled alcohol on his breath. A fine way to cope. It’s like he forgot he had a daughter. I told him I would keep Jane for the night and it barely registered with him.
It turned out I kept Jane for three nights. I stayed with her during the funeral. I knew that Maggie would want me there for her daughter, instead of standing by a graveside. We rocked in the rocking chair by the wood stove, Jane with Bridie in her arms.
“When can I see Mama?”
“Your mama died, Jane. That means she’s gone to heaven. You won’t see her for a long time, but you can always see her in your mind. You have many happy memories of your mama that you can remember whenever you want to.”
“Doesn’t she want to be with me?”
I squeezed her. “Oh yes. She wants to be with you more than anything. But when people die, that’s not possible.”
“Why did she die?”
“She had an accident. She fell down the stairs.”
Jane looked up at me. “No, she didn’t. Daddy pushed her.”
The rocking chair stopped, as I held my breath. No. Please no.
