No Safe Harbour

by Julie Lawson

  I’d rather be Anne than Diana, and have a more interesting part for once, but Muriel says I’m not spunky or outspoken enough. I have a “Diana personality,” she says. Meek and sweet.

  I told her I could act like Anne, but there’s no persuading Muriel. Sometimes she’s right bossy.

  Clear and cool.

  Tuesday, October 30

  Went to see Eva after Junior Red Cross. She’s still sick and can’t go out for Hallowe’en.

  Wednesday, October 31

  Charlotte the Meek? Not tonight! We were on our way home when we saw two hooligans beating up Werner, not far from his dad’s store. They were hitting and shoving, calling him “a dirty Kraut,” and he was trying to get away.

  Well Duncan charged right into the thick of it, yelling and swinging his sack at the bullies, and I did the same thing — without a second thought. It was a spunky Anne thing to do and not like me at all. Our sacks were heavy with apples so the bullies got a right good walloping, and didn’t they go running off! It’s more than apples that’ll be wearing dark bruises tomorrow!

  It had been stormy and cold all day, especially after dark, and Mum insisted we wear our combination underwear. We also had to tuck extra layers of newspaper in our coats to keep warm. It’s a wonder we could move, let alone fly into the middle of a fight!

  Well I gave Werner my handkerchief because his nose was bleeding and we walked to his house and had cocoa and gingerbread cookies with him and Eva. She’s feeling a bit better.

  When Mrs. Heine brought out the cocoa, Duncan and I said, “More food value than a cup of bouillon,” just the way Dad does. We said it without thinking, at the exact same time, and everybody laughed.

  It was fun trick-or-treating. The people whose houses we went to said pretty much the same thing. “If it isn’t the Blackburn twins. Which is which?” Ha ha.

  I’d swallowed the camouflage gum after the first house, so as soon as we smiled we gave ourselves away.

  Now it’s all over, but I’m still worked up. My heart is racing and I have a sick feeling in my stomach. We didn’t get a good look at the bullies, but what if they recognize Duncan and me at school or somewhere, and beat us up to get even?

  Muriel’s right. I am more of a Diana than an Anne.

  November 1917

  Thursday, November 1

  Milk run today.

  Sometimes, between stops, Haggarty tells me stories. Tall tales from when he was a boy in Cape Breton and his grandfather rode whales and so on. Sometimes I tell him stories.

  This morning I told him how Dad rescued Mum from a castle tower and whisked her away to safety.

  “So that’s how it was,” Haggarty said. “Sure beats what I’ve heard.”

  What did he mean by that? I asked him to tell me, several times I asked, even begged, but he wouldn’t budge. “Can’t tell you,” he said, “’cause it’s not my story to tell.”

  I kept on. Was there a fire? Did the castle burn down? Is that what happened to Mum’s parents?

  Same thing. “Nope, can’t tell.”

  I’ll ask him again next week, but he can be right stubborn. Like the way he is with his first name. He won’t tell anyone what it is. Even his own wife calls him Haggarty.

  Next week I must remember my diary! Here it is November and I’ve still not shown him, even though I promised.

  Later

  We’re making our own book! It’s called The Intrepidous Twins Fight the Forces of Dragon Man and Save the World from Evil.

  Duncan came up with the idea because of last night, the way we scared off the bullies. First we’re going to think up the stories, then I’ll write the words and Duncan will draw the pictures. Today we made the cover and pasted it on one of Edith’s old scribblers.

  Ruth said our title’s too long and there’s no such word as “intrepidous” and no such person as Dragon Man and the book is a stupid idea, but we just ignored her.

  Duncan made up the name Dragon Man. He says Dragon Man has a long white beard and icy blue eyes. Sometimes he tricks you into thinking he’s friendly and kind-hearted. You might stop for a chat. But watch out! His words will turn to flames and you’ll be doomed forever, unless the Intrepidous Twins come to the rescue.

  Dragon Man has control of all the Germans fighting in France, so sometimes the Intrepidous Twins have to go over there to help our boys. But most of the time they fight Evil at home. The twins’ names are Charlotte the Fearless and Duncan the Brave, but no one knows their true identity. They sneak about the city, ever on the lookout for Dragon Man and his Minions.

  If someone is struck by Dragon Man’s piercing eyes or flaming tongue, their suffering is enormous — until the Intrepidous Twins take pity and rescue them.

  But if they deserve to be punished, the Intrepidous Twins leave them in agony. So, wicked people, be warned! The Intrepidous Twins will show no mercy.

  Friday, November 2

  Today in Special Projects we started another knitting contest. This time, it’s who will be first to finish a pair of socks on Number 10 needles. At least they’re not Number 12s, but the 10s are bad enough. Why is it that the greater the number, the skinnier the needles? It should be the other way around. Anyway, we all sat together and cast on. Ready, set, GO! Off we went, our needles clicking like Kirsty’s toenails on the kitchen floor.

  Then Muriel started counting out loud. “Knit one, purl one, knit one, purl one.”

  Well it was right hard to concentrate, so I got even with, “Knit one, purl one, sit one, saint one.”

  Then Deirdre started in. “Fit one, furl one, fizzle one, faint one!”

  Eva suggested we go right through the alphabet. We got all the way to L before Mr. Barker yelled at us to be quiet.

  It was the best time I’ve ever had in knitting. Didn’t drop a single stitch, but I got a terrible stitch in my side from laughing.

  I did the rest of the alphabet by myself, on the way to my piano lesson. Here’s my favourite: Zit one, zurl one, zizzle one, zaint one.

  Saturday, November 3

  Mum, Dad and Duncan went to the arena to see a moving picture called Canadians Capture Vimy Ridge. I wanted to see the film, too, since Luke and the 85th fought their first battle at Vimy, just this past April. But Mum said she didn’t want me sick and upset the way I was after the War Trophies Exhibition.

  It was a clear day and not too windy, so I took Kirsty for a long walk up to Fort Needham, then down to Haggarty’s farm to see the new puppies. They look like small versions of Kirsty, white with chestnut-coloured patches. Kirsty was happy to see her mother and went bounding over yapping, “Come play with me!” but Princess was more interested in her new litter. Poor Kirsty.

  The puppies are almost a month old. I wish I could have one, but Haggarty says they’re all spoken for. Maybe when Princess has another litter, and if it’s all right with Mum and Dad. It won’t be all right with Kirsty, though! She’s right spoiled.

  Oh. The way Ruth was, I guess, before I came along.

  Later

  Duncan didn’t see Luke in the film, or anyone else he recognized, and neither did Mum or Dad. They said that other people did, though, and there was no end of letting everyone know it with shouts of “Look, there’s so and so from Dartmouth!” or Peggy’s Cove and so on.

  Mum wishes she hadn’t gone. She’s angry at the way Luke’s battalion was sent in to capture an important position at Vimy, seeing as how the boys hadn’t had any experience in battle. It was only because the other troops were doing badly, and the N.S. Highlanders were the last resort. Yes, she says, they surprised the Germans all right, and they took Hill Something-or-Other, and yes, it was a great victory for Canada, but the loss of life was staggering and it was a miracle that Luke survived. It was quite the speech for Mum and when she was finished she said she should have gone to Haggarty’s farm with me.

  Luke’s battalion has a reputation now. They’re called the “Never Fails.” I hate that name. It’s sure to bring bad luck, tempting
fate that way.

  Sunday, November 4

  Church.

  Duncan and I started a Table of Contents for our book. We were talking out our ideas when Duncan suddenly frowned and went quiet. I asked what was bothering him and he said he’d remembered something. Right out of the blue, he remembered seeing Dragon Man — not the character in his drawing, but a real live person.

  It was at the Public Gardens, Duncan said, and he was about three years old. He was playing with a group of children, and there were a lot of people in the gardens, but he remembers the man clearly. Not only because of his white beard, and the silver dragon on his walking stick, but also because of something that happened between the man and Mum. Whatever it was, it frightened Duncan and made Mum cry.

  Well we talked about that for a while, but Duncan couldn’t remember anything more, so we went back to our chapters. Chapter One is called The Intrepidous Twins Face Gaping Red Gullets of Guns! Duncan’s idea.

  Chapter Two is Charlotte the Brave Rescues Tenacious Troops from the Claws of Dragon Man! My idea.

  So far we’ve got ten chapter titles. Tomorrow we’ll start on the stories.

  Monday, November 5

  Snow was falling this morning, but it turned to cold rain by noon and there was a biting northeast wind. Torture to walk home, the wind so strong. Dad said the longshoremen couldn’t unload the ships at the dock.

  Felt sick all day, especially in school with half the class coughing and sneezing.

  Came home and worked on our book. Too cold for the playhouse so we worked in Duncan’s room. Now that Luke’s gone, Duncan the Lucky has the whole room to himself.

  At least I have a bed to myself and don’t have to sleep with Ruth. Parts of her may have “filled out nicely,” but her elbows are right bony.

  Almost forgot. Muriel’s cousin Todd went hunting yesterday and shot himself in the foot. Now he won’t have to get drafted. He said it was an accident, but nobody believes him. Muriel said he’s safe on two counts now — “for being a cripple as well as an idiot.”

  The way she was talking, with a bit of a laugh and sounding right proud of her cousin — while brave people like Luke are going off and doing all the fighting — well it made me so mad I said, “Todd’s nothing but a coward.”

  Well didn’t she jump on me. She said that Todd’s the smart one, that the boys over there are being “slaughtered for no good reason” and she knows a lot more about the war than I do and on and on till I was close to tears.

  I wanted to argue back, I wanted to shake her, but the words jammed up in my throat. So much for trying to be Charlotte the Not-So-Meek. It’s hopeless. I get so worked up with feelings, I lose my voice. Now I’m worked up all over again and won’t be able to sleep.

  At least we’re still friends. Muriel agreed not to mention her cousin again, and I said I was sorry I called him a coward. (Even though I’m not.)

  Friday, November 9

  It’s mid-morning, and I’ve been in bed with a cold since Monday night. The bedroom reeks of mustard, but the days of agony are over. No more falling asleep feeling like I’m Joan of Arc at the stake, no more waking up at midnight feeling that I’m buried in the cold, damp earth of a grave. A fitting composition topic for this time of year? “The Dirge of a Mustard Plaster Victim” …

  Oh, no. Luke, when you’re reading this, I’m sorry. I’ve just realized it’s mustard gas the Germans are using over there.

  Duncan caught the same cold as me and he’s through with mustard plasters, too. Not Ruth, though. She came down with the cold yesterday (my fault, of course) and she’s still being treated. She’s asleep right now and our bedroom is nice and quiet, except for her wheezing.

  Nothing much to write about. Yesterday Haggarty gave Mum a cup of cream, just for me. I shared it with Duncan. At noon Mum will bring up some beef bouillon, but I’d rather have cocoa. In the meantime I’m going to finish reading Anne of Green Gables for the second time.

  Monday, November 12

  Got up for a few hours today and did something mean.

  Mum was busy with the wash, so she asked me to mix up some mustard paste and spread it on a piece of flannel for Ruth.

  Now, Ruth thought it a fine joke when I was being plastered with burning flannel, so I secretly put in two extra spoonfuls of powdered mustard and smeared it on right thick.

  Well, up Mum goes to the patient’s bedside and onto Ruth’s chest goes the plaster. Oh, the wailing! Dad must have heard it from the dry dock.

  At first I didn’t feel sorry, because the extra mustard won’t kill her, and who knows? It might cure her more quickly.

  But now I feel miserable. I don’t think I’ve ever been deliberately mean, and even though my mind thought it was a good idea, it doesn’t sit well inside.

  I told Ruth I’m sorry, but I don’t think she heard me. Mum gave her some syrup and she’s sound asleep.

  “Sorry, Ruth.” There, I’ve said it again.

  Tuesday, November 13

  A letter from Luke!

  He wrote it on October 21 near a place called Wipers. He didn’t tell us the name, but we figured it out because he says he’s “surrounded by gripers.”

  The town isn’t really called Wipers, and as usual Mum was quick to point it out. “Ypres!” she said, pretending to sound annoyed. “Why doesn’t that boy learn some French?”

  We laughed and cried at that because it’s such a relief to hear from him. Sometimes the mail can take six weeks to get here. Sometimes it doesn’t make it at all because of the German submarines. Except Dad says the submarines haven’t been such a problem since the ships started travelling in convoys, with battleships leading the way.

  Luke, when you’re reading this, I’m copying some of your letter in my diary, so you can skip the next part.

  Thanks a million for the package. The smokes and letters and all. Gee I miss you folks. What wouldn’t I give for some of Mum’s roast goose and pumpkin pie!

  Charlotte and Duncan, are you still giving Kirsty plenty of exercise? Give her a scratch behind the ears for me, will you?

  Say, Kirsty, make sure those twins get a good run, too. Don’t want any lagging behind when I get home, not on the Blackburn Brigade.

  The letter came at a good time. I was feeling that low about being stuck at home with a cold, but shame on me. It’s not the trenches.

  Thursday, November 15

  Milk run today. Queenie gave a happy little whinny when she saw me, and Haggarty said he’d missed my company last week.

  After the milk run I went back to school.

  Ten in our class are away with whooping cough, including Carl, and a few others are home with colds.

  We have a class project — filling a Christmas stocking. The Red Cross is collecting thousands of stockings from all over Canada and sending them to the wounded Canadians who have to spend Christmas in hospitals in England and France. Halifax has to contribute 1000. The stocking is huge but we can do it. Duncan and I went out right after supper and collected a few things from our neighbours. Little things like candies, cigarettes, a comb and bars of soap.

  Just remembered a story Luke mentioned in a letter last year. He heard it from a British soldier. It happened on Christmas Eve in 1914, the first Christmas of the war, when some German troops lit candles on little Christmas trees, and the British and French and Belgian troops started singing carols. The front lines were so close, the Germans heard them singing “Silent Night” and joined in. They sang other carols, too, all in their own language. Then something wonderful happened. They threw down their weapons and came together in No Man’s Land. It was a Christmas miracle.

  Luke told the British soldier it sounded like a fairy tale, but the soldier swore it was true. The troops even ate and drank together, and some of them exchanged addresses. They must have thought that the war would soon be over.

  Here’s the sad part. The generals got mad and ordered the troops to start shooting again.

  How did I get started
on that? Oh, the Christmas stockings.

  After school Muriel and Eva and I were talking about the stockings and our knitting and Muriel says, “What did we do before the war?”

  Well we were right stumped. There was a full moment of silence while we tried to remember, and then Eva said, “We must have learned how to knit.”

  It seems like such a long time ago.

  Friday, November 16

  At recess I told Eva and Muriel the story about the Christmas miracle.

  Muriel didn’t believe it, the know-it-all. She said, “The Huns kill babies with their bayonets. I hardly think they’d know our Christmas carols, let alone sing them.”

  Eva said her dad knows “Silent Night” and taught her the words in German, and would Muriel like to hear it? And on went the argument.

  Well weren’t they both surprised when I broke in and told them that the original words to “Silent Night” were written in the German language and that the English learned the carol from the Germans. Thank goodness for my Christmas carol piano book.

  We couldn’t have Special Projects this afternoon because of a special assembly in the auditorium. The whole school was there, and the teachers explained that everyone in Canada is responsible for helping our soldiers, even school children. How? By telling our parents to buy a Victory Bond.

  Mr. Barker was even more dramatic than he was last year. “We must help crush the Hun with our money! Smash through to Victory! Buy Victory Bonds!”

  I’ve got $1.00 saved up. I wanted to have $1.50 so I could buy Anne’s House of Dreams, but I’m giving my dollar to Dad to put towards a Victory Bond so the government can buy rifles. Because what if Luke got wounded for lack of a rifle, because someone at home was too selfish to buy a Victory Bond? I’d hate that selfish person to be me.

  Piano lesson, as usual. Now there’s a boy who has his lesson after mine. The nice girl must have stopped taking lessons or changed her time. Too bad for Kirsty.

  Saturday, November 17

  Went to town with Duncan to buy winter stockings and who’s on the trolley but Jane! We were some surprised, especially since she wasn’t riding as a passenger but as the conductor. It’s the first time we’ve seen a girl working on a trolley. Jane told us she’d got a letter from Luke last Monday (the day before we got ours), and Duncan the Bold says, “Was it a nice one? With Xs and Os?”