by Kit Pearson
It was no use. Polly’s deepest desire was to be an artist. How could she turn down such an opportunity?
She trudged downstairs and found Noni in the dining room, setting the table for the party. “I’ve decided,” she said woodenly. “I’ll be a full-time boarder so I can take special art.”
“Oh, hen!” To Polly’s surprise, her grandmother’s eyes were teary. “I’m so proud of you. You’re putting your future needs ahead of your present comfort. That’s a true sign of growing up.”
“I don’t want to do it!” cried Polly. “I just can’t help it.”
“In many ways I don’t want you to, either. You’re very young to be away from home so much, and I’ll miss you terribly. But you’ve made the right choice. Think of how lucky you are to receive such good training so young. I wish I’d been able to study art. You’ll be very glad one day that you’ve made this decision.” Noni hugged her. “What a brave, sensible lassie you are! Now I must telephone Miss Guppy and talk about the extra fees. You’ll need more clothing for Sundays, as well.” She bustled to the telephone.
Polly fled to the beach with Tarka. Already she regretted her decision.
Polly sat at the head of the table with a mound of presents in front of her. She gazed at the smiling faces of her family and friends, and tried to smile back. Then she noticed that there was an empty chair.
“Surprise!” Maud pranced into the room from the kitchen and engulfed Polly in a hug.
“Maud! I thought you couldn’t come!”
Maud pried off Polly’s arms and added a small present to the pile. “I thought I couldn’t, either, but then my class was cancelled. Noni and I decided I’d surprise you.”
“How well you look, Maud!” said Aunt Jean.
Biddy and Vivien gaped at her as she sat down. Maud glowed with self-assurance. She wore a blue suit that emphasized her curves. Her thick bob of hair was curled into even waves. Around her neck was a strand of pearls, and she even wore earrings.
“How’s university treating you?” Uncle Rand asked.
“Let’s talk about that later,” said Maud. “This is Polly’s day! Aren’t you going to open your presents?”
Opening presents, blowing out thirteen candles, and enjoying her favourite cake lifted Polly’s gloom for a time. Maud’s small box revealed a set of the china dogs that Polly collected. Biddy and Vivien had pooled their money and bought her some green barrettes. Aunt Jean had knitted Polly her annual sweater—this year it was pink. Mrs. Hooper had wrapped up a movie magazine, which Biddy and Vivien immediately seized. Daddy had sent some handkerchiefs all the way from Winnipeg. They were embroidered with her initials. Gregor and Sadie had sent a book called National Velvet.
Then Noni handed Polly a blue velvet box. Inside was a short strand of pearls. “Oh, Noni, they’re beautiful,” breathed Polly, running the cool beads through her fingers.
“They belonged to my mother,” said Noni. “I offered them to your mother once, but she didn’t want them. They’re only to be worn for special occasions.”
“Thank you!” said Polly. She’d never owned anything so grown-up. Daddy had bought Maud her pearls in the days before the crash, when he had a steady job. Now Polly had some, too!
“Time for bumps!” shouted Vivien. She and Biddy and Maud seized Polly and bumped her on the carpet thirteen times. Polly laughed so hard she thought she’d throw up her cake.
After the guests went home, the family had a light supper. Maud chattered about university all through the meal.
“Well, you certainly seem to like it,” said Aunt Jean, after Maud had regaled them with stories about her courses and the residence and frosh dances and rushing for the sorority. “Are you sure you’re eating enough, chickie? You’ve slimmed down.”
Maud chuckled. “I needed to, don’t you think? Yes, I’m getting plenty to eat. The food’s as terrible as it was at St. Winnie’s, but Ann and I buy sausages and cook them over the fireplace in the lounge.”
“I don’t know how you have time to study with all those activities,” said Noni.
Maud shrugged. “I only have five courses—that seems so few compared with school.”
Polly listened to her answer Uncle Rand’s question about her history professor. She didn’t mind sharing Maud with the others; she’d have her all to herself later.
“Polly, aren’t you going to tell everyone your decision?” Noni asked.
Polly was trying not to think about it. “I’ve decided to be a full-time boarder, because I want to take special art and it’s only on Saturdays,” she muttered.
Maud beamed at her. “You’re going to board full time? That’s swell, Doodle! The boarders have so much fun on the weekends. You’ll love it.”
“Polly’s art teacher is Frieda Falconer,” Noni told them. “She’s a well-known Canadian artist.”
“What a wonderful opportunity, chickie!” said Aunt Jean.
“But it will be hard for you not to come home,” said Uncle Rand gently.
Polly gave him a sad smile. He was the only one who understood.
As usual when Maud was home, she came into Polly’s room and sat on the bed to chat.
“How’s school?” she asked immediately, as Tarka demanded that she rub his tummy. “I enjoyed your letter, but you didn’t tell me how you liked it.”
What could Polly say? Maud had loved boarding school. She wouldn’t understand any of the things Polly hated about it.
Polly shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess.”
“Are my friends looking out for you?”
Polly nodded.
“Tell me more about your roommates! Who’s your homeroom teacher?”
Polly didn’t want to waste one minute talking about school, but she had to tell Maud all about the Fearless Four and the Hornet.
“I miss St. Winnie’s sometimes,” said Maud, “but it’s fabulous to be so free. There are no bells and no rules, and I can wear my own clothes. We have a nightly curfew, but apart from that I can do what I want.”
Maud’s face was thinner, which made her long nose and strong chin stand out even more confidently. “You look so happy,” Polly said.
“I am! Oh, Doodle, everything was so hard before! Being so poor, all the trouble about Daddy, moving here … Now Daddy is almost free, and I adore U.B.C. And … oh, Poll—I think I’m in love! But don’t tell Noni about Robert yet. I’ll write to her about him. I may bring him home for Thanksgiving. Then you’ll be able to meet him.” She spoke as if that were an enormous privilege.
“I like your hair,” said Polly. “How did you get it so even?”
“It’s called a ‘marcel wave.’ Ann did it with her curling iron.” Maud appraised Polly. “Doodle, don’t you think it’s about time you cut your hair? It would wave naturally, not like mine.”
“Cut my hair? But Daddy—”
“Daddy wouldn’t care. He didn’t mind when I got a bob. Do it, Poll! I could cut it for you tomorrow.”
“No!” Polly frowned. “I like it long and so do Daddy and Noni.” As soon as she said that, however, she thought of how she was the only one at school with long hair.
“You’re so pretty, Poll, but you’d look even prettier with a bob. Will you at least think about it?”
“Oh, all right. Maybe I’ll do it one day, but not yet.”
They grinned at each other. “By the way, Maud, Miss Guppy told me to remind you to write to her.”
Maud looked guilty. “I keep putting it off. I went to her church and I hated it! All they talked about was how sinful we were. I …” Maud hesitated.
“What?”
“Well, it’s hard to admit this after how certain I was before, but I don’t feel the same about religion as I did at school. Robert has to go to church with his family, but he told me he’s an agnostic.”
“What’s that?”
“It means he doesn’t know for sure if God exists. We have long arguments about it. I don’t agree with him—I absolutely believe in God. B
ut the Guppy’s God is so black and white. I think he’s a lot more mysterious and complicated. But I can’t tell her that.”
“Why don’t you just write her a short note and don’t say anything about religion at all,” suggested Polly.
“I guess I could, but I know she’ll suspect something.”
Then Maud laughed. “But you know what, Poll? She’s not in charge of me anymore!”
Polly shuddered. “You’re lucky.”
“Are you all right about deciding to be a full-time boarder?” Maud asked. “You’re so attached to the island I know you’ll miss coming home.”
“I don’t want to do it, but if I want to be an artist I have to,” said Polly.
“Good for you! Daddy would be so proud. Have any of the girls asked about him being cleared?”
“Not yet. But some of them know, I think. They give me strange looks.”
“Just ignore them. I’ve told Ann all about Daddy, and I’m sure lots of my other friends know, but they’re too polite to mention it. Oh, Doodle, in a few months we’ll see him again!”
After Maud left, Polly pulled Tarka up to lie on her pillow so she could breathe in his skunky smell and stroke his soft ears. She wouldn’t be able to cuddle with him again until Thanksgiving.
“Oh, Tarka, I hate turning thirteen!” she whispered. Already it seemed like an unlucky number.
Miss Guppy pumped Polly’s hand so hard it hurt. “Good for you, my dear!” she barked. “You won’t regret this. I’ll telephone Miss Falconer right away and let her know. You’re going to love being here all the time, I promise.” She gazed at Polly hungrily, like a spider that had caught her prey.
Alice approved, as well. Polly told her on Monday, when they were both supposed to be practising. “That’s absolutely the best decision!” she said warmly. “We’re so lucky, aren’t we?”
“What do you mean?”
“We both know what we want to do when we grow up, and we’re already getting good training for it.” Twice a week, Alice went to singing lessons.
“I guess you’re right,” said Polly slowly, “but I wish I didn’t have to stay on the weekends to do it.”
“You’ll get used to it,” said Alice. “The boarders get taken to concerts and plays sometimes—even movies.” She thumped Polly’s back. “Cheer up, Goldilocks! This is good news, not bad!”
That night Polly had another cake and candles before bedtime. The Fearless Four had asked the school cook to make it for a surprise.
“I’m so glad you’ll be with us all the time now, Poll,” said Daisy, after they had sung to her. “Now we’re really the Fearless Four!”
Polly tried to share their enthusiasm.
The next day after school, Mrs. Blake took Polly downtown on the streetcar to buy her the clothes she needed for Sundays. “You need a navy wool dress,” she told her in the store.
“How about this one?” Polly held up a dress with yellow polka dots on its short sleeves and collar.
Mrs. Blake examined her list. “I’m afraid not, love. It says long-sleeved, with no coloured trimmings.” She found a dress that was so plain that it made Polly feel erased. At least she liked the shoes, which had something called “Cuban heels.”
“Can I get silk stockings?” she asked hopefully.
“No silk stockings until the lower fifth,” said Mrs. Blake, picking out some wool ones.
Polly wouldn’t be here then. Buying this dress was just as much a waste as having bought the rest of her uniform.
Before they went back to the school, they had tea at the store restaurant. They munched on scones and jam while Mrs. Blake told Polly that she had a two-year-old boy.
“But who looks after him?” Polly asked. “Your husband?”
“His father is dead,” said Mrs. Blake briskly. “Johnny stays with my landlady, and I see him on my days off. I wish I could find a job where I could come home at night, but I’m lucky to have one at all these days.”
“That’s terrible!” said Polly. “You must really miss him.”
“I think of him every moment … but that’s just the way things are.” Mrs. Blake smiled. “Maybe one day I’ll bring Johnny to school to meet you all.”
How could she be so cheerful all the time? Polly wondered. She squirmed. Having to be a full-time boarder seemed so trivial a problem in comparison. The closer Friday came, however, the more miserable she felt about not being able to go home.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A VERY LONG WEEKEND
ON FRIDAY DAISY, RHODA, AND ELEANOR EAGERLY TOLD Polly all that was to happen the next day.
“First we have prep,” said Eleanor.
“Prep on a Saturday?” said Polly.
“It’s only for an hour,” said Daisy. “Then we can do what we want for the rest of the morning. After lunch, they take us somewhere—to the beach or shopping. But that’s when you’ll be at your art class, Poll.”
“The matron cooks us supper and we all help,” said Rhoda. “Last week Mrs. Blake made us something called ‘toad in the hole’—it was scrumptious! But this weekend Miss Poirier’s on, so it will probably be something ghastly.”
At breakfast the next morning Polly looked around the dining room. “Where’s Miss Guppy?” she asked. The headmistress wasn’t there.
“She goes out on Saturdays—I don’t know where. But she comes back after supper.”
“Tonight she’s taking us to a concert,” said Daisy.
“It sounds boring,” said Rhoda. “I’m not going.”
“I am,” said Eleanor. “Are you, Poll?”
“I guess so,” said Polly.
At least they were allowed to wear their own clothes today. Polly had put on her oldest skirt and blouse, to be ready for art.
After prep, Daisy led them over to the gym. They took turns throwing baskets and tried climbing the ropes. Daisy and Rhoda were much better than Eleanor and Polly.
“Race you to the playing field!” said Daisy.
They collapsed at the far end of the field and lay on their backs. The other three began pointing out cloud animals.
“There’s a horse,” said Rhoda. “Did you know that I take riding lessons at home? I won second prize in a jumping competition last year.”
“Really?” said Daisy. She and Eleanor asked Rhoda questions, but Polly refused to be impressed. Instead, she wondered what Biddy and Vivien were doing this morning. Would they be walking Bramble? Would they take Tarka along?
“You’re awfully quiet, Poll,” said Eleanor.
Polly swallowed her threatening tears and tried to think of something to say … “Guess what? Mrs. Blake has a little boy!”
They all sat up. “Really?”
Polly told them what she knew.
“What a shame she’s on her own,” said Daisy. “Did she say how her husband died?”
Polly shook her head. “We could ask her sometime.”
“She’s so nice,” said Rhoda. “We’re lucky to have her instead of the Crab.” That was what everyone called Miss Poirier.
“Are you ready, Polly?” Dottie came up to the lunch table. “We should leave for Miss Falconer’s in five minutes.”
“Should I bring anything?” Polly asked her. “I have a sketchbook and pencils and my watercolours.”
“Miss Guppy said that all our supplies are provided.”
How free it felt simply to walk down the driveway! They made their way to the streetcar stop. When the streetcar arrived, they boarded at the front, paid their fare, and found two seats. The car rattled away from the school.
Polly was in awe sitting beside someone from the upper sixth form. But Dottie seemed a jolly girl, relaxed and friendly. “I knew your sister,” she said. “She was so perfect she must be hard to live up to.”
Polly nodded; at last someone recognized that. “Maud’s wonderful, but we’re really different from each other,” she said shyly.
“Of course you are! My older sister couldn’t be more different from me—s
he wants to be a nun! She isn’t even Catholic, but she’s going to convert. My parents are fit to be tied.”
Dottie chattered all the way, and all Polly had to do was listen. Finally, they reached their stop. Dottie consulted her directions. “Let’s see … we go three blocks down here, then turn right … now left … here’s Morris Street … and here’s number 32. It looks like her house faces the sea.”
They stopped in front of a ramshackle cottage on the water side of the road. Honeysuckle draped the porch, where several pots overflowed with purple asters.
“Come in—come in!” said Miss Falconer, opening the door. “The other girls have already arrived.” She wore red slacks and a loose yellow tunic. A cigarette dangled from her fingers. Polly smiled; that reminded her of Aunt Jean.
Miss Falconer led them through untidy rooms to the back of the house, which was a large studio. Beyond it was the water, with steps leading down to a log-covered beach.
“Gosh, what a view!” said Dottie.
Polly stared hungrily; it was so soothing to see the sea again.
“Yes, we’re very lucky to live here.”
The five girls glanced at one another, but no one was brave enough to ask why Miss Falconer had said “we.”
“Now, let me show you around.” The walls were lined with bright paintings. Polly examined them curiously: some were landscapes, but many were simply swirls of colour.
“Those are called ‘abstracts,’” Miss Falconer explained, “and here are some of my sculptures.” Clay figures of birds and animals and people covered the floor and windowsill.
Some of the paintings and many of the sculptures were nude figures. Jane turned crimson and Dottie suppressed a giggle. Polly just stared. Never in her life had she seen depictions of unclothed bodies.
“I’ve managed to clear this table for you,” said Miss Falconer. “Everyone take a seat, and I’ll tell you what we’ll do today.”
Just like last week, they were to work on their own and then critique one another. Miss Falconer had set up a still life of fruit in a bowl. She handed out sticks of charcoal. “You won’t be able to erase, so think carefully before each mark you make,” she told them.
