And Nothing But the Truth

by Kit Pearson

  Polly gazed at the result with satisfaction. This would prove to Miss Netherwood that drawing the same apple as everyone else was a waste of Polly’s talent!

  When Miss Netherwood saw the drawing, however, she was not impressed. “Polly Brown! What do you think you’re doing? You are deliberately ignoring my instructions! I’m giving you an order mark.”

  At least the rest of the Fearless Four had received order marks by now. There were so many rules that they couldn’t help breaking them. Eleanor had passed a teacher on the stairs. Daisy had been caught with a hole in one of her stockings, even though she had inked her leg underneath the hole. Rhoda could never remember not to talk in the hall.

  Order marks only applied to school. In the boarding house, there were different punishments. When Rhoda giggled during evening prayers, she had to sit on a chair at the side for the rest of the week. The members of the junior dorm were not allowed into their tuck boxes for two weeks after Miss Poirier found the hoard of cookies they’d hidden behind the bathtub. On several nights the Crab caught them talking after lights out and ordered them downstairs to get barked at by Miss Guppy. Polly despised the Guppy’s satisfied look when she made Daisy cry.

  Each time Polly had to walk in a crocodile, every time the loud bell summoned her somewhere, every day that she sat in her stuffy classroom and glanced longingly at the grass and trees outside, she yearned to escape.

  Her roommates had fewer complaints. Daisy and Rhoda had both got on their house basketball team. Now they were best friends. Every day after school, they chose games and practised together.

  Polly and Eleanor had also become a pair. They retreated to their hideaway whenever they could, although now that the weather had turned colder and wetter, they didn’t go as often.

  “How can you bear it here?” Polly asked her one day, when the rain sluiced down and they were stuck in the dorm after classes.

  Eleanor shrugged. “It’s not that bad. I like the courses, and the other girls and some of the teachers are so interesting.”

  Polly wished she could share Eleanor’s rational way of examining everything as if it were a science experiment.

  Special art was the life raft that rescued Polly every Saturday. Now they were doing oil painting. Even in her sleep, Polly dipped her brush into the luscious colours. Whenever she passed Dottie, Jane, Katherine, or Margaret, they exchanged smiles, as if they were part of a secret society. “How lucky you are!” Noni and Daddy wrote, after Polly described in detail what she’d done in art that week.

  Every once in a while, Polly remembered she’d be taking art for only a year. Then she felt sad. But that made her appreciate Miss Falconer’s classes even more.

  Thanksgiving was late this year because of the general election. Polly waved eagerly as Kingfisher Island grew closer and closer. Beside her, Alice glowered. As soon as they had got on the steamer, she had turned into the cranky Alice who hated coming home. Polly had hoped Chester would be on the boat, too, but there was no sign of him.

  The three tiny figures Polly had spotted on the wharf grew larger and clearer. Finally, after a whole month away from the island, Polly was in Noni’s arms. Then she scooped up Tarka and kissed his wriggling body all over. Tarka started squealing.

  “What a racket!” said Aunt Jean, giving her the next hug. “I’ve never heard him make that strange noise!”

  “He missed me, didn’t you Tarka-boy?” Polly kissed Uncle Rand. She gazed at her family, her eyes swimming.

  “There, there, hen,” said Noni. “Being away for so long has been hard for you, I know. But now you’re home for three whole days, so let’s just enjoy one another.”

  “Polly, I really need your help decorating the church tomorrow morning,” said Aunt Jean. “Mildred is trying to take charge of it, but I told her we had to wait for you because you have such a good eye.”

  “I’ve just read a book you might like,” said Uncle Rand.

  Alice was led off by her stern mother. Polly walked home safely enclosed in her family. Arbutus bark crunched under her feet, and the lamps in Noni’s windows gleamed through the dusk—”the gloaming,” Aunt Jean called it. At least home never changed.

  But it had. Maud arrived the next day at noon—with her new beau! “Why does he have to come?” Polly had protested when Noni had told her last night.

  “She wants us to meet him. It seems very soon for that, though he sounds like a pleasant lad. We must make him feel at home.”

  Polly couldn’t stop staring at Robert. He didn’t at all resemble Clark Gable, and he wasn’t nearly as handsome as Chester. His nose was bumpy and his eyes were too close together. He sat quietly in the living room as everyone appraised him. Patiently, he answered their questions, informing Noni that he was studying engineering and Aunt Jean that his father was an accountant.

  “What religion are you?” asked Aunt Jean.

  “My family is Presbyterian,” he told her.

  “That’s what we were in Scotland!” said Aunt Jean approvingly.

  But then she bridled as Maud patted Robert’s knee. Maud just smiled complacently, as if Robert were her prize sheep. That’s what he was like, Polly decided, a mild-mannered sheep with fair curly hair.

  “We’re going to take the rowboat to Boot Island,” said Maud. “I’ll make us a picnic. See you at dinner, everyone!”

  She pulled Robert out of the room.

  “Well!” said Aunt Jean. “She’s being awfully forward with that young man, don’t you think, Clara?”

  “Maud is eighteen, Jean. I’m sure she’s old enough to know how to behave properly.” But Noni looked worried.

  “Of course she is!” said Uncle Rand. “And Robert seems like a sensible chap.”

  “She was touching him inappropriately,” said Aunt Jean, “and now they’ve gone off alone for the whole day!”

  That meant Polly wouldn’t see Maud until bedtime. She pushed Robert out of her mind as she called Tarka and ran down the road to Biddy’s.

  Biddy and Vivien were sitting on Biddy’s bed, deep in a discussion about Donald, a boy who worked for Vivien’s uncle.

  They greeted Polly warmly, but then went back to talking about how Vivien could get Donald’s attention. Polly tried to divert them. “Last week, Louise Curtis in the lower fifth hung out of her classroom window by her hands!” she told them. “Another girl dared her. Luckily, it was only the first storey. We all thought she’d be expelled, but Miss Guppy can’t afford to expel anyone—she needs the money too much.”

  “That’s interesting,” said Biddy vaguely. “I know, Viv—you could offer to wash Donald’s shirts.”

  “I did,” said Vivien sadly. “He told me he does his own washing.”

  Polly and Biddy had been best friends ever since Polly had come to the island. Vivien had arrived later, and she had always been the third wheel. But now, it seemed, that was Polly’s role. “Do you want to go for a walk on the beach?” she asked them.

  “No, thanks,” said Biddy. “Vivien’s going to try a freckle cure on my face. You’re welcome to stay, of course.”

  Welcome to stay? Biddy had never had to say that; Polly had been in and out of her house freely since the day they met.

  They went down to the kitchen to look for vinegar and oatmeal. Polly watched for a few minutes. Then she muttered, “I have to go now,” and fled.

  Polly spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach with her water-colours. She was so absorbed that she didn’t notice how cold her hands were until she had trouble holding the brush.

  She inspected her four paintings, which were drying on a log. After doing oils, it was difficult to get used to water-colours again, but two of the paintings were quite good. She decided to take them back to school and show them to Miss Falconer.

  All during dinner, Maud talked about Delta Gamma, the sorority that had accepted her. “I’m learning bridge!” she told them. “We play every afternoon at the D.G. house. Robert is coaching me,” she said with a smile. “He
and his parents and I have a game every Sunday before dinner.”

  Polly felt something under the tablecloth. She thought Tarka was begging, and looked down to scold him. It was Maud—she was rubbing Robert’s leg with her foot!

  Robert politely asked how Polly liked St. Winifred’s. “Maud must be a hard act to follow!” he joked, but Polly didn’t smile.

  Finally, it was time for bed. Robert was sleeping in the small room on the main floor. When Polly came back from the privy, she glanced towards the bedroom door—and stopped short.

  Maud and Robert were kissing! His hand was on her bottom! Their mouths stayed together for a long time.

  Polly coughed, and the couple sprang apart. “Good night, sweetie!” said Maud, before she and Polly climbed the stairs.

  “Doodle, I’m too tired for a chat,” Maud said when they reached the top. “Let’s talk tomorrow, all right?”

  Polly was so shocked that all she could do was nod.

  Polly never did get a chance to be alone with Maud. All during the Thanksgiving service and the bountiful meal that followed it, Maud’s attention was entirely on Robert.

  Biddy had smiled at Polly in church, but when Polly joined her and Vivien at coffee time, the other two were planning to spend the afternoon at Vivien’s. “You can join us,” they said, but Polly told them she was busy. She could tell that they didn’t really want her there.

  Alice came up and eagerly started a discussion about school. “I can hardly wait to get back, can’t you? Do you want to go to the beach this afternoon?”

  Polly shook her head; she would have to talk about St. Winifred’s the whole time.

  Instead, Polly helped Noni cover some of her shrubs with sacking for the winter. “This is kind of you, but don’t you want to spend time with your friends?” she asked.

  “They don’t like me anymore,” said Polly.

  “Oh, hen!” Noni picked some dead leaves off Polly’s sweater. “I’m so sorry they’re leaving you out. It’s natural that Biddy and Vivien would turn to each other. You’re in different worlds now. Yet you and Biddy have always been such close friends. Why don’t you try seeing her alone?”

  “She only wants to be with Vivien.”

  Noni sighed. “How hard it is to be young. But don’t look so gloomy. Tell me more about your art classes. What did you do last week?”

  Maud and Robert were planning to have another Thanksgiving dinner with Robert’s parents, so they left the island for Vancouver early Monday morning. Polly was glad to see them go. She put Tarka into her bike basket, rode to the lighthouse, and watched the waves dash against the rocks. Tarka snuffled over the sandstone, looking for otter doo to roll in.

  Polly sat on the same log where Chester had kissed her. Not a disgusting kiss, like Maud and Robert’s; a magical one. She touched her forehead, as if the kiss were still there.

  The sea air smelled so fresh. There were no whales at this time of year, but a seal bobbed lazily near her. Overhead, some gulls attacked a bald eagle, which chittered them away. How could she bear to leave this tomorrow?

  On the way home, she passed Biddy, her little sister Shirley, and Bramble coming out of their drive. “Polly!” called Biddy.

  Polly stopped and they stared at each other. Tarka hopped out of the basket and rushed up to his mother. The two dogs chased each other down the road, Shirley shrieking after them.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t see each other much this weekend,” muttered Biddy. “How’s school?” she asked, but not as if she were really interested.

  “Terrible as usual,” said Polly, “though I like my Saturday art class. And guess what? My art teacher, Miss Falconer, lives with a man she’s not married to!”

  That got Biddy’s full attention. “Really? Tell me more! Shirley, get out of the ditch!”

  They caught up with Shirley and walked along the road, chatting all the way. Noni was right. When Vivien wasn’t there, Polly and Biddy were still friends.

  As soon as they all got back to school, the Fearless Four continued planning their skit for the boarders’ Halloween party the next Saturday. They were acting out Cinderella. Polly was the main character because she was the only one with long hair.

  In the drama cupboard, Polly had found a raggedy dress that she would uncover to reveal a long white satin gown that Mrs. Blake had shortened for her. Rhoda was an ugly stepsister and Eleanor was the prince. Daisy had two roles: the other sister and the fairy godmother. She had also written the play.

  The party was in the dining room, with all the chairs pushed back, and pop and cookies for later arranged on the tables against the wall. The first performance was by the upper dorm, whose five members acted out being the Dionne quintuplets. Then the west dorm performed a lively cancan; they looked so glamorous in their fancy dresses and bright lipstick. The long dorm did a scene from a Shirley Temple movie. The east dorm came dressed in their Sunday coats, labelled either Italy or Ethiopia. With a loud cry and uplifted fists, the Italy group rushed the Ethiopia group and pinned them to the ground.

  That was clever, Polly thought. And their skit was about current events, so they’d probably win.

  Finally, it was the junior dorm’s turn. To Polly’s relief, she had very few lines; even so, she found it hard to gaze lovingly into Eleanor’s moustached face without giggling. Daisy did an efficient job of whisking from one costume to the other. But Rhoda was the one who stole the show. She had the room roaring as she complained about her warts, or galumphed around in her oversized shoes.

  To their amazement, they won! That meant they were allowed to go to a movie of their choice. Next Saturday afternoon, Mrs. Blake took them to see Laurel and Hardy’s Bonnie Scotland at the Capital Theatre. Polly hadn’t seen a movie since she’d lived in Winnipeg. She was as absorbed as the others, but watching the antics of Stan Laurel made her ache for Daddy; he had often imitated him.

  The Fearless Four had now gained respect in the upper fourth classroom for being the only boarders. “You must have such larks!” Ivy told them one day at break.

  “We do!” said Daisy. “We have pillow fights and sneak food into the dorm.”

  Polly didn’t want Ivy to think that being a boarder was fun. “But the food is terrible, and we have to go to bed at nine o’clock!” she told her.

  “Don’t listen to Polly,” said Rhoda. “The food isn’t that bad, and we talk for ages after lights out.”

  “I wish I could be a boarder,” said Ivy. “I’ve begged my parents, but they won’t let me.”

  Rhoda looked smug. “That’s too bad. You’re missing a really good time.”

  Ivy walked away. “Why did you tell her that?” Polly asked Rhoda. “You said boarding school was like being in an army!”

  “I don’t think so anymore. Last week my parents were talking to Miss Guppy and she told them I’ve adjusted really well.” Rhoda appraised Polly. “Maybe you’re just too young for boarding school, and that’s why you haven’t adjusted.”

  Polly bristled. “I’m only a few months younger than you are, Rhoda!”

  “I guess I’m just more mature, then,” said Rhoda.

  The bell for the end of break rang before Polly could think of a retort.

  Polly still didn’t contribute much to the long conversations after lights out, but she listened with interest one night when Daisy said, “Wasn’t it awful when Edna Cooper fainted during assembly? She almost hit her head!”

  “I wonder why people faint,” said Eleanor.

  “I bet I know,” said Rhoda. She paused dramatically. “I bet Edna got her monthlies!”

  “Really?” Daisy was scared. “Is that what happens when you get them? You faint?”

  Now Rhoda sounded uncertain. “Maybe … I haven’t started yet, so I don’t know.”

  “Of course that’s not what happens,” said Eleanor. “I started menstruating last month, and I certainly didn’t faint.”

  “You’ve had your period? Why didn’t you tell us?” demanded Rhoda.
r />   “I didn’t think it was anyone’s business,” said Eleanor.

  “You’re the first one!” said Rhoda. “Unless you’ve started, Polly.”

  “Uh-uh,” muttered Polly, glad it was dark so they couldn’t see her hot cheeks.

  “Tell us what it’s like, El!” urged Rhoda.

  Eleanor proceeded to tell them. She was as reassuring and calm as usual. Polly shuddered, however. She didn’t want to take part in this strange grown-up ritual, but she had no choice.

  Polly and Alice—and Chester, as well—were on the boat, going home for the half-term holiday in November. Polly sat with the other two in the lounge, listening to them chat about the inter-school debating competition. Chester had his back to Polly. He probably liked Alice more than her; after all, they were the same age.

  Finally, Chester turned around. “I hope your headmistress didn’t ream you out for talking to me at the concert,” he said.

  Polly grimaced. “She did! But I don’t care.”

  “How do you like school so far?”

  “I hate it—except for special art.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” said Alice.

  That didn’t help. Polly was used to it now, but it didn’t mean she liked it any better.

  “Why didn’t you come home for Thanksgiving?” Alice asked Chester.

  “My parents decided to visit Victoria, instead. We had a good time, but I’m excited about being on the island again.”

  “I’m not,” said Alice glumly. They both looked at her with sympathy.

  Maud was not able to come home this weekend. Polly was almost glad, since all Maud’s letters were about two dreary subjects: Robert and the D.G.s.

  Biddy wasn’t there, either. She’d gone with her family to visit her relatives in Comox. Polly went for a bike ride with Vivien, but all she wanted to talk about was Donald. She listed for Polly all the indications that meant he liked her. “I think George likes Biddy, too,” she said. “He keeps staring at her in church! Don’t you have anyone you’re sweet on?”