by Kit Pearson
Polly got Rhoda alone as soon as she could. “I need to ask you something,” she told her.
Rhoda looked suspicious, but she shrugged and said, “Ask away.”
“Have you ever tried to find out who your real parents are?”
“Of course not! How could I?”
“Isn’t there a way you can?”
“I don’t think so. And why would I want to know? Mom and Dad are my real parents. What an incredibly nosy question, Polly!”
She flounced away. Despite her feelings about Rhoda, Polly felt a twinge of guilt; Rhoda had seemed close to tears.
The problem of Danny overcame her guilt. If Rhoda couldn’t find her parents, that meant her real mother couldn’t find her. So Polly would never be able to find Danny. All the way back to school, she had imagined how she would track down his adoptive parents and rescue him. She’d bring him back to Maud, and Maud would be so overjoyed she would keep him.
Every night, Polly lay awake and imagined Danny into reality. He would have Maud’s brown eyes and hair. Polly would feed and burp him the way she used to Biddy’s sister Shirley. She would dress him and bathe him—it would be like playing dolls. Danny would call her “Aunt Polly.” When he was older, she’d read to him and teach him how to paint.
Then Polly would cry softly. She would never even meet Danny. He would grow up in a stranger’s family, and never know he had a mother named Maud and an aunt named Polly. If only she could persuade Maud to keep him! But she’d promised not to.
“Why are you so dozy this term, Poll?” Eleanor asked her. “It’s as if you’re not really here.”
Polly shrugged, longing to tell Eleanor her secret and relieve herself of its weight.
“You’ve changed, little one,” said Miss Falconer in the first special art class. “Even your art has changed.” She was examining Polly’s watercolour painting. Polly had based it on the tree she and Maud had sat under, where she had heard the stupendous news.
“This is more mature than your previous work, Polly,” said Miss Falconer. “Do you see how you’ve captured the feeling of the tree? It almost seems ominous!” She patted Polly’s shoulder. “Very fine work, little one—very fine indeed.”
She turned to the rest of the class. “We’re going to be doing watercolour all term, and I want you to paint with it on your summer holidays, as well. I look forward to seeing the results in the fall.”
Polly flinched. She wouldn’t be here in the fall.
Then a surprising thought nudged her: maybe she would be. Maybe she would come back after all. How could she possibly miss out on special art?
No! answered a voice in her head. You hate St. Winifred’s.
“Is something wrong, Polly?” asked Miss Falconer. “You look so stern!”
Polly tried to smile. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said, but she put down her brush. She couldn’t paint when her head was whirling so much.
The next evening, Polly was called into Miss Guppy’s study. “Did you have a good holiday?” said Miss Guppy.
Polly nodded. What did the Guppy want? Was she going to ask if Polly had decided to stay on at school? Polly panicked: all of a sudden, she wasn’t ready to decide that.
But Miss Guppy was asking how Maud was. “I’ve had only one letter from her the whole time she’s been at university—but she must be very busy.”
If only she knew! “She’s fine,” muttered Polly.
“Polly, dear …” Dear? Polly became suspicious, especially when the Guppy gave her a sickening smile and said, “I want to talk you about your spiritual life.”
Polly tried to listen as Miss Guppy told her how disappointed she had been in Polly’s behaviour the last two terms. “You seem to have made a bad start at St. Winifred’s. I’ve been thinking about you over Easter, and I’ve decided your life has been so unstable—what with your father and all—that you need some grounding. Do you know about my special group of girls?”
Polly thought of the six girls called ‘the Elect,’ the Guppy’s pets. All of them were boarders. They had tea with Miss Guppy every Thursday, and sometimes went to church with her on Saturday afternoons.
Maud had been one of the Elect. She certainly wouldn’t be now.
“I don’t usually ask girls to join us until they’re in the fifth form, but I’m going to make an exception for you, Polly. First because you’re Maud’s sister, and second because you could greatly benefit from some spiritual guidance. Would you like to be part of our group?”
“No, thank you,” said Polly firmly. “My great-uncle is a rector, so I already have spiritual guidance. This summer he’s going to prepare me for confirmation.”
“That’s encouraging, but you need guidance at school, as well. You may feel shy because you would be the youngest, but I promise you the other girls will be thrilled to have you there.”
“I’d rather not,” said Polly.
“Are you sure? We have such a good time and have such interesting discussions.”
“No, thank you.”
The Guppy asked her several more times. Polly just kept saying no.
Then Miss Guppy was cross. “I think you’re making a big mistake, young lady. I can’t force you to join us, but I expect to see an improvement in your behaviour this term, do you understand? You’re going to find that difficult without help from our Lord. Will you let me know if you change your mind?”
Polly nodded and escaped. She would never change her mind!
Gradually, Polly got used to her secret. It became a dull weight inside her that increased each time she got a letter from Maud, as if she, Polly, were growing something, as well.
True to her word, Maud kept Polly apprised of how she was feeling. “I’m too big to wear my girdles now,” she wrote. “Ann and I went to a second-hand store and bought looser clothes. The baby is kicking so much he keeps me awake. It’s the strangest feeling, as if he’s trying to get out!”
Oh, Danny, Danny, moaned Polly.
Noni’s letters kept asking about Maud. “She seemed fine when I saw her,” Polly wrote back. It was easy to lie in a letter, but Polly would be going home for the long weekend in May. When she saw Noni in person, how would she be able to conceal the truth?
For the first few weeks of term, Maud’s condition so distracted Polly that she managed not to get into trouble. She went to class, did her homework, and practised drilling and piano as if someone else were doing these things. Once a week the boarders were taken to swim at the Crystal Gardens. The warm water soothed Polly, but she hated the awful green bathing suits they rented. The only times she felt real were in art, or fooling around with the rest of the Fearless Four.
Her dorm mates were just as unsettled. Daisy had not made it onto the school lacrosse team. “You can try again,” the others kept telling her, but she became mopey and dispirited. They felt rudderless without her cheerful confidence.
Rhoda had seen a lot of Frank during the holidays and wouldn’t stop talking about him. They got so tired of hearing “Frank says …” or “Frank thinks …” or “Frank did …” that they told her she was allowed to mention his name only once a day.
Even the usually calm Eleanor was cranky. “Why do I feel so angry all the time?” she wondered aloud, after she’d thrown her shoe across the room when her lace broke. “I’m never like this!”
“It’s just your age, love,” said Mrs. Blake. “Your emotions can’t keep up with all the changes you’re going through.” She smiled at them. “Remember to tell me, girls, if you need any supplies.”
They all looked uncomfortable, especially Polly. Just last week she had had to go to Mrs. Kent, the school nurse, to tell her she’d begun her monthlies. The nurse had given her a box of Modess and said Polly was excused from gym for three days. That was so embarrassing; everyone knew why she and two other girls were sent to the library to study, instead.
Maud had prepared her several years ago for this huge change in her body, but Polly still found it shocking. She rememb
ered Maud’s words: “Every month your womb prepares a kind of nest for a baby. If a baby doesn’t come, the tissues that make up the nest are expelled from your body. Then your womb builds up a nest for the next month.”
Polly tried to piece together all the information she had heard from Maud and Eleanor, as if she were putting together a hard puzzle. Maud had said she had stopped having her monthlies when she became pregnant. Now the egg that Robert had fertilized was growing in the “nest” inside Maud. Since Polly herself had started menstruating, the same thing could happen to her! This was interesting and even a bit thrilling, but when it came to things like Modess or doing that with a boy, it was just plain icky.
The weather was so clear and warm that Polly and Eleanor met in their hideaway several times a week. They stretched out on the warm moss and sometimes even slept; it was so peaceful just lying there. The school garden was dotted with ruffly rhododendrons, and the air smelled like lilacs.
Today Eleanor was talking about her parents. This Saturday they were visiting Victoria; Eleanor had invited Polly out to lunch with them.
“They’ll be glad to meet you after all I’ve said about you.” Eleanor paused. “Poll, are you sure you’re not coming back in the fall?”
“I’m sure,” mumbled Polly, although lately she had felt more and more unsure. Sometimes, when she couldn’t sleep for worrying about Danny, she would make a list of what she would miss after she left St. Winifred’s: special art, of course, and literature, and botany, and piano, where she was learning jazz …
“I wish you’d change your mind! We’ll miss you so much! Especially me,” said Eleanor. “You’re the most interesting friend I’ve ever had.”
And Eleanor, of course! added Polly to her list. And Daisy, and Mrs. Blake …” I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.
The next day during history, Eleanor threw Polly a note. Polly uncurled the tightly folded piece of paper while the Hornet was writing a list of dates on the board. “Let’s sneak some food out of our tuck boxes and take it to the hideaway today!” the note said.
Polly turned around and grinned at Eleanor. “Okay!” she mouthed.
“Polly Brown!” The Hornet’s gimlet gaze fastened on Polly’s desk. She marched over and pounced on the note.
Whenever the Hornet got angry, a crimson flush crept up her neck to the top of her forehead. All the girls watched the redness rise while she examined the note.
“Polly and Eleanor, into the hall,” she ordered. “The rest of you, copy down the dates on the blackboard.”
The Hornet’s sharp questions stung them. “What do you mean by a ‘hideaway’?” she asked them. “Where is it?”
They had to tell. Now for more order marks, thought Polly wearily. But it was worse than that. Mrs. Horner marched them to Miss Guppy’s office.
The Guppy had never been so furious. Her scornful words pelted them so relentlessly that Polly felt like ducking. Worst of all, she kept saying what a bad influence Polly was on Eleanor.
Finally, she wound down, looking as exhausted as the girls by her tirade. “You are each to receive three order marks,” she decreed. Then she paused. “And you are not to go out with your parents this Saturday, Eleanor. I will telephone them and inform them that you are grounded.”
“No!” said Eleanor. “You can’t do that!”
“That’s not fair!” said Polly.
“No sauce! Now, go over to your dormitory until it’s time for lunch. I’m sure Mrs. Horner does not want to see you again this morning.”
Eleanor lay on her bed and sobbed. Polly had never seen her cry before. She patted her friend’s back. “It’s totally unfair!” said Eleanor. “Mother and Dad will be so disappointed. I don’t blame you for not coming back, Poll. This school is a prison!”
Polly agreed. How could she have even considered returning?
The others were just as infuriated when they heard. That evening, however, Eleanor was called down to speak to Miss Guppy. When she returned, she was triumphant.
“Dad told the Guppy she had to let me see them! She was furious, but she said she had ‘no choice but to let me go.’” She imitated Miss Guppy’s voice.
“Can I still come?” asked Polly.
“Yes! Dad told her that, as well. I can’t wait to hear about the whole conversation from him.”
“That headmistress of yours is certainly a battleaxe,” laughed Mr. Ford, as they sat at lunch. “I told her I’d pull you out of school unless she let us take you out.”
“But what did you do?” asked Mrs. Ford.
“We went into the woods,” said Eleanor.
“We had a secret place there,” said Polly sadly. Now their refuge had been snatched away.
“You went into the woods? That’s all?” said Mrs. Ford.
They both nodded. “It’s strictly forbidden,” said Eleanor solemnly.
Mr. Ford chuckled. “I shouldn’t be encouraging you to break the rules, but it doesn’t sound like a very serious crime.”
“And to not allow you to come out with us!” said his wife. “That woman seems far too strict. Are you sure you’re happy at the school, darling? You don’t have to go back if you aren’t.”
“I’m fine,” said Eleanor. “I’m learning so much, and we have a lot of fun in the dorm—right, Poll?”
Polly nodded. To her surprise, she almost envied Eleanor for liking school again.
She gobbled up her delicious lunch, listening to Eleanor and her parents talk about their family. Eleanor grilled them about her dog, Breeze, and they assured her he was fine. They told her a funny story about her younger sister, Peggy, playing a trick on her older brothers.
The Fords were like Biddy’s parents: a bit boring, but kind and comfortable and … normal. Imagine what they would think if they knew that Polly’s father had stolen some money, and that her sister was expecting a baby!
Mrs. Ford smiled at Polly. “We’ve been ignoring our guest. Eleanor has told us you live on Kingfisher Island. We went there years ago. You must love it it’s so beautiful.”
“I do,” said Polly.
“And you live with your grandmother?”
Polly could tell she wanted to know more. She explained that Daddy lived in Kelowna and was going to get married in August.
“He is?” asked Eleanor.
Polly realized she hadn’t told anyone at school; Maud’s news was so much more important that the wedding had faded in comparison.
Polly tried to keep her voice steady as she went on to tell them Maud was finishing her first year at U.B.C.
“That’s where I want to go,” said Eleanor.
“And that’s where you’re headed, Ellie, with marks like yours,” said her father proudly. “How about you, Polly? Do you want to go to university like our bright young lady?”
Polly shook her head. “I’m going to the Vancouver School of Art.”
“Good for you!” he said.
“Eleanor tells us you’re always drawing,” said Mrs. Ford, “and that you’re taking special classes on Saturdays.”
“So we have a future science teacher and a future artist at the table,” said Mr. Ford. “What special youngsters you are! You already know what you want to do.”
“Only until you’re married and have children, of course,” said Mrs. Ford firmly. “You won’t need a career after that, although I suppose it’s helpful to have something to fall back on in case you’re left high and dry.”
“Now, my dear, times are changing,” said her husband, patting her hand.
The waiter brought their bill. After Mr. Ford had paid it, he said, “Eleanor, sweetheart, I’m afraid I have disappointing news for you. Your mother and I won’t be home on the long weekend.”
“But why?”
“We have to go to a wedding in Vancouver,” said Mrs. Ford. “It’s a colleague of your father’s, so it wouldn’t be suitable to take you children. Gerald and Ralph are going to look after you and Peggy.”
“Oh, no
, Mother! I hate it when they take care of us. They just sit around and have their friends in, and Peggy and I have to do all the housework.”
“It can’t be as bad as all that,” said her father.
“It is,” said Eleanor.
“It’s only for three days,” said her mother. “I’m so sorry, darling, but you’ll still be at home. You can play with Breeze and see your friends.”
Eleanor pressed her lips together and wouldn’t answer.
Polly was embarrassed to be in the middle of a family quarrel. Then she had an idea. “I know! Why don’t you come home with me, El? My grandmother would love to have you, and I could show you the island. You could meet Tarka!”
“Now, Polly, I’m sure your grandmother doesn’t want the trouble of a guest,” said Mrs. Ford.
“She won’t mind one bit,” said Polly. And then I won’t have to be alone with her, she thought.
“The island is really fun on Empire Day,” she told Eleanor. “People visit from the other islands, and there are races and a parade and a dance.”
“I’d love to come,” said Eleanor. She turned to her parents. “Please, can’t I?”
They looked at each other. “Very well,” said Mr. Ford, “but only if Polly’s grandmother agrees.”
“I’ll write to her tonight,” said Polly.
Polly stood at the side of the dancing in the recreation hall, tapping her foot in time to the fiddle. She grinned as Uncle Rand clumsily led Eleanor in a waltz. As usual, Aunt Jean was a wild dancer, whirling in and out of the others. Polly glimpsed Noni on the other side of the room, chatting with Alice’s mother.
Alice herself was dancing with Chester! On the ferry he had chatted more to Alice than to her, and tonight he’d only given Polly a friendly “Hello.” Didn’t Chester like her anymore? Polly half wished he’d ask her to dance, but she’d never danced with a boy before; she’d probably step on his toes.
It had been an unusual Empire Day, split between mourning for the old king and celebrating the new one. “I don’t approve of that young man,” said Aunt Jean, as if King Edward VIII were her personal acquaintance. “He’s a womanizer and a gadabout. Mark my words—he’ll come to no good.”
