And Nothing But the Truth (10 page)

“Polly, what have you done?” she cried.

Polly led her over to the sofa. “Maud cut my hair, Noni,” she said. “Do you like it?”

Noni was trembling. “Since you ask, I have to tell you that I do
not
like it! How could you do this without my permission?”

“She had
my
permission, Mrs. Whitfield,” said Daddy quietly. “And Polly’s thirteen. She’s old enough to wear her hair the way she wants to.”

“She’s just like Una,” whispered Noni.

“What do you mean?” asked Maud.

“Your mother.
She
cut her hair without asking me.”

Noni took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes. Then she stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going up to my room for a while.”

Polly’s own eyes stung. Maud put an arm around her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Doodle. She’ll get used to it.”

“It’s just the shock,” said Daddy. “You
do
look different.” He grimaced. “And it seems that we’ve brought back a difficult memory for your grandmother.”

Polly felt so guilty that she could barely eat her lunch. It helped, however, that the rest of the family raved about her new hairstyle.

“You look like Jean Harlow!” teased Gregor.

“She does not, Gregor! She still looks like our own dear Polly, only a wee bit more grown-up,” said Aunt Jean.

At the head of the table, Noni was silent. That afternoon Polly knocked on her door.

“Come in,” said the gravelly voice.

“Are you asleep?” asked Polly.

“No, I’m just reading.” Noni gazed at Polly, then began to weep. “Oh, hen, come and kiss me. I’m sorry I was so sharp. You hair actually suits you very well. And your father is right. You’re old enough to do what you want with it.”

Polly ran to the bed and climbed up beside Noni. Noni’s tears ended as abruptly as they had begun. “Listen to this,” she said. She began to read a poem by Coleridge.

Polly was so relieved Noni had stopped crying that she almost fell asleep.

“Are you okay, Boss?” Daddy asked that afternoon. Maud had taken some aspirin because she had a headache.

Maud shrugged. “I guess so. I keep getting headaches and I’m so tired and queasy all the time. I thought I might have the flu, but I don’t feel
really
sick—just sickish.”

Daddy looked worried. “Perhaps you should see a doctor. Is there one on the island?”

“Just Dr. Cunningham, and he’s such a stick. If I still feel like this when I get back, I’ll go to the university doctor.”

“Good,” said Daddy. “You must have been working too hard last term.” He grinned. “Or playing too hard! You take better care of yourself this year, all right?”

They were having a last walk in the rain. Polly clung to Daddy’s arm. In a few hours he would have to leave! “Do you want to see the cabin?” she asked him.

Daddy smiled. “My hideaway? Sure! Anyway, there’s something I want to talk to you two about and it’s getting too wet to stay out.”

The three of them—four, counting Tarka—pushed through wet bushes to the cabin. Polly hadn’t been in it for a long time. Water was dripping from the roof, but they squatted on stumps in a dry area.

Daddy looked around and shuddered. “At least I don’t have to hide anymore. It’s been such a relief to see you openly. It was generous of your grandmother to let me come.”

“I wish she would be friendlier, though,” said Polly.

“Don’t worry about that, Doodle,” said Daddy. “You know that Una’s family has never liked me. We had a terrible quarrel.”

“What was it about?”

“You’re not old enough to know yet. One day I’ll tell you—I promise.” He cleared his throat. “There’s something I
will
tell you, girls. I have—well, I have a lady friend in Kelowna.”

“You do?” said Maud. “Who is it?”

“Her name is Esther. Her mother owned the boarding house I live in. Esther and I became friends, and then we
began walking out. While I was in Winnipeg, Esther wrote to me and told me her mother had died. She wants me to help her run the boarding house.”

“What does that mean?” asked Maud. “Will you get married?”

Married!
Polly couldn’t absorb any of this.

Daddy laughed. “Not right now, although I’d certainly like to one day. No, at the moment it will be strictly a business arrangement. Esther is a fine lady. I think you’d both really like her—she’s kind and smart. It’s best if you don’t tell the family here about her, though. They probably wouldn’t approve.”

“But why not?” asked Polly.

“Because Esther’s Jewish.”

“I have a friend at varsity who’s Jewish,” said Maud. “She’s really nice.”

“I’m glad you’re friends with her, Maud. But I don’t think your family here would be friendly towards Esther. They can be narrow-minded—especially your grandmother.”

Polly flushed, as if
she
were responsible for Noni’s opinions. She wished Daddy was wrong, but she knew he wasn’t. Noni had stubborn prejudices; she
would
disapprove.

Polly disapproved for other reasons. Now that Daddy was finally back in her life, she didn’t want to share him with anyone else.

“Does Esther know about what happened to you?” asked Maud.

“She knows all about it, Boss,” said Daddy. “I told her before I left for Winnipeg this summer, and I told her my real name. She was shocked that I stole the money, of course. But she understood how desperate I was—that I did it for you. And she admired me for confessing.”

The three of them sat quietly. This enormous change—Esther—dropped into the silence like a stone into a pool.

Then Maud smiled. “Well, Daddy, now we
both
have sweethearts! I’m excited about meeting her.”

Polly gulped. “So am I,” she lied.

“And so is Esther!” said Daddy. “I talk about my girls all the time, and she can’t wait to meet you.” He gave them a yearning look. “If we ever do get married, and if we make a go of the boarding house, perhaps …”

“What?” asked Polly.

Maud seemed to know what he meant. Daddy passed his hand over his face. “Nothing. Just wishful thinking.”

Polly seethed inside. What weren’t they telling her? But she didn’t want to spoil Daddy’s last few hours by making a fuss.

“Now, let’s do some planning,” said Daddy. “Easter is April 12. Let’s say you visit us during the week of April 20. I’ll write to your grandmother nearer the time and we’ll arrange it. You two can meet in Vancouver and go on
the train to Kelowna. After your visit, Maud can go back to U.B.C., and Polly can take the boat straight to Victoria from Vancouver. Do you think you can get away then, Maud?”

“I’ll try,” said Maud. “I’d really like to meet Esther and see Kelowna. How big a city is it?”

Polly didn’t hear the answer. She wanted to visit Daddy, but she wanted him all to herself.

“I’m going to walk Tarka,” she told them, and fled.

When Polly and Maud arrived at the wharf to see Daddy off, Chester was standing there with his parents. “Hi, Chester,” said Polly shyly. “This is my father.”

“Well, well, it’s very nice to meet you!” said Chester’s mother nervously. Her husband mumbled a greeting, but he acted as if Daddy belonged to another species.

Chester, however, treated him like anyone else’s father. “How do you do, sir?” he said, shaking Daddy’s hand and looking him in the eye.

Polly glowed; what a gentleman Chester was! She stepped away from the adults, and as she’d hoped, Chester followed. He stared at her with such clear admiration that Polly blushed.

“What’s the matter?” she asked him.

“Your hair,” said Chester. “It’s … it’s so pretty!”

“Oh!” Polly blushed even more deeply. “Are you waiting for someone to arrive?” she mumbled.

“No, I’m going back to school early. There’s a football tournament I want to see.”

That was too bad; Polly had looked forward to more time with him on the boat.

“Polly! Daddy is saying goodbye!” called Maud.

Polly hurried over and buried herself in Daddy’s coat. She drew in his familiar smell and her eyes filled. She wouldn’t see him again for months.

“Goodbye, my precious darlings,” Daddy told them as the steamer approached. “I’m so glad I’m part of your lives again.”

He waved to them until the boat drew out of sight.

Gregor and Sadie had gone, as well, and Maud was leaving the next day; she and Robert were going skiing on Holly-burn Mountain.

“By yourselves? That’s not proper,” said Aunt Jean at dinner. “In my day, a young woman and a young man were never alone without a chaperone.”

Maud became Maudish. “It’s perfectly proper, Aunt Jean, and it’s only for a day. Things have changed a lot since you were a girl—this is the thirties!”

Noni frowned at her. “There’s no need to be rude, Maud. We’re all delighted that you have a beau, but you and Robert
must
observe the proprieties. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yes, Noni.” Maud lowered her head. Then she winked at Polly and dug into her venison.

As usual, Polly had eaten no venison. When she was younger, she had tried to be a vegetarian. Now she’d decided that was too hard, but she still couldn’t bear to eat the gentle creatures she saw every day on the island.

Noni cleared the plates and brought in a platter of Christmas cake and cookies. “These are so yummy,” said Maud. “Can I take some back with me?” She was in high spirits tonight, teasing Aunt Jean about her new hat and telling them a hilarious story about rehearsing for her play.

No one had mentioned Daddy since his departure. At first Polly resented this. Then she was shocked to discover that she was as relieved at his absence as everyone else seemed to be. Everything was the same again. They were gathered around the family table, content with one another’s company.

I miss him, but I’m glad he’s gone
, thought Polly guiltily. It had been wonderful to see Daddy … but also unsettling. Anyway, she would see him again in April. Now she just wanted to savour her family and her last precious days on the island before school began.

Three days later, Polly watched the island fade into the mist. Her prison sentence had resumed; she wouldn’t be able to come home until the half-term break in March.

“Tell me everything, Polly,” said Alice eagerly as they settled in the lounge. “How was it seeing your father after so long? He’s so handsome!”

Polly smiled. “Yes, he is.”

“It’s such a shame you can’t live with him,” said Alice.

“Live with him?”

“Don’t you want to? He’s your father! But I suppose you can’t, being that he stole that money,” she said bluntly.

“Let’s not talk about it,” Polly said quickly. She remembered the queer look Daddy had given them in the cabin. Was that what he had almost said? If he and Esther got married, did he mean to have Polly and Maud live with them?

Once Polly would have given anything to be back with him … but surely she belonged with Noni now.

“Okay, we won’t talk about it! Polly, did you know that Kay Winston has a pash on the school gardener? This week she’s going to sneak him a note!”

Polly had to spend the rest of the journey talking about school.

T
WO MORE TERMS IN THIS DREARY PLACE
… H
OW COULD
she endure them? Polly wondered.

She was pleased to see Eleanor and Daisy again, and touched by how glad they were to see her. But Rhoda immediately informed Polly that her bob should be longer in the back and that Polly’s new dress, which she had worn back to school, was old-fashioned.

Polly had to put up with several days of rhapsodies about her short hair. They all kept coming up to her and saying they loved it. That was flattering but embarrassing, and she got tired of saying “Thank you.”

At least there was special art again on Saturday. Miss Falconer explained that now that they had sampled many mediums, they were spending all of this term on drawing.
“If you can draw, you can do anything,” she told them. She set up a still life and told them to simply gaze at it for at least ten minutes before they began drawing. “The first part of drawing is
looking
. Observe every line and space and shape, and feel them, as well. Don’t begin until you are absolutely ready.”

This was
real
drawing!
thought Polly happily as she finally picked up her pencil. No longer did she have to endure Miss Netherwood’s dry classes. Now she could draw from her heart as well as from her head.

A week later, Polly knelt in church as the congregation prayed. She was supposed to bow her head like everyone else, but she kept staring at the rector. In their second class of the term, Miss Falconer had explained the proportions of the face. Then they had drawn one another. Polly had fixed her eyes on Dottie while she tried to reproduce each eyebrow and nostril and ear.

Canon Puddifoot was standing there for so long it was a good opportunity to examine him. Sure enough, his mournful face fitted Miss Falconer’s formula. His eyes were in the middle, and his ears reached from the top of his eyebrows to the base of his nose. Polly’s fingers itched to draw the long lines of his drooping cheeks.

“Let us pray especially for our ailing king,” the canon finished. “May his suffering soon be relieved, and may his family be consoled at this time of his passing.”

Polly was disappointed when they all stood up to sing; she hadn’t finished imagining how she would sketch the canon’s gleaming bald forehead.

Before Sunday lunch, Miss Guppy called Polly into her study. “What do you mean, young lady, showing such disrespect during the prayers? Why wasn’t your head bowed?”

“Sorry,” muttered Polly. “I was thinking of something else.”

“You are always thinking of something else! Next week you will sit beside me. I’m very disappointed in you, Polly. You’ve been back at school for only ten days, and you are not applying yourself. Why is that?”

“I don’t know,” mumbled Polly.

She wished she had the nerve to tell Miss Guppy that aside from art, school grated on her even more this term. She was glad to be free of Miss Netherwood, but now she had to sit by herself in the library and do endless math exercises. She and Eleanor had received two order marks each for having a race down the school hall when they thought no one was looking. The Crab had caught Polly reading in an empty bathtub after lights out, and had made her go to bed an hour earlier the next night.

“Maud would be very disappointed in you,” finished the Guppy, as she always did.

Polly thought of Maud and Robert kissing. What would Miss Guppy think of perfect Maud if she knew about
that
?

At evening prayers on Tuesday, Miss Guppy was pale. To everyone’s astonishment, she was wiping tears from her face. “I’m very sorry to have to tell you, girls, that our beloved king has died. Even though we have expected this news, it is a sad loss.”

The next day, all the teachers talked about King George V. Most of them, like Miss Guppy, spoke of England as “home”; they were all as upset as she was.

Polly tried to feel sad. All her life she had seen pictures of the king, on stamps and coins and photographs on school walls. Last year, Noni had bought a special mug for the silver jubilee, with the king’s moustached face and the queen’s regal head of silver curls painted on its side. It felt important to hear about such an esteemed person’s death, but she couldn’t
really
feel sad about someone she had never met.

“It’s so weird that someone who lived in England also ruled Canada,” said Rhoda. “Who will be king now?”

“Edward, the Prince of Wales,” Daisy told her. “He’s so handsome!”

“My grandfather saw the king once,” Eleanor told them. “He reviewed Grampa’s troop in England during the Great War.”

“Why is it called ‘the Great War’?” asked Rhoda.

“Because there will never be another one,” said Daisy.

Eleanor looked sombre. “There might be. That’s what my dad says. I sure hope not—maybe my older brothers would have to fight in it.”

Panic fluttered in Polly. Another war? Would Chester have to fight? Would Gregor? Maybe Daddy would! She tried to calm herself. Surely Chester would be too young and Daddy too old. And surely Eleanor’s father was wrong. She decided to ask Uncle Rand the next time she was home; he knew everything.

In composition, they were asked to write something about the king. Eleanor wrote about her grandfather. Rhoda wrote about not having a king in her country, and Polly wrote dutifully about what a great king he was. She didn’t say that she wasn’t sure why.

Daisy’s essay was so good that she was asked to read it aloud. She described how miserable the king’s dog must be feeling; then Polly felt sad for the first time.

The following Tuesday was a school holiday for the king’s funeral. The lucky day girls could stay home, but all the boarders had to go downtown in the morning and attend a service at the cathedral. They arrived at eight-thirty to get a seat. Two hours later, when the service began, over a thousand people filled the vast space. Polly was so hot she thought she would faint, but they weren’t allowed to take
off their blazers, hats, or gloves. As usual on their outings, she looked for Chester in the crowd, but he wasn’t there. Finally, the congregation sang “Abide with Me” and “O Canada,” and they could escape into the cool air.

“You will always remember this day, girls,” Miss Guppy told them on the streetcar going back. After lunch the boarders were invited to gather in the sitting room and listen to the funeral in London on the radio. The Fearless Four chose to go over to the gym and shoot baskets, instead.

Polly was trying to stay out of Rhoda’s way this term, and usually she succeeded. Rhoda had decided she was going to earn the most points of any girl in her house. After school she was busy playing a sport or rehearsing for a play. In the dorm she chattered to the other three instead of Polly. If she made a mean remark, Polly ignored her.

One rainy afternoon, however, they were stuck in the dorm together. One of the prefects had taken Daisy to the dentist, and Eleanor was in the library.

Polly bent her head over her book. Rhoda was knitting a square that would be part of a blanket for the Red Cross; she gained a house point for each square she completed.

“Would you like to borrow some wool and needles, Polly?” she asked in a simpering voice. “If you began knitting
squares, you could make up for some of the order marks you’ve received.”

Polly didn’t answer. For a few minutes Rhoda was quiet, as well. Then she said, “Polly, stop reading. There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you.”

Polly looked up suspiciously. “What?”

“Why don’t you ever talk about your father? We know you live with your grandmother, and that your mother is dead and your father lives in Kelowna. But I heard you telling Eleanor you saw him over the holidays. Does he live on the island now?”

Polly stiffened. “My father still lives in Kelowna. He was just visiting me.”

“But why doesn’t he live with you all the time?”

Polly stood up. “He just doesn’t. That’s all you need to know, Rhoda. The rest is none of your business!”

“The rest of
what
?” asked Rhoda.

But Polly was already on her way out of the dorm.

Once again, Polly was standing in Miss Guppy’s study with the door closed. The headmistress was holding a large white envelope. It had been slit open.

“This is addressed to you, Polly,” she said. “As you know, you are allowed to receive mail only from the approved
people on your list, so I had to open it.” She handed the envelope to Polly, grimacing as if it contained something alive. “Look what I found!”

Polly pulled out a decorated cardboard heart outlined with white lace. Inside, it said “Happy Valentine’s Day, Polly.”

“Who is this from?” Miss Guppy asked sternly.

Polly stared at the card. At the bottom was a tiny drawing of a whale.

She could say she didn’t know. But the Guppy had a remarkable ability for ferreting out the truth. “It’s from Chester Simmons,” whispered Polly.

Miss Guppy exploded. Polly shivered as the harsh words soaked her like a cloudburst. St. Winifred’s students were
never
to receive letters from boys! Girls Polly’s age were much too young to correspond with boys at all. Miss Guppy was going to inform the headmaster of St. Cuthbert’s what Chester had done.

On and on she ranted, while Polly fingered the valentine for comfort. It was so beautiful, with its lace and bright flowers, even nicer than the one Chester had given her three years ago. And he remembered the whales!

“I’m sorry, Miss Guppy,” said Polly when the storm of words had ceased, “but I didn’t know he was going to send it.”

“You must have encouraged him in some way,” said
Miss Guppy, “just as you did at the concert. You are far too young to be making eyes at boys, young lady! I’m going to write to your grandmother and inform her of your behaviour.”

Noni won’t care
, thought Polly. It cheered her up to think of how she and Aunt Jean and Uncle Rand would laugh about it at the dinner table.

Miss Guppy’s voice was winding down now; the lecture seemed almost over. Polly waited to be dismissed, pressing the valentine to her chest. In a few minutes, she could run up to the dorm and savour it.

The headmistress finished with her usual words: how ashamed Maud would be. She paused.

“Now, give me back the valentine.”

“But can’t I keep it?”

“Certainly not!” Miss Guppy snatched the valentine and tried to rip it.

“
No!
Please, don’t!” cried Polly.

The lace wouldn’t tear. Miss Guppy picked up some scissors from her desk and sliced the red heart into many pieces. “There!” she said, dropping them into the waste-paper basket.

Polly was so horrified that for a few seconds she couldn’t move. Then she raced out of the study and up to her dorm.

The others were already in their nightgowns. They stood around Polly’s bed while she sobbed into her pillow.
“I hate her—I hate her!” she kept saying. Finally, she choked out the whole story.

“You poor thing!” said Daisy.

“You got a valentine from a
boy
?” said Rhoda.

“She had no right to open your private mail,” said Eleanor.

“What did it say?” said Rhoda.

Mrs. Blake came in to tell them to get ready for bed. She stroked Polly’s back, while the others told her what had happened.

“I
hate
her!” said Polly again.

“I shouldn’t say this, love, but I have to agree that Miss Guppy was much too strict,” said Mrs. Blake. “All you can do is try to stay out of her way.”

“I do, but I keep getting into trouble!” said Polly.

After lights out, Polly tried to reconstruct the valentine in her mind. She pretended it was under her pillow as she sobbed herself to sleep.

All Maud’s letters were about Robert, and all Daddy’s were about Esther. Esther had made new curtains for the boarding house. It was a marvel, said Daddy, how she managed to cook such thrifty, tasty meals for everyone. She and Daddy had painted the dining room green, and Esther had got paint in her hair. Now Daddy called her “the Green Giantess.”

In his last letter, he’d sent a snap of the two of them in front of the house. Esther was as tall as Daddy. She had a long bony face and a wide smile. And she did look kind. “She can hardly wait to meet the two of you,” Daddy kept writing.

Polly had such mixed feelings. She still wasn’t used to this new person in Daddy’s life, but she was glad he was so happy.

In February, Maud wrote Polly a short note saying she had stopped seeing Robert. “He’s not the person I thought he was,” she said. “He’s turned out to be intolerant and judgmental, and I don’t want to have anything more to do with him.”

Polly was relieved that Robert was out of Maud’s life. Together they had been a soppy couple who had excluded her. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for Maud. She had enjoyed having a beau to show off.

“Poor Maud,” said Noni the next week when Polly was home for half-term break.

“There are lots of other fish in the sea!” said Aunt Jean. “Our Maud is so bonny she won’t have any trouble finding another young man.”

“I’m worried about her, though,” said Noni. “I don’t understand why she didn’t want us to come to Vancouver.”

The family had planned to spend Polly’s holiday there, but Maud had told them she had so much work to do that she couldn’t take time off for a visit.

Polly was both hurt and disappointed. Maud
always
wanted to be with her! And the only part of Vancouver Polly had ever seen was the train station. She’d been excited about exploring such a big city.

Chester came up to Polly after church. “I’m sorry I got you into trouble.” He grimaced. “I got into trouble, too. What a stupid fuss they all made! It was just a valentine.”

“I’m glad you sent it, though,” said Polly shyly. “It was beautiful. But Miss Guppy cut it up!”

“Never mind.” Chester hesitated. Then he said in a rush, “You look pretty today, Polly.” He hurried away before she could respond.

In special art, they continued drawing, with pencils, charcoal, and ink. Polly began looking at everything more carefully, from faces to trees to the sky. “‘Try to be one of those on whom nothing is lost,’” Miss Falconer told them. “A writer named Henry James said that. Mr. de Jonge has his words posted over his desk. It’s excellent advice for artists, as well as for writers.”