Last Summer in Louisbourg (6 page)

They got into their beds and Andrea leaned over to turn out the light. “Hey, Juss, when did you say your brother was coming to get us?”

“He'll let us know,” she yawned, and then turned her back on Andrea and snuggled her head into her pillow.

“G'night, Juss.”

Justine didn't say anything.

Andrea lay awake for a long time.

Chapter Nine

“Get set! Now ruuuuun!” bellowed Grumpy Grundy.

Andrea hoisted her long skirt just above her ankles, not too far above them, but exactly the way Penny had demonstrated. Then she darted fairly gracefully down the gradual slope of the parade square. As she reached Maison de la Plagne she paused and glanced back with a well-rehearsed anxious expression on her face. Then she disappeared around the corner.

By the time the morning's work was over, Andrea had run down that same slope and around that same corner a total of nine times. How could such an uncomplicated scene possibly have so many variations, particularly as she wasn't required to speak one single word? She ran and ran and ran. Grumpy was turning out to be an insufferable perfectionist. He rarely appeared to be pleased with anything that Andrea or the other actors did. If it hadn't been time to break for lunch, Andrea felt sure she would have been asked to run down that boring parade square a tenth time, an eleventh time, a twelfth time…

Everyone in the film crew was entitled to a one-hour break for lunch. They carted their equipment to a nearby building then drifted away. Andrea watched them, hoping for a glimpse of Calvin, but he wasn't among them. It must have been his day off. Just her luck. She returned to the staff lunchroom, where Justine and twelve little children were sitting around the table eating their sandwiches. Justine greeted Andrea with an impassive “Hi” and not another word. She didn't enquire about the morning film shoot. She didn't ask about Calvin. She didn't ask about anything. She focused her attention on the children and made sure they cleaned up the mess after they had eaten.

After a while Andrea felt courageous enough to ask, “Hey, Juss, are you going up to the store for some pop after work?”

“I'll see,” replied Justine stiffly.

Andrea could feel a knot tightening in her stomach. It became an effort to swallow her peanut butter sandwich. In the end she couldn't finish it. She was in no mood to work on the film that afternoon, but she knew she had to. It was a good thing the script didn't call for smiles or laughter. She could never have managed that, not today. In her next scene, during which she was still fleeing across town with her secret message, she had to portray fear, to look as if she thought she was being pursued by someone dangerous. She had spent a lot of time in front of the bathroom mirror every night for two weeks past, practising expressions of fear, anxiety, and exhaustion. She had wisely locked the bathroom door in case Justine barged in and observed what she was doing.

By the middle of the afternoon it wasn't a challenge to look exhausted. Eventually she was rescued by the weather. This particular scene had to be filmed in fog. There had been lots of that in the morning, but by three o'clock the wind had shifted and, to the delight of everyone except Christopher Grundy, the sun began to shine. Completion of the scene was postponed until the next foggy day.

Andrea returned to her regular job for the rest of the afternoon. Jackie was generous in letting her take part in the film, but Andrea never imagined that it would occupy so much time. Justine had taken most of the children for a walk among the ruins beyond the fortress, so Andrea didn't have much to do. She used the time to tidy the costume cupboard and then she caught an early bus to town. She was relieved to get back ahead of Justine so she could wash off every trace of the theatrical make-up before her roommate came home. When Justine did return she was still aloof, but Andrea was determined not to let it get to her. Together they walked to the store in gloomy silence while Andrea prayed silently that Cory would be on duty when they got there.

And he was. However, there were five other customers in the store, so he was kept busy ringing up sales, stuffing things into plastic bags, checking out videos, and selling lottery tickets. One by one the customers left, all except one fellow who slouched against the pop cooler while he read a magazine from the rack.

Andrea finished her 7-Up and tossed the can into the garbage pail. Justine, who could sip a Coke more slowly than anyone else in the world, stopped reading the community notices on the bulletin board and meandered back towards the counter where Cory was finally alone, arranging a stack of videos on a shelf.

Andrea thoughtfully kept her distance. She knew what it meant to Justine to have a private chat with Cory, even though her moody friend always insisted she didn't give a hoot. She did so. Andrea walked over to the magazine rack, selected a copy of
Canadian Living
, and pretended to be reading an article describing how to dry wildflowers, a subject that didn't interest her at all. She was really listening to Justine talking to Cory, telling him something that one of the tourists had said to her that day.

“…no kidding. That's what he asked. He wanted to know why didn't they build this fortress over near the Bras d'Or lakes instead of here, because there isn't as much fog over there. Also—get this—he said it would have been handier to the TransCanada Highway as well.”

“Jeez,” Cory guffawed. “So what did you say?”

“I told him there was no highway in 1717, the year that the king of France decided to build here. I mean, they hadn't even invented cars then. People travelled in ships. Louisbourg has an awesome harbour. I pointed to it, but the fog was so thick this morning we couldn't see it.”

“Some people!” Cory snorted.

“Dumb de-dumb dumb,” trilled Justine.

Andrea turned to put the magazine back on the rack. She'd learned everything she needed to know about dried flower arrangements. She headed back to the counter, paid Cory for her pop, then tactfully suggested to Justine that they would miss their supper if they didn't head back.

Justine swallowed the last drop of her Coke, paid for it, and left the store reluctantly. At least by then she was in a better mood, almost her normal self.

Next morning there was another early phone call for Andrea. She put on her bathrobe, padded out into the hall, and picked up the phone. It was Penny Goodman.

“Andrea? You do know how to swim, don't you?”

What kind of a question was that so early in the day?

“Sure, Penny,” she replied. “I took lessons for ages. I got my intermediate badge, and I even started working on my senior's. Why?”

“More script revisions. We've got a scene coming up that requires filming you in some sort of boat. There's no danger, of course, but we just wanted to be sure you could swim if you had to. Are you comfortable about being in a boat in the harbour?”

“You bet. My uncle in Newfoundland has a fishing boat, and last summer I spent a lot of time in it. And before that there was another time…”

“Great,” Penny cut her off. “Just what we wanted to hear. I'll get back to you. Bye.”

When Andrea arrived at the locker room that morning, she found Kenzie Cormier and another little boy fighting on the locker room floor.

“Kenzie! Scott! You boys stop it this minute!” she shouted, yanking them apart.

“He took my shoes!” accused Scott fiercely.

“I never did!” Kenzie loudly insisted.

“Boys! Stop it! The shoes are all the same anyway. Maybe Kenzie put yours on by mistake,” Andrea consoled.

“He did it on purpose,” protested Scott.

“I doubt that very much,” Andrea said firmly. “Kenzie, if those happen to be Scott's shoes, I want you to give them back and then you and I will find another pair for you, okay?”

Grudgingly Kenzie kicked off the wooden shoes and left them on the floor for Scott. He followed Andrea downstairs in his stocking feet. Having just turned five, Kenzie was the youngest member of the entire volunteer corps. He spent Wednesdays and Fridays at the fortress. The other weekdays he stayed with a babysitter in town. He was quite a handful, although Andrea wouldn't have admitted that to Jackie. She didn't want her boss to think she couldn't cope with any child in her charge, especially not Jackie's son.

Andrea hunted around in the costume cupboard and found another pair of wooden sabots that almost fitted Kenzie. She stuffed some straw into the toes of the rigid shoes, using the same method that fortress dwellers had once used to ensure a good fit. She got him into his costume in time to join the other children. Kenzie spent the next half hour running after a couple of the bigger boys who were playing hoop and stick. This was another game that had been played by children who grew up here long ago. The only people who played it nowadays were the volunteer corps at the fortress. All they needed was a simple wooden hoop, the kind that was once used by barrel makers, and a stick. The object was to keep the hoop rolling as long as possible by prodding it with the stick. A lot of running was required to prevent the hoop from falling over. It was the perfect game for overly energetic little boys.

Andrea watched as the children darted along the quayside, laughing and shouting as the hoops continued on their wobbly courses. At moments like this, she sometimes indulged in a daydream that she was actually living her life here that last, peaceful summer back in 1744. The longer she worked here the more she thought about that distant world when there had been no cars, no radios, no computers, no telephones, no washing machines, no hairdryers, no pop music, no magazines. They didn't even have organized sports in those days, unless hoop and stick could be classified as a sport. There were very few books. Only the children of wealthy parents learned how to read. School was a luxury, the way ballet classes and riding lessons were today.

She liked to fantasize about living in a place where there were no schools. Imagine—never having to pay attention to a teacher or do your homework. But what would she have been doing instead? On a summer day like this, keeping an eye on children playing wasn't a bad way to pass the time. Yet it wouldn't all have been like this. She would have had to spend many hours scrubbing, knitting, and sewing—work that was now done by machines. There were some real disadvantages too, like head lice and scratchy clothes, and sleeping on a mattress stuffed with straw, not to mention the absence of certain things, like antibiotics and anesthetics if you became ill.

There was one other thing that Andrea couldn't quite picture for herself. Young women were sometimes married at her age. They might even be mothers by the time they were fifteen. A wife. A mother. Could she possibly…? Well, someday. Not yet.

Her fantasy came to an abrupt end with the pitiful sound of Kenzie bawling his eyes out. He was lying on the ground, clutching his knee and making a terrible fuss. Andrea rushed over, stood him up, and inspected his bleeding knee.

“I f-f-fell down!” he wailed.

“Come on,” she said, putting her arm around him. “It'll be okay. We'll go and wash this off and get you a nice Band-Aid.”

“'Kay,” he sobbed and limped after her, tears streaming down his face.

There was a first-aid kit in the staff room for minor emergencies like this. Andrea dabbed his knee with a wet cloth, then covered the scrape with three Band-Aids. Kenzie finally stopped crying. He liked Band-Aids.

“Want my mommy,” he demanded solemnly.

“She's over in her office. Let's go and show her your new Band-Aids.”

Jackie gave her little boy a hug and told him how brave he was. She even found a toffee in her desk drawer, which cheered him up. As Andrea and Kenzie were about to leave, Jackie said, “I guess you heard what happened up the road last night?”

“No, what?”

“That little shop…in town here…”

“Vivian's?”

“Yes, that's the one. They were robbed.”

“Robbed!” cried Andrea. “When?”

“I haven't got the whole story. It happened at closing time. There was a fellow on duty…”

“Cory!” exclaimed Andrea.

“That's the name. He was alone there. He was held up at knife point.”

“Ohmigosh! Is he okay?”

“Yes, he's okay. A bit shaken up, but he wasn't hurt.”

“Poor Cory,” Andrea stammered.

“I didn't realize you knew him,” said Jackie.

“I don't. Not really. Justine does.”

Andrea could hardly wait to tell Justine. She would have run all the way back to the hoop-and-stick game, but Kenzie was still hurting and limping and making the most of his injury.

Justine was busy supervising a game of ninepins by the time Andrea found her.

“Justine, wait till I tell you!” Andrea called.

“What?”

“Cory was held up at knife point last night at the store!”

“You're kidding!” gasped Justine.

“It's true. I just heard it from Jackie.”

“Oh my God! Is he okay?”

“Yes, he is.” Andrea relished being the bearer of dramatic news. “It seems that it happened when he was closing the store,” she added.

“Did anything get stolen?”

“I don't know. I only heard about it a few minutes ago from Jackie, and she'd just heard it from somebody else,” Andrea explained.