Last Summer in Louisbourg (9 page)

Chapter Fourteen

The next day the film crew began packing up. The shoot was finally complete. Men and women were busy dismantling lights, coiling cables, and hauling crates of equipment towards a fleet of trucks parked near the bus depot.

Andrea had decided not to take the day off after all. She didn't feel like spending it alone. She kept an eye on the film crew from time to time, wondering if Calvin might appear. Where had he been, anyway, during her ordeal on the water? Had what happened to her—as well as what might have happened—mattered to him at all? Did he care if she was alive or dead? “Filmmakers,” she thought bitterly, “who needs them anyway?” She switched her thoughts to Marc Marchand, whom she would meet later that day. He sounded a whole lot nicer.

She was glad to be back at her regular job. There was something reassuring about the routine of shepherding the children around, organizing games, and chatting with the tourists. From now on, no one was going to make her spend her time running down some stupid hill or paddling around in a fog. When she happened to see Penny Goodman in the distance marching along purposefully, Andrea felt relieved to know she would no longer have to take orders from her. It crossed her mind that Penny might know where Calvin was today…but, no, she wasn't going to ask.

Penny spotted her. “Andrea! Just the person I was looking for. You've got a surprise visitor. Up in the visitors' rest building.”

“Is that so?” Andrea replied, trying to sound as calm as she could. So, Marc Marchand had arrived, and quite a bit earlier than she had expected.

“I've just come from there,” added Penny. “I think you should hurry over right away.”

“Okay,” Andrea agreed.

“And, by the way, thank you, Andrea,” said Penny. “You've been a trouper. Who knows, maybe the next time we're working on a film up here in Canada we'll call on you again.”

“Maybe,” Andrea muttered as she turned and headed up the road. Yeah, Penny, maybe lots of things. Maybe life would be normal again. Maybe Justine would give up sulking. Maybe there would be another chance to visit River Bourgeois. Maybe Marc would turn out to be…She suddenly felt so light-hearted that she abandoned her dignity and ran the final block towards the building. She stopped long enough outside the door to smooth her hair and make sure her bonnet was in place, then she strode in. She was totally unprepared for what she found. There stood her mother.

“Mom!”

“Sweetie!” she cried and held out her arms to give her astonished daughter a hug.

“Mom. What…I didn't know you were coming,” Andrea gasped.

“Surprise, surprise! I finished teaching my course and…I don't know…I just felt it was the right time for a little trip. There was an airline seat sale…so here I am.”

Andrea didn't know what to say. The surprise of discovering her mother here in the fortress left her speechless. Finally she managed to ask, “How did you get in? How did you find me?”

“Easy enough. I just bought a ticket like any other tourist. I wasn't sure how I was going to find you actually, until I noticed a woman carrying a clipboard. She looked as if she worked here, so I simply asked her if she knew you. And she did. She said she'd keep an eye out for you. Is she your boss?”

“No, that's Penny. She's part of the film crew. She's not my boss. I like my boss. Penny's sort of…well, she'll be leaving soon. How long are you going to stay, Mom?”

“A little while. I've got a room at the Foxberry Inn. It's quite nice. But I'll tell you what would be even nicer—why don't I take you to lunch? I made some enquiries and they recommended Hôtel de la Marine, right here in the fortress. Apparently you have to eat the sort of food they ate two hundred and something years ago. Sounds like fun. Have you tried it?”

“Gosh no. We bring sandwiches and eat in the employees' lunchroom. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to eat in any of the restaurants here.”

“Could you ask someone for permission?”

“I guess I could phone the office.”

Andrea called Jackie Cormier and explained that her mother had arrived out of the blue and asked if the two of them could have lunch together in a fortress restaurant.

“That's a happy surprise,” exclaimed Jackie. “Actually, staff members aren't supposed to eat there, but we'll make an exception. Attendance is low today, so I'm sure there'll be room. I'd like to meet your mother. If I have any spare time I'll drop by and say hello.”

At Hôtel de la Marine the diners sat on backless stools at wooden tables covered with white tablecloths made of coarse linen. They were served a hearty soup in wide bowls that were reproductions of the pottery that had been used there in 1744. Andrea's mother ordered a glass of wine, which came in a thick, green-tinted glass. The waitresses wore the same kind of clothes as Andrea: long, dark skirts with pale aprons, and white shirts and bonnets. The smiling woman who served them was about the same age as Andrea's mother. She greeted Andrea like an old friend.

“Sounds like you had quite a time of it yesterday,” she remarked.

“Oh, that,” shrugged Andrea. It hadn't occurred to her that everyone who worked at the fortress would have heard about her escapade in the canoe and her rescue by the police. News travels fast.

“What happened yesterday?” asked her mother.

“Oh, nothing much. This is my mother.” Andrea turned and introduced her to the waitress. “She just got here, all the way from Toronto.”

“Is that right? You must be really pleased to see your daughter.”

“I certainly am.”

Andrea didn't want her mother to find out she had been stranded in a canoe in the fog and had had to be rescued. Her mother was always worrying about dreadful things happening anyway. The waitress was about to add something, but Andrea interrupted her by asking questions about the soup and how it was made, anything to change the subject until this too-friendly woman would go away.

“What did happen to you yesterday?” her mother asked for the second time, once the waitress had left.

“Um…remember I told you I was playing a part, a very small part, in a film.”

“I remember.”

“Well, we did the final shoot yesterday. I had to paddle a canoe and—silly me—the paddle slipped out of my hands. They had to come and get me. No big deal.”

Her mother looked alarmed.

“I was only out here in the harbour. There's no way you can get lost or blown away or anything,” Andrea insisted.

“That would depend,” said her mother sternly, “on the visibility, the direction of the wind, and the tide. I know about these things. I'm from Newfoundland, remember?”

“Yes, Mom, I remember. Anyway, the filming is over. I won't be playing any more roles.”

“Imagine, my daughter in a movie! I can hardly wait to see it. Was it fun?”

“Well, at times it was. The first day they put all that make-up on us and we hardly recognized ourselves in the mirror. That was wild. And then they coached us on what expressions to use so we would look as if we were eavesdropping. That was something else because that's the reason they noticed us in the first place. We really were trying to listen in.”

“What was the story all about?”

“Actually, it was sort of stupid. It's some kind of love story. The guy who played the lead was a jerk. The director was always in a bad mood. Penny, his assistant—the one you met—was always bugging me about something. It took forever to get anything done. I enjoyed it, but I don't think I want a career in film.”

”You do know that nothing gets accomplished without effort. These people obviously had a lot of work to organize. It can't have been easy for them.” Her mother took a sip of her wine.

Andrea glanced past her mother's shoulder to see two people coming through the doorway of the restaurant. One was Calvin Jefferson Lee, and right beside him, holding his hand, was smiling, gorgeous Deborah Cluett, minus the monstrous wig and the lavish clothes. She wore pale blue jeans and a clingy white T-shirt. Her blond hair was short and windblown. She looked a lot younger and a lot prettier than when she had been made-up and dressed for the film.

“Andrea, what is it? You look as if you've seen a ghost,” said her mother, turning around to see what was behind her.

Andrea couldn't take her eyes off the pair as they were ushered to a table on the other side of the room. Calvin and Deborah! Was this their first date? It didn't appear to be. They were sharing a laugh about something and looking directly into each other's eyes. How long had this been going on? Andrea felt as if she'd been hit by a truck. Would they notice her? she wondered. What would be worse: to be seen there, with her mother of all people, or not to be noticed at all?

“It's nothing, Mom. Just some people I know. They're eating here too.” Her mother leaned towards her, suddenly looking very serious.

“Andrea,” she began in a solemn tone. “I have something I want to tell you. Something very important.”

“I know, Mom. Perseverance and patience. I realize how hard all those people had to work to get the movie made. I know about putting one hundred per cent into whatever I do. You've told me before.” Andrea sighed.

”No, not that, sweetie, though I'm glad you remember. I have something else on my mind. And it's not altogether easy for me to say it.”

Andrea stopped staring at Calvin and Deborah long enough to catch the look on her mother's face. This was no pep talk about getting things done. It dawned on her that something awful might be happening. What?

“Mom,” she began cautiously, “are you and Brad splitting up?”

Her mother burst into a brief laugh but quickly returned to the earnestness of a moment earlier. “No, no, no. Brad and I are just fine. And he sends you his love. You mean a lot to him. I know it has been an adjustment for you…trying to accept a stepfather. But don't worry, Brad and I plan to stay together. Did I tell you Brad put up that new wallpaper you wanted in your room?”

“He did?” Andrea brightened.

“He sure did. But this isn't what I want to talk about right now. I want to tell you something that you might not—”

“Well, would you look who's he-ah!” called Calvin in a loud, you-all drawl that could be heard right across the restaurant.

Andrea blushed. He finally had noticed her. “Hi,” responded Andrea weakly, waving the fingers of her right hand.

Calvin and Deborah got up and came over. “This's a pleasure,” said Calvin warmly. “Ah was sayin' to Debbie how ah hoped we'd get a chance to say goodbye to you 'fore we left.”

So he called her Debbie, did he? Andrea swallowed and tried not to show her feelings. “I guess you're outta here soon, eh?” she said.

“Tomorrow morning.” Debbie smiled, looking relieved.

“Um…this is my mother,” Andrea explained reluctantly.

Her mother smiled and shook hands with them. There was an exchange of friendly greetings. Where are you from? How long are you staying? What a lovely daughter you have!

Andrea felt diminished, as if she had turned into a little girl again, stranded in the midst of a bunch of people talking over her head. They seemed so old. How old was Deborah anyway? She had heard that Calvin was supposed to be about twenty, but Deborah—Debbie—had to be older than that. She was too old for Calvin. But what did it matter to Andrea? They were probably an item. They were leaving Louisbourg, leaving Canada, leaving her behind.

“I like your friends,” her mother remarked after Calvin and Deborah had returned to their table.

“Not friends exactly. We worked together on the film. They're okay,” Andrea admitted grudgingly.

“I suppose you've made quite a few friends here?”

“A few.”

“And maybe a boyfriend?”

“Not really.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Now then, Andrea. As I started to say, there's something I've been meaning to tell you…”

Just at this moment the cheery waitress returned with the rest of their meal and plonked down two heavy plates laden with a mixture of boiled cabbage and turnips and small chunks of beef.

“Bon appetit!” She smiled, busying herself clearing the plates and the crumbs from the table beside them.

“I'd call this a Jigg's dinner,” remarked Andrea's mother.

“It's supposed to be French, Mom.”

“Call it what you like. We ate it in Newfoundland too. This is what I grew up on.”

As long as the waitress remained within earshot, Andrea's mother made no further attempt at disclosing whatever it was she wanted to tell her daughter. Andrea sensed it was bad news of some kind, and she didn't want to hear it. Not now. She had had enough bad news for one day: Calvin and Deborah. How come she hadn't heard about them before? Every once in a while she shot a furtive glance at the couple on the far side of the room, looking at one another with those lovey-dovey eyes, those happy smiles, and the shared laughs.