Читать книгу Peggy Henderson Adventures 4-Book Bundle - Gina McMurchy-Barber - Страница 7

“So I’ve been thinking, Aunt Margaret,” I said at breakfast the next morning. “I’m sorry about the china and I want to make it up to you.” Mom beamed at me while Aunt Margaret’s eyes narrowed — pretty much what I expected.

“This plan of yours — it’s going to make up for a broken heirloom that’s almost a hundred and fifty years old?” Aunt Margaret asked dryly.

That old, eh? I could understand why she was peeved.

“Margie, let’s just hear what she has in mind,” Mom said. I started out carefully.

“I’ll bet keeping Aunt Beatrix entertained all day has been a pain — am I right?” Mom shot me a look about the same time as Aunt Margaret frowned. “Don’t get me wrong … she’s probably been a pain in a nice way.” My speech wasn’t coming out like I had rehearsed in my mind. “Anyway, I was thinking you might like some time off, so how about I do stuff with her sometimes?”

“You’ll do stuff with her? Like what?” Aunt Margaret asked doubtfully.

“You know, I could show her around Crescent Beach. I could tell her about the ancient Coast Salish who once lived here. We could visit Mr. Grimbal’s store. Maybe I could show her how to tie sailor’s knots and how to play Crazy Eights. It’ll be fun.”

Mom and Aunt Margaret looked at each other and I could tell they were talking with their eyes the way sisters do when they know exactly what the other one is thinking. Then they both started to do that snort giggle thing that runs in the family. Why did I have the feeling that maybe I should have thought this through more? I knew Aunt Beatrix was bossy and opinionated, but just how bad could it be spending time with her?

“Good morning, everyone. What’s all this joviality about?” Great Aunt Beatrix came through the kitchen doorway. She was wearing a huge nightgown that flowed around her like a floral tent and her thin white hair was wound up tight in pink curlers. I didn’t think people used those things anymore.

“Peggy, don’t you have school today?” she said when she finally took note of me.

“Nope, it’s Saturday. Remember, Aunt Beatrix?” She sighed heavily at me. What was that about? She was the one who couldn’t seem to keep the days of the week straight.

“Peggy, please don’t say ‘nope.’ You need to speak proper English during your formative years; otherwise you will develop poor grammar habits.” I bit my lip to hold in the groan. “And dear, don’t you think you’d better put something else on?” She turned to Mom, whose cheeks had turned pink. “Really Elizabeth, you can’t approve of this. She’s worn that shirt two days in a row. And shouldn’t she do something with her hair?” I felt my mussed-up hair, then looked down at my Canucks jersey. It had only a couple of dirty smudges, but otherwise was perfectly fine.

“Actually it’s the fourth day that I’ve worn this shirt, Aunt Beatrix. And unless something drastic happens to it today, I’ll probably wear it tomorrow too.” I watched her baggy eyelids widen. Aunt Margaret nervously brushed at the crumbs on the table and Mom quietly slipped out of her chair and took the dishes to the sink.

“Oh, I see. Well, in my day, children were expected to be clean and dressed appropriately. But …” She sighed. “… those days are gone. You youngsters go around with rings in your noses and eyebrows, and your arms marked up with tattoos, and wear the most atrocious things.” She looked at my jersey with her nose all wrinkled … like it smelled or something. That was the moment when I figured out what Mom and Aunt Margaret were laughing about earlier.

“Right, well, that’s very interesting. But I’m off to the library.” I saw my mom’s eyes widen. I bet she knew I was already working on how to get out of spending time with the old biddy. I needed to come up with a different plan to get those diving lessons. Just then Aunt Margaret opened her big mouth.

“By the way, Aunt Beatrix, you’ll be pleased to know that Peggy is planning to spend some time with you this afternoon and on school days when she gets home. In fact, it was her idea. So now the two of you can get to know each other better. Won’t that be nice?” The look in my Aunt Margaret’s eyes told me I’d walked right into the quicksand and she had no plans to rescue me. I jumped out of my chair and headed quickly for the back door.

“Gotta go,” I said, and whipped out the door. On the way out I heard the last of their conversation.

“Well, that’s wonderful. I’m very sure with daily guidance I can set Peggy on the right course — just as I did when you both were girls.”

Great! While I thought I’d come up with the perfect plan for softening Mom up so I could get diving lessons, in actual fact I had become an improvement project for my great aunt.

I stayed out as long as I could. First, I stopped at the library to look for books on underwater archaeology. When the librarian couldn’t find anything she offered me a book on some old guy named Jacques Cousteau. She said he was famous because he explored the oceans and was like the father of scuba diving. I figured it was worth a look. My next stop was TB’s house to use his computer to locate the Reef Dive Shop and find out about lessons — it was the nearest dive shop to home, and the best part was they had beginner lessons starting almost every week.

When I finally got home Aunt Beatrix was sitting at the kitchen table wearing her coat with the fur collar and some crazy-ugly brown shoes. On her head was a dorky feather hat. She must have been hot, which would explain the serious scowl on her pinched face.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to come,” Aunt Beatrix said curtly. “I was led to believe we would be going out this afternoon. If I’d known you were going to return so late I would have gone with your mother and Margaret. You know it’s very rude to keep people waiting.” She made an exaggerated effort to look at her watch. “I’m not even sure now if I have the energy for an outing anymore …” Brilliant, that suited me just fine. “… But I suppose I can muster the strength for a short excursion. Perhaps to that gift shop that sells antiques and aboriginal art. What’s it called?”

“Real Treasures and Gifts,” I sighed.

“Yes, that’s the place. Well, let’s get going then.” She shooed me out the door like a little kid with muddy feet.

All the way to Beecher Street Aunt Beatrix nattered on at me like a cranky parrot. Mostly it was about the broken china. She reminded me it had been in the family for six generations and that one day it might be mine. “If there’s anything left of it, that is,” she said. After a while she moved on to my dirty fingernails and torn sneakers. She’d just started giving me tips about the best way to make a good impression on my teachers when we finally arrived at Real Treasures and Gifts. I was trying to estimate how much trouble I’d get in if I just dumped her off on Mr. Grimbal and ran for it. He was just as crusty as Aunt Beatrix so they’d make a great pair.

“Hello ladies, come right in,” Mr. Grimbal said in his slick, used-car salesman voice. “And who is this charming lady with the elegant hat, Peggy?” Oh please, did he think that kind of goopy flattery actually worked? Then Aunt Beatrix giggled daintily. Hmmm, obviously he knew something I didn’t.

“Good afternoon, sir. What an interesting shop you have. Now you must tell me about these objects — are they all made by First Nations?” I could tell Mr. Grimbal was already sizing up Aunt Beatrix’s wallet and wondering if he should start with the expensive stuff.

“What a fascinating man Mr. Grimbal is,” Aunt Beatrix gushed as we walked back home. “Such a pity he doesn’t have a wife to help him. He’s just the kind of man I can relate to — educated, polite, and a successful businessman too. I do hope we’ll come visit him again, Peggy.” Gross! It sounded like Aunt Beatrix had something in mind besides shopping for souvenirs at Mr. Grimbal’s store.

All through dinner Aunt Beatrix chatted on happily about Mr. Grimbal, his store, and the ancient Coast Salish — she didn’t even mention that I was late picking her up. I was actually impressed with how much she’d learned and remembered. And I could tell Mom and Aunt Margaret were pleased with her chipper mood. That meant serious brownie points for me.

“Aunt Beatrix seemed thrilled with her outing today, Peggy,” said Mom at bedtime. Maybe this was all going to work in my favour after all. When she was finished gushing her appreciation I’d bring up the topic of scuba diving lessons. “It might well be the highlight of her trip. And it was a big help to Aunt Margaret too, as she had some important errands to get done.”

“It was my pleasure,” I lied. Then with a soft tone and as little eye contact as possible I added, “Mom, ah, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” Mom didn’t have a lot of extra cash and we were always on a tight budget — one that I’m sure didn’t include diving lessons. “TB was thinking since he lives right on one of the world’s most beautiful coasts it would be a cool thing if he learned to scuba dive. His mom really likes the idea and thought if I took lessons with him it would give him more confidence — you know, because he’s not as good a swimmer as I am. I told her that you probably couldn’t afford it, but that I’d ask you anyways.”

I twisted the details of my story as though I was tying a back hitch knot. I knew Mom was proud and didn’t like others to think she couldn’t afford to give me all the same advantages in life that kids with two parents got. So in a way I was doing her a favour.

“I wish you wouldn’t tell people that I can’t afford things. It gives a wrong impression.” Then she gazed up to the ceiling like she was calculating something in her mind. After a few minutes of silence she looked at me. “How important is this to you, Peggy? It has to be something you want to do for yourself and not just because TB is taking scuba lessons.” I jumped up and down on the sofa excitedly and held out my arms wide.

“I really want to learn to scuba dive, Mom.” Then I settled myself back down on the sofa and put on my pious face again. “But not if we can’t afford it.” Nailed it.

“Well, I have been saving some money for a new computer, but I guess I can get along with the old one for a while longer. I don’t mind as long as you’re sure this is something you’d really benefit from.” I leapt off the sofa.

“It will be the best thing in the world,” I blurted. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Just don’t forget that you promised you’d do things with your great aunt.”

“You bet — even if it kills me.”

The next morning I told TB all about my plan and the little lie I’d told. “So what about it, why don’t you see if you can take diving lessons too?” He stared at me for a few moments with a blank look and then his face suddenly lit up.

“That’s a brilliant idea. I always imagined myself a Jacques Cousteau kind of guy.”

“You know about him?”

“What, Cousteau? Well, duh. He’s only like the father of scuba diving and underwater exploration.”

“Yup, good old Jack.”

“Jacques, you mean.”

“Right. So anyway, are you sure your mom will let you?”

“Peggy, one of the few benefits of having divorced parents is when one says no, you can almost always count on the other saying yes.”

“Great. I’m going to sign up after school at the Reef Dive Shop.”

“I thought you were doing something with your Great Aunt Beatrix today.” Shoot, I’d forgotten about that.

“Hey, TB. Help me out here. Phone my house and tell my aunt that you need me to come over so we can get started on that important school project that’s due next Friday.”

“What important school project?” he said with panic in his eyes.

“There is no project dough-head. I just want you to say that so when I walk in the house and Aunt Beatrix gives me your message she won’t think anything when I tell her I can’t spend time with her today.”

“Sorry, Peggy. I don’t like lying — especially to adults. From my experience I always get caught or end up making matters worse. You’ll have to get out of this one on your own.” If he hadn’t been my best friend I’d have given him a raspberry somewhere embarrassing.

When I got home, there she was — Queen Bee-atrix — in her hat and waiting to go out. “Peggy, you’re slouching, stand up straight, dear.” I did everything to keep myself from groaning out loud. “So, where shall we wander today, dear? Mr. Grimbal suggested we take a stroll through Heron Park and have a look at the stone carvings — petroglyphs, I think he called them. It sounds delightfully primitive.” I sighed dramatically. “What? Doesn’t that sound like a good plan to you?”

“Oh, it’s not that, Aunt Beatrix. I definitely want to go see the petroglyphs with you. I’m just trying to figure out how I can do that and get my assignment done for school.”

“Assignment for school?”

“Yah, my friend TB and I have to make a diorama by tomorrow of Captain Vancouver’s voyage along the Pacific Coast.” There it was again, the perfect lie rolling effortlessly off my tongue. “Oh well, never mind, I’ll just call TB and tell him I can’t do it …”

“You’ll do no such thing. Getting homework assignments completed is absolutely paramount, Peggy. If there is anything I can teach you, it’s to take your work seriously and live up to your commitments. Now you get to it right now, do you hear young lady?” I nodded as though I was completely disappointed and about to object.

It didn’t take me long to scoot out the door, hop on my bike, and make my way towards the dive shop. I had mom sign the permission sheet that morning and write out a cheque to pay for the lessons. I pedalled as fast I could up the steep hill towards Ocean Park. I was hot when I got there but the moment I walked inside the dive shop I got goose bumps. Dangling from hooks were wet suits, masks, snorkels, and other gear. There was a guy there trying on flippers too.

“Man, these are perfect. I’m going to whiz around like a dolphin in these,” he said to the clerk. Just then she caught sight of me.

“Here to sign up for lessons?”

I nodded and held out the form and cheque.

“Great, I’ll just add your name to our list. We have a new set of lessons starting next week. But if you’re eager you can start tomorrow — we still have a few spots open in our four o’clock class.” My heart leapt.

“The sooner the better,” I sang out. “Put my name on the list for sure.” Not only was I going to start scuba diving lessons in less than twenty-four hours, I had the perfect excuse for no longer being able to spend time entertaining Aunt Beatrix after school.

When I rode into the yard I could tell it was nearly dinnertime from all the clanging going on in the kitchen. Uncle Stewart was watering the plants.

“Hi Uncle Stu, what’s up?”

“Oh, your Aunt Margaret for one thing,” he whispered. “She’s wound up tight as a top. Sure would’ve helped if you’d taken Aunt Beatrix out.”

“But I had to —” I started to explain, but he gave me the hush signal.

“Save it, Pegs. I’m just saying it would have been helpful.” I had a brief moment of feeling guilty.

“I could teach you how to tie some sailor’s knots, Aunt Beatrix,” I said after supper. My gesture was really a peace offering to Aunt Margaret. I held out the silky strands I used for practicing my sailor’s knot tying, but the old bat shook her head.

“No, thank you.”

“Okay, how about we play Crazy Eights?” That time she sighed and gave me one of those faint smiles that really meant don’t bother me, kid. All right, I thought, how about if I let you nag me about my hair some more and point out all my other weaknesses? “Any chance you’d like to teach me something?” I offered in a final attempt. I thought my efforts had been admirable, and everyone had seen me try. Fortunately she’d turned down all my ideas and I was about to split for the living room to watch TV. That’s when Aunt Beatrix caught me by the arm.

“Teach you something? Now there’s an idea!” I could tell she’d just remembered I was her improvement project. “There is something I can teach you — something every young lady should know how to do.” She turned to Aunt Margaret. “Now Margaret dear, I don’t want you to fret — though I know you have good reason to — but I’d like to teach this child the value of your precious china set. She will start by learning how to set the table properly.” I watched Aunt Margaret’s eyes pop out.

“Oh, Aunt Beatrix, do you think —”

“No, no. It will be fine dear. I will see to it.”

Oh no, what did I get myself into?

For the next hour Great Aunt Beatrix taught me the finer details of how to set the table — informally for those frequent occasions when it’s just close friends and family; then formally for the times when I might want to impress my husband’s boss — yah right; and then for those special once-in-a-lifetime events when someone important — like, let’s say Her Royal Highness, Queen of England — should decide to drop in and dine with me. Aunt Beatrix was on a roll and I zoned in and out until Mom rescued me.

“Bedtime, Peggy. You’ve got school in the morning.” I leapt off the sofa and was about to make a run for it.

“Quite right, young lady. Just let me conclude this lesson by saying that setting an elegant table is more than it appears. It’s symbolic that even in your day-to-day existence it’s possible to be careful, orderly, gracious, and temperate. And as you take more care in the smallest details of your life you’ll find when the going gets tough, you’ll be able to stay the course, face up to your problems with courage, and remain honest and true. If nothing else, remember it’s your moment-by-moment conduct that will determine the success of your life. So always put your best foot forward, Peggy. Give your all to everything you do and never run away from your problems.” Before she could add another word I scrambled up the stairs to get into my pj’s and brush my teeth.

By the time I got back to the living room Mom had my bed made up on the sofa.

“That was sweet of you, Peggy. Aunt Beatrix always feels so good when she thinks she’s been useful.” I put my hands to my neck and pretended to choke myself. Mom laughed. “Huh, you think that was tough. That’s nothing. Aunt Margaret and I have a whole lifetime of lessons like that. But even so, we love Aunt Beatrix. She has a good heart and believe it or not, lots of the things she taught have come in handy — even how to set the table nicely.” Mom kissed me goodnight and headed up the stairs. “Oh, by the way, Aunt Beatrix hopes you’ll take her to see the petroglyphs tomorrow. I told her I was sure you’d be ecstatic!” I heard her giggle after she’d turned off the light. I groaned and flung the pillow at her. Aunt Beatrix may want to see Heron Park tomorrow, but I was starting scuba diving lessons. I also needed to come up with the second part of my plan — how to make sure Mom let me go on the search for the Intrepid.

Happy to finally have time to myself I snuggled down in the sleeping bag and opened Captain Whittaker’s journal.

October 18th, 1811

By all estimates we shall reach St. Catherine’s in a fortnight. It will do us all good to get off the ship and stretch our legs. The island is a serviceable destination to take on fresh supplies, for it abounds with plantains, oranges and bananas, and abundant good spring water. I have ordered Mister Carver to stock us with enough to reach the Sandwich Islands. The last time I made this same voyage it took us nearly a month to sail round the Horn for the winds were fierce and tempestuous and drove us back nearly two hundred miles. If luck be on our side we will get past her before winter sets in.

We have on board a fine band of musicians and they play most nights. This is a great source of comfort for us all. Besides singing and dancing the men occupy themselves in the evenings with card playing, chess, and a few of the lads who are able enjoy reading. There are some who would like it very much should I allow more consumption of rum and gambling. However, since the voyage when we lost our master gunner, who threw himself overboard when he had gambled away a year’s pay and his father’s pocket watch, I have kept the spirits and gambling to a minimum.

I am pleased to see an alliance has sprung up between one of my young clerks, Mister Albert Smedley and Mister Lockhart. The boy was educated in Brighton and as such is good company for the gentleman. The two frequently engage in lively discussions at mealtime. Most recently I enjoyed their debate regarding Niccolo Machiavelli’s The Art of War — Smedley much more the pacifist than the other gentleman. Nevertheless, perhaps this new friendship is evidence that Lockhart is finally settling into the rhythm of sea life. Should this be the case it would put my mind at rest.

I have made a point to remind Cook to set out the salt dish at mealtimes. I prefer it as a savory over the salt water he uses, which seems to make the meat tough.

Captain James Whittaker

October 27th, 1811

I recently learned that my boatswain, Mister Douglas, had forfeited an entire month’s pay over a gambling debt. It is in fact the second such incident in recent days and in each case it seems there was a liberal outpouring of cheap gin that preceded the gaming. It is a well known fact that Mister Douglas cannot hold his liquor nor afford to lose a month’s pay, what with a family of seven at home. When I learned of the loss I was indeed very angry and immediately sought out my first mate, Mister Carver. He conducted a brief investigation and learned that it was Mister Lockhart who not only provided the men with excessive gin, but is the man to whom Mister Douglas was indebted.

Mister Lockhart’s actions constitute treachery and are a threat to the success of this voyage. Out of respect for Mister Astor, I chose to approach the matter as a gentleman. When Lockhart appeared before me I strongly suggested he release Mister Douglas from his debt. At this the man scoffed at me heartily, saying such action would undermine the men’s respect for him and he would never be able to command them. At this I reminded him that it was my job to command the crew and his to oversee the trading. He was mildly contrite and agreed never to give them liquor without my specific permission. He did not yet commit to releasing Mister Douglas from the debt.

A note to self: Instruct Mister Carver to convey to the crew the need to wash their bodies more regularly. Besides the innocuous odour, I wish to see them remain healthy and fit for the duration of the voyage.

Captain James Whittaker

Monday morning I woke feeling queasy — almost like I was seasick. When I rolled out of bed I forgot I was on the sofa and landed on the floor with a loud thunk. Mom poked her head into the living room.

“You okay, kiddo?”

“Groannnnn! Other than the fact that my back hurts from this coil in the sofa poking me all night, and cramps in my legs from not being able to stretch them out, and an upset stomach — I guess you could say I’m hunky-dory.”

“Good. I left cereal on the table for you. I’m just going to dive into the shower and when I’m finished you can have the bathroom. Okay?” I nodded sleepily and was about to get back under the covers. Wait — did she say “dive”? I sat up abruptly, forgetting all my aches and pains.

“Yahoo! I start diving lessons today.” Mom’s head shot around the corner.

“What? Did you say you’re starting diving lessons today?” Oh right, I’d decided to put off telling her yesterday about the start date to avoid setting Aunt Margaret off again … who for some reason was determined now that I take Aunt Beatrix off her hands every day. “Sorry Mom, the plan changed a bit. TB has something he has to do later in the month so we had to start this week. My lessons are at four o’clock.” Mom plunked down on the sofa looking dazed.

“I’m sorry I won’t be able to entertain Aunt Beatrix after school today. It’s just too bad she has to leave next weekend. I was starting to enjoy getting to know her.”

“Really? Well, I’m glad you feel that way. I did notice how well the two of you get on.” Was she blind? It was just out of necessity that I let the old bird boss me around and teach me useless stuff like table setting. But soon she’d be gone and I’d be off the hook. I began folding up the sleeping bag.

“Actually, Peggy, yours aren’t the only plans that have changed. You know how Aunt Margaret and Uncle Stewart have been thinking of taking that Caribbean cruise for a long time, but the timing just never seemed right? Well, they are finally doing it … and they leave this Saturday for three weeks.”

“This Saturday? That’s great,” I chirped. Now I knew why she was so busy and stressed lately. Then I realized three weeks without Aunt Margaret on my heels would be like having my own holiday.

“Yes, it is great. They so deserve something like this after all they’ve done for us. And the reason we all feel so free about them going is knowing you won’t be home alone waiting for me to get back from work.”

“Right, because I’ll be taking scuba diving lessons.”

“Actually, no, it’s because Aunt Beatrix has agreed to stay on.” I jumped off the seat and hit my knee on the coffee table.

“Ouch!” I yelped. “Mom, what were you thinking? I don’t need a babysitter.” How could they think I needed looking after — and of all people they chose the Grim Reaper of children? “I repeat, Mom, what were you thinking?”

“You just said how it was too bad she wasn’t staying longer. And besides, it’s not all about you. She’ll be able to get the meals started, keep Duff company, and be here if you should — as completely unlikely as it could be — get into trouble and need help. And on the bright side, you’ll have scuba lessons to focus on and you’ll get your room back after Aunt Beatrix moves into Margaret’s room.”

The bright side, right! How was I ever going to survive another month with the only person in the world more uptight than Aunt Margaret? This is exactly the kind of thing that could give a kid nightmares or a nervous tick. Just then I remembered the trip to find the Intrepid. School would be finished and maybe if I just played along with all this I’d have a better chance of getting Mom’s permission to go with Dr. Hunter and his research team. I took a deep breath, counted to ten, and then quickly shifted gears.

“Okay, Mom. That’s cool.” I could tell my sudden change of attitude surprised her.

“It’s cool? Well, good. Quite honestly I thought you’d put up more of a fuss, but I guess this means you’re growing up, and getting more mature.”

“Sure, that’s it, Mom. I’m just getting more mature.”