Читать книгу Matrons and Madams - Sharon Johnston - Страница 5

Sydney, Nova Scotia, 1912

Two years before the Great War erupted, Lily White entered her graduation year at Sydney Academy. She had applied for a scholarship to teachers’ college in Truro, Nova Scotia, for the following year, but the scholarship was conditional on Lily maintaining at least a 75 percent average in all subjects. Being prudent and heeding her father’s advice that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, she planned to earn money for her tuition during her final school year.

Lily’s father, Robert White, was a pharmacist, and he had taught Lily the value of money when she was only twelve by hiring her to deliver medicines to clients. People in Sydney would smile as she pedalled down the street with a carrier filled with packages. She would return the smile and wave.

The outward happiness did not reveal the real turmoil within. Lily’s mother, Amelia, had always favoured her younger daughter, and Lily felt her preference for Beth very keenly. Beth was a year younger than Lily, but stylish and brash. She had her father’s lapis lazuli eyes and Amelia’s brown wavy hair. Once, during an argument, Beth had taunted Lily with the fact that she didn’t look like either of her parents. This comment made Lily feel even further estranged from her mother and slowly she began to consider the idea that she might be adopted. At sixteen she decided to ask.

She stopped at the door that connected the house and the pharmacy and watched her father shake, stir, pound, and bottle various potions for breathlessness, stiffness, infections, rashes, sleeplessness, coughs, and headaches, wondering how she would ask the question: “Are you my real father?” Her nerve gathered up, Lily stepped forward just as an elderly client tottered into the pharmacy from the street. Robert pulled up a chair for Mrs. Birch then knelt on one knee to see what was bothering her. Lily had to smile while she watched: he looked as though he were going to propose. Mrs. Birch complained of terrible back pain and Robert suggested she might need stronger pain medication. “Or perhaps a new mattress,” he said with a sympathetic grin. “I’ll send Mrs. White over next week with the Sears catalogue and she can help you choose.”

“How did you know I slept on a lumpy old thing?” Mrs. Birch chirped. She looked up at Robert with an adoring smile.

“Because every old-timer in Sydney does the same thing. Or perhaps I’m clairvoyant.”

Lily had tears in her eyes. She adored her dad. “He has to be my real father,” she whispered, wiping her tears away with her fist. Robert helped Mrs. Birch to the door, promising to have the new pills delivered as soon as they arrived at the pharmacy.

Lily stumbled across the large room. “Are you my real father?” she blurted.

Robert gripped her shaking shoulders, then pulled her forward into his arms. “I knew this day would come and I’m prepared.” He led Lily to Mrs. Birch’s chair and knelt as he had before. He was a tall man, who often lowered himself so his elderly clients could hear. “Lily, I helped deliver you into this world. Your mother was staying at the Anglican rectory when you decided to announce yourself. I’m not a doctor, but I am a pharmacist and your mother was in great pain. I gave her a little morphine. I was there from the beginning, Lily. So to answer your question, yes, I am your dad. As real as you need me to be.”

Over the following weeks, the story was gradually revealed. Lily’s mother, Amelia, pregnant and unmarried, had been sent from England to board with an Anglican minister and his family in Halifax, Nova Scotia. After her arrival she had provided light housekeeping services in the rectory. Before her condition was noticeable, the minister had asked her to be a live-in companion to a dying parishioner, assuring her she could move back to the rectory during her confinement. This is how she met Robert White, the grandson of the elderly man she was caring for. Robert’s habit was to visit his grandfather once a week. Daily pop-ins began after he discovered Amelia. Pregnancy had not prevented Amelia from looking stylish and attractive, and her bright personality captivated Robert. He proposed. In a quiet ceremony, attended by his wife, the Anglican minister joined Amelia and Robert in marriage and Lily was born five months later.

Robert had grown up in Halifax, where his father was an officer in the Royal Navy. His mother had often cared for sailors with prolonged illness in her home, and Robert became very interested in healing and medicines. He greatly disappointed his father when he chose to study pharmacy instead of following his father’s career path.

After his marriage, he bought an old building in the centre of town in Sydney and put up a sign reading White’s Pharmacy. Customers warmed to the young pharmacist who treated their illnesses. When Lily was born they put suspicions aside and cooed over Lily as she lay swaddled in a cot behind the counter. Robert would explain with a sheepish grin that he was just giving his wife a rest.

Lily began her final year at Sydney Academy full of optimism that she would win a scholarship. Remembering the “bird in the hand,” however, she marched into the principal’s office and introduced herself in the third week of the school year. She had scanned the notice board and found, among requests for child minders, dog walkers, and help in an old folks’ home, that there was a student who needed help to pass a mandatory English comprehension test. She offered her assistance.

“That would be nice,” the secretary said, giving Lily an appraising look. “What are your qualifications?”

“I’m smart.” Lily instantly regretted her flip remark and added, “I’m smart about people. I like them.”

“Well, you’ll have to be smart with Ed Parsons. He doesn’t like school. His father told me Ed would be the first of his boys to have more than a grade eight education, and he’s upset that we’re making Ed repeat his school year. But the rule is you must pass an English comprehension test to enter the matriculation year and Ed failed it.”

“I plan to go to teachers’ college next year. Tutoring Mr. Parsons will give me some practice.”

Lily agreed to the twenty-five-cent hourly rate and arranged to meet Ed after school. He arrived at the end of the school day just as the other students were piling out to smoke or hurry to part-time jobs. They cast knowing glances at him as though he were there to fetch his sweetheart, not to be tutored in English. Lily play-acted the part by handing her bag of books to Ed. The ruse seemed to work. He had deep-set blue-black eyes that reminded her of anthracite. His dark stubble, short-cropped black hair, and six-foot stature made him look more adult than his classmates, but he was actually a year older than Lily.

“I’m the dolt on the notice board,” he said with a sarcastic edge.

“What did you find difficult on the test?” Lily asked.

“I had one hour to answer questions after reading a passage from a book. I panicked and wrote whatever nonsense came into my head. I’m no scholar.”

“That’s not true! You’re almost through high school and that’s more than your brothers achieved. Don’t you want to graduate with a diploma?”

Ed’s eyes became iridescent with moisture. “Everyone in the school will know that I need special help.”

“Look, as soon as the bell rings and the students have cleared out, come to my classroom. If someone asks why you’re there, say you’ve come to carry my books.”

Ed shrugged and gave Lily an appraising look that embarrassed her. She ignored the flirtatious look in his eyes.

“English is just words, and words make up stories. People from Cape Breton make up their own stories. But you need to be able to read and hear a story and know what you’ve read and heard. Panic cuts concentration. I know that. Let’s start with stories and leave grammar out.” She pulled out a book that had taken several days to find amongst the old-fashioned British Annuals, which Lily considered boring.

Lily opened the book and handed it to Ed. “What am I supposed to do with this?” Ed asked.

“You’re to write the first paragraph on the board and then read it. The only way to improve your illegible handwriting is to have you read what you’ve written. Let’s start here.”

Ed groaned as Lily handed him a piece of chalk. She stood beside him as he scribbled the words on the board. Lily had chosen an adventure story about a young stowaway being tied to the mast of a ship. At the end of the first hour, they were well into the story and Ed had seemed to enjoy it.

“Were you ever tied up as a boy and not able to free yourself?” Lily asked while Ed was doing his best to write the words legibly. She recalled Beth tying her to a tree when she was six years old, and then running into the house when a storm hit. Although Beth had been practising slipknots, the knot would not budge, and Lily, terrified, was left with a deep fear of storms. “I wonder if your older brothers did mean things. I’m sure you got your share of torture, being the youngest of six boys. Or maybe boys are not as cruel as girls.” She shivered, recalling the enormous claps of thunder and the zigzag flashes she was sure would strike her tree.

“I don’t think being tied to a mast or a tree is torture,” Ed said.

“I guess boys from Glace Bay are pretty tough. You’re lucky if your brothers weren’t mean.”

“My brothers were rough, but they never beat me up. We used to have wrestling matches in the parlour that drove my mom crazy. Always worried we’d damage her furniture.”

“Mothers are like that,” Lily said. “But your parents have your best interests at heart. That’s why they want you to get your diploma.”

A janitor was spreading septic-smelling sawdust down the aisles and sweeping it up with a wide broom just as Ed dropped a piece of chalk in Lily’s cleavage. His action was so quick she almost didn’t notice, but felt the hard lump at her bodice. The janitor witnessed her furious slap on Ed’s cheek. Ed slouched away embarrassed, and Lily muttered, “I hope I never see you again, Ed Parsons!”

Both Lily and Beth had dreams of being on the stage. While they were at Sydney Academy, they buried their rivalry and joined the same theatre group. The school play for the year was Macbeth. Beth gave a star performance as Lady Macbeth while Lily played a minor character. However, once in Truro at teachers’ college, Lily tried out for the lead female role in the school play that had been written by the drama teacher.

It was during the auditions when Lily noticed a fair-skinned handsome young man constructing the props. She went off stage and introduced herself. James Barnaby blushed as he described himself as the school handyman. Unlike Ed Parsons, who was all bravado, Barnaby — as he liked to be called — exuded a quiet confidence. He laughed, saying he was constructing the stage for a formidable actress. They talked awhile before he returned to sawing and hammering the pieces of wood. At each rehearsal Lily chatted with Barnaby, hoping he might wait around and ask her out. But before each practice session ended, he would rush off without explanation.

The night of the sellout performance, Barnaby stood in the wings with an ear-to-ear grin as Lily bowed to a standing ovation. The Sunday after her acting debut, Lily took advantage of the crisp fall day to relax. It was her custom on weekends to take an early morning walk to explore different neighbourhoods. She was pleased and surprised when Barnaby caught up with her.

“Are you following me?” she asked, not disguising her pleasure at seeing him.

“I’m not following you. I’m trying to catch up,” Barnaby said blushing. They walked along silently, stopping on a road where the houses looked like unfinished repair projects. One single-storey house was still waiting to be clad. Loose insulation flapped haplessly in the breeze.

Lily suddenly turned to Barnaby, looking perplexed. “The drama teacher told me you studied medicine. So why are you at teachers’ college?”

“You were asking the teacher about me?” Barnaby asked with a smile, raising an eyebrow.

Lily blushed this time.

“I’ll need to teach for a year or two to earn enough to start a specialty in surgery,” Barnaby explained. “I had a scholarship for my first degree.”

Lily had a pang of anguish, feeling her life was so much easier than Barnaby’s. My scholarship is a source of pride, but not essential to my going to teachers’ college, she thought, as she returned Barnaby’s smile.

He gestured toward the flapping tarpaper. “That’s what I call a do-it-yourself project. I grew up in a house like that. My father died before he could finish the exterior. A teacher’s salary won’t be enough to finish a surgery internship. Fortunately, my father taught me basic carpentry skills and that’s what I do in my spare time. Surgery is a good choice for a handyman.”

“You do have your life well planned,” Lily said, aware now of why Barnaby rushed off after rehearsals.

“My father at least lived to see me become the junior lightweight boxing champion,” Barnaby said. “He taught me to box and how never to lose a match.”

Lily’s eyebrows popped up in surprise at this statement. Barnaby shot her a boyish grin.

“He also instructed me how to be a gentleman in the ring.”

Lily smiled. “You seem more cherubic than pugnacious, Barnaby, with those pink cheeks.”

Barnaby gripped her arms gently and swivelled her around to head in another direction. Lily felt her heart beat faster, just as it had while watching him build the stage.

“Let’s go see where we’ll practise-teach,” Lily said, embarrassed by her thoughts. “It’s in an equally poor area.”

They stopped suddenly as they saw a large man cuffing a small boy’s ears. Lily dashed across the street to intervene in the bullying, and Barnaby followed her. “Please stop that,” Lily said firmly to the man.

“The boy sings in the church choir like an angel, but speaks like a clown,” the father said, finally taking his hands off the boy.

“I, I, I don’t m-m-m-mean to,” blurted the boy, who looked to be about seven years old.

“Come see for yourself,” the father said angrily, gesturing to the nearby church.

Curious, Lily and Barnaby followed the pair into church and listened to Bobby’s unhampered voice as he sang.

Several weeks after this incident, Lily began her teaching practicum at Bobby’s school, and the incident of the stuttering boy who could sing so beautifully stayed in her mind.

After a rehearsal one evening, Lily told the drama teacher about the boy’s stuttering. The teacher had studied in Paris for a year and recounted the story of the famous French actor Louis Jouvet, who could act his parts perfectly, yet not speak in a normal conversation without stuttering. The teacher had concluded that a singsong voice allows a stutterer to control his speech. Lily approached the principal to see if she could set up an after-class program for three boys, including Bobby. The principal agreed to let her try, and Lily began her speech classes. The sessions were kept to half an hour as the boys couldn’t tolerate more than thirty minutes of trying to speak properly.

On those afternoons, Lily walked into the classroom with her tools. Using mirrors, feathers, balloons, handkerchiefs, and songbooks, she worked with the little boys on breath control. She had noticed within the first lesson that each boy took a huge breath before trying to speak. She also noticed that they were speaking when almost out of air. Another startling moment occurred when a frustrated boy shouted at Lily without stammering. Lily ended each session with songs, and they would trudge home to their disappointed parents.

Disappointment turned to pride when the stuttering boys sang in the Christmas concert. The seasonal choir was featured on the front page of the local newspaper. At the end of Lily’s practicum, she met with the parents to show them the exercises she had taught the boys. And with this lesson, she extracted with her broad smile and thoughtful brown eyes, a promise: the parents would no longer shout at the boys. “Pressure,” Lily told them, “is the root of a stutterer’s problem.”

Lily won the best teaching practicum on graduation. She and Barnaby exchanged their parents’ addresses, not knowing exactly where they would end up living. Barnaby had accepted a teaching post at a high school in Halifax. They were both filled with uncertainty now that war had erupted. Lily had been disappointed that Barnaby had not declared himself for she was sure that he fancied her. Why else would he have asked her to come to watch him box on Saturday afternoons? The wistful memory of sitting on a front bench and cheering Barnaby on was disheartening. Her heart had taken a flip when he’d looked at her from the ring and winked. He had singled her out, but when the match was over he would leave immediately, saying that he had to finish a carpentry job.

Amelia was frustrated when Lily arrived home without a serious beau. When she admitted she had exchanged addresses with a fellow student, Amelia shrugged. “What good is that?”

“He’s going to become a surgeon,” Lily bleated. “He’s years of studying ahead of him.”

“But he didn’t propose!” Amelia retorted, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

Despite this initial tension, Lily decided she would like to spend a summer month with her parents before leaving to teach. Lily had been offered teaching jobs in Sydney, but she chose a post in Glace Bay to be close to her parents, but not underfoot. Glace Bay was only ten miles from Sydney. The onset of war had made many families closer, with the constant worry and fear of not knowing who might be lost. Robert White was a liberal, bordering on pacifist. He would have enlisted against his beliefs to please his military father, but circumstances saved him. The Sydney Hospital needed a pharmacist, and Robert volunteered his services, thus avoiding the war.

Lily’s sister Beth had joined an amateur acting troupe for the summer that had ended up in New York City. She sent cheery letters home, describing her exciting life in New York and the young crowd of actors she hung out with. The year away from Beth had given Lily a broader perspective on her sister, who was not just their mother’s favourite, but the embodiment of all that Amelia had not been able to do in her life. Lily was now aware of her mother’s unintended pregnancy. As much as she disliked the English family she had never met, the family that had sent Amelia away, she realized that Robert would not have been her father if they had not shipped Amelia off in disgrace to Halifax. Many nights Lily comforted herself with this thought.

While she was at home with her parents for the summer, Lily received a letter from Beth asking her to come to New York. The acting group had disbanded at the end of the summer but Beth had stayed on, telling her parents she had been offered another job in the theatre. In the letter to Lily, Beth had scrawled in large letters: Please come as soon as possible!

Lily decided to tell her parents during the midday meal that she wanted to visit Beth before she left for Glace Bay. She wouldn’t mention the letter because it sounded so ominous. Robert had just come in from the pharmacy and they were all sitting down at the table when Lily announced her plan. “A capon — my favourite dish!” he said, beaming at his wife. He carefully sliced the breast after removing the wings and legs. “I think it’s a good idea that older sister is going to check on Beth,” Robert said, as he placed chicken pieces on their plates. Lily smiled at her dad’s impeccable manners, mentally comparing him with the young men at college who had spoken with their mouths full and didn’t have Robert’s refined etiquette.

“You’ll get to see Beth on stage,” Amelia said, with her usual admiring tone. “We received a brochure for a play at the Playhouse Theatre, although there was no indication Beth had a part.”

“Young actresses aren’t prima donnas,” Robert said, wagging a cautionary finger. “They learn to act by working behind the scenes. These jobs don’t get mentioned in the brochure. Beth would be quite lucky to have a small part alongside a seasoned actor.”

As Lily climbed the stairs, Amelia called out, “Pack something fashionable.”

Opening the closet door, Lily grimaced, pushing aside the plain wool dresses of her teenage years. She frowned, recalling Beth’s superior tone while advising her on clothes that boys would find attractive.

“Look, it’s not enough to have brains,” Beth had said. “A girl has to have style to get the right man. Look at Mom, a poor girl who ends up marrying the son of a naval captain. Why, Dad grew up sailing at the Halifax Yacht Club! He wouldn’t have married her if she had been a bad dresser.”

“Blood must be thicker than water,” Lily muttered as she dragged her suitcase out from the bottom of the closet. Sleepy, she stretched out on her bed, thinking she might never marry. She wondered if Ed Parsons was still in Glace Bay. She recalled that two weeks after the chalk incident she had bumped into him on Rogue’s Row, a forested path where students went to smoke and romance. Lily had gone there to stroll with a friend. She urged him to begin his English lessons again, saying she’d forgiven his rudeness.

He had tossed his cigarette, planted a lingering kiss on her mouth, and then wheeled around and disappeared. The next day, Lily watched in horror as Ed poked his head into the girls’ washroom, knowing the incident would be reported and he would be expelled.

Lily wondered if Ed had gone overseas or stayed at home because of the need for miners. Lily sighed, thinking that Barnaby might soon be at the front as well. She could recall the intimacy of exploring the Truro neighbourhood with Barnaby just as she could still remember Ed’s kiss.