And Nothing But the Truth (8 page)

Alice laughed. “That’s just opera. That’s what I’m going to do one day, you know!”

“You are?” Polly gazed at her with awe. Then she chose another chocolate, wandered over to the railing, and watched all the people milling below her.

“Hi, Polly!”

A boy in a school uniform stood beside her. Chester! Polly swallowed her chocolate so fast she almost choked.

“What are
you
doing here?” she gasped.

Chester grinned. “Same as you! I’m on a school outing. We’re not allowed to stay, though. Some of the fellows were making fun of the singer’s—well, umm … anyway, we were fooling around, so we have to leave after intermission.”

Polly giggled. “Her dress
is
kind of low!”

She was so happy to see him her legs were wobbly. Chester looked so spiffy in his navy blazer, white shirt, and red tie.

“How do you like St. Winifred’s?” he asked.

“Polly Brown!” Miss Guppy’s bark was so loud that people turned their heads. She advanced towards them.

“Oh-oh!” said Chester. “See you at Thanksgiving, I hope!”

He fled before Miss Guppy arrived.

Her face was thunderous. “Who was that boy you were talking to?” she quizzed.

“Just Chester,” whispered Polly.

“And who is ‘Chester’?”

“He’s a boy from home. He goes to St. Cuthbert’s.”

Miss Guppy grabbed Polly’s arm and yanked her back to the other girls. “You are
not
to talk to boys, even if you know them! Do you understand, Polly?”

“Yes, Miss Guppy,” muttered Polly.

All through the second half, the other girls nudged her and grinned. Polly couldn’t smile back. The concert was ruined. Why
shouldn’t
she talk to Chester? They were friends! But she had been snatched away from him as if he were an alien species.

“Who was that boy?” whispered Daisy after lights out. It was the Crab’s night on, so they had to keep their voices low.

“Chester Simmons,” said Polly. “I know him from the island—we went to school together.”

“Is he your
boyfriend
?” asked Rhoda in a mincing voice.

“No!”

“
I
have a boyfriend. His name is Frank, and I think he really likes me. The day before I left, he rode his bike over to my house to say goodbye.”

“Don’t be silly, Rho—none of us are old enough to have boyfriends,” said Eleanor calmly. She yawned. “Let’s go to sleep.”

But Polly tossed for hours. Her mind raced with everything that had happened that day. Of
course
Chester wasn’t her boyfriend! But she had to admit she’d had special feelings for him since she was ten. How wonderful it had been to see him, and how cruel to have their conversation cut short! But Chester had said he hoped to see her at Thanksgiving. Maybe she would have the courage to ask him to do something, like go for a walk or a boat ride.

Polly went over every detail of being at Miss Falconer’s. She pondered the novelty of living with someone and not being married. What
was
the point of marriage? Uncle Rand might say it was something to do with God. Sadie, who had married Gregor in August, might say it was to wear a beautiful dress and have a joyful party afterwards. Noni would say it was about commitment.

Do
I
want to get married?
Polly wondered. She decided that she did. Then she thought of the loving way Miss Falconer had talked about Mr. de Jonge. Perhaps you could be committed to someone even if you
weren’t
married.

Her mind went back to the class again and she fell asleep sketching an apple.

The next morning, Polly was called into Miss Guppy’s study. Once more, Miss Guppy told Polly she was never to talk to boys on a school outing.

“But I didn’t know he was going to be there!” said Polly.

“Don’t talk back, young lady. That’s no excuse. While you are at school, I am your guardian. I want you to promise me you will never do this again.”

“Yes, Miss Guppy,” muttered Polly.
What a stupid fuss over nothing!
she thought as she got ready for church.

The twenty-eight boarders walked in a crocodile down the hill to St. Matthew’s Anglican Church. Polly thought they looked like nuns, in their identical outfits: navy-blue dresses, maroon blazers, mustard-coloured felt hats, and white gloves. As her roommates had warned, everyone in the congregation stared when the girls trooped up the aisle and slid into the front pews.

The service was much as it was on the island. Instead
of mild Uncle Rand leading it, however, a lugubrious rector named Canon Puddifoot preached as if his own words made him tired.

If only this were home!
Polly thought. Aunt Jean would be sitting beside her, commenting on someone’s hat, while Noni shushed her. At coffee time, Polly and Biddy and Vivien would giggle in a corner.

As the congregation came out of church, a scruffy man approached them and held out his hand. “Please, can you spare a penny or two?” he asked. “I’m so hungry!”

“Poor thing,” said Eleanor. “I wish we could help him but I gave all my change to the collection.”

Polly looked around: Miss Guppy was talking to Canon Puddifoot. She dug in her pockets and found a nickel. They went up to the man and Polly held out the money.

“Thank you, Miss!” he said.

“You’re welcome,” said Polly. The man’s desperate expression reminded her of Daddy when he had been so poor.

“I’m sorry that’s all we have,” said Eleanor.

“Eleanor and Polly! Get into line at once!” bellowed Miss Guppy.

They scurried over and joined the crocodile. “I will see both of you in my study immediately after lunch,” snapped the Guppy.

“What did you
do
?” whispered Daisy on the way back.

“Nothing worth fussing about, but she’ll think so,” said Eleanor.

Sunday lunch, at least, was a welcome change from the rest of the week’s food: roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. For dessert there was treacle tart and cream. Polly gobbled up two helpings to cushion the coming lecture.

“What did you two think you were up to, talking to a tramp?” thundered Miss Guppy as soon as they had closed the door. “Did you give him money?”

Polly gulped and nodded.

“He was hungry,” said Eleanor.

“He was a dirty, disreputable beggar!” spat the headmistress. “You are not to speak to
anyone
when you are out, do you understand? Polly, I thought I had already made that clear.”

She told them they were not allowed to have any dessert or treats from their tuck boxes for the whole week. “If I ever catch you speaking to strangers again, there will be far more serious consequences,” she finished.

The Guppy’s stinging words had been much more severe than the punishment. “She makes me feel so guilty, when we did nothing wrong!” said Eleanor, once they were back in the dorm.

After lunch, they had to lie on their beds for a full hour to nap or read. Then they were sent downstairs to sit in the dining room and write letters home. Polly scribbled short notes to Noni, Maud, and Daddy. She yearned to tell them about Miss Guppy’s unfairness, but all she wrote was how interesting special art had been. “I can hardly wait to see you again,” she ended each letter, blinking away tears.

Mrs. Blake was on duty today; she and Miss Poirier alternated on Saturdays and Sundays. “How is your little boy?” Polly asked her.

“Thank you for your interest, love. Johnny is thriving—he’s talking in sentences now.”

Mrs. Blake sent them upstairs to sort out their laundry and polish their oxfords for tomorrow. Each boarder had a laundry bag marked with her name. Polly’s gloom lessened as she shoved her charcoal-coated clothes into it. At least next week she could go back to Miss Falconer’s again.

It was another crisp, clear day. Polly wished she and Eleanor could escape to their hideaway, but for an hour before dinner all the boarders had to gather in the sitting room with Miss Guppy. She read them a passage from the Bible, then quizzed them about it.

“Why did the same people always answer?” said Daisy, while they were waiting for dinner.

“That’s the Guppy’s special group,” Polly explained.
“Some of the girls call them ‘the Elect.’ Maud belonged to it. Be careful not to join it if the Guppy asks you.”

“
I
never would,” said Rhoda. “It’s bad enough having to go to church every week! At home we only went at Christmas and Easter.”

“You did?” The others looked at Rhoda curiously, but lots of things about her were different; that was probably because she was American.

After dinner, they had free time in the sitting room. Polly played chess with Eleanor.

“You’re good!” said Eleanor.

“My father taught me,” said Polly sadly. She thought of the tramp again. Did he get enough money for a meal?

Gwen Pritchard strummed a ukulele and crooned “Cheek to Cheek.” Two girls got up and danced while others sang along.

Polly was relieved when Mrs. Blake announced that it was time for the junior dorm to get ready for bed. The weekend had seemed more like a month than two short days.

T
HE REST OF THE
C
HRISTMAS TERM PLODDED BY IN ITS
tedious sameness. By Thanksgiving, Polly had received two more order marks: one for being late for French and another from Miss Netherwood. Polly had been trying to think of drawing as math, something unpleasant she simply had to get through. It had nothing to do with
real
art, nothing to do with the absorbing, wondrous world she entered every Saturday.

But one afternoon, while they were supposed to be cross-hatching an apple, she felt defiant. At first her apple was exactly like the one Miss Netherwood had demonstrated on the board, its form shaded in tiny crossed lines. But then Polly added a flowing stem and leaves. She drew a table for the apple to sit on, a window framing the sea behind it, and a leaping whale.

Polly gazed at the result with satisfaction.
This
would prove to Miss Netherwood that drawing the same apple as everyone else was a waste of Polly’s talent!

When Miss Netherwood saw the drawing, however, she was not impressed. “Polly Brown! What
do
you think you’re doing? You are deliberately ignoring my instructions! I’m giving you an order mark.”

At least the rest of the Fearless Four had received order marks by now. There were so many rules that they couldn’t help breaking them. Eleanor had passed a teacher on the stairs. Daisy had been caught with a hole in one of her stockings, even though she had inked her leg underneath the hole. Rhoda could never remember not to talk in the hall.

Order marks only applied to school. In the boarding house, there were different punishments. When Rhoda giggled during evening prayers, she had to sit on a chair at the side for the rest of the week. The members of the junior dorm were not allowed into their tuck boxes for two weeks after Miss Poirier found the hoard of cookies they’d hidden behind the bathtub. On several nights the Crab caught them talking after lights out and ordered them downstairs to get barked at by Miss Guppy. Polly despised the Guppy’s satisfied look when she made Daisy cry.

Each time Polly had to walk in a crocodile, every time the loud bell summoned her somewhere, every day that
she sat in her stuffy classroom and glanced longingly at the grass and trees outside, she yearned to escape.

Her roommates had fewer complaints. Daisy and Rhoda had both got on their house basketball team. Now they were best friends. Every day after school, they chose games and practised together.

Polly and Eleanor had also become a pair. They retreated to their hideaway whenever they could, although now that the weather had turned colder and wetter, they didn’t go as often.

“How can you bear it here?” Polly asked her one day, when the rain sluiced down and they were stuck in the dorm after classes.

Eleanor shrugged. “It’s not that bad. I like the courses, and the other girls and some of the teachers are so
interesting
.”

Polly wished she could share Eleanor’s rational way of examining everything as if it were a science experiment.

Special art was the life raft that rescued Polly every Saturday. Now they were doing oil painting. Even in her sleep, Polly dipped her brush into the luscious colours. Whenever she passed Dottie, Jane, Katherine, or Margaret, they exchanged smiles, as if they were part of a secret society. “How lucky you are!” Noni and Daddy wrote, after Polly described in detail what she’d done in art that week.

Every once in a while, Polly remembered she’d be taking art for only a year. Then she felt sad. But that made her appreciate Miss Falconer’s classes even more.

Thanksgiving was late this year because of the general election. Polly waved eagerly as Kingfisher Island grew closer and closer. Beside her, Alice glowered. As soon as they had got on the steamer, she had turned into the cranky Alice who hated coming home. Polly had hoped Chester would be on the boat, too, but there was no sign of him.

The three tiny figures Polly had spotted on the wharf grew larger and clearer. Finally, after a whole month away from the island, Polly was in Noni’s arms. Then she scooped up Tarka and kissed his wriggling body all over. Tarka started squealing.

“What a racket!” said Aunt Jean, giving her the next hug. “I’ve never heard him make that strange noise!”

“He missed me, didn’t you Tarka-boy?” Polly kissed Uncle Rand. She gazed at her family, her eyes swimming.

“There, there, hen,” said Noni. “Being away for so long has been hard for you, I know. But now you’re home for three whole days, so let’s just enjoy one another.”

“Polly, I really need your help decorating the church
tomorrow morning,” said Aunt Jean. “Mildred is trying to take charge of it, but I told her we had to wait for you because you have such a good eye.”

“I’ve just read a book you might like,” said Uncle Rand.

Alice was led off by her stern mother. Polly walked home safely enclosed in her family. Arbutus bark crunched under her feet, and the lamps in Noni’s windows gleamed through the dusk—”the gloaming,” Aunt Jean called it. At least home never changed.

But it had. Maud arrived the next day at noon—with her new beau! “Why does
he
have to come?” Polly had protested when Noni had told her last night.

“She wants us to meet him. It seems very soon for that, though he sounds like a pleasant lad. We must make him feel at home.”

Polly couldn’t stop staring at Robert. He didn’t at all resemble Clark Gable, and he wasn’t nearly as handsome as Chester. His nose was bumpy and his eyes were too close together. He sat quietly in the living room as everyone appraised him. Patiently, he answered their questions, informing Noni that he was studying engineering and Aunt Jean that his father was an accountant.

“What religion are you?” asked Aunt Jean.

“My family is Presbyterian,” he told her.

“That’s what we were in Scotland!” said Aunt Jean approvingly.

But then she bridled as Maud patted Robert’s knee. Maud just smiled complacently, as if Robert were her prize sheep. That’s what he was like, Polly decided, a mild-mannered sheep with fair curly hair.

“We’re going to take the rowboat to Boot Island,” said Maud. “I’ll make us a picnic. See you at dinner, everyone!”

She pulled Robert out of the room.

“Well!” said Aunt Jean. “She’s being awfully forward with that young man, don’t you think, Clara?”

“Maud is eighteen, Jean. I’m sure she’s old enough to know how to behave properly.” But Noni looked worried.

“Of course she is!” said Uncle Rand. “And Robert seems like a sensible chap.”

“She was touching him inappropriately,” said Aunt Jean, “and now they’ve gone off alone for the whole day!”

That meant Polly wouldn’t see Maud until bedtime. She pushed Robert out of her mind as she called Tarka and ran down the road to Biddy’s.

Biddy and Vivien were sitting on Biddy’s bed, deep in a discussion about Donald, a boy who worked for Vivien’s uncle.

They greeted Polly warmly, but then went back to talking about how Vivien could get Donald’s attention. Polly tried to divert them. “Last week, Louise Curtis in the lower fifth hung out of her classroom window by her hands!” she told them. “Another girl dared her. Luckily, it was only the first storey. We all thought she’d be expelled, but Miss Guppy can’t afford to expel anyone—she needs the money too much.”

“That’s interesting,” said Biddy vaguely. “
I
know, Viv—you could offer to wash Donald’s shirts.”

“I did,” said Vivien sadly. “He told me he does his own washing.”

Polly and Biddy had been best friends ever since Polly had come to the island. Vivien had arrived later, and she had always been the third wheel. But now, it seemed, that was Polly’s role. “Do you want to go for a walk on the beach?” she asked them.

“No, thanks,” said Biddy. “Vivien’s going to try a freckle cure on my face. You’re welcome to stay, of course.”

Welcome to stay?
Biddy had never had to say that; Polly had been in and out of her house freely since the day they met.

They went down to the kitchen to look for vinegar and oatmeal. Polly watched for a few minutes. Then she muttered, “I have to go now,” and fled.

Polly spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach with her water-colours. She was so absorbed that she didn’t notice how cold her hands were until she had trouble holding the brush.

She inspected her four paintings, which were drying on a log. After doing oils, it was difficult to get used to water-colours again, but two of the paintings were quite good. She decided to take them back to school and show them to Miss Falconer.

All during dinner, Maud talked about Delta Gamma, the sorority that had accepted her. “I’m learning bridge!” she told them. “We play every afternoon at the D.G. house. Robert is coaching me,” she said with a smile. “He and his parents and I have a game every Sunday before dinner.”

Polly felt something under the tablecloth. She thought Tarka was begging, and looked down to scold him. It was Maud—she was rubbing Robert’s leg with her foot!

Robert politely asked how Polly liked St. Winifred’s. “Maud must be a hard act to follow!” he joked, but Polly didn’t smile.

Finally, it was time for bed. Robert was sleeping in the small room on the main floor. When Polly came back from the privy, she glanced towards the bedroom door—and stopped short.

Maud and Robert were kissing! His hand was on her bottom! Their mouths stayed together for a long time.

Polly coughed, and the couple sprang apart. “Good night, sweetie!” said Maud, before she and Polly climbed the stairs.

“Doodle, I’m too tired for a chat,” Maud said when they reached the top. “Let’s talk tomorrow, all right?”

Polly was so shocked that all she could do was nod.

Polly never did get a chance to be alone with Maud. All during the Thanksgiving service and the bountiful meal that followed it, Maud’s attention was entirely on Robert.

Biddy had smiled at Polly in church, but when Polly joined her and Vivien at coffee time, the other two were planning to spend the afternoon at Vivien’s. “You can join us,” they said, but Polly told them she was busy. She could tell that they didn’t really want her there.

Alice came up and eagerly started a discussion about school. “I can hardly wait to get back, can’t you? Do you want to go to the beach this afternoon?”

Polly shook her head; she would have to talk about St. Winifred’s the whole time.

Instead, Polly helped Noni cover some of her shrubs with sacking for the winter. “This is kind of you, but don’t you want to spend time with your friends?” she asked.

“They don’t like me anymore,” said Polly.

“Oh, hen!” Noni picked some dead leaves off Polly’s sweater. “I’m so sorry they’re leaving you out. It’s natural that Biddy and Vivien would turn to each other. You’re in different worlds now. Yet you and Biddy have always been such close friends. Why don’t you try seeing her alone?”

“She only wants to be with Vivien.”

Noni sighed. “How hard it is to be young. But don’t look so gloomy. Tell me more about your art classes. What did you do last week?”

Maud and Robert were planning to have another Thanksgiving dinner with Robert’s parents, so they left the island for Vancouver early Monday morning. Polly was glad to see them go. She put Tarka into her bike basket, rode to the lighthouse, and watched the waves dash against the rocks. Tarka snuffled over the sandstone, looking for otter doo to roll in.

Polly sat on the same log where Chester had kissed her. Not a disgusting kiss, like Maud and Robert’s; a magical one. She touched her forehead, as if the kiss were still there.

The sea air smelled so fresh. There were no whales at this time of year, but a seal bobbed lazily near her. Overhead, some gulls attacked a bald eagle, which chittered them away. How could she bear to leave this tomorrow?

On the way home, she passed Biddy, her little sister Shirley, and Bramble coming out of their drive. “Polly!” called Biddy.

Polly stopped and they stared at each other. Tarka hopped out of the basket and rushed up to his mother. The two dogs chased each other down the road, Shirley shrieking after them.

“I’m sorry we didn’t see each other much this weekend,” muttered Biddy. “How’s school?” she asked, but not as if she were really interested.

“Terrible as usual,” said Polly, “though I like my Saturday art class. And guess what? My art teacher, Miss Falconer, lives with a man she’s not married to!”

That
got Biddy’s full attention. “
Really
? Tell me more! Shirley, get out of the ditch!”

They caught up with Shirley and walked along the road, chatting all the way. Noni was right. When Vivien wasn’t there, Polly and Biddy were still friends.

As soon as they all got back to school, the Fearless Four continued planning their skit for the boarders’ Halloween party the next Saturday. They were acting out
Cinderella
. Polly was the main character because she was the only one with long hair.

In the drama cupboard, Polly had found a raggedy dress that she would uncover to reveal a long white satin gown that Mrs. Blake had shortened for her. Rhoda was an ugly stepsister and Eleanor was the prince. Daisy had two roles: the other sister and the fairy godmother. She had also written the play.

The party was in the dining room, with all the chairs pushed back, and pop and cookies for later arranged on the tables against the wall. The first performance was by the upper dorm, whose five members acted out being the Dionne quintuplets. Then the west dorm performed a lively cancan; they looked so glamorous in their fancy dresses and bright lipstick. The long dorm did a scene from a Shirley Temple movie. The east dorm came dressed in their Sunday coats, labelled either Italy or Ethiopia. With a loud cry and uplifted fists, the Italy group rushed the Ethiopia group and pinned them to the ground.

That was clever
, Polly thought. And their skit was about current events, so they’d probably win.

Finally, it was the junior dorm’s turn. To Polly’s relief, she had very few lines; even so, she found it hard to gaze lovingly into Eleanor’s moustached face without giggling. Daisy did an efficient job of whisking from one costume to the other. But Rhoda was the one who stole the show. She had the room roaring as she complained about her warts, or galumphed around in her oversized shoes.