The Memento (31 page)

“Because you don’t tell us anything, Mother,” Pomeline screeched. “It’s all secrets and lies and guessing. I hate being a Parker.” She ran off, her yellow dress a blur as though she was one of them huge flowers suddenly come to life.

Dr. Baker and Estelle continued arguing about things from way back, not seeming to care about Pomeline’s fate. Art and I both put a hand on Jenny’s shoulder. She didn’t shrug us off but we could feel how stiff she was, and she didn’t fight us as we pulled her away and escorted her back to the Water House. I got her a glass of water this time and we sat back down, waiting to be discovered.

Estelle almost went by us without seeing again, but she glanced over and stopped dead in her tracks, with Dr. Baker behind her. “Well, well, if it isn’t the missing trio. Honestly, if one person at Petal’s End could manage to behave … What do you think you’ve been doing, Agatha Jennifer? What were you thinking, going on an outing to a graveyard?” She looked at me. “You. You are nothing but trouble, Fancy Mosher. Just like your mother.”

“Estelle, Harold explained this to us. We don’t need to get into it now. Please. Show some compassion.”

“Compassion? It would be nice if you showed me some compassion. I’m the only one with any good sense. All of you, every single one of you is encouraging Marigold with this preposterous garden party. And Jenny, that’s fine, if you want to ruin your health, you do what you please.” She stormed off, arms flailing.

Jenny’s lip trembled but that was all. She didn’t need no one telling her hush-a-bye, don’t you cry.

Dr. Baker adjusted his glasses. “Harry told us what happened. I’m sorry, Fancy. Your mother’s friend, Ronnie, came looking for her. Apparently this is the anniversary of your brother’s death, and your mother was, well, distraught. You see, a trauma can affect a person for years when there is no resolution. You’ll have to forgive her. Harry brought her back here and … anyway, it’s all been sorted out and they’ve gone away. We’ll just move forward. Time
for your singing. There is no better cure than staying busy, keeping to your routine.”

Jenny folded her hands together. “And so it continued both day and night.”

He flung a look at Jenny. “It’s hard on a family with an elderly person who has dementia. And it’s hard having a child with brain damage, a child like you. That’s what’s wearing your mother out, and your sister. You and your grandmother will be the death of them.”

“My grandmother doesn’t have dementia, Dr. Baker. You’re making that up so you can take charge. My sister cries all the time these days. She thinks I don’t hear but I do. What a bawl baby. She’s full of nerves. You should medicate her like you do my mother and my grandmother.” They was testing each other.

“I don’t need medical advice from a twelve-year-old, and you can’t talk to me the way you talk to the rest of the adults. I won’t tolerate it. You have no idea what your sister is going through, no idea at all.” He left, no interest in a response.

We’d never seen that side of Dr. Baker before and we were reeling, but then we were the kind of children who already knew that adults weren’t to be trusted. It wasn’t surprising to find out that he was just like the rest.

Jenny looked ahead at Petal’s End, rising up in the baby-blue northern sky. “I don’t like that man,” she whispered. “He thinks he’s the king of Petal’s End, but the king died. My mother thinks she’s the queen of Petal’s End. But she’s not the queen.”

I didn’t dare say nothing, but Art said softly, “We should go in for the practice.”

In the kitchen Harry was sitting with Loretta, and they both got up as we came in. Loretta came over and took my face in her hands. Her fingers smelled like buttery lemon cake.

“My poor Girly Miss. Ronnie came and took Marilyn back to the lake, give me strength. She slipped out early in the morning while he
was sleeping. He thought she went to town to do errands, then he remembered what day it was. I suppose it’s to be expected. I thought he’d have kept a better eye on her on this day of all days. But Ronnie does mean well, and he won’t let it happen again. I feel sure of that. Estelle has been in a frightful mood since she arrived. We need to sew bells on your shoes, the lot of you. It’s making my head spin.” She wiped her hands on her apron and went back to getting supper.

Loretta didn’t look at me as she continued. “Harry told me what your mother was saying in the graveyard. I’m not going to deny it. Marigold was there. She was there with Charlie. Your mother was down there with … one of her friends. Marigold couldn’t do anything. She already felt regretful about John Lee burning his hand that long ago time they were making rosewater. It was dreadfully sad. Charlie was just a boy. He tried to help. The waves were too big. He felt very badly, you see. Adults make many mistakes. We mustn’t speak of these things for all it does is stir up the past.” She was rolling out pie crust, her back still to me. “Take some cookies and cake out for the children.”

Jenny and Art were at the front of the house on the verandah, sitting in the shade. He was telling her about the Perseid showers and she was telling him a story about how the stars were holy lights. The three of us went strolling over the lawn, staying on the stone path, them two still talking about the sky with their mouths full of cookies. We didn’t talk about going to the Annex but that’s where Jenny headed and we followed. The imposing red oaks and laburnums cloaked the overgrown lawn in shade. They spoke of the big rising moon that was nothing more than an illusion, and I stood looking at the sheer curtains, telling myself there wasn’t nothing to worry about inside them windows.

“Let’s go back around. We don’t want to get in trouble.” Art took my arm but I kept looking at the windows quizzically.

Jenny took my other arm and pulled me forward. “What do you see, Fancy?” she asked. “Maybe Daddy is in there.”

“Don’t say that.” Art was like a scared girl. “You’re just as bad as Marilyn, Jenny.”

I felt as though I had died, standing there terrible cold on that white hot day. Jenny tugged on my arm. She was just being silly, being a child, she had no idea why I was frightened. Maybe it gave her a sense of power, I don’t know. The three of us, linked together, ran down that steep bit of lawn and we crept up to the window. There was so many times when it seemed maybe it would all come true, and we was all thinking maybe this was it, that I would see Jenny’s dead father dangling from the ceiling, back to tell us why he did it.

From the middle window we heard the fan. Jenny knelt down and peered in the slats. She kept moving her head, trying to get a view. She looked at me and pointed inside, making sure we was looking at the same place. If she could see it too then it wasn’t just me. But she didn’t seem to see a thing. I realized I’d been holding my breath, and as I let it out Jenny’s face changed. Her mouth went round and she was blinking her eyes fast. She fell back, sitting on the grass, and I moved forward.

“Don’t look,” she whispered.

But I couldn’t help myself. Art came beside me and we peered in. That close to the open window we could hear the fan loud but under it we heard a moaning. It was Pomeline, leaning on the desk, gripping it hard, Dr. Baker behind. They were both breathing heavily and the ceiling fan went round and round and blew Pomeline’s hair up in golden gusts, his hands on her hips, her dress up. Her face was red and tight, looking crushed.

Dr. Baker grunted and they stopped moving. “Tidy yourself,” he said.

Jenny started whispering her funny words. It fell silent inside for they knew someone was at the window. We dashed up the hill and dove into the bushes just as Dr. Baker peeked through the blinds. There wasn’t nothing for him to see, for three frightened
twelve-year-olds can run fast as a blink. He closed the blind tight, as he should have done earlier.

“We must never tell a soul, not a soul,” Jenny said. “No one can know, not that they would believe us anyhow. It would be their word against ours.” With that, Jenny ran into the house.

Art was shaking. He was just a boy. I know I was only twelve too but Art was a child in a way I never was. He cried. “I want summer to be fun,” he was saying. “I want it to be fun.” I didn’t bother telling him those times were long over for the likes of us. Art sulked out to the garden. I went upstairs and got cleaned up for choir practice. There was nothing to do but go ahead with the rest of the day.

Pomeline was in the music room. Her eyes were red and glassy but she was calm as she beckoned me over to the piano. “I see you are early for practice, Fancy,” she said, glancing away.

I couldn’t believe she’d let that middle-aged man touch her.

“Just a few more days, Fancy, then we can all relax. Why don’t you and I do a short warm-up, just the two of us?” We began, but before we could get halfway through the first piece Jenny came in, shut the door and sat down in a chair, staring at the huge centrepiece of flowers I had put in that morning. We kept playing until Jenny started impatiently shuffling papers.

“Jenny, could you give us a bit of time here, just a few minutes? We aren’t ready for the full rehearsal. Margaret is waking Granny up from her nap. Why don’t you go and see if they need help. Margaret has looked so ill recently. The work seems such a strain on her. But she’s only my age. I don’t understand.”

Jenny smiled.

“Jenny, you could at least offer. I am sure they would appreciate it.”

“They don’t need my help, Pommie. That’s been made perfectly clear by Margaret. And it’s of no concern to me if Margaret
doesn’t feel well. She should quit if she isn’t able to do the job. I could have taken care of Granny perfectly well by myself.”

“Well, that’s not true. It’s too much work for a child your age to look after Granny. You know that. Dr. Baker thought Margaret would make it easier when Granny insisted on coming out here, and she has been excellent with Granny.”

Hearing Dr. Baker’s name made Jenny turn red. “Dr. Baker is a horrible man. Can’t you see that? Do you think he and Mother are just friends? What do you think has been going on at the house in the city? They think I go to bed at eight o’clock and sleep. They’re idiots. I know what they do. I’ve seen what they do. You think he’s special but he’s not. He is not special.”

Pomeline couldn’t get any more white. Her lips started trembling as she looked down at her hands. Before she could respond, the door burst open and in came Marigold and Margaret and Art and Dr. Baker and Harry and Sakura and Estelle, everyone acting like it had been a lazy summer day at Petal’s End. Margaret did look ill, and she was clutching her chest.

Dr. Baker lifted up both his hands. “Let’s start, shall we?”

Marigold didn’t look at me, not once. At least I knew now why she couldn’t face me.

“This is such a delightful ballad. I learned it as a young girl … One, two, three,” Marigold counted, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. Pomeline played the chorus and we sang.

Jenny adjusted the sheet music. Marigold’s eyes were shut, but whether she was napping or listening, I couldn’t ever tell.

No one had drawn the blinds that day. The room was an oven. Sakura got up and opened the window. Jenny elbowed Pomeline in the arm ever so slightly.

“Jenny, stop. Or I’m simply not doing this,” Pomeline said.

Marigold’s eyes were still sealed shut but her lips fluttered. “Girls. Girls. You are going to be performing for hundreds of people. Please. Get along, darlings, please.”

Pomeline looked up at Dr. Baker quickly but he was looking at Estelle, who was looking at the flowers. She closed her eyes and resumed playing.

We went through the song over and over, until the last bits of piano faded and the room was still except for Marigold’s soft snore. Pomeline’s fingers rested on the keyboard. Dr. Baker stood up and Pomeline followed his every move, her long golden hair waving down over her shoulders. Jenny reached over, fussing with the sheet music.

There was a knock and a click as the door opened, and Hector was there holding a set of car keys. He leaned in the doorway, his tanned cheek on the dark wooden frame, clapping like he’d just witnessed a miracle. “I just came to tell you I took Marilyn’s car back to her house and parked it. I waited until the music stopped. Oh my good God, it’s beautiful. I didn’t know you could all do that.”

Just then Margaret bent over, coughing something terrible, banging into Jenny, who wobbled on her frail chicken legs. Pomeline’s fingers were still on the keys, and Hector kept clapping, and Dr. Baker joined in, and suddenly Jenny tumbled into Pomeline’s
shoulder, one stiff hand hitting the keyboard, the other flailing for a brace, then pulling the heavy wooden cover over, smashing it down on her sister’s long white fingers. Pomeline’s face crumpled, as it had in the Annex with Dr. Baker behind her, as she tried to pull her fingers out from the lid. Her screams filled the room and poured out of the windows, and I started shivering, and outside the window the glass wind bells were still, for the breeze had stopped.