When the Bough Breaks Page 4

  “Now look what you've done, Millie. I'd just got him to go to sleep. Whatever did you wake him up for? It serves you right if he yells for hours,” Hamish says, looking at me as if I've lost my mind.

  “I don't ever want to hear you scare Eddie with talk like that again!” I say. My heart is hammering and I can hardly catch my breath. Oh, please, let me be wrong. I'm almost afraid to ask, “Did anyone call at the house while I was out?”

  I put Eddie back in his basket and smooth the little tuft of hair that's just beginning to grow. He waves his fists in the air.

  “Some woman came to the door,” says Hamish.

  “What did she look like? What did she want?” I need to know, but dread what Hamish is going to say.

  “She was thin, thin as a scarecrow, and she was selling shoelaces. She asked after the baby, in a kind of whisper, and I said no to the shoelaces, told her the baby is fine, and I'm reading to him. Then I shut the door. I'm late for my swim, Millie; you promised you wouldn't be long.”

  So she didn't leave town after all, but why is she staying around? I grab Hamish's arm before he runs out the door. “I'm not finished – wait a minute, Hamish, are you sure that's all she said?”

  “Yes, I'm sure. I wish you'd stop fussing, Millie. I'm leaving right now.” He runs off to join his friends, his towel rolled under his arm.

  I call after him, “Supper's at seven – don't be late!”

  He's gone, pretending not to hear me. If Mother were here, she'd shake her head and say, “I'm going to have to speak to your father about that young man; he's getting to be a real handful.”

  A minute ago I was so hot, I was ready to jump in the river myself. Now I'm as cold as a block of ice. I know very well who was at the door. I lift the key down from the hook on the wall by the sink and put Eddie's basket by the window, so I can see and hear him. I go into the garden and lock the door behind me. I'm afraid someone will try to get in. Not someone – Her. The traveling woman, Elsie Bates.

  The sun is bright, so bright that I close my eyes for a moment against the glare. Something, or someone, brushes my shoulder. I open my eyes and see a shadowy shape behind the branches of the apple tree. Is it her, hiding, waiting to see my baby?

  I run to fetch the broom that we keep by the rain barrel and shout, “Get away from here,” hitting the boughs of the tree so hard that half a dozen apples fall to the ground. Two blackbirds, their wings tipped with red, fly from the middle of the tree, scattering leaves.

  I lean against the broom handle, half-panting, half-sobbing. Blackbirds, their wings spread in flight, must have brushed past me on their way to rest in the cool of the leaves. It wasn't Elsie Bates at all. Is this me, Down-to-earth Millie, seeing evil in every harmless shadow? Nevertheless, I search every inch of the garden before picking up the fallen apples and, gathering them in my skirt, return to the house and the sleeping baby.

  Later, rolling out dough to make pastry, I go over and over in my mind what I would have done if the woman had been hiding in the garden. I can't find an answer why she's hanging around a strange town, instead of going off to her sister's. Why did she want to come back here? Should I speak to Father about her? And say what? That she asked after Eddie? There's no crime in that. He'll say she was being thoughtful, that perhaps she'd heard about Mother. I try to convince myself that there is truly nothing to worry about.…

  Perhaps Mrs. Bates is attempting to get enough money to leave town. Maybe selling shoelaces is easier than reading tea leaves. I don't think she's a thief, and even if she were, there is nothing to steal. The egg money is safely hidden away.

  I can reason things out till kingdom come, but there's still something about her that terrifies me. The minute Mother invited her into the kitchen, everything changed. A terrible thing happened to our family. Could she have made it happen? She knew Mother was going to die. She as good as said so. What does she want? Why doesn't she keep away from us?

  That night, lying in bed, listening to Eddie breathing quietly in his crib beside me, the time when I feel closest to Mother … the time when I can almost believe that she is in the room watching over us … the only quiet time in the whole day when I try to share my thoughts with her … I can't seem to bring her near.

  “I HATE HER”

  Faces at the window, voices at the door. “Millie, it's only us.” I run to let them in, embarrassed because the back door is always kept unlocked.

  “Sorry, when I was outside yesterday, some blackbirds flew at me. I was afraid they'd fly into the kitchen. I've been making apple pies,” I say to Grace and Sadie.

  Grace begins to sing, “Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.” Sadie nudges her, and Grace colors and says, “Sorry, I forgot.”

  “It's alright to sing,” I tell them, “Mother was always singing,” but I know Grace feels awkward.

  Sadie changes the subject – she's good at things like that. “I thought maybe your father had told you to lock the door because the trains still bring so many hoboes from out west.”

  I shake my head. “He hasn't mentioned anything lately though I've heard him tell Hamish that there's nothing romantic about riding the rails. It's the only way unemployed men can cross the country to look for work. And once in a while, he's mentioned an accident – hoboes falling off the boxcars, losing arms or legs, or worse. Hamish likes hearing about the railroad police; he says if he wasn't going to be a blacksmith like Father, he'd be a policeman.”

  “Then he should have been with me yesterday,” Sadie tells us. “I was running an errand for Mother, way on the other side of town, on Fair Avenue. I saw a small crowd gathered outside the bakery. I crossed over, thinking maybe there was a special on something, like broken biscuits. Constable Albert was there. He was arresting a hobo, putting handcuffs on him. After the constable took him away, one of the women said, ‘Serves him right. There's too many like him – just passing through, looking for handouts. They cause nothing but trouble. There's folk around here every bit as much in need as they are.’ She sounded so mean.”

  “Was the man caught stealing?” I ask, and pour out three glasses of lemonade, hoping it's not too sour (I've run low on sugar this week).

  “Someone said that he wanted to buy a loaf of bread to take back on the train. He thought day-old bread cost only five cents; he didn't know the price had gone up two cents. So when the girl gave him three cents change for his dime, instead of the nickel he expected, the man threw it at her. The pennies hit her in the face, and the baker called for the constable. I felt a bit sorry for the man. More than likely, that was the only money he had in the world. Still, there was no excuse to take it out on the girl. She just works there.”

  “I'll keep the door locked, Sadie. I guess you never know who might come along.” I'm glad of any reason to keep the back door locked…. “I have missed seeing you two. Is the lemonade too sour?”

  Grace says, “It's delicious, thanks.”

  Eddie wakes up and tries out his voice, and Sadie begs to hold him. (Grace is one of five, so Eddie is not a novelty to her.) “I'd give anything to have a brother or sister,” Sadie sighs.

  “I'd be happy to spare Hamish anytime,” I say, joining in the laughter. I realize this is the first time since Mother died that I've laughed at all.

  “We came to tell you about Denise Tetrault,” Sadie begins. “We were gawking at the display window of the Uptown Silk Shop, when who should stop by but Denise.”

  Grace continues, “Normally, as you know, she doesn't bother to talk to us. We're not good enough for ‘Mademoiselle,’ but today she could not wait to let us know that she's been asked to work an extra week at Mercer's. She said she expects to take over your job anytime now, seeing you have your hands too full at home to come back to work. She said it in such a spiteful way I felt like giving her a good pinch.”

  “Little toad,” Sadie chimes in again. “She had the cheek to say, knowing full well we'd come straight here and tell you, that Mr. Mercer told her how beautifull
y she fits into his establishment. It's not true that she's being taken on instead of you, is it, Millie?”

  “I'll tell you the way it really happened: Denise went to see Mr. Mercer and lied about being my friend. She said that I'd sent her, and now she's doing everything she can so that he'll let her work there permanently, instead of me. It's not fair; not that she cares about being fair. Maybe she even offered to take a nickel less than he pays me. Mr. Mercer has a business to run and wants someone reliable, and I did ask for another week off. I almost told him that Denise fibbed, but I explained I'd be back next week as usual. Mr. Mercer said he'd see how I manage, but I haven't worked that out yet. I can't rely on Hamish, and with Father working such long hours, there's no one to take care of Eddie. I may have to smuggle him in under my apron.”

  “I think you've behaved beautifully,” Sadie says, “and I bet Denise doesn't do nearly as well as you, Millie. She should be grateful you didn't give her away to Mr. Mercer.”

  Grace gives me a hug. “Everything will be fine, you'll see,” she says.

  I feel much better, getting all that off my chest. I miss having someone to talk to….

  It's almost supper time. Sadie says she still has laundry to deliver for her mother. “Once in a while, I even get a tip, and you know what? It makes me feel like a beggar. I hate that as much as walking through the streets with my brown parcel.”

  “It's no different than delivering milk or bread,” I say trying to make her feel better.

  “Yes, it is. How would you like to carry people's shirts and underwear through the streets? Do stop giggling, Grace; it's not funny,” Sadie says, upset.

  Grace manages to compose herself. “They can't see through paper, silly. No one knows what you're delivering. Look happy and you'll get lots of tips, and we'll help you spend them. Come on, I'll walk you back home.”

  I give Eddie his bottle early; he's got into the habit of yelling the minute Father comes through the door, so no one can have supper in peace. When he's finished, I make batter for pancakes, pour the mixture into a heated pan, and watch it turn a nice, crisp, golden brown – not burned round the edges at all. I am ready to dish the pancakes up just as Hamish rushes in for supper. I pour him a glass of milk and ask him to wash his hands. He takes no notice, and crams a slice of bread into his mouth. Father sits down at the table, and I serve him first. Thankfully Eddie is quiet.

  “Didn't you hear what I said, Hamish?” I put on my big-sister expression.

  “My hands are clean from swimming.” Hamish looks mutinous.

  “Please do as you are told,” I say, passing Father the maple syrup.

  “You can't tell me what to do; you're not my mother.” His unkind words bounce off the wall and hang in the air between us.

  Father pushes his plate aside and gets up, frowning at Hamish. His face looks older these last few weeks. I hadn't noticed those lines around his eyes – laugh lines aren't the same, somehow, as worried ones.

  Mother said I should hold the family together. But how do I do that when Hamish is always angry at me and when Father has changed into someone so sad and silent?

  There is a long pause. “What did you say, Hamish?” Father's voice is ominously quiet.

  Hamish turns scarlet and his eyes well up. “All I said is, Millie's not my …” he takes a deep breath, his anger bursting out of him, “… not my mother. She's not, and I hate her, and I hate that stupid baby. I hope the Gypsies come and take him away.”

  I put my hand over my mouth so as not to scream. The room sways. I see the three of us – Mother, the traveling woman, and me – sitting around this table, and I can still feel those hard thin fingers gripping my hand. I sit down, and the room rights itself again.

  Father's arm is half raised. Is he going to hit Hamish? He's never hit us, never. He doesn't believe in the strap. “It didn't make me a better man,” I heard him say to Mother once.

  Hamish waits, tense and defiant, ready for battle. Father's arm drops to his side.

  “Leave the table, Hamish, and go to your room. You will not go out to play with your friends again until I say so. And you will apologize to your sister.”

  “I'm not sorry, so there,” Hamish says.

  Father grabs him by the shoulders and marches him out the door. When he returns, Father says, “I'll get the ladder and we'll strip the apple tree before the fruit spoils.”

  I bring the apple bin and we pick apples. We don't talk about Hamish, as Mother and I would have done. Supper is forgotten, and I try not to think about what just happened … how we seem to have turned into enemies instead of loving members of the same family. I push that thought away and plan on filling jars and jars of applesauce.

  After we finish storing the fruit, I ask Father if I should make tea. “You didn't have a chance to finish your supper, Father. Let me cut you a slice of pie.”

  “Maybe later, Millie, thank you. Dan Price is coming to the forge with some tools for me to look at. I'll be home in an hour or so.”

  After I've bathed Eddie and put him to bed, I sing the song I remember Mother singing to Hamish and me when we were little, to help us fall asleep:

  Rock-a-bye, baby

  In the treetop

  When the wind blows

  The cradle will rock

  When the bough breaks

  The cradle will fall

  And down will come baby

  Cradle and all.

  I listen at the door of Hamish's room before I go downstairs to wash the supper dishes. There isn't a sound. Hamish must still be sulking.

  The stack of cold pancakes left over from supper sits untouched on the kitchen table. I take a bite – it's good. I just finish drying the dishes when a familiar voice calls out: “It's only me, Millie – may I come in?”

  I open the door to Grace, who beams at me and says, “I asked Mother and she said I could.”

  “Could what, Grace? I have no idea what you are talking about. Sit down and catch your breath.” I point to the pancakes, make tea, hand Grace a cup – with a little milk, the way she likes it – then sit down too, happy to have her to talk to.

  “You have no idea what a horrible, cranky supper we had. No one ate a thing. Do help yourself; there's no sense in wasting good food. Hamish is upstairs in disgrace, and Father is still at the forge. He practically lives there now.” I sip my tea. There, I've said it.

  “Did you hear a word I said when I came in, Millie? Mother has agreed.”

  “Grace, you are not making sense. What did she agree to?”

  “On the way home this afternoon, Sadie and I talked about how we could help you keep your job at Mercer's. You know how I've tried to find work outside of school-time? There are so many experienced men and women trying to get hired that it's hard. Woolworth's has a wait list as long as my arm. Sadie's mother can't spare her for the time being – she's needed for pressing as well as delivery. But I'm here, Millie – experienced, reliable. Haven't I been looking after our terrible twins ever since they were born? Mother says they'll be easier to manage once they turn three … and that's not far off, thank goodness. So I asked her if I could watch Eddie for you, and she agreed!

  “We've worked it out – you bring Eddie on your way to work, and pack his bottle and whatever he needs for a few hours, and you can pick him up again on your way home. It's only Friday afternoons and Saturday mornings. Mother's around if there's an emergency – oh, don't look like that. There won't be one, and you're not far away.

  “Yesterday, I let Cynthia and Clara dig in the little patch of ground at the back of the house. I closed my eyes for only a few seconds, and when I opened them, Clara was feeding Cynthia worms! But don't worry, I stopped her before she swallowed any – doesn't that prove how trustworthy I am? I never really go to sleep when I'm watching the children.”

  “Grace Ludlow, is this supposed to be a recommendation – closing your eyes on the job?”

  Grace laughs a bit sheepishly. “I guess it doesn't sound very good, do
es it?” I shake my head. “The point is, Millie, nothing happened, and it will be a while before Eddie crawls around digging for worms. So what do you say?”

  “I say, yes please, and thank you, Grace; you are a true friend. I'd hate to give up my work, and Mr. Mercer pays me fifty cents for the week, so that's twenty-five cents each. We'll split my pay straight down the middle.”

  “Riches, Millie. I'll be able to start saving to buy Christmas presents. My brothers will be home from Toronto and we'll all be together.”

  I think of our Christmas dinner table … of us eating mince pies that I will have made from Mother's recipe and trying not to look at her empty chair.

  “My mother's always complaining that she can't afford to replace her chipped teacups, and I saw that Claxton's is having a special summer sale on bone china cups and saucers. You can buy one for a dime. We'll be helping each other out, Millie. I can't wait to get started.” Grace looks up at Papa Joe's clock and continues, “I'd better get going. I promised Mother I wouldn't be late.”

  “I don't know how to thank you, Grace.”

  “You just did, oh, and the pancakes were great. See you next week. Bye, Millie.”

  I lock the door after her, leaning against it for a moment. What a good friend she is … but what will I do about Eddie when school starts? Who is going to take over when I'm away all day? Father and I will have to have a proper talk soon and make plans.

  I'm tired and go up to bed. My head's buzzing with everything that's happened today. I hear Father arrive, lock up, come upstairs, and close his door. He's late getting back. He works such long hours. Does he stay in the forge because he doesn't want to be home with us anymore? Eddie's crying irritates him … I see him looking at me … I wonder if he thinks I can't manage. That makes me nervous and clumsy.

  I think about Mother and what she'd do to make everything run smoothly. Only it's because she's not here that we're all falling to pieces. How can we ever get back to normal, and make things right between us again?