Elixir (7 page)

I couldn't blame him. Sometimes when she was all hunched over in her old work clothes even I hardly recognized her.

“Were you ever at our home?” I asked, thinking that was how he would have known my mother.

“I have talked to your mother at faculty gatherings, but I was never
honoured
with an invitation to the house.” He smirked. “So hard to believe that the wife of Professor Williams would now be a common cleaning woman.” He shook his head. “To have fallen so low after seeing oneself as being so
superior
. Now reduced to cleaning out the trash in
my
office.”

He started chuckling and I suddenly felt even worse than when he had accused me of stealing.

“I personally would assume,” Dr. Banting said, “that you were not invited to their home simply because you were, and are, a snob and a crashing bore.”

“What did you say?” the man demanded.

“Which of my words did you not understand? Is it
bore
or
snob
that you need defined?”

“The nerve of you to—”

“The nerve of
you
to feel superior to anybody! You are not a man of
honour
. Now, I think you owe this young lady an apology.”

“You want me to apologize to her?” he asked. He sounded shocked.

“That's what I would expect if you were to falsely accuse me of such a crime,” Dr. Banting said.

“She shouldn't have been in my office!” he protested.

Dr. Banting looked at me. “He is correct on that point, but … Ruthie, are you hurt?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head.

“Then why are you rubbing your arm?” He walked over and gently took my arm, turning it so he could examine it. There were three distinct marks—the start of bruises—where the man's fingers had dug into me.

Dr. Banting looked up at him. “Did you do this?”

“Not intentionally. I was merely holding her by the arm so she couldn't escape and then she began to squirm and—”

Dr. Banting grabbed the man by the lapels of his jacket and nearly lifted him off his feet. “You are a thug,
a coward, and a bully. Who else would harm an innocent young girl? Now, leave my sight, before I take actions that I might possibly regret.”

“Are you threatening me?” the man demanded.

Dr. Banting moved close to him, so close that their faces practically touched. “I am making no threat. Consider my words a promise.”

The man's mouth dropped open.

Dr. Banting released his hold. The man looked like he was thinking of saying something but then thought better of it. He turned and rushed away down the hall and back toward his office. There was a crash as he slammed his door closed, and I jumped.

Dr. Banting put an arm around my shoulders. “Come, Ruthie, let's go find your mother.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“
I'M GOING OUTSIDE
for a while,” I said as I passed by Mr. Mercer.

“Does your mother know what you're up to?” he asked.

“I wouldn't go without her permission.”

“That's what I thought, but I had to check. You're a good girl. Certainly not a thief.”

His words stopped me in my tracks. What had he heard?

“Fred—Dr. Banting—he told me what happened. The nerve of that old coot to blame you. He probably just misplaced those things in his office, then blamed it on the cleaning woman. I've always thought that man was plain stupid!”

“But he's a professor.”

“I've been working around this university for the better part of forty-five years and believe me, the words
professor
and
smart
don't always go together.”

“They don't?”

“Educated and intelligent are different sorts of things. You wouldn't believe the things some of these dodo birds do. Losing their keys, locking themselves out of their offices, getting lost—even falling down stairs. Sometimes I feel more like a babysitter than a security guard!”

I laughed.

“Not all of 'em though. Not your father.”

“My father … I didn't know you knew my father.”

“The university is a small place. I knew your father well. He was a real gentleman, he was. Some of these people think they're better than you just 'cause they got themselves an education—they don't have a word to say except to maybe order you around or ignore you like you're a piece of furniture. But not your old man—he always had a ‘Good morning' or asked about my missus or how my leg was doing. First class all the way, he was. And smart. Like his daughter.” He gave me a broad grin. “Now you go outside and have yourself a little break. I'm gonna peek out every now and again, just to make sure you're doing fine.”

“Thanks, Mr. Mercer.”

“It's a pleasure, darling. But one thing, before you go out.” He reached under his desk and pulled out a tin. He opened it to reveal brownies. “My better half made 'em. She makes the best brownies in the entire world! And just so you know I'm telling the truth, you better take a couple for yourself.”
I didn't need to be asked again. I reached into the tin. The brownies were warm and moist and sticky. I took two.

“Now you have to promise me that you'll eat 'em both.”

“I will.”

“Will you?” he asked, giving me a questioning look. “Or were you planning on saving one for your mother?”

“Well.…”

“You eat 'em both and I'll make sure your mother gets one too. Okay?”

“Thank you. I will.”

Before I'd even reached the door I popped the first one in my mouth. It practically melted away. It was fantastic!

I pushed open the big door and squinted as the bright sunlight hit my eyes. I scrambled down the steps and cut across the lawn. It was brown and rough and worn down. The only places where the grass was still green was where it was shaded from the relentless sun. I stopped as I reached one of those islands of shade thrown out by a tree. It was a gigantic elm, its branches reaching higher than the highest building. The leaves at the top were swaying in the breeze—although even the leaves seemed to be wilted. I sat down with my back against its trunk, opened up my book, and started to read. I tilted my head slightly to the side … was that a breeze I'd felt against my cheek? If it was, it was gone
now anyway. I pressed my back harder against the tree and took a deep breath. The air was so hot that I felt it trace a path down my throat and into my lungs. Possibly the only places in the whole world hotter than where I sat were the Sahara desert and the third floor of the building where my mother was working.

It had been two days since the episode with that man, that professor. I'd replayed it over and over in my head. I really shouldn't have been in his office, and since then I'd made it a point not to even go into the corridor that led there. I kept thinking about Dr. Banting rushing in to save the day, how gallant he'd been. He was like a knight on a white horse charging in to rescue the damsel in distress.

My mother still didn't know anything about it. At least I didn't think she knew. I'd seen that professor only once again. He'd walked by while I was sitting in the hall reading, and either he didn't see me or he chose not to.

I couldn't help but wonder what he did at the university—what if he was one of those vivisectionists that the protestors were talking about? He certainly seemed to be monstrous enough. If he'd been so readily prepared to hit me, he'd have no trouble hurting poor defenceless animals.

Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I picked up my copy of
A Tale of Two Cities
. It was a wonderful story. Reading was so much better than simply studying, and my mother seemed to insist that I do one or the
other. I knew she meant well, but it made me feel as though I'd never left school.

“Are you enjoying your book?”

I looked up. It was that woman from the steps, the one who had made the speech … at least I thought it was her.

“I like it,” I said. I wasn't sure if I should be talking to a stranger, but I didn't want to be impolite.

“Reading is not only a joy but a way to explore the world,” she said.

“That's what my mother says.”

“Then I'd say you have a very smart mother.”

My mother
was
smart. I never doubted that. I just wished sometimes she could be more fun—the way she used to be.

“Do you mind if I share your shade?” the woman asked.

“No … sure … it's not really mine and there's lots of it.”

“Thank you. There are only a few cool puddles of shade on the whole campus.” She sat down beside me. “My name is Melissa Jones.” She held out her hand.

“I'm Ruth Williams. I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Jones,” I said as I shook her hand.

“Please, Miss Jones is far too formal. Call me Melissa.”

I never called adults by their first names, and even though she wasn't that much older than me—maybe in her early twenties—she was still an adult.

“It's all right to call me by my first name because I've asked you to,” she said gently. “Okay?”

I nodded.

“I saw you come out of that building.” She gestured toward the stairs.

I suddenly got a bad feeling. Was she spying on me?

“I was walking up as you were walking out,” she explained. “I was wondering, why were you in there? Does your father work in that building? Is he a medical researcher or a professor?”

“Not my father. My mother.”

“Your mother is a professor?”

“Not a professor … she's a … a cleaning woman.”

“And do you come along to help her?” Melissa asked.

“Not to help really—although I try to sometimes. It's more because there's no place else for me to go, and I like being around here with her.”

“Better than being with your friends and playing?”

“I play with my friends sometimes.” When we'd moved, I'd left behind most of my friends. I'd made some new ones, but it wasn't the same.

“Well, Ruth, now that we've been introduced I hope you'll consider me a friend.” She looked at her watch.

“Is there going to be another demonstration today?” I asked.

“No.” She smiled. “Did you recognize me from a demonstration?”

I felt as if I'd been caught in a lie or doing something wrong.

“I saw some of it,” I finally admitted.

“And did you see me speak?”

“Yes. You speak very well.”

“Thank you. It's easy to speak strongly when the issue is so close to the heart. Do you know why we're protesting?”

“Sort of. It's because of the animals. Because you don't think they should use animals in experiments for science.”

“That is the gist of it.” She paused. “Just out of curiosity, do you know where they keep those dogs?”

I nodded. “In a kennel up on the third floor.”

“Have you ever been in there?”

“Never,” I said. Nor did I ever want to. “I've passed by it, by the closed door.”

“And as you pass by I bet you can hear the dogs crying out in distress and pain and sorrow.”

“They're so loud it would be impossible not to hear them,” I said.

“That's no surprise. If the wind is right you can even hear them out here. Listen.”

I cocked my head to the side. I didn't hear anything at all … no, I did hear a faint barking.

“I can't even imagine what terrible conditions they must be living under. Probably kept in tiny cages, not walked, not properly fed. The whole place must have the stink of death.”

“It does smell bad,” I admitted, “but my mother isn't in charge of cleaning the kennel, honestly.”

“Oh, I'm not blaming your mother, Ruth.”

“She doesn't even go in there,” I said.

“And she should be grateful she does not. What goes on in that kennel is the stuff of nightmares, terrible beyond belief.”

I wanted to change the subject. “If there isn't going to be a demonstration, why are you here today?”

“I'm just walking around the campus handing out literature.” She opened up her big handbag and produced some of the pamphlets I'd seen the demonstrators giving out.

“Here,” she said, offering one to me.

I drew my hand away, the way I'd seen other people do, as though I was afraid to touch it.

“That's okay,” she said. “I can understand you being apprehensive, but it won't bite … here.” She extended her arm and this time I took one.

“I think anybody who can read
A Tale of Two Cities
can definitely understand these words, but if you have any questions, any at all, you just ask me. I'm around here quite often.”

Out of her bag she drew a package of cigarettes and some matches. “Do you mind if I smoke?” she asked.

“You smoke?” I asked in astonishment. I'd never known a woman who smoked.

“Why not? We have the vote now so we should be able to do the same things as men, don't you think?”

“I guess so.”

She put the cigarette in her mouth and lit it with a match. She inhaled, and the tip of the cigarette began glowing red. She waved her hand and the match died. She got to her feet, coughing a bit, and brushed off her blouse. “Right now I'm off to the corner of University and King to give out pamphlets. Would you like to come with me?”

I shook my head.

“Perhaps another time you could join me for a soda. My treat.”

“I can't just leave like that.”

“I understand. You'd need to check with your mother first. Would you like me to come into the building with you to meet your mother and we could ask her together?”

“You can't come into the building.… It's not allowed,” I said.

“Oh, that's right, there's a security guard right at the front door,” she said. “But if I were your guest I could come in to meet your mother.”