The Whole Truth (2 page)

“Bloomers!” Mrs. Tuttle laughed. “Blanche wore those at
her
girls school. They’re loose drawers that you wear over your regular drawers.”

Polly couldn’t imagine wearing a school uniform at all—it looked so ugly in the pictures. But Maud kept going over every item with relish.

“I need to get black
and
white running shoes for sports. Look at this, Polly—they have grass hockey and basketball and lacrosse. I bet I’ll be good at all of those.”

Polly glanced at the photos of hearty girls in tunics prancing around with various balls. They all looked like Maud, confident
and competent. Her sister would fit in perfectly. Maybe she would like St. Winifred’s so much that she wouldn’t think of Polly at all.

“Where will you buy your uniform?” asked Mrs. Tuttle. “At the school?”

“No, at a special store in Victoria.” Maud looked worried. “School starts on Wednesday—that’s only five days away! What if the store has run out of uniforms? I don’t want to be different from everyone else.”

“If they’ve run out, they can order what you’re missing,” said Mrs. Tuttle. “And I’m sure no one will mind if you don’t have everything, especially since—”

“Look!” cried Polly. She pointed out the window. “A—a moose!”

“Where?” the other two asked.

“It ran into the trees. I think it was a moose … maybe not,” finished Polly lamely. At least it had made the Turtle change the subject.

“Shall I read to you?” Mrs. Tuttle picked up
Jalna.

Maud shrugged. “If you want to.”

Polly closed her eyes and leaned her head against Maud, pretending to listen.

Polly woke up when the Turtle stood and yawned. “I’m going back to our room to have a little nap, girls,” she told them. “Will you be all right by yourselves?”

“Of course we will,” said Maud.

“Don’t talk to strangers,” warned Mrs. Tuttle, “and don’t go out on the open deck—you might get a cinder in your eye.”

“We won’t,” promised Maud.

After the Turtle had disappeared, Maud said, “Come on!”

“Where?”

“Outside, of course.”

They pushed through a heavy door and stepped onto the open platform at the end of the train. Their hair whipped back in the wind and they could smell smoke from the engine. Mrs. Tuttle was right about the cinders—Polly had to brush one away from her face.

CHUchuchuchuCHUchuchuchu
roared the engine. “Isn’t this swell?” shouted Maud.

But then the whistle sounded and Polly screamed as the train approached a tunnel. Maud grabbed her hand and they dashed inside just in time.

“I don’t want to go out there again!” said Polly, brushing bits of grit out of her hair. She wiped her grimy hands on her dress—luckily it was black.

“Okay, but at least we did it, and the Turtle will never know!” Maud patted the seat beside her. “Come and sit down. This may be our only chance to talk and we have lots to discuss.”

Polly quaked. Ever since it had happened, all of Maud’s discussions were scary.

“Listen to me, Doodle,” said Maud. She opened up her notebook. “I’ve written down some rules for us.”

“Rules?”

“Yes, rules. Once we arrive in Vancouver we’ll be surrounded by relatives. They may be really snoopy. The rules are to help us remember how to act. Especially you. I don’t want you to give in while I’m gone.”

“Gone?”

“Polly, stop repeating everything I say! Yes, gone! You know that next week I’ll go away to school. I’ll come home on the weekends and
of course for the holidays, but during the week you’ll be on your own. I’ve told you that a thousand times!”

“Sorry, Maud. What are the rules?”

“Number one: Don’t tell
anyone
what happened.”

“Of course I won’t!”

“It won’t be as easy as you think,” said Maud. “All sorts of people are going to ask about Daddy. Relatives, teachers, kids at your new school … Can I absolutely trust you?”

“Of course you can! I already promised you I wouldn’t tell and I won’t.” Polly looked at the finger that her sister had pricked with a needle two weeks before. Maud had pierced her own finger as well and they had rubbed the blood together in a pact.

“Maybe no one will
want
to talk about Daddy,” said Polly.

“They might. Lots of people are going to tell you how sorry they are and expect you to answer. Just keep saying, ‘I don’t want to talk about it.'”

She looked at her notebook. “Rule number two: Don’t
think
about it. Don’t think about what happened and don’t even think about Daddy. I want you to forget about our life with him in Winnipeg. We’re starting a new life now.”

“I can’t
help
thinking about it! It’s always
there
in my mind. And I can’t not think about
Daddy!”

Maud looked afraid, something she very seldom did. “I know … it’s always in my mind too. But we
have
to forget.” She took Polly’s hands in hers and stared into her eyes as if she were hypnotizing her. “Daddy is
dead.
You have to believe that. I know it’s hard, but he’s gone, and we have to get on with our lives.”

“But Maud, I
can’t
forget Daddy! I miss him so much! And I don’t understand why—”

Maud squeezed Polly’s hands so tightly that Polly winced. “Doodle, that’s enough! You have to
forget!
Do you understand?”

Polly started to cry. “No, I don’t! And let go, Maud. You’re hurting me! I don’t understand, and I think you’re hiding something!”

Maud released Polly’s hands and handed her a handkerchief. “I’m sorry, Poll, but there’s nothing more to say. I’m not hiding anything. Really, I’m not!”

Polly knew that Maud was lying. She was lying to protect Polly. Her secret was locked up inside her as tightly as her hair was braided. Pleading wouldn’t unlock it; when Maud was this determined, there was nothing Polly could do.

She wiped her eyes and whispered, “Okay. I’ll try to forget. Are there any more rules?”

“Yes. Number three: Don’t trust
anyone
but me.”

“That’s easy,” said Polly. “I already follow that rule.”

“Good. Number four: Be brave. I’m really sorry I’m going to boarding school and leaving you alone, but it’s important for me to get a good education. This is all horrible, but at least it gives me a chance at that. You’re going to miss me at first. I’ll miss you, too, Doodle. But we both have to be as brave as lions!”

“I could
never
be as brave as you are,” said Polly.

“You have to be,” said Maud. “You have no choice. Rule number five: Be polite and helpful and well-behaved. It’s important that Grandmother likes us. We want her to keep us, because we have nowhere else to go.”

“But what if we don’t like
her?
What if she’s mean?”

“Then it’s even more important that we make a good impression. But I don’t think she’ll be mean. She offered to take us, after all. And she’s always sounded nice in her letters.”

Grandmother had written to them several times a year. They had sent short notes back, to thank her for birthday and Christmas presents. She had seemed so far away, in another life. But now they were going to be part of that life!

“Maud, why haven’t we ever met our grandmother?”

“We
have
met her. She came to Mother’s funeral—I can just barely remember her. I don’t know why she hasn’t come to see us since then. I asked Daddy once, but all he said was that she and our mother had a terrible argument and stopped speaking to each other.”

Polly leaned against Maud. She started to weep again. “I don’t
want
to go to the island and live with Grandmother! I just want to stay on the train with you forever! I’m scared!”

Maud squeezed Polly’s shoulder. Her own eyes were moist, but she sniffed and said firmly, “You’re already forgetting rule number four: Be brave. I should add one more: No crying!” She gave Polly a forced smile. “Let’s try to look on the bright side, Doodle. I bet our relatives will be fine. Maybe they’ll even have a dog!”

Polly swallowed her tears. They gathered inside and filled her until she felt like choking. “That would be nice,” she whispered.

Maud took her hand. “It must be almost time for dinner. Let’s go back to our room before the Turtle comes to find us.”

E
arly the next morning the train pulled into Vancouver. Polly followed Mrs. Tuttle into the crowded station, clutching her small suitcase in one hand and Maud’s hand in the other. Behind them, a porter wheeled the rest of their luggage.

“Maud! Polly!” Four adults rushed up to them. Everyone was talking and hugging and kissing and the Turtle was fussing about their bags and Maud kept saying, “I’m so happy to meet you!” in a high, false voice.

But Polly couldn’t speak. If she did, the tempest inside her would erupt. All she could do was stare. Sorting out four new people was hard work.

The tall young man was Gregor. “I’m your first cousin once removed!” he informed her. Polly didn’t know what that meant, but her frozen tongue wouldn’t let her ask. Gregor lifted her right off the ground and gave her forehead a smacking kiss. He had woolly curls and a round, grinning face.

His parents were Great-Aunt Jean and Great-Uncle Rand. Uncle Rand was as moon-faced as his son, but he had hardly any hair. He
pecked Polly’s cheek. “Welcome, young lady,” he said quietly. “We’re blessed to have you with us at last.”

The next kiss was from Aunt Jean, a spry little woman, holding a cigarette, with short springy hair that curled around her purple hat. “Oh, chickie, you’re the image of your dear mother! She was my niece, you know.”

Polly couldn’t take this in. Maud had told her about all of these relatives, but the only one Polly had thought about was Grandmother.

And here she was. A stooped woman in a tweed suit, her hair pinned up neatly. She took Polly’s hands and stood in front of her for a long moment.

Grandmother’s face was angular and her mouth was set in a straight line. Her sad grey eyes behind her glasses were full of such fierce compassion that Polly almost let her tears loose—but then she would drown in them.

“Oh, hen, it’s been so, so long since I’ve seen you—not since your mother’s funeral. You were only two … and look at you now!” Her voice was gruff and bubbly, as if her words were water flowing over pebbles. Aunt Jean had the same strange accent, but hers was milder.

Grandmother didn’t kiss her, but she kept one hand in Polly’s. Her firm grip felt safe, as Aunt Jean and Gregor threw eager questions at Polly and Maud: “Did you enjoy the train?”

“Was the food good?”

“Were the Rockies splendid?”

Maud answered politely, but Polly couldn’t speak. She pressed into her grandmother’s side.

“Stop pestering them, you two. We’ll hear about their journey soon enough,” said Grandmother.

Uncle Rand looked worried. “We should get a move on,” he told them.

They manoeuvred their way through the noisy crowd. In the parking lot they said goodbye to Mrs. Tuttle, who lived in Vancouver. “Thank you
so
much for taking care of Maud and Polly, Lydia,” said Grandmother. “Come and visit us sometime!”

The Turtle kissed each of the girls. “We ended up having a good time, didn’t we?” she said, smiling at Maud. But Maud had turned away to help Gregor tie their suitcases on top of the car.

“Where are we going now?” Maud asked, as they left the station.

“Straight to Steveston to catch the car ferry,” said Aunt Jean. “We should be able to make it if you drive fast, Rand.”

“I won’t drive any faster than I should, my dear,” said Uncle Rand calmly.

“How did I end up with such a cautious man?” asked Aunt Jean merrily, turning around to them from the front seat. “He thinks because he’s a rector he has to obey every rule!”

“A rector?” repeated Maud.

“Yes, Rand is the rector at our little church on the island. Didn’t you know that, chickie?”

Maud nodded. “I remember now. Grandmother told us in her letters.”

It took a long time to reach the ferry terminal. First they were in the city, then they passed fields of cows and horses. Uncle Rand was quiet, but the other adults talked all the way.

“Clara, I can’t believe you asked Lydia to come and visit!” said Aunt Jean. “I can’t bear that woman!”

Who was Clara? wondered Polly. Then she realized that Clara was Grandmother.

“Don’t worry about Lydia, Jean,” said Grandmother. “She’ll never visit. She only came to the island because her husband liked it—she always said it was much too quiet for her taste.”

“Well, I certainly hope you’re right. Gregor, I want you to remove a wasps’ nest from the church porch roof before the service tomorrow. And we need more wood, and the lawn needs cutting.”

“Yes, Ma.” Gregor grinned at Polly and Maud. “Isn’t my mother a taskmaster? You’d better be careful, or she’ll have you working as well!”

“Maud and Polly are not to do anything strenuous this weekend,” said Grandmother. “They’ve had a long journey and I want them to have a good rest.”

“But don’t forget I have to be at the school by Tuesday evening!” said Maud.

“Don’t worry, Maud. We’ll get you to school. We have lots of arrangements to discuss, but let’s leave that until we reach the island.”

“What arrangements?” Maud asked, but Grandmother just said, “Wait and see, hen.”

Her quiet words had so much force that Maud turned to Gregor. “What do you do?” she asked, in the chirpy, being-polite-to-grownups voice she’d been using ever since they’d arrived.

“I’m studying theology in Vancouver,” Gregor told her. “I’m going to be a preacher, just like me old dad!”

“I can’t see you in holy vestments—you were such a holy terror of a child,” said Aunt Jean. Her face, however, beamed with pride.

“That will make him all the more understanding of other holy terrors,” said Grandmother.

“Thanks, Aunt Clara!” Gregor winked at Polly. “Don’t you believe a word of what my mother says! I was an angelic child! I had blond curls and I sang in the choir!”

“And stuck chewing gum under the pews!” said his mother.