The Whole Truth (21 page)

She showed Daddy the books she had brought and he examined them greedily. “These look perfect! And chess! Shall we have a game?”

Daddy had taught Polly how to play chess when she was six. They pulled the table and another stump chair out into the sun. Tarka dozed beside them, keeping an eye out for squirrels.

“Thank you so much for the beautiful bookmark, Doodle,” said Daddy. “I’ll treasure it always. And I’ve read all your letters. I’m so touched that you wrote so many.”

“I tried to, but sometimes I’d forget for a long time,” said Polly.

“That’s entirely understandable. What touches me the most, Polly, is how happy you are here. You seem to be thriving on the island. You have a loving family and friends, you’ve become strong and capable, and you have opportunities I would never have been able to give you, like art lessons and piano lessons and the chance to go away to a good school.”

“I’d rather have been with you, though,” Polly whispered.

“I know, Doodle. And I know how much anguish I caused you. Things turned out for the best, though, didn’t they?”

Polly wanted to scream
No!
She couldn’t deny anything Daddy had said, however: she
was
thriving here.

“What moves can the bishop make?” she asked, trying to still the confusion inside her.

The next days settled into a routine. For the past year Mrs. Hooper had not been arriving until after Polly had gone to school. Polly would make toast and tea, take them up to Noni in bed, and eat breakfast with her. Then she’d walk Tarka.

There was lots of time, therefore, to pack the rucksack with Daddy’s food for the day and take it to him. She would talk to him for a few minutes, then give him a hug and kiss, run back to the house, go upstairs as usual to say goodbye to Noni, and wait with her bike in front until Biddy stopped for her.

Polly sat in school plotting and worrying. “You’re daydreaming this week!” Mrs. Oliver told her, when Polly didn’t answer a question. Polly was usually such an attentive pupil, however, that Mrs. Oliver didn’t scold her.

Biddy and Vivien were not as tolerant of Polly’s vagueness. “Polly, it’s your turn!” said Vivien when they were playing hopscotch in the squares they had scratched in the schoolyard.

“Sorry,” muttered Polly.

Biddy looked puzzled and hurt when Polly didn’t laugh at her description of how the twins had cut each other’s hair.

At least the weather was sunny and dry, so Daddy was warm enough at night. He and Polly sat outside the cabin and talked and talked, catching up on two years.

Polly wanted to hear about all his adventures. “Tell me about escaping and finding the boat!”

But Daddy didn’t want to talk about that—he said it was too painful.
Instead he told her how he had hopped onto a train heading east. He’d had to run along the side of a freight car and jump for the ladder, then lie flat on the top. “At first it was a thrill, lying there with the breeze in my hair and the blue sky above, but then it rained and I was miserable,” he said. As he talked, his voice regained some of the spark it used to have when he told her stories.

In Toronto, Daddy ate from soup kitchens and slept with a group of other men who lived outside—he called it a “jungle.” They cooked stew over a fire and someone always had a harmonica. “I liked those fellows,” said Daddy. “We had a real camaraderie. Sometimes I’d recite for them—they called me the Thespian.”

Polly grinned. Daddy knew all of Robert Service’s poetry by heart and he could make the rhythmic words come alive.

“When I decided to return west, I was lucky enough to find an empty boxcar,” he told Polly. “I climbed into a gunny sack and I was snug as a bug!”

Polly was sad to see Daddy’s tattered clothes. Even when he’d been unemployed he had always worn a clean shirt and creased pants. “Daddy, do you have enough money?” she asked.

He flushed. “I have some. Enough for the boat rides. When I get back to Vancouver, I’ll hitch a ride to Kelowna—that’s what I did on the way here.”

“I bet Gregor has some old clothes that would fit you,” Polly said. “Uncle Rand’s would be too short. I could sneak up to Gregor’s room in the rectory and get them.”

Daddy laughed ruefully. “Oh, Polly Wolly Doodle, I’m turning you into a thief! No, don’t you try to steal me clothes. It’s bad enough that you’re stealing food. I’m fine the way I am—I have one change of underwear and I’ve washed out some in the rainwater.”

Polly had noticed his underwear hanging on a branch. “It wouldn’t be stealing—it would be borrowing!” she said. “I’m sure Gregor wouldn’t mind if he knew.”

“He’d mind, believe me! They all would, especially your grandmother. I can just imagine how furious she’d be to find me here.”

“Daddy, I still don’t understand … why was Noni so mad at my mother and you?”

“She didn’t like me,” said Daddy. “None of them did.” He looked embarrassed. “I can’t tell you all the reasons yet, Doodle. But I’ll tell you some of them. I didn’t have much education and my job as a clerk was leading nowhere. They thought I was far too young to be marrying their daughter—I was only eighteen. And they didn’t approve of my parents. My father had been dead for years, but when they questioned me about him—it was more like grilling—they found out he’d been a bricklayer. When I told them my mother—your grannie—was Ukrainian, that really clinched their disapproval. I was glad that Mother was ill and couldn’t come to the wedding—who knows how they would have treated her?”

“But I don’t understand,” said Polly. “What’s wrong with being a bricklayer or a Ukrainian?”

“Nothing, of course,” said Daddy. “But sometimes people decide that one group is not as good as another. That’s called prejudice. I don’t mean to put down your grandmother and aunt and uncle, Polly. They’re basically good folks, but they can also be narrow-minded and snobbish.”

Polly flinched, remembering how Noni had behaved towards Mrs. Osaka.

“I bet my
mother
didn’t care who your parents were,” she told him. “Of course she didn’t,” said Daddy softly. “Your mother loved me for myself.”

He looked so sad that Polly changed the subject. She began to tell Daddy how much she dreaded going to St. Winifred’s next year.

“You’ll just have to be brave, Doodle,” he told her, “and you may like it more than you think. I’m pleased that you’re getting such a good education. I wish I’d had that opportunity.” He sighed. “If I had, I would have been in a better position when the crash came. I’m so sorry you had to go through such hard times, Doodle, especially after your grannie died. I felt so bad that I couldn’t feed or clothe you properly and that Maud was going to have to quit school. At least you were spared all that.”

“But it was fine!” said Polly. “I never felt hungry and I didn’t care about what I wore! We were happy!”

“Yes, we were happy,” said Daddy. “But I’m still glad you ended up here.”

If only he would stop saying that!

Polly’s biggest worry was that Biddy and Vivien would want her to play with them as usual after school, and that they would go to the cabin. On Monday she said she didn’t feel well, and on Tuesday she told them she had to help Aunt Jean polish the church silver. To her relief, on both days they decided to pick blackberries.

On Wednesday, however, Vivien said, “We haven’t been to Oz all week! Let’s take Biddy’s new movie magazine there. ”

What could Polly say? All she could try was a version of the truth. “We can’t go to the cabin right now,” she told them. “And I can’t do things with you after school, and I can’t say why. If I promise to tell you later, will you promise me not to go there?”

Biddy, as usual, was compliant. “Okay.” She shrugged. “It sounds very mysterious, but whatever you want, Polly.”

Vivien, of course, was much more difficult. “But
why
can’t we go?” she asked.

“Please, Viv, it’s a secret!” begged Polly.

Finally Vivien agreed, but she was so sulky about it that Polly worried she’d go anyway. And what was Polly going to tell them later? She would just have to deal with that, as with everything else, when the time came.

As Daddy became more rested, he lost some of his anxiety. He tried to tame a raven by imitating its croak and holding out a bit of bread. “I’d forgotten how beautiful and peaceful this island is,” he said.

He told Polly about his own cabin, which was in an orchard. It didn’t have running water, but it was near a stream. The cabin was heated by a fireplace.

“It’s very snug—in fact, it gets too hot. We don’t spend much time there. During the day we’re outside working, and we go into town almost every evening.”

Daddy shared the cabin with two men called Jim and Perry. “They’re both single fellows, younger than me,” said Daddy. “We get along well—they call me the Geezer!”

“Do you ever tell them about Maud and me?” asked Polly.

“No, Doodle,” said Daddy gently. “Remember, I’m supposed to be dead. My old self doesn’t exist, so you don’t either.”

Polly gasped and Daddy looked guilty. “Sorry, Doodle, that came out wrong. You girls certainly exist to
me.
Even though I didn’t talk about you, I thought about you every minute!”

“Look, there’s the raven,” said Polly, glad of a diversion. She couldn’t bear to discuss Daddy’s life away from her for too long.
What was going to happen after he left? When would she see him again? Should she try to persuade him to take her with him?

Most worrying of all … did she want to go?

On Thursday afternoon Daddy went into the cabin to get the chessboard. There was a rustle in the bushes, then a giggle. Vivien and Biddy! Polly jumped up and saw them dash away.

Daddy came out, but luckily he hadn’t noticed. They had
promised!
thought Polly angrily. And they must have seen Daddy. What was she going to tell them?

The next day before school Polly confronted her friends. Biddy looked guilty and Vivien defiant.

“I’m so sorry, Polly!” cried Biddy. “I didn’t want to spy on you, but Vivien made me!”

“I’m sorry too,” muttered Vivien, but she didn’t sound it.

“You promised not to!” said Polly tightly.

“I know. But we thought maybe you were in some kind of trouble and we should find out so we could help you,” said Vivien.

Biddy looked worried. “Are you in trouble, Polly? Who was that man? He looked like a tramp!”

“He could be dangerous!” said Vivien.

“He’s
not
a tramp, and he’s not dangerous at all! I’ll tell you all about it next week.” Suddenly that seemed like an enormous relief. “Will you promise to leave me alone until then? And promise to keep it a secret?”

Reluctantly they crossed their hearts and hoped to die. Polly’s only choice was to trust them.

At least Maud was coming tonight and Polly would no longer
be the only one responsible for taking care of Daddy. Maud was the strong one. Maud would take care of everything.

Maud turned as pale as milk.
“Daddy’s here?
Polly, are you
sure?”

“Of course I’m sure! He’s hiding in our cabin and he can hardly wait to see you!”

Polly hadn’t wanted to tell her right away. Her plan had been to lead Maud to the cabin and surprise her with Daddy, like a present. But Daddy said that would be too much of a shock. “You’ll have to prepare her,” he’d told her.

“You surprised
me,
“ Polly pointed out.

“Well, I had no choice. I tried to warn you by singing our song, but there was nothing else I could do.”

Now Maud was pacing up and down Polly’s room. With her short mop of hair and generous figure, she looked so much like a grown woman that Polly wondered if Daddy would recognize her.

“I just can’t
believe
it!” she kept saying. “When did Daddy come? How long is he staying?”

It was so rare that Polly knew more than her sister that she couldn’t help gloating a little. She took Maud by the hand. “No more questions. Let’s just go and see him!”

The rest of the family were in the living room, having their usual game of cards after dinner. Polly and Maud slipped out the back door. “We’re taking Tarka for a walk,” called Polly. Tarka’s frequent need of walks had certainly been handy this week.

She kept hold of Maud’s hand all the way and was surprised to find that it was shaking. By the time they reached the cabin, Polly’s strong and intrepid older sister was trembling all over.

“Is it the Boss?” called Daddy as they entered the cabin.

Maud froze. She and Daddy stared at each other.

“My Maudie is all grown up,” said Daddy gently.

Then Maud started to cry, huge wracking sobs that almost choked her. Daddy came over and held her tight. “It’s all right, dear old girl. This has been so hard for you, but I’m here now.”

Daddy led Maud to the mattress and sat her down. Polly sat down on the other side of Daddy, leaning against his side. Maud pulled out her hankie and dried her tears as her sobs subsided. She kept saying, “I can’t believe it! It’s really
you!”

“It really is,” said Daddy, “even though I’m rather dishevelled at the moment. And it’s really you, Boss, although you’ve changed even more than Polly has. Your beautiful braids have gone! But I like your bob. And what a handsome girl you are. I’m so proud to be your father.”

Daddy handed Maud a necklace like Polly’s. “It’s a very late birthday present,” he told her. Maud examined it silently. Then they sat around the table. Polly had brought some leftover cake from dinner and a bottle of Aunt Jean’s huckleberry wine. Daddy opened it and poured them each some.

“A toast to us being together again!” he said. His eyes sparkled and his voice was as vibrant as it used to be.

Polly tried to pretend everything was just like before, as if the three of them were sitting together in their little house in Winnipeg. “To us!” she cried. Maud clinked her glass with theirs but seemed unable to speak.

“Now you can ask Daddy all about the last two years,” Polly prompted. But Maud was still silent.

“Leave her be, Doodle,” said Daddy. “She’s still in shock. Maud, let me explain why I’m here.”

He told her everything he’d told Polly: how he couldn’t bear to go any longer without seeing them, and how he’d travelled from Toronto to the Okanagan after “I staged my own death.”