by Kit Pearson
Tomorrow she would see them both! I’ll pick Mother some sweet peas, she decided, and I’ll help Father plant more lettuce.
“Joe and Sophie and I went really far up the stream,” Jack told Kitty. “Joe and I found lots of toads. We put one down Sophie’s back and she screamed and screamed!”
Kitty glared at him. “Poor Sophie! Why are you always trying to scare people? It’s not kind.”
“You’re not kind to say that,” grumbled Jack. “It was just funning.”
“Now, you two, stop bickering,” said Mrs. O’Reilly mildly. “Kitty, here’s what is happening tomorrow. After I go to Mrs. Tolliver’s, I’ll stop by the cobbler’s and pick up my shoes. You could help Chin make some biscuits. Mrs. Sanders is coming for tea.”
“Who’s Mrs. Tolliver?” asked Jack.
“That’s not your affair,” Kitty told him.
“But I want to know!”
“Hush, Jackarow,” said his mother. “She’s just a woman I have some business with.”
Emily bent her head over her plate and tried not to look at Kitty. Mrs. O’Reilly went on to tell Kitty about all their social engagements that week. How many there were! Every day either someone was visiting or they were paying a call.
Emily’s own family rarely went out. Mother wasn’t up to it, and Father liked them all to stay at home, safe in the sturdy house he had built for them.
“And on Saturday we’re invited to the Dunsmuirs’,” Mrs. O’Reilly concluded. “How glad I am, Kitty, that you can come, too! Jessie will be delighted to have your company.”
“Yes, Mama,” said Kitty in a dull voice. Everything she said, whether teasing her mother or getting angry with Jack, was spoken automatically—as if she weren’t really present.
Mrs. O’Reilly wasn’t paying Emily any more attention than Jack was. Emily didn’t mind. She was content to concentrate on eating while she listened to this family that was so different from her own.
Song came in and cleared away the dishes. No one but Emily noticed all of Jack’s vegetables hidden under the sauce.
Mrs. O’Reilly left them to fetch the dessert. While she was gone, Jack kicked Emily’s leg.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry, that was an accident.”
Emily knew it wasn’t.
“Jack, do sit still,” said Kitty. “And wipe your mouth—you have sauce all over it.” She gave Emily a tight smile. “I’m glad you liked Mama’s cooking. Some of our guests have trouble with it.”
Mrs. O’Reilly slowly entered the room with a cake on a plate. She cupped her hand around the flame of a tall, thin candle stuck in its middle.
“Whose birthday is it?” demanded Jack. “I’ve had mine.”
“Tell him, Puss,” said his mother, setting the cake in front of Kitty.
Kitty had turned bright red. “It’s Pop’s birthday!” she whispered. “Oh, Mama . . . you remembered! What a thoughtful thing to do.”
Mrs. O’Reilly kissed the top of Kitty’s head. “Of course I remembered. Now, everyone blow out the candle together and make a wish.”
Please, please may Mother stay well! wished Emily, as her breath joined the others’ to snuff the flame.
“There!” Mrs. O’Reilly took the cake from Kitty and began cutting it.
“I only remember Pop a little bit,” said Jack casually, as he accepted his plate. “I think she sang me ‘Pop Goes the Weasel.’”
“She sang it to you all the time,” said Kitty. “It made her laugh because it had her name in it. But can’t you remember any more than that?”
“Hush, Puss. He was only six. She loved you dearly,” Mrs. O’Reilly told Jack. “She used to dress you up as a clown and walk you down the road—when she was strong enough, of course.”
“I remember that,” mumbled Jack through a mouthful of cake. “I didn’t like it!”
“No, you didn’t,” said his mother. “You complained the whole time!”
Although she laughed, her voice was strained. Emily could tell how hard it was for her to talk about Pop. And Kitty was bent over her cake silently. The room was suffused with grief, as if a heavy cloud had descended. Emily wriggled with embarrassment; she shouldn’t be intruding on their sadness.
She poured custard over the ginger cake and took a bite. It was still warm and utterly delicious: silky, crumbly, sugary, and sharp all at the same time. What a lucky day this had been for cakes!
Emily accepted a second piece. Jack asked for a third one, but his mother told him not to be greedy.
“You’re a pig,” Kitty told him.
Emily sat back and tried not to burp. She thought about the conversation on the boat. It had felt so important and grown up to tell Kitty her opinion of God and death. But it didn’t seem to have helped. Although Kitty made polite conversation, her eyes were blank and her expression detached.
“May I get down now, Mama?” asked Jack.
“Please may I get down . . . very well. Go and set up the croquet. The girls can help clear the table, and then we’ll join you.”
Emily had never played croquet. The mallet was so heavy that it kept slipping in her hands. Jack sneered when she hit the ball with the side of it.
“No, no, that’s wrong!”
“Don’t be rude, Jack,” said his mother. “Emily isn’t used to croquet. Instead of criticizing, you could help her.”
“I don’t need any help, thank you,” muttered Emily. She soon got the hang of it and to her astonishment ended up winning the first game.
“Well done!” said Kitty.
“It’s only beginner’s luck,” mumbled Jack.
They played three more games. Jack won two and Kitty one, but Emily didn’t care. She loved the wooden thwack of the mallet against the ball and the thrill of getting it through a hoop.
A bang made her jump. “My goodness!” marvelled Mrs. O’Reilly. “There’s the nine thirty gun and we still have light.”
The long day was lingering generously, as if it didn’t want to leave them. The sun had disappeared below the Sooke hills and the sky was almost white. Trees were etched against it like dark lace. A silvery crescent moon hung near the horizon.
Emily was replete with food and contentment. Soon she would have to go back to the Cranes’, but it was only for one night—and tomorrow she would be home!
Kraack, krak, karak! Raven! He was perched on a branch above them, fluffing himself up as if he were laughing. As Emily gazed up, one of his feathers spiralled slowly down, its purplish sheen catching the light. She and Jack both ran to catch it. Jack got there first, but Emily leapt above his head and snatched the feather out of the air.
“That’s not fair!” cried Jack.
Emily just grinned. She twirled the feather by its shaft, careful not to disturb its perfect form. It was a sign, she decided—a sign that Mother would stay well. She looked up at Raven and thanked him silently. Kraack! he answered, then soared away.
“Mama, I was there first—I should get it!” said Jack.
“Don’t be ungenerous, Jack. There must be plenty of George’s feathers in the garden. You can look for them tomorrow.”
“Jack should go to bed,” said Kitty, “and then, Mama, may Emily and I get out the tennis racquets?”
“It’s too light to go to bed and I want to play tennis, too!” cried Jack.
Mrs. O’Reilly tousled his hair. “Calm down, my little man. Tonight you may stay up late, and so may Kitty. Something very special might happen and I don’t want you to miss it.”
She smiled at their astonishment. “Mr. and Mrs. Pemberton told me that two nights ago they were coming home late when they saw a comet! It has been spotted in the sky several times this month. Tonight is so clear that maybe we’ll have a chance to see it. Papa would certainly want you to observe such a spectacle.”
“But what is a comet, Mama?” asked Jack.
Kitty looked just as puzzled. Emily had heard the word before, but she wasn’t sure what a comet was, either.
&
nbsp; “A comet is like a bright planet with a long tail. I saw one when I was about your age and I’ve never forgotten it.”
Jack bounced on the grass. “Wow! May we stay up until midnight?”
“Well . . . until you are too sleepy to watch. Once it gets darker, we’ll come out and look for it.”
“But what about Emily?” asked Kitty. “Mayn’t she stay and see the comet, as well?”
Please, hoped Emily.
“I’m afraid not,” said Mrs. O’Reilly. She smiled at Emily. “Mrs. Crane wouldn’t want you staying away so late. Kitty will walk you back now. Tell the Cranes about the comet and perhaps they’ll let you all watch it there.”
“No, Mama!” Everyone, including Emily, was surprised at Kitty’s vehemence. “She can’t leave! We’ve been together all day and now it’s ending with something so special—we must see it together!”
“But, Puss-cat . . .”
“If Emily can’t stay, then I won’t stay up for the comet,” said Kitty firmly. “I’ll just go to bed. But I’ll tell Papa why I missed it,” she added.
Mrs. O’Reilly frowned. “There is no need to be either rude or dramatic, young lady.”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” said Kitty, “but that’s what I feel.”
Anger flushed her mother’s face. Emily was certain that both Kitty and Jack would be ordered to bed and that she herself would be sent home immediately.
But then the cross voice softened and Mrs. O’Reilly’s face relaxed, as if a more carefree woman had taken over. “I accept your apology, Puss. All right . . . you may stay, Emily. We’ll send Chin over with a message to say you won’t be home until very late.”
Mrs. O’Reilly stretched out her arms as if embracing the fragrant evening. “Now, my darlings, how are we going to spend the time while we wait for the comet?”
SIXTEEN
Kitty took Emily to her bedroom to write the message for Mrs. Crane. “Tell them about the comet so Alice can see it,” urged Emily. She had placed the raven feather below her painting on the mantel and was gazing at both reverently.
After Chin returned from the Cranes’, he and Song left for the night. “Let’s go into the dining room and have some music,” suggested Mama. She asked Nischia to light the lamps. “Then you may retire for the evening,” she told her, “unless you want to sit with us and view the comet.”
Nischia looked frightened. “No, thank you, Ma’am! Comets are signs of the devil!”
Mama smiled. “That is nonsense, Nischia, but do as you wish.”
Mama’s face looked so young and serene. Kitty was relieved she had stopped being cross. And she had been friendly to Emily and made a cake for Pop! Mama must think of Pop more than Kitty thought she did—she just couldn’t talk about her.
As they gathered around the piano, Jack pushed Emily aside to be the closest. Kitty wished he would behave better. What a tiresome boy he was! Now Kitty would be burdened with him for the whole summer. He got so restless when school was out, and it always fell to Kitty to entertain him.
Mama opened her music and began to play. First they sang hymns: “Onward Christian Soldiers” and “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.”
“Can’t we sing something else, Mama?” asked Jack. “We had hymns yesterday!”
“Very well.” Mama leafed through her music and played “Silver Threads Among the Gold.” At the end she had tears in her eyes. “How I miss your papa!” she said.
“Don’t play things that make you cry!” ordered Jack.
“Here’s one for Puss, then.” They all sang “I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen.” Now Kitty missed Papa, too, because he was usually the one to suggest that song.
“Aren’t there any songs with my name in it?” asked Jack.
Mama laughed. “I don’t know of any, my little man. But here’s one of your favourites.”
She began “My Grandfather’s Clock” and Jack clapped with approval. “ ‘Tick, tock, tick, tock,’ ” he chanted.
“Now something from Pinafore,” he demanded.
Mama’s deft fingers dashed over the keyboard as she and Jack and Emily roared out the words to “We Sail the Ocean Blue” and “When I Was a Lad.”
“ ‘And you all may be rulers of the Queen’s navee!’ ” shouted Jack. Emily laughed so much she could hardly sing. “I’ve never heard that before!” she said at the end.
“Do you play?” Mama asked her.
Emily shook her head. “No. I tried, but I just didn’t take to it.”
“Kitty plays beautifully. Do you want to have a turn, Puss?”
Kitty shook her head. Mama carried on with “I’m Called Little Buttercup,” her lovely, rich voice leading. Jack’s pure, little-boy soprano and Emily’s croaky alto joined her.
Kitty barely mouthed the words. She felt so removed she almost pinched herself again. The room glowed, but the garden outside was now dark. As dark as the void inside her: the dark hole of no more Pop, and the dark tunnel ahead of living in a new country and going to a new school.
Was this what it was like to grow up? To dwell in the darkness instead of in the light? She envied Jack and Emily. They seemed so uncomplicated as they gazed at the words over Mama’s shoulder.
They sang until Jack’s voice started to get hoarse. Mama laughed. “You sound like a rooster!”
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” cried Jack, rushing around the room.
“Settle down, Jackarow.” Mama looked out the window. “Let’s go out and see if we can find the comet.”
The night air was chilly, as it always was in Victoria. The sky was a deep, purplish blue, dotted with a few faint stars. The slender moon had disappeared.
Jack yawned. “I can’t see anything.”
“I suppose it’s still not dark enough,” said Mama, “or maybe the comet is not going to appear tonight.”
She sounded so disappointed. Kitty scanned the sky impatiently. She didn’t know what she was looking for, and she wondered why Mama thought it was so special. And what did it matter if they saw a comet or not? Nothing mattered anymore.
“We’ll just have to wait,” said Mama. “Each of you get a chair and I’ll bring out some blankets.”
Kitty leaned back in her chair and wrapped her blanket around her. Emily was on one side and Mama on the other.
Jack had decided to lie on the lawn. “I’ll let you know when I see the comet,” he told them. But almost immediately he fell asleep.
Mama pulled a blanket over him. “We’ll wake him when the comet appears.”
Soon each was lost in her own reverie. Kitty thought about the long day. What a lot had been packed into it! It seemed like weeks, not hours, since she and Emily had been painting. And then the visit to Mrs. Tolliver’s that had started out so miraculous but had crumbled into dust. And the horrible argument with Emily and confessing to Mama . . . and the soothing time in the rowboat.
Splashing and squeaking came from the shore—the otters were playing. Kitty turned to Emily to tell her, but Emily’s head was back against her chair and her eyes were closed. Was she asleep? Or was she thinking about this day, as well? If only Mama weren’t here, she could ask her.
Kitty had never met anyone like Emily. Her other friends seemed so tame and ordinary in comparison. Would she and Emily see each other again? Would Emily’s family let her come if Kitty invited her over?
It wouldn’t be the same, though. They would never again have the freedom of this strange day, when they were practically on their own. And Kitty’s friends would think it odd for her to be with someone who was so young and wild and unkempt . . . and, much as Kitty hated to admit it, whose father was in trade.
So this might be the last time they were together. Now that Kitty was able to join Mama on her engagements, she would get caught up in the social busyness of her life. And then she would leave it all for England—leave Victoria and leave her beloved house.
Kitty felt as if her mind had a bird trapped inside it, thrashing to escape. Was she once again
being haunted by Pop’s pleading? Then she flinched as the realization hit her.
It was she who was so anguished! She, Kitty, was so full of anxiety about going to England, about having to grow up, that she had somehow given all these worries to an imaginary Pop. Pop hadn’t wanted to ask her anything. It was simply Kitty, asking herself why all these changes had to happen.
The multiplying stars sparkled against the navy-blue sky. The darkness of the night deepened the darkness inside Kitty. She was drowning in it.
Emily and Mama were both asleep in their chairs. Kitty closed her eyes.
She was dreaming about otters when a shout wakened her: “There!” Emily was on her feet, pointing north.
“Jack, wake up—it’s the comet!” Mama picked up Jack. They all stood and stared.
Emily turned to Kitty. “Isn’t it amazing?”
Kitty couldn’t answer. A fuzzy globe shone in the sky like a full moon. Two long, wispy streams of light trailed behind the glowing head, one longer than the other. Stars peeked through the gauzy tail. The comet looked as if it were plunging towards the earth.
“Mama, it’s going to hit us!” cried Jack.
Emily laughed. “How can it hit us when it’s not moving?”
“It is moving,” Mama told them. “I remember my father explaining it to me. It’s moving fast, but it’s so far away that it seems immobile. And it won’t hit us, Jack. We’re perfectly safe.”
But Jack had fallen asleep in Mama’s arms. She laid him tenderly on the grass again then stood up. “Isn’t this a wondrous sight, girls?”
“It’s like a rip in the sky,” said Emily. “As if God had torn it open to show us heaven,” she added softly.
“What a lovely thought! You are very perceptive, Emily. And Kitty? Why Puss-cat, you’re crying! Are you all right, my darling?”
Kitty sniffed up her tears. “I’m fine. It’s just . . . so beautiful,” she whispered.
Mama kissed her. Then she began to tell them about the last time she had seen a comet, when she was Kitty’s age and living in England.