by Pat Bourke
The kitchen clock began its whirring and clanging to announce the hour. As if on cue, she heard an automobile pull up and soon, Forrest was hanging his coat on a hook beside the back door. She was disappointed to see that the doctor wasn’t with him, but then she realized that the doctor would use the front door. He might just this minute be coming up the walk.
“It’s cold for October,” Forrest said. He hung his cap on the hook with his coat and smoothed his hair. “Is there any supper, lassie? There’s little to eat at the hospital, and I’ve been carting mattresses from floor to floor all day long. How are young Harry, and Elvie here?”
“Parker says Harry’s about the same, but Mrs. Butters is really sick,” Meredith slipped the borrowed coat off and hung it on the back of her chair before following him into the kitchen. “Did Dr. Waterton come with you?”
“No, lassie.” Forrest pulled a chair out from the table and sat down heavily. “Can you fetch the others? He’s asked me to talk to all of you.”
“You mean Parker?”
“Jack and Maggie, too.”
Meredith brought him the plate of sandwiches from the icebox along with a jar of pickles. “It’s serious, then?”
“Aye, lassie. I’ll tell you all about it once everyone’s here.”
Meredith climbed the stairs to the second floor, and then knocked at Maggie’s door.
“Yes?”
Meredith pushed the door open. Maggie was lying on her bed in a nest of lacy pillows, a pink-and-white coverlet bunched around her. In the light of the bedside lamp, the room glowed softly pink like the inside of Mama’s prized conch shell on the mantel back home. A tray holding a mug and an empty plate sat on the dresser. Maggie seemed intent on the book she was holding.
“Excuse me, Miss Margaret. Forrest asked me to fetch you.”
“So?” One blonde eyebrow went up.
“He says we’re to have a meeting.”
“That has nothing to do with me.” Maggie lazily turned a page, her eyes fixed on her book. “Besides, I’m not a ball or a bucket. I can’t be fetched at someone’s say so.”
Meredith didn’t know why Maggie was always so rude when her father was so kind. Well, she’d said what she’d come to say. Whether Maggie came downstairs or not wasn’t her concern.
Maggie flicked her eyes toward Meredith. “Take the tray when you go.”
“Aren’t you the grand lady?” Jack’s mocking voice came from behind Meredith’s shoulder. He strode over to the bed and plucked the book from Maggie’s hands. “You could at least be polite.”
“Don’t you have anything better to do than stand in the hallway eavesdropping?” Maggie lifted her chin.
“Nope.” He leaned down until his face was inches from Maggie’s. “Get yourself downstairs like she said.”
“Why should I?”
“Because Father’s not here. Because I’m in charge.” Jack glowered at his sister, “Because it’s my say so.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes. “For your information, John Temple Waterton, you’re not in charge of me.”
Nevertheless, Meredith thought something Jack had said must have registered because Maggie sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“I don’t need you or Forrest or that girl telling me what to do,” Maggie said. “I’ll come downstairs, but she can take the tray. It’s her job, after all.” She swept past Meredith and out the door.
The sudden silence in the room seemed even louder to Meredith than their argument. “Thanks,” she said to Jack. “She wouldn’t listen to me.”
“She doesn’t listen to anyone,” Jack said. “Mama would never have let her get away with being rude like that. I figured it was my job to keep her in line.”
“It was nice of you all the same,” Meredith said as she picked up the tray.
“Leave it,” Jack said. “Let her take it.”
“It’s my job, Mr. Jack, like she said.” Meredith knew that if Maggie complained, Parker would make her life miserable. She carried the tray into the hall.
“Do you know what this is about?” Jack asked as he followed her to the back stairs.
“Some of it,” Meredith said. “Forrest will explain it all.”
“It must be serious,” Jack said.
Chapter 19
Maggie slouched, arms crossed, in the chair beside Jack on one side of the long kitchen table. Meredith and Forrest sat facing them on the other side. Meredith thought they looked like the pictures of the peace talks in the newspaper, although the sullen look on Maggie’s face said this wasn’t likely to be peaceful. They were waiting for Parker.
They could hear Mrs. Butters’ ragged wheezing from the back hall. Jack had said they should sit in the dining room, but, to Meredith’s relief, Forrest had insisted they be close to Mrs. Butters. Meredith worried about Harry waking up alone upstairs, but Parker had made it clear all along that he would take care of Harry so she supposed she should let him do the worrying, too.
Parker strode into the room at last and took his usual seat at the head of the table, with Meredith on his right. An acrid smell of camphor made Meredith’s eyes water. She’d smelled traces of it in the third floor hallway earlier, and now it seemed to be coming from Parker himself. She edged her chair away as discreetly as she could, careful to breathe through her mouth, but the searing odor was relentless. Jack’s and Maggie’s scrunched-up faces told her she wasn’t the only one suffering.
Parker cleared his throat. “Before Forrest begins—”
“Before I begin,” Forrest said, “what in blazes is that smell, Parker?”
“It smells like moths,” Maggie said.
“Camphor, Miss Margaret,” Parker said, reddening, “not moths. Mrs. Butters uses it to safeguard the woolen blankets against moths over the summer months.”
“But it’s October,” Jack said. “Why do we smell it now?”
“It’s a preventive, Mr. Jack,” Parker said primly. “You’d be well advised to do the same.”
“Do what, exactly?” asked Maggie. “And why, if it’s going to stink like that?”
“A small bag of camphor worn next to the skin is said to ward off the germs,” Parker explained.
Meredith thought Maggie was about to ask Parker another question, but Jack jumped in.
“Forrest, can you please tell us what’s going on?” he asked. “We know Harry’s sick, and all Parker would tell me earlier was that Mrs. Butters might have pneumonia, and that Maggie and I should stay away from them both. But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”
“Aye, laddie,” Forrest said. “You’ve heard of that Spanish Flu that’s in the papers?”
Jack nodded. “They were talking about it at dinner last night.”
“Aye. And you’ve maybe heard how the soldiers are falling ill overseas,” Forrest continued, “and people have come down with it in Boston and Montreal?”
People weren’t just coming down with it. Meredith had read that hundreds of them were dying. She shuddered.
“But what’s that to do with us?” Maggie’s question caught Meredith by surprise. Did they really not know?
“It’s been confirmed here in Toronto, and it’s worse than anyone predicted.” Forrest briefly filled them in on the situation at the hospital.
“It looks like Toronto is in for a rough time of it,” he concluded. “Your father needs to stay at the hospital for the time being to help manage the crisis, and he thinks Mrs. Butters and young Mr. Harry will get better care here.”
“Are you saying Mrs. Butters and Harry have the Spanish Flu?” Jack asked.
Forrest looked at him for a long moment. “Mrs. Butters almost certainly. So far it seems to affect healthy adults most severely. The doctor’s not sure about Mr. Harry.”
“Wha
t arrangements have been made about a nurse?” Parker asked.
Forrest shook his head. “None to be had, I’m afraid.”
“None?” Parker scowled. “That’s ridiculous. Surely Dr. Waterton, the Chief of Medicine at Toronto City Hospital, can arrange for—”
Forrest held up his hand. “All of the hospitals are short-handed. The nurses they do have are working round the clock preparing for the onslaught, and Dr. Waterton feels they should stay where they’re most needed. He’s even asked me to return to the hospital after this to help transport patients.”
No doctor, no nurse, no Forrest—no one—to help. The seedling of hope Meredith had been carefully tending since Forrest arrived withered to nothing.
“But he’s coming home soon, right?” Jack’s face was eager.
“He’ll come as soon as he can, lad.”
Maggie sat up at that. “What’s that mean? When will he be coming home?”
Forrest sighed. “The hospital’s reeling, Miss Maggie. He can’t leave just yet, not while the doctors and nurses are stretched to the limit. They’re even calling in retired doctors and nurses to help out. It’s not what he wants, you understand, but Parker will be here, after all.”
The corners of Parker’s mouth tweaked into a small smile. Meredith was afraid that meant he’d be even more difficult now.
“Did he say what we’re to do?” Jack asked.
Forrest nodded. “First of all, and he stressed this: no one’s to go out.”
“But I’ll miss Abby’s party!” Maggie exclaimed.
“Stay home from school?” Jack protested. “Father’s always at me about my grades!”
“He means the children, of course, and I fully agree,” Parker said. “They will need to be kept home in case they catch something.”
“Not just the children,” Forrest said.
“You can’t be serious!” Parker scowled. “None of us?”
Forrest nodded glumly.
“I know there’s been talk of quarantine,” Parker began, “but surely if we’re careful—”
“Doctor’s orders,” Forrest said, with finality. “All of you are to stay here to keep from spreading it. No school, no visits to friends, nothing. And no visitors.”
It felt to Meredith as if the ceiling was pressing down on them, the walls squeezing closer. The Spanish Flu had only just arrived in Toronto, but she’d read that cities such as Boston had been battling it for weeks. Weeks of being cooped up together—with Parker, with Maggie—stretched bleakly in front of her.
“Then why are you here?” Maggie asked. “You’ve been at the hospital. You could be spreading it to others now that you’re out. Why is it all right for you to go out and not us?”
Much as Meredith hated to admit it, Maggie Waterton was clever.
“It’s not all right, Miss Maggie. The doctor told me to stay well away from anyone outside of Glenwaring,” Forrest said. He sighed. “You’ve already been exposed, you see,” he added gently.
The look of horror on Maggie’s face showed she’d only just now understood the risks they faced right here at home. “So you’re saying we’ll get it, too?”
“Not necessarily,” Forrest said. “Your father sent some masks to guard against infection—” He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a handful of bunched cloth. “These are what the nurses wear. Parker can explain about them.” He picked a rectangle out of the bunch and held it up, strings dangling.
“Is there anything else?” Jack asked.
“Give them water when they can take it, then soft foods: soup, an egg, custard. Meredith knows about that.”
“I don’t like custard.” Harry stood unsteadily at the bottom of the back stairs. Meredith thought that he must be feeling better to have come downstairs on his own. Maybe Mrs. Butters would turn a corner soon, too.
“Mr. Harry!” Parker said sternly. “I gave you express instructions to stay in bed while I was gone.”
“I don’t want to stay in bed.” Harry sat down on the bottom step as if his legs couldn’t hold him up anymore. “I want Jack to play a game with me.”
Parker sighed. “Mr. Jack is busy just now. Meredith will take you back upstairs.”
“No-o-o!” Harry wailed. “I don’t want her. I want Jack!”
“Hang on, Parker,” Jack said, to Meredith’s surprise. “Harry, come and sit with me. We’ll soon be done.”
Parker frowned. “Mr. Jack, the doctor’s orders were—”
“It’s all right, Parker,” Jack replied. “It’s got to be lonely up there all by himself.”
And not much better with only Parker for company, Meredith thought.
“Then put on a mask and go sit over there with him,” Forrest said, pushing a mask across the table to Jack, who made a face. “You must take it seriously, Mr. Jack. You, too, Miss Maggie. There’s too much at stake.”
Jack tied the mask over his nose and mouth as he headed toward the staircase. “I feel silly.”
“You look it,” Maggie said. “I’m not wearing any stupid mask.”
Jack joined Harry on the step and hoisted the little boy into his lap. Harry put his thumb in his mouth, rested his head on Jack’s chest and blinked out at them.
The need to check on Mrs. Butters set Meredith’s fingers to worrying the edge of her apron. They’d been sitting here much too long.
“I’ll continue, shall I?” Forrest looked around the table. “Pneumonia can develop very quickly—we’ve all seen poor Mrs. Butters—but Dr. Waterton says good nursing makes a difference. And maybe young Mr. Harry here is an example of that.”
“He only had a stomach ache, if you ask me,” Maggie muttered.
“No one did ask you,” Jack said sharply, his voice muffled by his mask. “Keep your opinions to yourself.”
Meredith was certain Maggie would flounce out of the room at that, but she only twirled one of her curls around her finger as idly as if they were talking about a church picnic instead of a terrifying illness.
“Forrest, how long…how long until—” Jack stopped.
Meredith was sure he meant to ask “until they get better,” but “until they die” was echoing in her head. The newspapers reported that some people had died within a day of coming down with the Spanish Flu. Could Mrs. Butters die just as quickly as she’d become sick?
“No telling, lad. It’s a demon sickness. You’re to keep a close watch.” Forrest cleared his throat. “Mr. Jack, the doctor asked me to tell you he’s counting on you to keep things working here.”
Jack sat up a little straighter. Maggie rolled her eyes.
“That’s as it should be, I suppose.” Parker said, looking as if he’d swallowed something disagreeable.
“So someone needs to stay with Mrs. Butters,” Jack said, “and someone with Harry, at least until Father comes. Is that right?”
“I’ve already seen to that, Mr. Jack,” Parker said quickly. “Meredith will continue to watch over Mrs. Butters, and I myself will ensure that Mr. Harry has the best of care. There’s no need for you or Miss Margaret to concern yourselves.”
Stung into speaking, Meredith began, “But there’s more than just watching—”
“I’ve already seen to it, as I said,” Parker stated in a tone and with a look that said Meredith wasn’t to argue.
“Hang on a moment,” Forrest said. “Meredith’s got a point. If no one’s going out, there’s also no one coming in. That means no cook or daily, and everyone’s got to eat, after all, and someone’s got to clean up.”
Meredith could have hugged him, but the four sets of eyes that focused on her made her squirm instead.
“As you well know, Forrest, Meredith is under my direction, as are all the staff at Glenwaring,” Parker replied. “I want to assure Mr. Jack and Miss Margaret that
we will do whatever needs to be done.”
His oily smile in their direction only confirmed Meredith’s suspicion about who’d be doing whatever needed to be done. She glanced sidelong at Forrest, who looked troubled, but he remained quiet.
“All right then,” Jack said, “I think we have a plan.”
“It’s not much of a plan: We’re to stay locked into the same house with someone who’s so sick she might die?” Maggie’s eyes flashed a challenge at her brother. “I have a better one: Forrest should take Mrs. Butters to the hospital.”
“But that’s not what Father wants,” Jack said, glaring at his sister. “He said they’d get better care here. He’s left me in charge, and I say we follow his orders.”
Jack and Maggie seemed to be embarking on some kind of war and Meredith didn’t know where to look. She felt as if she was slowly stewing in the steam from the copper boiler where the tea towels she and Parker had used as masks were churning in the simmering water.
“Since you’re in charge, Jack,” Maggie said at last, her words barbed, “maybe you can answer this: Just what’s your plan going to be when the rest of us get sick?”
Chapter 20
Forrest had returned to the hospital after the meeting, taking a change of clothes for the doctor, but only after he’d had a long conversation with Parker.
“Mind he helps out,” was all Forrest had said to Meredith before he left. Nevertheless, Parker had surprised her when he offered to sit with Mrs. Butters for part of the night so she could rest. Clearly, Forrest’s words had made an impression. She wondered how long it would last.
Meredith woke the next morning to find that the Spanish Flu had stormed into Toronto. Under the heading “Yesterday’s Dead,” the newspaper reported the names of twenty-five people who had died the previous day, and the toll was expected to rise as more people became infected. The hospitals were struggling to meet the need for emergency care. Citizens were warned to stay off the streetcars for fear of catching or spreading the germs in crowded spaces. The closure of schools, churches and places where people gathered was being debated.