And Nothing But the Truth

by Kit Pearson

  Maud, as well, seemed restless. “This is boring,” she said, putting down her pawn. “Poll, I have an idea—let’s bob your hair!”

  “No!” said Polly. But she glanced at Daddy to see his reaction.

  He chuckled. “Doodle, were you wanting to cut your hair?”

  “Maud thinks I should,” mumbled Polly.

  “Do you want to?”

  “I might,” said Polly slowly, “but what about you, Daddy? You always said you loved my long hair.”

  Daddy hugged her. “I always did. But I would love your hair any way it was, because I love you. If you want to cut it, it’s fine with me.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. It’s your hair, after all. You’re lucky to have so much of it,” he added ruefully. Daddy’s thick hair used to hang over his forehead. Now the front of his scalp was almost bare.

  “So, do you want to, Poll?” asked Maud. “I’m good at cutting hair—I do Ann’s all the time.”

  Polly hesitated. Her long hair had been part of her all her life. But she was thirteen now. It would be swell to look more grown-up, and she was tired of being the only one at school without a bob.

  “All right,” she whispered.

  “Good for you! Let’s go into the kitchen so we don’t get hair all over the carpet.”

  Polly sat on a stool in the middle of the kitchen with a towel draped around her shoulders. When Maud approached her with the scissors that Noni used to cut flowers, Polly wanted to change her mind—but it was too late. Already the cold blades were against her neck and long strands of hair were drifting onto the linoleum.

  Polly closed her eyes tightly and tried not to cry as the scissors snipped away. This was a huge mistake! She would look awful, and everyone would tease her, and her hair would take forever to grow out again.

  “There!” said Maud finally. She shook the towel out the back door, then wiped off Polly with it. “Oh, Doodle, you look beautiful!”

  “You really do,” said Daddy.

  Maud ran out and returned immediately with a small mirror. “See for yourself.”

  Polly stared at the strange girl in the mirror. She had her face, but it was framed with soft waves of blond hair. It made her eyes look bigger. Her neck felt cold, but her head felt delightfully light and free.

  “Well? Do you like it? Say something!” Maud actually sounded frightened.

  “I—I do like it! Oh, Maud, thank you!”

  Maud was sweeping up Polly’s hair when someone knocked loudly on the kitchen door. Polly opened it to a dripping wet Alice.

  “Hi, Polly—I love your bob! I ran over from the parish hall,” she puffed. “Can I meet your father?”

  Polly didn’t have time to answer; Alice had already pushed her way in. “Hi, Mr. Brown!” she said, sticking out a hand.

  Daddy chuckled. “Well, hi to you, too. Whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

  “I’m Alice Mackenzie, a friend of Polly’s from St. Winifred’s.”

  Daddy asked her more questions and she gazed at him hungrily between answers. She wishes he were her father, Polly realized. Poor Alice—she’d probably never see her own father, who had left her when she was a little girl. At least Daddy was in Polly’s life, even though it wasn’t all the time.

  Polly had forgotten that her grandmother also liked her with long hair. When Noni returned from church, she gasped and put her hand to her heart.

  “Polly, what have you done?” she cried.

  Polly led her over to the sofa. “Maud cut my hair, Noni,” she said. “Do you like it?”

  Noni was trembling. “Since you ask, I have to tell you that I do not like it! How could you do this without my permission?”

  “She had my permission, Mrs. Whitfield,” said Daddy quietly. “And Polly’s thirteen. She’s old enough to wear her hair the way she wants to.”

  “She’s just like Una,” whispered Noni.

  “What do you mean?” asked Maud.

  “Your mother. She cut her hair without asking me.”

  Noni took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes. Then she stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going up to my room for a while.”

  Polly’s own eyes stung. Maud put an arm around her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Doodle. She’ll get used to it.”

  “It’s just the shock,” said Daddy. “You do look different.” He grimaced. “And it seems that we’ve brought back a difficult memory for your grandmother.”

  Polly felt so guilty that she could barely eat her lunch. It helped, however, that the rest of the family raved about her new hairstyle.

  “You look like Jean Harlow!” teased Gregor.

  “She does not, Gregor! She still looks like our own dear Polly, only a wee bit more grown-up,” said Aunt Jean.

  At the head of the table, Noni was silent. That afternoon Polly knocked on her door.

  “Come in,” said the gravelly voice.

  “Are you asleep?” asked Polly.

  “No, I’m just reading.” Noni gazed at Polly, then began to weep. “Oh, hen, come and kiss me. I’m sorry I was so sharp. You hair actually suits you very well. And your father is right. You’re old enough to do what you want with it.”

  Polly ran to the bed and climbed up beside Noni. Noni’s tears ended as abruptly as they had begun. “Listen to this,” she said. She began to read a poem by Coleridge.

  Polly was so relieved Noni had stopped crying that she almost fell asleep.

  “Are you okay, Boss?” Daddy asked that afternoon. Maud had taken some aspirin because she had a headache.

  Maud shrugged. “I guess so. I keep getting headaches and I’m so tired and queasy all the time. I thought I might have the flu, but I don’t feel really sick—just sickish.”

  Daddy looked worried. “Perhaps you should see a doctor. Is there one on the island?”

  “Just Dr. Cunningham, and he’s such a stick. If I still feel like this when I get back, I’ll go to the university doctor.”

  “Good,” said Daddy. “You must have been working too hard last term.” He grinned. “Or playing too hard! You take better care of yourself this year, all right?”

  They were having a last walk in the rain. Polly clung to Daddy’s arm. In a few hours he would have to leave! “Do you want to see the cabin?” she asked him.

  Daddy smiled. “My hideaway? Sure! Anyway, there’s something I want to talk to you two about and it’s getting too wet to stay out.”

  The three of them—four, counting Tarka—pushed through wet bushes to the cabin. Polly hadn’t been in it for a long time. Water was dripping from the roof, but they squatted on stumps in a dry area.

  Daddy looked around and shuddered. “At least I don’t have to hide anymore. It’s been such a relief to see you openly. It was generous of your grandmother to let me come.”

  “I wish she would be friendlier, though,” said Polly.

  “Don’t worry about that, Doodle,” said Daddy. “You know that Una’s family has never liked me. We had a terrible quarrel.”

  “What was it about?”

  “You’re not old enough to know yet. One day I’ll tell you—I promise.” He cleared his throat. “There’s something I will tell you, girls. I have—well, I have a lady friend in Kelowna.”

  “You do?” said Maud. “Who is it?”

  “Her name is Esther. Her mother owned the boarding house I live in. Esther and I became friends, and then we began walking out. While I was in Winnipeg, Esther wrote to me and told me her mother had died. She wants me to help her run the boarding house.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Maud. “Will you get married?”

  Married! Polly couldn’t absorb any of this.

  Daddy laughed. “Not right now, although I’d certainly like to one day. No, at the moment it will be strictly a business arrangement. Esther is a fine lady. I think you’d both really like her—she’s kind and smart. It’s best if you don’t tell the family here about her, though. They probably wouldn’t appro
ve.”

  “But why not?” asked Polly.

  “Because Esther’s Jewish.”

  “I have a friend at varsity who’s Jewish,” said Maud. “She’s really nice.”

  “I’m glad you’re friends with her, Maud. But I don’t think your family here would be friendly towards Esther. They can be narrow-minded—especially your grandmother.”

  Polly flushed, as if she were responsible for Noni’s opinions. She wished Daddy was wrong, but she knew he wasn’t. Noni had stubborn prejudices; she would disapprove.

  Polly disapproved for other reasons. Now that Daddy was finally back in her life, she didn’t want to share him with anyone else.

  “Does Esther know about what happened to you?” asked Maud.

  “She knows all about it, Boss,” said Daddy. “I told her before I left for Winnipeg this summer, and I told her my real name. She was shocked that I stole the money, of course. But she understood how desperate I was—that I did it for you. And she admired me for confessing.”

  The three of them sat quietly. This enormous change—Esther—dropped into the silence like a stone into a pool.

  Then Maud smiled. “Well, Daddy, now we both have sweethearts! I’m excited about meeting her.”

  Polly gulped. “So am I,” she lied.

  “And so is Esther!” said Daddy. “I talk about my girls all the time, and she can’t wait to meet you.” He gave them a yearning look. “If we ever do get married, and if we make a go of the boarding house, perhaps …”

  “What?” asked Polly.

  Maud seemed to know what he meant. Daddy passed his hand over his face. “Nothing. Just wishful thinking.”

  Polly seethed inside. What weren’t they telling her? But she didn’t want to spoil Daddy’s last few hours by making a fuss.

  “Now, let’s do some planning,” said Daddy. “Easter is April 12. Let’s say you visit us during the week of April 20. I’ll write to your grandmother nearer the time and we’ll arrange it. You two can meet in Vancouver and go on the train to Kelowna. After your visit, Maud can go back to U.B.C., and Polly can take the boat straight to Victoria from Vancouver. Do you think you can get away then, Maud?”

  “I’ll try,” said Maud. “I’d really like to meet Esther and see Kelowna. How big a city is it?”

  Polly didn’t hear the answer. She wanted to visit Daddy, but she wanted him all to herself.

  “I’m going to walk Tarka,” she told them, and fled.

  When Polly and Maud arrived at the wharf to see Daddy off, Chester was standing there with his parents. “Hi, Chester,” said Polly shyly. “This is my father.”

  “Well, well, it’s very nice to meet you!” said Chester’s mother nervously. Her husband mumbled a greeting, but he acted as if Daddy belonged to another species.

  Chester, however, treated him like anyone else’s father. “How do you do, sir?” he said, shaking Daddy’s hand and looking him in the eye.

  Polly glowed; what a gentleman Chester was! She stepped away from the adults, and as she’d hoped, Chester followed. He stared at her with such clear admiration that Polly blushed.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked him.

  “Your hair,” said Chester. “It’s … it’s so pretty!”

  “Oh!” Polly blushed even more deeply. “Are you waiting for someone to arrive?” she mumbled.

  “No, I’m going back to school early. There’s a football tournament I want to see.”

  That was too bad; Polly had looked forward to more time with him on the boat.

  “Polly! Daddy is saying goodbye!” called Maud.

  Polly hurried over and buried herself in Daddy’s coat. She drew in his familiar smell and her eyes filled. She wouldn’t see him again for months.

  “Goodbye, my precious darlings,” Daddy told them as the steamer approached. “I’m so glad I’m part of your lives again.”

  He waved to them until the boat drew out of sight.

  Gregor and Sadie had gone, as well, and Maud was leaving the next day; she and Robert were going skiing on Holly-burn Mountain.

  “By yourselves? That’s not proper,” said Aunt Jean at dinner. “In my day, a young woman and a young man were never alone without a chaperone.”

  Maud became Maudish. “It’s perfectly proper, Aunt Jean, and it’s only for a day. Things have changed a lot since you were a girl—this is the thirties!”

  Noni frowned at her. “There’s no need to be rude, Maud. We’re all delighted that you have a beau, but you and Robert must observe the proprieties. Do you understand what I mean?”

  “Yes, Noni.” Maud lowered her head. Then she winked at Polly and dug into her venison.

  As usual, Polly had eaten no venison. When she was younger, she had tried to be a vegetarian. Now she’d decided that was too hard, but she still couldn’t bear to eat the gentle creatures she saw every day on the island.

  Noni cleared the plates and brought in a platter of Christmas cake and cookies. “These are so yummy,” said Maud. “Can I take some back with me?” She was in high spirits tonight, teasing Aunt Jean about her new hat and telling them a hilarious story about rehearsing for her play.

  No one had mentioned Daddy since his departure. At first Polly resented this. Then she was shocked to discover that she was as relieved at his absence as everyone else seemed to be. Everything was the same again. They were gathered around the family table, content with one another’s company.

  I miss him, but I’m glad he’s gone, thought Polly guiltily. It had been wonderful to see Daddy … but also unsettling. Anyway, she would see him again in April. Now she just wanted to savour her family and her last precious days on the island before school began.

  Three days later, Polly watched the island fade into the mist. Her prison sentence had resumed; she wouldn’t be able to come home until the half-term break in March.

  “Tell me everything, Polly,” said Alice eagerly as they settled in the lounge. “How was it seeing your father after so long? He’s so handsome!”

  Polly smiled. “Yes, he is.”

  “It’s such a shame you can’t live with him,” said Alice.

  “Live with him?”

  “Don’t you want to? He’s your father! But I suppose you can’t, being that he stole that money,” she said bluntly.

  “Let’s not talk about it,” Polly said quickly. She remembered the queer look Daddy had given them in the cabin. Was that what he had almost said? If he and Esther got married, did he mean to have Polly and Maud live with them?

  Once Polly would have given anything to be back with him … but surely she belonged with Noni now.

  “Okay, we won’t talk about it! Polly, did you know that Kay Winston has a pash on the school gardener? This week she’s going to sneak him a note!”

  Polly had to spend the rest of the journey talking about school.

  PART TWO

  TWO MORE TERMS

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE EASTER TERM

  TWO MORE TERMS IN THIS DREARY PLACE … HOW COULD she endure them? Polly wondered.

  She was pleased to see Eleanor and Daisy again, and touched by how glad they were to see her. But Rhoda immediately informed Polly that her bob should be longer in the back and that Polly’s new dress, which she had worn back to school, was old-fashioned.

  Polly had to put up with several days of rhapsodies about her short hair. They all kept coming up to her and saying they loved it. That was flattering but embarrassing, and she got tired of saying “Thank you.”

  At least there was special art again on Saturday. Miss Falconer explained that now that they had sampled many mediums, they were spending all of this term on drawing. “If you can draw, you can do anything,” she told them. She set up a still life and told them to simply gaze at it for at least ten minutes before they began drawing. “The first part of drawing is looking. Observe every line and space and shape, and feel them, as well. Don’t begin until you are absolutely ready.”

  This was real dra
wing! thought Polly happily as she finally picked up her pencil. No longer did she have to endure Miss Netherwood’s dry classes. Now she could draw from her heart as well as from her head.

  A week later, Polly knelt in church as the congregation prayed. She was supposed to bow her head like everyone else, but she kept staring at the rector. In their second class of the term, Miss Falconer had explained the proportions of the face. Then they had drawn one another. Polly had fixed her eyes on Dottie while she tried to reproduce each eyebrow and nostril and ear.

  Canon Puddifoot was standing there for so long it was a good opportunity to examine him. Sure enough, his mournful face fitted Miss Falconer’s formula. His eyes were in the middle, and his ears reached from the top of his eyebrows to the base of his nose. Polly’s fingers itched to draw the long lines of his drooping cheeks.

  “Let us pray especially for our ailing king,” the canon finished. “May his suffering soon be relieved, and may his family be consoled at this time of his passing.”

  Polly was disappointed when they all stood up to sing; she hadn’t finished imagining how she would sketch the canon’s gleaming bald forehead.

  Before Sunday lunch, Miss Guppy called Polly into her study. “What do you mean, young lady, showing such disrespect during the prayers? Why wasn’t your head bowed?”

  “Sorry,” muttered Polly. “I was thinking of something else.”

  “You are always thinking of something else! Next week you will sit beside me. I’m very disappointed in you, Polly. You’ve been back at school for only ten days, and you are not applying yourself. Why is that?”

  “I don’t know,” mumbled Polly.

  She wished she had the nerve to tell Miss Guppy that aside from art, school grated on her even more this term. She was glad to be free of Miss Netherwood, but now she had to sit by herself in the library and do endless math exercises. She and Eleanor had received two order marks each for having a race down the school hall when they thought no one was looking. The Crab had caught Polly reading in an empty bathtub after lights out, and had made her go to bed an hour earlier the next night.