Kezzie at War

by Theresa Breslin

  ‘I am going in to Dalton,’ the doctor told her a few days later. ‘I’m going to speak to a few people and see if I can do something about having that rescue home closed. I thought most of these places had gone, apart from the farm school on Vancouver Island. They’re obviously not screening staff applicants properly and I doubt if they are sending out inspectors to check on the children they have placed.’

  CHAPTER 28

  Jack

  LATER THAT SAME evening the telephone rang. Kezzie heard Sarah McMath call her from the hall.

  ‘It’s the doctor. He wants to speak to you.’

  Kezzie took the handpiece from her. The doctor was calling from Dalton. The home was being closed. All the children were placed and accounted for. Except one. Did Kezzie remember seeing a boy called Jack?

  ‘It seems as though the child has run away,’ said Dr McMath. ‘They’re very concerned, what with winter coming on.’

  Kezzie tried to remember. She couldn’t really recall any of the children’s names at the home. The only little boy she remembered distinctly was the boy in the cupboard … and he was locked in … She suddenly realised that he would be exactly the type of child who would run away.

  ‘Can you describe him?’ she asked.

  It was Jack, of course. Kezzie spoke to the matron who sounded dreadfully worried. Kezzie felt sorry for her. The woman was trying to justify her treatment of the boy.

  ‘I had to lock him up,’ she said. ‘He was violent towards other children. What could I do?’

  What else, indeed? thought Kezzie as she replaced the telephone on its stand. Perhaps spoken to him, cuddled him? Maybe he was rough and aggressive. All Kezzie had seen in the cupboard was a very scared and lonely small boy.

  She went slowly into the front parlour where Mrs McMath was sewing.

  ‘The doctor is going to stay on for a while in Dalton to see if they turn up any trace of the boy,’ she said.

  The lamp was on in the room. Kezzie went to draw the curtains. She looked out of the window. It was dark and cold with a heavy sky threatening rain. Was Jack outside in this weather, with little protection in his thin orphanage clothes?

  Sarah McMath got up and came and stood behind her. She put her arms round Kezzie.

  ‘He’ll be all right,’ she said. ‘If anyone can find him, my Andrew will.’

  Three days passed before Dr McMath returned home.

  Kezzie was sitting at the side of Lucy’s bed reading to her. She was not sure if her sister was listening as Lucy’s eyes were almost closed. She hesitated as she turned the page. Then she heard voices outside the bedroom door.

  ‘Go on in,’ she heard Dr McMath say.

  The door opened and a scruffy boy entered cautiously. Kezzie saw her sister’s eyes open, and then widen in surprise.

  Jack advanced into the room in a cocky manner.

  ‘So this is where ye went,’ he said, looking around, ‘not bad for some, eh?’ He strolled about the room picking things up and examining them. He went to the window and looked out at the yard and the garden. ‘Not bad, not bad,’ he said. Then he sat down on the end of Lucy’s bed. ‘Here! This is real soft. Bet ye wish ye were back in Dalton, an’ I don’t think.’ He leaned forward. ‘Look you,’ he said, ‘if they don’t treat you right, tell me. I’ll sort ’em out. I can fight anyone. That big one there,’ he pointed at Kezzie, ‘or even the old codger with the white hair.’

  To Kezzie’s amazement Lucy smiled.

  ‘I got somethin’ for ye.’ Jack reached inside his pullover and brought out the rag doll. ‘She’s a bit mussed up,’ he apologised, ‘but that was on account of me having to hide her from the dragon lady.’

  Lucy gave a piteous little cry and took the doll from him. The three of them watched her as she stroked its hair and cuddled it to her and mumbled nonsense words in its ear in a sing-song voice.

  ‘I think,’ said Dr McMath, ‘that we may just have found the key to unlock this child’s mind.’

  They left Jack sitting beside Lucy’s bed drinking milk and munching home-made cookies. He was full of himself, chattering away to her. He didn’t take note of any strangeness in her manner and was so brimming over with life and mischief that she was forced to pay attention to him. He was starting to tell her of his adventures. Of how he had climbed down a forty-foot wall to run away and met up with hungry bears and wolves in the woods around Dalton.

  Mrs McMath set out some food on the kitchen table.

  ‘However did you find him?’ she asked her husband.

  ‘Well,’ the doctor replied with a certain smugness, ‘I reckoned with the whole of the Royal Mounties out looking for him they would cover all the obvious places, the logging camps and the railway stations. So there wasn’t any use me following them around. Then I sat down and thought to myself: “What would I do if I was that boy and I decided to run away?” After that it was easy.’

  ‘Tell us,’ said Kezzie, pouring out the coffee.

  ‘I reckoned he would head this way, of course,’ said Dr McMath. ‘He’s a smart boy. Most troublesome children like that are. They’ve a lot of energy that needs good direction, that’s all. After Kezzie told me what she knew on the telephone, I just worked out that he would try to follow the only two people who had ever shown him any kindness.’

  He took a long drink of his coffee.

  Mrs McMath walked briskly round the table and took the cup from his hand.

  ‘Andrew McMath. Kezzie and me, we have been worried sick these last days. If you don’t leave off drinking that coffee and tell us the rest of this story at once, you will get absolutely no dinner this night.’

  The doctor laughed.

  ‘Well, I only drove very slowly up and down the road from Dalton to Waterfoot several times, stopping here and there to have a picnic, and making sure that the food was on plain view. It must have been the sight of those blueberry muffins you made, Sarah, because sure enough, on the second day a small figure appears as cheeky as you like and asks if I’d be passing through Waterfoot, because he might just do me the honour of accepting a lift from me.’

  CHAPTER 29

  Christmas

  THE FIRST TRAILS of snow saw Lucy up and walking about. Jack was a tonic to everybody. To begin with he drove Dr and Mrs McMath to distraction. Nothing was safe from him. Ornaments fell from tables and broke as he passed, windows cracked of their own accord when he played football in the yard.

  One day Kezzie was helping Mrs McMath put the winter quilts on the beds. They were in the small attic room where Jack slept, when on turning the mattress they discovered a vast quantity of food crushed under the bed. Most of it was rotten or had mould growing on it.

  Mrs McMath sat down in a small chair.

  ‘Lord, Lord,’ she said. ‘What does that tell you, Kezzie?’ she asked.

  ‘That he is a thief,’ said Kezzie reluctantly.

  The older woman shook her head.

  ‘It tells me that at some time he has starved.’

  Jack came into the room at this moment and immediately turned for flight.

  ‘Jack!’ Mrs McMath called sternly.

  He crept back, with such a look of fear on his face that Kezzie had to turn her head away.

  ‘Come with me,’ Mrs McMath commanded him. She led him downstairs through the kitchen to the pantry. ‘Do you see this door?’ she asked him. ‘It is never locked. That means that anyone who lives here may go inside and eat as much as they please – whenever they choose. Do you understand me?’

  He nodded warily.

  ‘Eat as much as you want, Jack. Eat until your belly’s sore and you cannot swallow another crumb.’ She laughed and patted him on the head. ‘And then go in and eat some more,’ she said.

  They went sleigh riding just before Christmas. Dressed Eskimo-style in hooded parkas they whizzed down the lanes and roads with the bells jingling. The runners hissed on the hard-packed snow and in the background the mountain ice caps shone diamond blue. They were on an expedi
tion to the forest to cut down their own Christmas tree. Jack and Dr McMath spent some time studying various trees and discussing the merits of each, until eventually his wife called from the sleigh that the girls were getting cold, and if they didn’t take the axe to a tree right this minute she was driving home without them. They selected a fine Douglas fir and brought it home.

  The streets and buildings were decorated and brightly lit, and as they came back through the town their breaths frosted on the air with ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ as they saw the different coloured baubles and lights in the shop windows.

  On Christmas Eve they exchanged small gifts. Kezzie had knitted the doctor a pair of fingerless mittens and embroidered a book mark for his wife. Against her better judgement she bought Jack a penknife. His face when he opened up the parcel made up for any doubts she may have had.

  Lucy had crept on to Sarah McMath’s knee and was opening her presents. Kezzie felt a tremendous pang of jealousy as she watched them. The little girl was looking up into the face of the older woman, who was stroking her hair and reading her the Christmas story from a book they’d given her. She was aware of Dr McMath’s hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Are you not opening your present, Kezzie?’ he asked gently.

  Kezzie fumbled with the bulky parcel and pulled the wrapping away. It was a chess set. The pieces had been carved in soapstone by Eskimo craftsmen, the original Canadians, the doctor had said.

  ‘Perhaps with this set I might win a few games,’ said the doctor.

  Kezzie looked at him. They understood each other very well, she thought. He seemed to know when she was troubled or upset or homesick, and would suggest a walk or a game of chess to lift her mind.

  After Christmas Kezzie counted her savings. Buying herself and Lucy winter clothes had used up most of her money.

  ‘I must look for work,’ she announced at breakfast. ‘You have been more than generous with us, but I cannot allow this to go on.’

  The doctor and his wife exchanged glances.

  ‘We thought you might say this one day,’ said Sarah McMath. ‘We were going to make a proposition to you.’ She glanced at her husband.

  ‘I need help with my surgery, Kezzie. Sarah says she is getting too old and her eyesight is not as good as it was for dispensing. So, if you are agreeable to work with me, I could pay you a small wage.’

  ‘Only if you deduct money for our keep,’ said Kezzie firmly. Her heart was beating very fast. To work with a doctor and learn about medicine!

  ‘And Jack,’ said Mrs McMath. ‘We must do something about him, also.’

  They found Jack work at the local grocery store owned by Miss Hannah Chiltern, a lady who spoke to him severely but petted him in quite a ridiculous manner. He lodged in a room above the store and now considered himself an independent gentleman. He wore a long calico apron and would rush forward to serve them when Kezzie and Lucy did the shopping. Kezzie had to try not to laugh, but Lucy absolutely adored him. She took him very seriously and would insist on buying whatever Jack recommended, or what he said was a good deal that day. He was immensely proud of the bicycle which he used to deliver orders, and no matter what his destination always managed to ride past the doctor’s house at least once a day.

  Lucy spent more and more time with Mrs McMath in the kitchen, helping her bake or mainly getting under her feet, Kezzie thought. She was growing stronger as each day passed, fed on the good natural produce of the country, milk and eggs and the fruit stored for winter, pears and plums and apples.

  Dr McMath had started to train Kezzie to help in the dispensary. She was now quite deft at using the little brass scales with their tiny weights and measured out the powders accurately. She was absorbing the names of drugs, complicated Latin terms and Greek symbols. She felt excited and thrilled at being surrounded by such vast quantities of knowledge. She could learn so much here.

  One day Miss Chiltern came to see the doctor. She had Jack firmly by the collar. Kezzie felt her heart drop. What trouble had he been up to now?

  ‘Do you know,’ declared Miss Chiltern, ‘that this here boy can’t read or write?’

  ‘Doesn’t surprise me,’ said Dr McMath, polishing his spectacles. ‘Shouldn’t surprise you neither, Hannah. You know what some of those homes were like.’

  ‘Doesn’t surprise me at all,’ she answered tartly, ‘but what I cannot cope with is the boy just refusing to go to school to learn.’

  She shook Jack slightly and then released him. Lucy had gone to stand beside him.

  ‘You won’t go to school?’ Mrs McMath asked Jack.

  He shook his head, his face red with embarrassment. Lucy put her hand in his.

  ‘You have to go to school,’ said Miss Chiltern, ‘or you can’t work with me.’

  Jack hung his head.

  ‘Kezzie,’ said Lucy. ‘Please, Kezzie. Don’t make him go. They’ll put him in a baby class and then everyone will laugh at him. Kezzie, you could teach him. Couldn’t you? Please?’

  CHAPTER 30

  A letter from home

  JACK WAS A quick learner and with Lucy’s help soon made good progress. Kezzie came through from the kitchen one night leaving them both bent over their books at the table.

  Dr McMath folded his newspaper and smiled.

  ‘School over?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Kezzie, sitting down with a sigh. ‘He is an intelligent boy. For his education to be neglected for so long is a scandal. These so-called philanthropists, who sent children out here, should be put in jail.’

  Mrs McMath put her knitting down.

  ‘Kezzie,’ she said gently. ‘It was not a bad thing in all cases. For some orphans who were destitute or in a workhouse, it was a unique opportunity.’

  ‘Well,’ said Kezzie, ‘I can hardly believe it. I would like to meet such a child.’

  ‘You have,’ said Sarah McMath, ‘two in fact. Andrew and I were Home Children.’

  Kezzie sat up in her chair.

  Dr McMath looked at his wife with a fond smile. ‘We were sent over by Quarrier’s Homes in Scotland at the turn of the century.’

  Kezzie was astounded. ‘You!’ She looked from one to the other. ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘We were orphans,’ said Mrs McMath, ‘and I suppose that the home thought that they would give us a fresh start in a new country away from the slums in Glasgow.’

  ‘Do you remember the journey, Sarah?’ asked Dr McMath. ‘It took eighteen days to get to Halifax, and then the train, a gigantic monster pouring out steam.’

  ‘I remember rats running around in the steerage,’ said his wife, ‘and seeing whales in the ocean spouting water. It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me.’

  ‘I was put on a farm back east,’ said the doctor. ‘It is much colder there in the winter. The first snowfall was measured in feet, not inches. My mattress was a straw tick made from flour bags with a sheet and a blanket. I rose at dawn and worked all day, milking cows, hoeing corn, lifting potatoes, splitting wood, harnessing the horses for ploughing. It was hard work, but the folk were kindly enough.’

  ‘I was sent into domestic service,’ said Mrs McMath, ‘but the old lady treated me as her own. I was very fortunate. She left me her home when she died, and even though it was mortgaged I started up a boarding house and made more than enough to live on.’

  ‘And then one day,’ continued her husband, ‘a handsome young fellow came to lodge with you because he was going to college in the town.’

  ‘And he took me out for a buggy ride and went into a field and picked me a bunch of brown-eyed Susans …’

  They smiled at each other.

  ‘“He is the God that giveth the desolate a home to dwell in,”’ murmured Dr McMath.

  Kezzie took down the chess set from the shelf by the fire.

  The world is a strange place, she thought as she set out the pieces, full of contradictions and conflicting ideas.

  A few weeks later a letter arrived for her from
her grandfather.

  My dear Kezzie

  I have received your letters and I am glad that all is well with Lucy and yourself, although I sense that you may have been through difficulties but have not gone into detail. Thank the doctor and his wife on my behalf and tell them I will pass their kindness on to someone else as this is the only way I can repay them. Kezzie, I must tell you that I have had a great promotion and that I have a tenement flat to rent in Clydebank. It is very well appointed with extra space and a toilet inside, which I myself do not consider to be hygienic, but it is a welcome facility in the winter-time. There is room for yourself and Lucy, a school close by and also a college. There is an Italian café not far away and I have spoken to the owner and he can let you work there at night and you could take courses in the college in daytime. Now, Kezzie, these are my thoughts. However, you sound as though you are very happy in Canada, and Lucy is thriving, and if you decide to make a new life there I will understand. It is a new land and there must be many opportunities, and you will have many friends. So, I will understand if you decide to stay, but if you decide to come back I am here for you.

  Your ever-loving grandfather.

  Kezzie kept the letter in her pocket all day as she worked in the surgery. Her mind was in turmoil. The time had passed quickly since they had arrived in Waterfoot, and Lucy was now so well that Mrs McMath had been talking of enrolling her in school. Kezzie knew Lucy had taken a very special place in the older woman’s heart.

  After dinner when they were drinking coffee in the sitting-room Kezzie handed them the letter. The doctor read it carefully and then gave it to his wife. She read it twice and then took her hanky out and blew her nose.

  ‘Kezzie,’ said Dr McMath, ‘you must decide what you think best. All I would say is, that I too had thought of you studying here and perhaps winning a place at university.’ He sighed. ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ wailed Kezzie. ‘I feel I am being torn in two. I cannot take this responsibility.’