by Kit Pearson
Luke was eight and as easygoing as Biddy; he was always nice to Polly. His best friend, Seiji, was also eight and sometimes joined them in the fort. Seiji was friendly, but when he was there, he and Luke only wanted to do boring boys things, like aiming at gulls with their slingshots. Polly was worried they would actually hit one.
“Luke, when we started the fort, you said that it was just for us!” Biddy told him one day when Seiji wasn’t there.
“You let Polly play in it—why can’t Seiji?” Luke retorted.
The problem couldn’t be resolved. Finally, on the days when Seiji came, Biddy and Polly did other things. If it was calm they took out the rowboat. Or they climbed the big tree in the meadow, or, if Biddy had to babysit the twins, they walked them to the store. On rainy days they played with their dolls.
Biddy often asked Polly about her life in Winnipeg. Polly told her about her school and her friends there, about making snow forts and travelling downtown on the streetcar.
“Did you have movies in Winnipeg?” Biddy asked.
“Of course!” said Polly. “Maud and I went every Saturday afternoon. If it was a western, all the boys would take out their cap guns and shoot when the cowboys did. The movie theatre got really smoky and stinky.”
“You’re so lucky,” said Biddy. “I’ve only seen one movie in my whole life! That was last year in Victoria. It was Charlie Chaplin in City Lights. It was so funny!”
“I saw that,” said Polly.
She hadn’t told Biddy that Daddy usually went to the movies with them. Even when he was out of work, he would manage to find enough change to go. On the way home he would do such accurate imitations of the actors that everyone on the streetcar would laugh at him.
“Did you have a big house in Winnipeg?” Biddy asked her.
“Oh, no! Our house was small, and it wasn’t really ours—it was rented.”
“But why?”
“Because we didn’t have much money.”
Biddy looked astounded. “You didn’t? But you’re rich! Mrs. Whitfield’s the richest woman on the island—everyone knows that.”
“My grandmother may be rich, but we weren’t. Sometimes we were so poor we had to go on the dole.”
Polly began to tell Biddy how hard it was for Daddy to find jobs, how they sometimes went to bed hungry, and how they never had money for new clothes. Biddy listened with wide eyes. She wanted to hear more, but Polly had to stop. Talking about her former life was like peeling off a scab.
She kept expecting Biddy to ask about Daddy, but she didn’t for a long time; her parents must have told her not to. Finally one day she said, “You must really miss your dad, Polly.”
Polly was ready. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said quickly. Biddy flushed and changed the subject.
If only she could tell her that Daddy was alive! If only she could prick the secret inside her and let it burst! But she’d made Maud a solemn promise, sealed with blood.
October 9, 1932
Dear Daddy,
Tarka is home! I went to get him yesterday and carried him here in my arms. I had everything ready. He has a basket, a leash, and a collar, two bowls for water and food, and some knotted old socks to chew on. He gets four meals a day of bread and milk and a little meat.
He sleeps in my room. The first night I tried to keep him in his basket, but he cried and cried so I took him on my bed and he settled right down and went to sleep. So now he sleeps with me every night.
Sometimes he puddles on the floor, but I scold him and take him right outside. He chews on my shoes and dolls and he almost ate my toothbrush! He follows me everywhere and he licks people and wags his tail. He looks like an otter and that’s why his name is Tarka. Tarka the Otter is a book that Uncle Rand likes.
Oh, Daddy, I wish you could meet him!
Your Polly
Polly read over the letter, then sealed it in an envelope, dated it, and put it with her first letter in the chest. Then she sat on the floor and gazed at Tarka, peacefully sleeping in his basket.
He was beautiful, from his dear little black ears to the matching dark lines that extended from each eye. His brindled fur felt as wiry as Bramble’s. When he was asleep, he looked innocent, but as soon as he woke up he would race around and steal Polly’s underwear and bark at all the new things he didn’t understand, like Mrs. Hooper sweeping the floor or Noni’s umbrella.
Puppies were a lot of work! And they weren’t as perfect as Polly had imagined. She had to keep trying to wear Tarka out so he would sleep and give the household some peace. Polly worried that Tarka was too much trouble for Noni when she was at school, but Noni kept him locked in the kitchen or tied up outside when she was busy, and she said he was fine.
“Tarka, my little Tarka-dog,” whispered Polly, bending down to him and breathing in his skunky smell. Sometimes she pretended he was her little brother, although a brother would probably be easier to take care of—and at least he would wear diapers!
“Out you go, now!” she said as Tarka opened his eyes and stumbled out of his basket, sniffing the floor. She was too late, and wiped up his puddle with the rags she now kept in her room. “Oh, Tarka, you bad boy. When will you learn?” She carried him downstairs and out to the yard, and when he squatted again, she praised him hugely. “That’s a good dog!”
October 23, 1932
Dear Daddy,
Tarka is now ten weeks old! He doesn’t have as many accidents as he used to, although sometimes he still doesn’t remember. Noni had some ladies for tea and Mrs. Cunningham said what is that awful smell and Tarka had done his business right under the chair where she was sitting! I’m trying to teach him how to sit, but he doesn’t understand yet.
Biddy and I are going to dress up as ghosts for Hallowe’en. They don’t do trick-or-treating here. They just have a big party in the hall.
Oh, Daddy, where are you?
Love from Polly
November 4, 1932
Dear Daddy,
Tarka has grown so much! I’m trying to teach him how to walk on a leash, but he chews the leash and he chewed the rope when Noni tied him up in the yard. He got away in the road, but Mr. Lewis found him and brought him home. So Gregor is making him a leash out of a chain. Tarka hardly ever has an accident in the house now and he loves to chase balls, so I bought him four little ones with my allowance. He tosses them in the air and tries to catch them. I wish you could see him!
The Hallowe’en party was swell. There were just as many grown-ups there as children and they all dressed up too. Noni and Aunt Jean were twin babies—they wore bonnets and tablecloths as diapers! Someone played a fiddle and everyone danced. I fell asleep on the pile of coats and Uncle Rand carried me all the way home—I don’t even remember!
Noni and I are painting pictures of fall leaves. She lets me use her watercolour paints. My leaves don’t look as real as Noni’s, but she likes them.
Noni is also teaching me how to play the piano. I can do “Twinkle Twinkle” with one hand.
There’s a really mean girl at my school called Alice Mackenzie. She sassed Miss Hunter so much that Miss Hunter told Alice’s mother. Hana told us that Alice’s mother whipped her! Now Alice is horrible to everyone. She pulls Biddy’s hair and she pinches me whenever she can.
If you were here, Daddy, you could tell me what to do about Alice.
Love from Polly
Alice’s campaign against Miss Hunter was too awful to write about. She put tacks on Miss Hunter’s chair or worms in her tea. She asked her sweetly if she had heard from her beau lately, when the whole island knew that he had jilted her.
Miss Hunter’s cheeks would redden and her eyes would fill with tears. She knew now what had happened when she’d told on Alice, and all she could do was try to ignore her.
The rest of the class was so shocked at Alice’s behaviour that they became much quieter themselves. This infuriated Alice. “All right, everyone, at my signal rock your desks,” she ordered them before Miss Hunte
r came in.
No one would. Alice retaliated with sharp comments or vicious pinches, but the class continued to support Miss Hunter. Polly brought her asters from Noni’s garden, and the younger ones began to escape from Alice and eat their lunch in the schoolroom while Miss Hunter read to them.
November 15, 1932
Dear Daddy,
Tarka is behaving better on the leash now that he can’t chew it. Biddy and I go for long walks with him and Bramble. We let Tarka run loose on the beach or in the meadow, but he eats barnacles and cow pies and throws up, and he rolls in otter doo and then I have to give him a bath.
Noni and Aunt Jean and I going to Victoria to see Maud’s play! We’re leaving Friday evening and we’ll go to the school on Saturday morning. Uncle Rand won’t be there because he can’t miss church. I can hardly wait to see Maud! We’re bringing her a cake.
Much love from your Polly Wolly Doodle
CHAPTER EIGHT
DAYS DRAWING IN
Maud had expanded. Her face was broader and her bosom and tummy pushed out her tunic. She crushed Polly in a fierce hug. Then she grinned at all of them, so welcoming that her tight braids seemed to wave like extra arms.
“All the other boarders have gone for a walk, but Miss Guppy said I could stay and wait for you. Is this a cake?” Maud led them to the dining room and reverently placed Mrs. Hooper’s cake in her tuck box. “Now I’ll show you my dorm!” she called over her shoulder, almost running ahead of them.
They followed her upstairs. Polly grimaced at the six narrow white beds, at the bare floor and the uncurtained windows. The room looked stingy.
“And this is where I keep my clothes,” said Maud, pointing to a small chest of drawers.
“But Maud, you have hardly any room!” said Noni.
Aunt Jean frowned. “This floor looks as if it has splinters—can’t you ask for a carpet?”
Maud laughed. “It’s fine. None of us cares if it’s comfortable—we just have larks! Look, here’s a snap of Sadie with her horse. His name is Midnight. When I visit her after Christmas, she’ll let me ride him!”
“Are you really going there after Christmas?” Polly asked.
“I hope so. Can I, Noni? Sadie’s parents have invited me. They’ll be here for the play, so you can meet them.”
“We’ll see,” said Noni.
Feet thundered on the stairs and five girls burst into the dorm. “These are my roommates!” said Maud proudly.
Polly wished Maud had said This is my family! first. She stared suspiciously at the strangers who had taken over Maud’s life.
The American girl, Ann, was the prettiest. Edith was giggly, Sylvia looked haughty, and Mary shy. Sadie smiled at Polly and said, “Hi, there, kiddo!” She had twinkly blue eyes and a large mouth. Polly couldn’t smile back.
A bell clanged and Maud led them downstairs. Miss Guppy sailed out of her study and extended her hand to them. “How very nice to see you again, Polly!” she blared. “I’m looking forward to the day when we have you at the school as well.”
Polly stepped behind Noni, out of the Guppy’s hungry gaze. She would never come to this place—it was like a prison! And she could never leave Tarka! She’d have to figure out a way to convince Noni not to send her. At least she had almost three years to think of something.
“We’ll let you go to lunch now, Maud,” said Noni. “After the play we’ll take you out to dinner.”
“Break a leg, chickie!” said Aunt Jean merrily.
Polly was shocked. “Why did you tell Maud to break a leg?” she asked when they were in the taxi.
“Oh, that’s just a theatre expression—it means good luck,” laughed Aunt Jean.
The three of them had lunch at the hotel, where they had arrived late the night before. The waiter was carving a delicious-smelling roast and Polly couldn’t help accepting a piece.
This is a cow, she told herself sternly, but the beef was so juicy and delicious that she kept eating.
They went up to their rooms to rest before the play. Noni and Aunt Jean slept, but Polly knelt on a chair by the window. A gull hopped right onto the stone sill and cocked his head expectantly at her; she wished she had some crumbs to give him.
Polly remembered the last time she’d been in this hotel and how she couldn’t stop crying. Now tears threatened her again. If only Maud hadn’t become a hearty schoolgirl, and if only Daddy could return! Maybe he could live on the island! Then Polly would have her old family together with her new family and everything would be perfect.
Noni and Aunt Jean woke up and got dressed for the play. Aunt Jean fastened the back buttons on Polly’s best dress and brushed out her tangled hair.
“Maud’s roommates seem like nice girls,” she said. “Did you like them?”
Polly shrugged. “I guess so.”
“You know, hen, friends are everything to girls Maud’s age,” said Noni. “They get so involved with one another that their families don’t seem to exist. Una was like that with Blanche Tuttle. When Maud comes home for Christmas, she’ll pay more attention to us—I’m sure of it.”
Polly remembered Maud’s hug. “She seemed glad to see us, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did. I’m sure she misses us—especially you—more than she realizes. And tonight we get her all to ourselves for dinner! She’s so nice and plump I bet she’ll taste good!” Noni added, making Polly laugh.
A string quartet was playing in the lobby and people were having tea, but Noni led them across the street to the Crystal Gardens—a large building with a glass roof enclosing a swimming pool. They had tea in the arboretum, breathing in the humid air while they watched the swimmers below them.
“The next time we come to Victoria we’ll bring our bathing costumes,” said Aunt Jean. “You would love the pool, Polly—the water is much warmer than the sea.”
Gregor must have told her how Polly was afraid of swimming. “Thank you,” she whispered. She couldn’t tell Aunt Jean that it wasn’t the sea’s coldness she feared, but the scary depths underneath the surface.
The play was A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare. Maud had warned Polly that she might not understand the words, but Noni had already read aloud some of the play to Polly and she enjoyed its lilting lines.
Polly almost forgot that all the male parts were acted by girls. Maud, a chubby Peaseblossom, made the most of her small role, leading the other fairies around bossily and scratching Bottom’s head in an exaggerated manner. Polly sat on the edge of her seat, enthralled by the love stories and laughing so hard she almost choked. She clapped and clapped at the end, her eyes riveted proudly on Maud as the cast bowed.
The family pounced on Maud when she emerged from the dressing room. “You were excellent, hen!” said Noni. “I didn’t know we had an actor in the family!”
Polly flinched, remembering Daddy’s funny imitations of Buster Keaton and Boris Karloff.
Sadie came up and introduced her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harvey. “We’re hoping Maud can join us for a week after Christmas,” Mrs. Harvey told Noni. “The girls are such good friends, and Sadie is longing to show Maud everything.”
“We’ll see,” said Noni again. “I’ll think about it and write to you.”
Mrs. Harvey looked as disappointed as Maud, but she smiled and said that she’d wait for Noni’s letter.
They drove to a fancy restaurant nearby. Almost every table was filled with boarders and their families; Maud and her roommates kept turning around and waving to one another.
“Chickie, they must hardly feed you at school!” teased Aunt Jean, after Maud had eaten two desserts and finished Polly’s.
“They do, but it’s not nearly as good as this,” said Maud. “The worst meal is liver and onions, and we have it every Tuesday! The best is the roast we get on Sundays.”
Maud chattered unceasingly about the play, about every mistake and every triumph. Finally she turned to Polly and asked, “How’s your puppy?”
Polly ta
lked quickly, so Maud couldn’t interrupt with something else about school. “He’s a wonderful dog!” she said proudly. “He can sit and lie down on command and he never has accidents in the house any more.”
“He’s no angel, though,” said Noni dryly. Yesterday he had chewed one of her best shoes.
Polly and Maud went to the ladies’ room. “If only Daddy could have seen you in the play!” Polly said as they were washing their hands. “He would have been so proud!”
“You’re not supposed to be thinking about Daddy, Poll!”
Polly bent over the sink. What if Maud knew that she wrote letters to him? “In a month you can finally meet Tarka,” she said, to change the subject.
A month was a very long time, Polly thought as they drove Maud back to school and kissed her goodbye. But after that she’d have Maud to herself for all of the holidays—unless Noni let her go to visit Sadie.
The weather became colder and darker. Polly kept expecting it to snow, but it only got wetter. Even when she wore her gumboots and raincoat to school, she would often arrive home soaked and bone cold—far colder than in Winnipeg, where the temperature had been lower but the air much dryer. It was so misty that she couldn’t see the other islands, and at night the fog bell clanged through her dreams.
“The days are drawing in,” said Aunt Jean one evening. “Christmas will be upon us before we realize it!”
“I want to talk to you and Rand about that,” said Noni. “Today I received a rather unsettling letter. Lydia Tuttle wants to come for part of the holidays.”
Aunt Jean put down her cards. “I told you you shouldn’t have asked her!”
Polly was sitting in a chair, working on her knitting. The Turtle! She’d thought she would never see her again!
“I had to be polite, Jean. And we can’t refuse her request, not after how kind she was, bringing the girls on the train.”
Aunt Jean sighed. “How long is she staying?”
“She wants to come for a week, starting on December twentieth.”
“A week!” said Aunt Jean. “That’s much too long. And why would she want to come at all? She’s never liked the island.”