The Whole Truth
Page 22
After the toasts were finished Polly took her glass of champagne to a chair, so she could remove her pinchy shoes. She wriggled her freed toes and took another swallow of the sweet, fizzy drink. It made the inside of her nose tickle, but it was so delicious! And it seemed to loosen her thoughts, as if they were singing birds zooming around her head.
What would it be like, to love someone so much that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him? Maybe that would happen to her one day! Biddy would be her maid of honour. Her bridesmaids would be Maud and Vivien. They would wear yellow, and Polly would carry Noni’s yellow roses.
But who would the groom be? Polly remembered her fortune—would it be Chester? She glanced at him standing under a tree with his parents. Just before the toasts he had come up to her and said quietly, “Hi, Polly. You look swell!” He had scurried away before she could reply.
Maybe she would marry Chester, maybe not. One day she would find out. One day she and her new husband would walk around this same lawn and pass wedding cake to their guests.
If only she didn’t have to go away to school next week! But she didn’t have a choice. Still, it was only for a year. Somehow she would get through it.
Polly stretched out her long legs, sheathed in silk stockings for the first time. I like being almost thirteen, she decided. She was getting used to her changing body, to being a “young lady,” as Aunt Jean called her. Even when she wasn’t dressed up, adults kept saying how pretty she was.
When Polly looked in the mirror, she realized they were right. Maybe it was vain to think that, but it seemed to be true. And being pretty kept her from worrying about her looks as much as her friends had started to. Vivien moaned about her greasy hair and Biddy had decided she hated her freckles.
Polly took another sip of her sweet drink, observing the joyful scene in front of her as if she were painting it. Biddy and Vivien were playing tag with some of the younger kids, shrieking as loudly as if they were the same age. Alice and Milly were passing around sandwiches—their mothers must have told them to.
Mrs. Mackenzie and Mrs. Taylor were talking in strident voices to Mr. and Mrs. Oliver. Aunt Jean was standing near Polly, boasting to Mrs. Cunningham about Gregor’s job. After their honeymoon in Seattle, Gregor and Sadie were moving to Chilliwack, where Gregor would be a curate. “He’s so lucky to get a position in these hard times,” said Aunt Jean, “but of course they recognized his skills in the interview. It’s a very large parish, with lots of opportunities to move up.”
More and more people were dancing, some in couples and some holding hands in a tromping circle. Mrs. Hooper and her grandson George were dancing the polka; Polly moved her foot in time with the beat.
Noni came up to her. “How do you like your first taste of champagne?” she asked.
“I love it!”
“Don’t have any more,” warned Noni. She smiled. “Isn’t this a perfect wedding? I’m glad to see you happy again, hen.”
Polly smiled back and Noni kissed her firmly on the forehead, as if she were sealing their affection for each other.
“Aunt Clara, come and meet Sadie’s cousins!” called Gregor.
Her grandmother walked away, looking elegant in her cream-coloured satin suit. How could Polly have once thought that she hated Noni? Or busy Aunt Jean or solemn Uncle Rand or nutty Gregor or her principled but generous sister? She watched Maud’s ample bottom jiggle as she joined the circle of dancers. I love them all! Polly thought.
But what about Daddy? The past few weeks had been so busy, Polly had managed not to think much about Daddy. Now she let her mind fill up with all that had happened.
Why couldn’t she forgive him? She forgave him for stealing. She wished he hadn’t done it, but she understood why he had. She could almost forgive him for abandoning them; he had simply been his usual impulsive, dramatic self. But why had he lied to her?
And then, finally, the answer came: To protect her. Because he didn’t want Polly to have a tarnished image of the father she adored. Because he loved her.
Surely that was all that was important. Now Polly wanted to cry. The truth—the whole truth, at last—was as deep as the sea around her. People were complicated. Daddy wasn’t totally good, after all. Neither was Noni, neither was Maud. And Alice, it turned out, wasn’t totally bad. She, Polly, was complicated too. That meant she could love Daddy even though he had disappointed her.
“Are you excited about seeing him?” Alice had asked.
Yes, she was! Polly realized. She could take him around the whole island without having to hide him. He could stay in Noni’s house and eat meals with them.
What would that be like? Would they be nice to Daddy? There was still a secret she didn’t know: why Noni and her parents had quarrelled. But she would probably find that out one day. Maybe her family here would never feel comfortable with Daddy, but she knew they’d be polite for her sake.
“You’re so lucky!” Alice had also said.
She was lucky, thought Polly. Daddy was coming to see her in the new year and she could hardly wait. Tomorrow she would write and tell him that.
“Polly, why are you sitting there all by yourself?” called Maud. “Come and dance!”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many thanks to Garry Anderson at the Canadian Museum of Rail Travel Archives in Cranbrook, B.C.; to Amy Black, Nora Clarke, Hadley Dyer, Peter Elliott, Christopher Grauer, Keith Hamilton, David Kilgour, Julie and Patrick Lawson, Lynne Missen, Louise Oborne, Helen O’Brian, Doug Rhodes, the late Noel Richardson, and Brian Wallace. Special thanks to Poppy for allowing me to turn her into Tarka! And extra special thanks to my partner, Katherine Farris, for her steadfast encouragement and help.
Kingfisher Island is inspired by one of the Gulf Islands between Vancouver and Victoria, but it is a fictional creation. Although I have tried to be as historically accurate as possible, I have improved the boat schedule for the convenience of my plot and characters.
About the Author
KIT PEARSON is one of Canada’s most beloved and critically acclaimed children’s authors. Her books include The Daring Game; A Handful of Time; the Guests of War trilogy; Awake and Dreaming; Whispers of War, a Dear Canada book; and, most recently, A Perfect Gentle Knight. Visit Kit Pearson at kitpearson.com.
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Copyright
The Whole Truth
Copyright © 2011 by Kathleen Pearson.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Epub Edition © July 2011 ISBN: 978-1-443-40920-9
Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
FIRST EDITION
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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Pearson, Kit, 1947–
The whole truth / Kit Pearson.
ISBN 978-1-55468-852-4
I. Title.
PS8581.E386W56 2011 jC813'.54 C2011-903883-8
RRD 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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