“Hello, Mrs. Bishop,” I said.
“Hello, Alice,” she replied politely. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better, thank you.”
“Well, your mother says you can pour the tea, so why don’t you get on with it,” she said, with the familiar edge to her voice.
I did so. Playing tea parties was always one of my favorite games when I was little, so I knew how to do it.
“Milk?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I poured the milk into the pretty blue-and-white china teacup. Then I filled it up with steaming tea.
“Sugar?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
There were silver sugar tongs, so I picked up a lump of sugar.
“One lump or two?”
“Four,” said Mrs. Bishop firmly.
I nearly dropped the tongs. Then I did as she asked. Each sugar lump plopped into the tea like a stone, sending up a little wave. Four plops.
I handed her the tea, and she stirred it with one of the silver spoons Mom had provided, then took a ladylike sip.
“Perfect,” she said.
There were two dainty pieces of cake set out on separate plates with silver dessert forks. I put one plate beside her teacup, then helped myself to tea and cake.
I drank my tea slowly, watching her. Neither of us spoke.
It seemed like a battle— who was going to hold out the longest?
I finally gave in. I knew she could last much longer than I could.
“I thought you’d be dead by now,” I said. “You and Fizz.”
Mrs. Bishop was right in the middle of a sip, and she sputtered and nearly choked on it. She recovered and put down her teacup. She fixed me with a stare from her startling green eyes.
“There was a change of plan,” she said. Then she threw back her head and laughed. At that moment, she was both of them: Fizz and Mrs. Bishop, melded into one.
When she stopped laughing, she looked down at the small piece of chocolate cake on her plate.
“That’s not nearly enough,” she said. “Alice, we need more cake.”
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My inspiration for The Dollhouse: A Ghost Story came from two people and one glorious house.
The very first glimmer of the story appeared one day years ago when my father told me about an impressive but scary staircase he had climbed in the Georgian house of a friend. Being the kind of person who falls in love with houses, I wanted to see it, and soon I was head over heels with a wonderful house that had been lovingly restored. The owner was Ruth Redelmeier, who had been at university with my mother, whom I had recently lost. I took great comfort in hearing stories about my mother from Ruth, who was very generous with her time and attention. We became friends, and soon I was visiting her regularly. She had a dollhouse in her bedroom, and she introduced me to the tiny treasures she had collected. Slowly the idea for my book began to grow. Ruth let me wander around her house whenever I visited, with one exception: she didn’t want me to go into the attic by myself, because the stairs were so steep. One day I enlisted the help of a friend, Robert Cramer, who also has an enthusiasm for old houses, and we climbed up to the attic. The large room was shadowy and quiet; wide floorboards cut from pine trees nearly two hundred years ago stretched the full width of the house between two gracefully arched windows. The empty space seemed to hold the unseen history of the house. Over time, this house and this attic began to live inside me, whispering secrets, and slowly became inhabited with Alice, Fizz and Mrs. Bishop.
My other inspiration was Sarah Legakis, a young woman at my father’s church. I noticed her right away in the choir: she was very pretty and had a joyful, open expression. She seemed to radiate goodwill. I was drawn to her, and over time, I gradually got to know her better. I liked her a lot: she was engaging, affectionate and enthusiastic. I learned that she had developmental differences, and would always have a child’s outlook on life. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and I knew I wanted a character like her in one of my books. Sarah was the bright spark that led to the creation of Lily and Bubble.
So I would like to thank my two muses: Ruth and Sarah.
Ruth, your friendship and kindness to me over the last few years has been a great source of happiness. I admire your patience, independence and practical outlook. You have helped me through many a difficult time, and I have fond memories of chatting over cups of tea, playing with your dollhouse, and prowling through your house with characters and scenes from my book dancing through my head. Thank you for everything.
Thank you Sarah for being yourself so completely and for all the bounce and joy you bring to everyone you meet.
I’d also like to thank Anne Finlay, Sarah’s mother, for being so open and welcoming to me when I approached her about creating a character inspired by Sarah. Anne gave me the benefit of her considerable experience and insight, and her input and feedback were essential as I developed the characters of Lily and Bubble. And thank you to Kate Legakis, who helped me understand what it was like to live with a sister with developmental differences.
There’s a golden retriever in Western Bay named Bear, who was the inspiration for Buttercakes/Sailor. Either Tracey Crummey or her brother Wade walk Bear by my house every day, and one day he walked right into the story.
A very big thank you to my agent, Hilary McMahon of Westwood Creative, for all her hard work on this book and the faith she has in my work.
My heartfelt thanks and appreciation go to my excellent editor, Sam Swenson, who has seen me through four novels now and always brings her clear insights and high standards to my work. Sam challenges me and asks all the questions that need to be asked. She gives my books a good shake and they are so much stronger afterwards! Thanks also to everyone at Tundra, especially Sam Devotta, Margot Blankier and Tara Walker. Special thanks to Chloe Bristol for creating such an imaginative and striking cover, and to Emma Dolan for her inspired design. And thank you to ArtsNL,* who gave me a much-needed grant that helped me buy some time to work on the book.
As with all my books, I have depended on the kindness and hospitality of my friends, especially those in Ontario who open up their homes to me and welcome me into their lives: Laurie Coulter, Erich Volk, Pat Green and Margaret Gardonio. Your steadfast encouragement, good dinners, sympathy and laughter is an ongoing source of strength for me. In St. John’s, Barb Neis, Peter Armitage, Beni Malone and Marian Frances White offer a similar bed-and-breakfast form of support. Kitty Whalen, Tom Whalen and Rick Clarke are my stellar neighbors who bring me groceries when I’m in isolation, splits for my woodstove and dessert all too often. My good friends Christopher Thorpe, Marie Alexander, Wanda Nowakowska, and Michael Worek have all cheered me on over the years as I wrote The Dollhouse. Jo Caragh and George Miranda have been warmly supportive. Frieda Wishinsky and her husband Bill generously offered me their house in Toronto for several weeks while they were away, and I spent much of that time working on this book. Thank you Robert Cramer for exploring the attic with me and being such a good friend, and thank you Robin Cleland for your continuing insight and support for my work.
A special thank you to Vanessa Shields, my enthusiastic and loving writing sister, who is quite simply always there for me. Working with Vanessa at hand on FaceTime during the pandemic has added so much to my writing life and has eased some of the challenges of solitude. Thank you, Vanessa, for the inspirational writing retreats, the daily accountability, and especially, The Complaints Department!
My first reader is always my dad, Graham Cotter, and his respect for my work, his suggestions and his ongoing encouragement are essential to me. My daughter, Zoe Cleland, is another early reader who gives me insight, ideas and appreciation. Her childhood experiences and her unique perspective have informed all of my writing for children.
A quiet thank you to my mother, whos
e spirit is never very far away, and who would recognize Mrs. Bishop’s sense of humor, her hairbands and her nose. And finally thank you to all the other spirits who come and go, haunting houses and haunting me, whispering their stories to me again and again, until I write them down.
* I acknowledge the support of ArtsNL, which last year invested $3.2 million to foster and promote the creation and enjoyment of the arts for the benefit of all Newfoundlanders and Labradorians.
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