*
Elizabeth’s screaming voice came from her room. “My pony! My pony! It’s here!” Grace stood at the top of the entrance hall steps and watched the little girl bound down the steps and strain to open the front door. She set her feet, leaned back, and pulled with all her strength.
“No, Elizabeth you mustn’t-“
The little girl slipped through the door and disappeared. Mary and Mrs. Willow appeared from the kitchen door, looking at Grace with eyes full of fear.
“What happened?” Mary said.
“Go get her,” Grace said, “she’s outside. She ran outside.”
Mary ran to the door, pulled it open, and Grace saw Elizabeth looking left and right, jumping up and down, about to cross the street where a white horse with flowers stood waiting with a red carriage.
“My pony! A princess cart!” She screamed and jumped up and down.
Mary caught her just as she put her foot out in the street.
Elizabeth sat on the sidewalk and kicked at Mary. “It’s my pony, go away.”
Mary grabbed hold of her arms and held her tight, while Elizabeth kept kicking at the sidewalk. Mrs. Willow came down the steps and helped Mary keep Elizabeth controlled, but she broke away and turned toward the street. She ran out, a car screeched to a halt ten yards away, and Elizabeth screamed again and ran back to the sidewalk, was pushed by the two women, and then ran in the house and up to her room. She ran back out to the hallway and into her father’s office, but he wasn’t there. She screamed again. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!”
Grace came into the room, and Elizabeth stopped screaming, then ran behind the desk, watching her grandmother. Grace stopped, smiled, and stood silent for several seconds. She took a step left, but Elizabeth moved in the opposite direction behind the desk, ready to be chased, so Grace stood where she was.
“Elizabeth, my child, that horse across the street is not yours. If you want to go for a ride in it, we can do it. Would you like that?”
Elizabeth wiped tears from her eyes and shook her head. “It’s my pony. Daddy put it there.”
“Your father isn’t here, is he? What are we going to do, you and me?”
Elizabeth stared at her grandmother. She had no idea what they were going to do, her grandmother and her. That much was clear to Grace, who had no idea, either.
“Your mother isn’t here. Your father isn’t here. So I’m going to have Mary take you to your room and take care of you until your parents come home. Now, give me your hand.” Grace moved toward the desk, smiling.
Elizabeth stayed where she was, shifting on her feet, ready to run. Grace backed away, then walked out to the hallway and looked down the hallway to call Mary, but was startled to see her right outside the door. She motioned her in. “You go around the right, I’ll go around the left.” The two women began walking around the desk, but Elizabeth moved the chair and crawled underneath the desk.
“Oh my heavens,” Grace sighed. “Mary, get her out of there.”
Mary got on her hands and knees and approached the cubbyhole. Elizabeth screamed “I want my Daddy!”
Mary pulled back and sat facing Elizabeth, shaking her head back and forth. “Come on, Lizzie, we’ll go play, do something nice.”
Silence from under the desk.
Grace sighed again and turned to look around her, as if help were coming from somewhere. Mrs. Willow craned her head in the door. Grace motioned her in and pointed to Mary sitting on the floor, waving Mrs. Willow to go over there and help out.
Mrs. Willow bent over Mary, looked down at Elizabeth, smiled, but with a hard, forced smile, that told the child she wished she weren’t put in this position. “Now, Elizabeth, as soon as Mr. Stuart is home, we’ll have him talk to you. He can explain everything. Why don’t you let Mary take you to your room?” She held out her hand down to Elizabeth’s hiding place.
Elizabeth’s shoes pounded on the floor, her hands or head slammed against the wood of the desk, and her voice, growing hoarse, yelled “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!”
Grace watched this from the hallway through the open door to the bedroom. “Mrs. Willow,” she called, “Mary”.
The two women looked up at her. She waved them to come to her, and they followed her out of the room. She whispered, “She’ll get tired of this. Let’s just go on with our day.”
Grace walked back to her room to wait for one of Elizabeth’s parents to return home and discuss how to improve the child. Let alone keep her safe.
She went into her bathroom and took four aspirin, downed with a large glass of water. Then she sat on the toilet and got her breath back. Her hands were shaking. These headaches were becoming more frequent.
She went back into her room and stretched out on her chaise longue and enjoyed the quiet. Then she heard quick footsteps in the hallway, Mary’s voice calling after Elizabeth, a scream from the child, then muffled noise. She put her hand on her forehead, sighed and went to the hallway and heard the noise louder coming from the library.
When she opened the door to the library, she saw Mary move toward Elizabeth and the child run in a blur behind the library table and knock over the antique Oriental vase Grace had received from her mother. It crashed to the floor and broke into pieces. Mary followed her, eyes wide open at the broken vase, trying to keep her balance, looking at Grace then away, holding on to the table and then the chair. The child did not stop, but ran past Grace out the door, Mary frantically trying to keep up.
Grace clenched her fists and put her hands on her stomach as she stared at the precious black and white pieces, the flowers now separated in the shards. She put her hand up to her mouth. This child is out of control, she thought. Absolutely out of control. My head aches, my eyes hurt. I cannot go on like this.
She went back to her room and rested, or tried to rest, for half an hour, then called Beatrice in Montreal.
“Hello?”
Grace felt relieved when she heard her daughter’s voice. Someone she could commiserate with. “Beatrice, I can’t stand this any longer.”
“What’s the matter, Mother?”
“It’s Elizabeth. She just broke my Meiping vase, you know, that my mother gave to me, and before that she ran into the street and was nearly run over. Her mother pays no attention to her.” Grace wiped her hand across her brow.
There was a short silence on the other end of the phone. “Have you talked to Julia about this?”
“My Dear, you have no idea how difficult she is. She is so defensive about her little girl. Elizabeth has no direction. She doesn’t know what’s right because her mother won’t let anyone else help the child. And now Hugh has stepped in and made a mess of it.”
Julia sighed. “Oh-oh, what happened?”
“You won’t believe this. He promised Elizabeth she could have her own pony, and now she’s throwing tantrums until she gets what she wants. She saw a horse and carriage across the street and insisted it was hers. She was nearly killed. Who is going to watch over that child?”
“Mother, calm down. Isn’t that what Mary is supposed to do?”
Footsteps ran outside her doorway again.
“Oh, if that were only the case. Mary can’t control her. They’re running around out there now. It’s giving me a headache.”
“What do you want me to do?” Julia couldn’t hide the exasperation in her voice.
Grace put the phone down on her knee, bent over, and just listened to herself breathing. She brought the phone back up, but waited before speaking. “I don’t know, Beatrice. I’m at my wit’s end.”
“Mother,” Beatrice said in a soft voice. “Isn’t it time you thought of having them live in their own house?”
Grace let out a low grunting sound. “Oh my god, you don’t mean that. How could you say such a thing? Hugh was born in this house, and I want him here when I die. Then she will have won if she takes my son and granddaughter away from me.”
She put the phone down and rubbed her forehead. A vile twinge hit her gut
and she felt as if she might have to go to the bathroom.
“You have to help me. I can’t take this much longer. What am I going to do?”
No answer came from the other end of the line.
“Beatrice? Did you hear me?”
Beatrice’s quiet voice came back. “I don’t see how this ends, Mother, until you have talked to Hugh and Julia about it. I’m not the child’s mother. I still don’t see what you want from me. I’ve given you my advice.”
“Perhaps if you came down to visit for a while, you could talk some sense into them. You’re Julia’s age, or at least close to her age, you could make her understand.”
“I don’t know her,” Beatrice said. “We’re not friends. I met her at the wedding, that was all. We have never had a private conversation.” She was quiet several seconds. “I’m not even sure she likes me. Her whole relationship with Hugh happened so fast. Didn’t you think so?”
“Yes,” Grace said, “I suppose it did. I don’t know what he ever saw in her. Do you?”
“Well, yes, I think I do, Mother. She’s beautiful and she’s probably great in bed.”
“Oh, oh, don’t talk like that, please.”
“I’m sorry to be blunt, but that’s the answer to your question, isn’t it, why he married her? It sure wasn’t for the money. Except maybe on her part. And anyway, they’re doing fine, aren’t they?”
“I’m not so sure,” Grace said. “They can’t seem to agree on the child, and Julia was absolutely horrible to our attorney, and now she’s unhappy about some art that Hugh bought. No, to tell you the truth, I don’t think they are doing fine. And then today, I tell you, this child is uncontrollable. This house isn’t safe.” Grace sat for a moment to take in with satisfaction that she had identified the problems with Julia.
“I think you’ve put yourself into a bad position. You won’t let them leave the house and you can’t live with them. I mean, where would they move to? They can find a brownstone on the West Side, that wouldn’t be very far away. Yes, that’s it exactly. Don’t you see? Hugh could keep his office at home there with you, he could come over every day. And then you could see Elizabeth whenever you wanted, and on your own terms.
“I don’t know. What if Hugh decides he wants an office over there?”
“All right, please stop now. Hugh will be happy to have an office near you, and besides it will be a place away from home. It’s perfect.”
Grace brought her hand up to her face and then put it down on her knee. It was a dangerous idea. The mother and child are the problem. Not her son. “I understand. How are you doing, Darling?”
“Mother, I’m just fine. I love it in Montreal. I’m even getting interested in hockey, if you can believe that.”
Grace laughed, and felt relief in laughing. “Oh, my, no I don’t believe that. I’m sure that’s Pierre’s influence.”
“You may be right, but it’s nice to be interested in something with him. In fact I think that’s him now. I have to go. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Grace hung up the phone with reluctance and once again the stomping of feet brought her headache to her attention. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, then wondered if she needed to intervene. The memory of her broken vase invaded her moment and she stood and went out to the hallway. “Mary!”
No answer. She went to Elizabeth’s bedroom and opened the door. “Didn’t you”-She stood in horror at the destruction of the room. Crayons, paints and teddy bears littered the floor. Elizabeth sat on the bed, eyes wide with fear, shaking.
Mary sat next to her, holding her hand. Shaking her head, she said, “I can’t control her, Mrs. Stuart. I can’t.”
“Stay with her,” Grace said, her voice calm but hard. “Until her mother or father returns. We will discuss it further then. Something will have to change. We cannot go on like this.” Grace left the room without looking at Elizabeth or Mary.
At the library door she hesitated, afraid to see her vase still in pieces on the floor. But she straightened up and went in.
Mrs. Willow swept the last pieces into a long-handled dustpan. She turned and waited, then said, “Do you want to try and save it?”
Tears came to Grace’s eyes. She spoke quietly, with resignation. “No, it’s no use. It’s been destroyed. Just throw it away.”
She went back to her room, opened her bathroom cabinet, and took out a bottle of Valium. Then she lay down and observed the plaster medallions in her ceiling. At least they were safe from the child, she thought. But they meant nothing. They were not a precious vase, a wedding gift from her mother. Insurance was not going to make up for that. So Mary says she cannot control the child. And Julia is not going to control the child. And Hugh? He only wants to please Elizabeth. No, it would be up to me. I will take the steps to control the child. And I will do it alone.
Grace turned on her side. She fell asleep as she remembered the arms of George Stuart around her, the man who gave strength to his house and his family.
Julia Page 17