A Perfect Gentle Knight (10 page)

Meredith loved combing Hamlet or persuading the twins to wash their hands. They adored her. If it was Corrie's turn to take them home she sometimes took them to Meredith's house instead.

Mrs. Cooper delighted in the twins also. She made them “Raggedy Ann” snacks: half a peach, a cottage cheese face, shredded carrots for hair, raisins for eyes, and carrot sticks for arms and legs. She laughed when Juliet started calling her Mrs. Coo-coo. Corrie couldn't believe how well-behaved the twins were at Meredith's house. They sat quietly in the Coopers' rumpus room, watching TV and nibbling on their snacks. When it was time to leave they carried up their plates and said thank you.

As Corrie and Meredith were walking to the Bells' house one afternoon, Juliet pranced beside them while Orly ran ahead.

“Brenda asked me to her birthday party!” she exclaimed. “So did Lynn! Can I get presents for them, Corrie?”

“Ask Sebastian for some money,” said Corrie.

Juliet had become very popular. Orly had found one friend in his class—Ian, the only little boy who didn't run away from him. But Juliet's toughness and confidence made her the leader of the grade one girls. Every recess Corrie could hear her bossy shrieks to them as she organized their ball-bouncing or skipping.

“Why can't
I
have a birthday party?” Juliet asked.

Corrie was taken aback. “A birthday party! I don't know, Juliet. You'll have to ask Sebastian.” Juliet raced Orly to the corner.

“When's their birthday?” asked Meredith.

“November twenty-third. But they've never had a party before. None of us have.”

Meredith stopped and stared. “None of you have ever had a
birthday
party? Why
not
?”

“Well, we have family ones,” said Corrie. “Just not ones with friends like … like every one else does,” she ended lamely. She had been to lots of birthday parties herself over the years. Not to all of them, of course, but to the ones where mothers insisted on inviting everyone in the class.

“Why
don't
you?” Meredith persisted.

“My … my mother was always too busy.”

Meredith looked nervous. “Mum said I wasn't
ever
supposed to talk to you about your mother. But do you mind if I ask
why
she was too busy?”

Corrie smiled. “I don't mind if we talk about my mother.” To her amazement, she really wanted to. Her words rushed out of her like a river overflowing a dam.

“Mum was an artist,” she told Meredith. “She had a babysitter for the twins every afternoon and spent all that time painting in her studio. After school we would run up and see what she'd done. Then she'd stop for the day, but that was when she took us shopping or got dinner ready or …” Corrie's eyes stung.

“Or did the stuff my mum does,” said Meredith softly.

Corrie blinked. “Yes. So she was really, really busy. Also, she thought birthday parties were silly.” Corrie could hear Mum's musical voice declaring this when Roz had asked for a party. “Roz, my darling, birthday parties are just a circus for a crowd of children to get wild and sick. We'll take you out to dinner instead, all right?”

Corrie had loved the importance of getting dressed up and going out with her family to a fancy restaurant at night. But the older Roz had got, the more she had resented not having normal birthday parties. After Mum died she had organized her own, with Aunt Madge helping. She hadn't had one since Aunt Madge left, though; the house was too messy, and the housekeepers never liked the idea.

“I always have
my
party in September because everyone's away in the summer,” said Meredith. “I didn't this year because I didn't know anyone yet. But next year I will—you'll be invited, of course. I know—maybe we can have a
joint
party!”

Corrie smiled at her. “That would be fun.”

“Let's have a party for the twins
ourselves
!” said Meredith. “We can have balloons and Pin the Tail on the Donkey and a treasure hunt. Mum could make us a cake. We could even have it at our house if you want,” she added with a sideways glance at Corrie.

“But—”

Before Corrie could object, Meredith had called Juliet back and asked her if she wanted to have a birthday party.

Juliet clapped her hands. “Yes! But just for me, not for Orly. He doesn't care about parties, and I only want girls.” She and Meredith began discussing plans. They continued up in Corrie's room, making lists of guests and food and games. Corrie finally left them and took a book into the secret cupboard.

Meredith found her there. “What's the matter, Corrie? Don't you want to help us plan the party?”

“I … I guess so.” Corrie knew she didn't want to do it. Was it because Meredith had thought of it and she hadn't? Or because Mum hadn't approved of birthday parties? Perhaps it was just the change. There was too much of that already this fall. “Let's talk about the party later,” she told Meredith. “It's such a sunny day. Do you want to go roller skating?”

Meredith borrowed Roz's skates and they started downstairs. “If your mother was an artist, where are her paintings?” Meredith asked.

Meredith's never-ending curiosity was wearing. “Some are in the living room but most are still in her studio,” said Corrie.

“Can I
see
them?”

“We aren't allowed to go into her studio. And I already showed you the living room, the first day you were here,” tried Corrie. But Meredith persisted, saying she hadn't looked carefully then.

Corrie led her once again into the dim room. “Can't we open the curtains?” asked Meredith. Without waiting for an answer, she pulled back the heavy velvet curtains that shrouded every window. The room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as light entered it. Corrie's stomach lurched as the familiar objects came into view.

Mum's vibrant paintings lined the walls. Meredith admired the strong patches of colour arranged in patterns. “But what are they supposed to
be
?” she asked.

Corrie shrugged. “They're called abstracts. Mum said they were more about feelings than things.”

She gazed at her favourite: streaks of blue hiding vague grey shapes, the one she used to call
Horses in the Rain.
Corrie remembered Mum laughing as she said, “That's a perfect name for it!”

She was hearing Mum's voice so much today! It was almost as if she were in the room.

Meredith noticed a large photograph on the mantel. She went up to it. “Is that your mother? She's
beautiful
! And look, here's
you
!”

Corrie stood beside her and stared at the photograph. It had been taken before the twins were born. Everyone was sitting on the chesterfield, her parents in the middle. Harry was a fat toddler in Mum's arms. Corrie, aged four, snuggled in Fa's. Sebastian sat beside Fa and Corrie, with one arm resting on his father's knee, smiling sweetly at the camera. Roz, in a smocked dress, her blond hair in pigtails, held Harry's hand. She looked serious for a six-year-old.

Mum's sleek brown hair fell in waves to her shoulders. Her smile was wide and generous. She looked utterly content in the midst of her family.

“You and Sebastian look so much alike! And is that really your
father
?” asked Meredith.

Corrie grinned. “He had way more hair then.” She studied Fa's craggy face, so much more focused and happy than it was now. She could almost remember the feeling of being in those sheltering arms.

They drew the curtains closed and went outside. Corrie lifted off the key that hung around her neck and they tightened their skates onto their shoes. They skated down the driveway and Corrie led the way to the Wedds' slanting front path, the smoothest place to skate in the neighbourhood. They each coasted down several times. Then they went around the whole block.

Corrie lifted each heavy foot in turn, letting the even rhythm and the grating sound of the wheels against the pavement soothe her discomfort. Perhaps Meredith would forget about the birthday party.

T
HAT EVENING AFTER DINNER
Corrie sat at the dining-room table, working on another diorama. This one was a snow scene. She had painted the back of the shoebox blue and pasted white shapes against it to be icebergs. The bottom of the box was lined with pieces of cotton batting. Now she was trying to shape an igloo out of sugar cubes, gluing each one in place after she filed the edges round with a nail file.

Mum was the one who had taught Corrie how to make dioramas. Corrie could still hear her encouraging voice as she showed her how to work from the back to the front. Corrie's first scene was from “Hansel and Gretel.” She and Mum had had a wonderful time gluing real candies onto the little cardboard house.

Mum again! Why was she thinking about her so much?

Corrie carefully placed the finished igloo onto the “snow.” It looked perfect! She gazed with satisfaction at the contained, safe little world she'd created.

Roz came through the kitchen door with a glass of juice. She slid into the chair beside Corrie.

“That's beautiful! It's your best one yet!”

“Thanks,” said Corrie. “I may add some sled dogs or seals.”

“Why not some Eskimos as well?”

“Because I don't know how to draw people—you know that! So I just pretend they're inside the igloo.”

Roz laughed. Then she said quietly, “Corrie? Do you know what day this is?”

Corrie was trying the igloo in a different place. She shook her head.

“It's the third anniversary of Mum's death.”

“Oh!” Corrie whirled around on her chair and stared at her sister. “How do you know?”

“Because I write it down on my school calendar every year. But do you know what?” Now her voice was angry. “No one, not even Fa, has remembered! Or if they have, they haven't said anything.”

“I think
I
sort of remembered,” said Corrie slowly. “Inside myself, I mean. All day today I've been thinking about Mum and hearing her voice.”

“Oh, Corrie, I'm so glad! Everyone else seems to have forgotten all about her! I'm going to too, unless we talk about her, but we never do!”

“We can't,” said Corrie. “It would make Fa too sad. Sebastian too.”

“Aunt Madge used to talk about her sometimes,” said Roz. “I sure wish she hadn't left.”

“Me too.”

They sat in silence, then Corrie said, “Roz, you can talk to
me
about Mum if you want to. I'd like that.”

Roz smiled. “Thanks, Corrie. But I wish we
all
could. Then we'd remember more. It's almost as if Fa and Sebastian are
ashamed
of Mum! Why is it such a secret?”

“I don't know.” Corrie looked up hopefully. “So, do you want to talk about her?”

“Not right now. I have too much homework.”

Roz left the room and Corrie went back to her diorama. But the icy scene made her feel so cold that she put it away and went to bed.

B
Y THE NEXT DAY
it was settled: Meredith said her mother would be delighted to have a party for Juliet at her house.

“Are you sure?” Corrie asked her.

“I'm sure! Mum loves planning parties and she missed doing mine this year.
Please
say yes, Corrie.”

Corrie thought of how eager Juliet had looked when Meredith suggested a party. “Okay …” she said slowly. “It doesn't seem right to have it at your house—she's my sister, after all. But if your mum doesn't mind, I guess we could.”

Corrie immediately regretted her decision. For the next two weeks, all Meredith and Juliet could talk about was the party. It was as if Meredith were more Juliet's friend than her own. Juliet crayoned sixteen invitations and delivered them to every girl in her class. Mrs. Cooper found an outgrown frilly yellow dress of Meredith's that fit Juliet perfectly and was in much better condition than Corrie's old dresses. It even had a crinoline. Juliet adored it.

Mrs. Cooper made a
Dick and Jane
cake and decorated the house with pink balloons. She bought pink hats, and Juliet spent hours with Meredith deciding on favours and filling little plastic baskets with candies.

Of course Juliet couldn't help talking about the party at home, even though Corrie begged her not to. Roz said she was glad for her, but Sebastian was upset.

“This won't do,” he told Corrie. “Why should Meredith's family have a party for Juliet? We always have a special dinner for her—isn't that enough? Can't you put a stop to it?”

“It's too late,” said Corrie. Of course they couldn't stop it, not when Juliet was so excited.

C
ORRIE WATCHED FROM
the kitchen doorway as Mrs. Cooper cut the cake. The seventeen little girls had admired its tiny sugar figures of Dick, Jane, Sally, Spot, and Puff. Now they watched avidly, each one hoping to find a nickel wrapped in waxed paper in her piece of cake. Sunlight poured in the window and lit up the table; it was as if Corrie had frozen the scene in a photograph. Juliet's clean curls glistened around her sharp, intense face. In a few minutes, Corrie knew, her little sister would be roaring around the living room bossing everyone, her face and dress covered with chocolate and her sash undone. But at this moment she looked angelic, as did all of her friends. It was just like a picture in the
Dick and Jane
readers—bright splotches of colour and rosy, happy faces, all too good to be true.

In grade one Corrie had found Dick and Jane so boring that she had sat at her desk and made up more exciting stories for them.

What were Dick and Jane compared to the knights of the Round Table? Corrie threw back her head disdainfully. What was she, Sir Gareth, doing in this bland scene? She missed the usual chaos of family birthday parties. She could hardly wait to get Juliet home to the real party that was waiting for her.