A Perfect Gentle Knight (22 page)

Fa started talking about Mum. Every evening he encouraged them to remember her.

Roz could recall the most. “Mum took yoga classes,” she said. “Every day she'd get into her tights and do strange poses on the living-room rug. I used to try to copy her”—she giggled—“but I always fell over.”

“Did she sing a song about three little people in a boat?” asked Harry slowly.

Fa sang softly. “‘Wynken, Blynken, and Nod, one night / Sailed off in a wooden shoe …'”

Harry grinned.

Corrie remembered how she had helped Mum try new, exotic recipes, like chili con carne or Swiss fondue.

“They tasted awful!” laughed Fa. “But that didn't deter her.”

Mum smelled like ginger, thought Corrie, and laughed merrily, and talked loudly like Juliet.

“
I
remember she rubbed my back every night before I went to sleep,” said Orly.

“I can't remember
anything
,” Juliet said. “And I don't think you do either, Orly. You're just making it up.”

“I am not!”

“Perhaps he isn't, even though he was only three,” said Fa. “Molly did rub his back every night—it was the only way to get him to sleep. Would you like me to start rubbing your back again, Orlando?”

“Yes, please,” whispered Orly.

Sebastian never contributed to any of these conversations. But Corrie watched him closely, and sometimes his eyes would light up briefly, as if a flame were being ignited.

It was sad to talk about Mum, like watching a shimmering, fragile bubble float in the air and then burst. But it was also comforting. The more they remembered, the more memories there seemed to be.

O
NE MORNING
Fa took them up to Mum's studio, the room on the third floor that was always closed. He pulled up the blinds and showed them all of her paintings. Corrie gazed in wonder at the bright canvases. They were like lights beaming from the wall. She had forgotten that Mum had done all of these.

Juliet danced around the studio as if the paintings were an audience. Sebastian seemed mesmerized, staring intently at each one.

“These are amazing,” he whispered. For the first time since he'd come home his voice sounded like his own.

“This picture is laughing!” said Orly, standing in front of a canvas streaked with yellow and blue.

“You're absolutely right, Orlando. It
is
laughing,” said Fa. He told them how Mum had hoped to have a show. “There was a gallery downtown that was really interested in her. She was trying to get a few more paintings done to have enough.”

“Couldn't you get in touch with the gallery?” asked Roz. “It might still be interested!”

“I could …” said Fa slowly. “But it means that people might buy them, and they're so good, I think they would sell easily. Then we'd never see them again.”

“But we never did
really
see these,” said Corrie. “We only saw the ones in the living room.”

Fa smiled at her. “You're right, Cordelia. Perhaps it's better that Molly's paintings be out in the world rather than hidden in a room. She would certainly have preferred that. I just don't know if I'm ready to part with them yet. Of course, we could keep our favourites. The trouble is, they're
all
my favourites! I'll think about it …”

That night Corrie dreamt about Mum. Corrie was flying from a trapeze and Mum was watching her, laughing and clapping. Corrie told Roz about it.

“Oh, Corrie, you're so lucky!” said Roz. “I try and try to dream about Mum. Every night I think of her before I go to sleep, but she never comes!”

“You can pretend my dream was yours, if you like,” offered Corrie.

T
HE CENTENNIAL CONCERT
was on July 13. Corrie was surprised at how glad she was to see her class again. She'd been so immersed in the family she'd forgotten about them. Darlene greeted her eagerly, and Jamie came right up and told her about his camping trip. Several people were away for the summer, like Meredith. Corrie suddenly missed her. But in two more weeks she'd be home!

They stood on risers on a stage and sang their three songs with hundreds of other voices in the hot sun. Corrie had been afraid she'd forget the words, but they had rehearsed them so often that it was easy. Mr. Zelmach couldn't stop telling them how proud he was of them. Everyone in the family except Sebastian, who was still at summer school, came to hear Corrie. They told her they were proud, too.

ONE DAY FA WENT OUT in the afternoon and said he'd be home in time to make dinner. They were all sitting on the back steps, licking Jell-O powder out of their palms, when they heard a car on the street honking again and again.

“Go and see who that is,” Corrie told Harry. “They must have the wrong house.”

Harry ran to the front of the house. Then they heard him shout, “Corrie, Roz, everyone! Come out here right now!”

They found Fa standing in front of a gleaming red-and-white station wagon, grinning like a little boy. “Come and meet your new car!” he said.

“A
car
, a
car
!” With shrieks and questions they surrounded the car, stroking its shiny surface. Then they clambered inside. Even with the twins stretched out in the back there was plenty of room.

“I thought you didn't know how to drive!” said Harry.

“Of course I do!” said Fa. “I just haven't for a few years. I stopped after … I stopped after your mother's accident. I didn't think I ever wanted to drive again, but now I do. It's too inconvenient for all of you, not having someone to drive you places. Do you like it? It's a Buick. It's only two years old—I bought it from a colleague. The colour is rather bright, but it runs well.”

“I
adore
it,” said Roz, stroking the red-and-white leather seats.

“Look at the neat steering wheel,” said Harry, turning it back and forth. “It looks like a flying saucer!”

“We could
sleep
back here!” called Juliet from the back.

Corrie snuggled into the comfortable seats. They had a car, like other families!

“Let's go and pick up Sebastian at school!” said Fa. They slammed the doors shut, and the sleek car glided along the street like a purring tiger. The twins kept opening the windows and sticking their heads out, until Fa told them to stop.

“Sebastian, Sebastian, we have a car!” yelled Juliet as soon as they spotted him.

Sebastian walked up to them. “A car … It's very nice.” His voice was as even as usual.

“In a year I'll teach you how to drive it,” Fa told him.

“And in two years I can drive too!” Roz threw her arms around her father. “Oh, Fa, this summer is perfect!”

How could she say that? thought Corrie. The car was swell, and having Fa so involved with the family again seemed like a miracle. But her brother sat woodenly in the back seat, staring out the window with no expression.

Sir Lancelot was dead, but where was Sebastian?

19

Sebastian

C
orrie got a postcard from Meredith. It said she was staying in Alberta for the rest of the summer, to go to a camp with her cousin. “They have riding and canoeing and we'll live in tents. It will be so much fun! Mum and Dad are staying longer at the lake. I'll bring your birthday present home with me! Sorry I won't see you until the fall. Love, Meredith.”

Corrie blinked back her tears. Meredith didn't seem very sorry—she seemed to have almost forgotten Corrie. Corrie had been planning to decorate their bikes for the contest at the community centre, and to go swimming at the pool every day. And what about their joint birthday party? Now August seemed like a blank.

Corrie felt a bit better when Fa told them he was taking them on a holiday to celebrate Sebastian's finishing summer school. They asked the Taits to look in on Hamlet and Jingle every day. They filled the back of the station wagon with suitcases, towels, and beach toys, took the ferry to Vancouver Island, and drove up island to a place called Oyster River.

The drive took hours. The twins sang “Purple People Eater” until the others begged them to stop. They played I Packed My Grandmother's Trunk and I Spy.

They stayed in a motel right on the beach. Every day they braved the cold waves and ran around on the firm sand. Corrie helped the younger ones construct a driftwood fort. They floated down the river in the motel's wooden kayaks and played on the swing set outside the cabins. Every night Fa cooked them hamburgers or hot dogs in their little kitchen.

Harry, Juliet, and Orly soon made friends with the many other children staying in the motel. They all roamed around in a gang, carrying sticks and slingshots, their feet caked with sand and their noses sunburnt. Fa called them the Reign of Terror. Roz was thrilled to find someone from her school; every day she and Paula sat on the beach, reading movie magazines and improving their tans.

Corrie joined the gang of kids every evening to play red rover but, apart from that, she kept to herself. She knew she should make an effort to make friends with three girls who were her age, but they seemed such a tight group that she was too shy to attempt it.

Instead she hung around with Fa. He still seemed like a precious new friend. They walked to the river, or to the store to buy food, or they read their books together. Fa taught her the names of birds and shells, and how to play chess.

Sebastian either sat in a chair on the porch, hidden behind his own book, or walked for miles on the beach. He was more silent than ever, and Corrie had given up trying to communicate with him.

On their last evening Fa took them to a restaurant in Courtney to celebrate Roz's and Harry's birthdays, which were a day apart. When they got back, Fa and Corrie went for one more walk on the beach. The waves broke on the sand like a sigh, as if they knew the family was leaving.

Corrie took Fa's hand. “Is Sebastian ever going to be all right?” she asked.

Fa sighed. “The poor boy … He's just not sure how to relate to the world now. But Dr. Samuel says he's doing well. Don't worry, Cordelia, he'll soon be more like his old self. Not the sick old self, but the best one.”

Corrie's voice broke. “But he seems so … so flat! And he never talks to me!”

Fa put his arm around her. “He will. We can't hurry him, you know. Just give him time.”

W
HEN THEY GOT BACK
to the city, Fa lost his enthusiasm for cooking. He slept later and they returned to their old habits of finding cereal for themselves. He took them out for dinners more often than he cooked.

Roz took over the cooking. Corrie helped her, and Harry became surprisingly enthusiastic, attacking a recipe in the same methodical way he did the instructions for a model.

Fa stopped cleaning too. He began spending time in his study. “I'm afraid that my book will die if I don't do at least a little work on it,” he apologized.

“Can books die?” asked Juliet.

“They can lose their life if they're neglected. But don't worry, I'll work only a few hours a day. And feel free to disturb me any time you wish.”

Very quickly, the hours lengthened. Soon Fa was in his study all day again. They went in and out of it in a way they never would have before, but no one liked to disturb him for long. When Fa emerged, however, he was much more focused on them than in the Round Table days, and he was still with them in the evenings.

The house became dusty and untidy once more. Sebastian still hid in his room, even though his classes were over. What was he doing in there? Corrie wondered.

Roz and Corrie made up schedules for the rest of August: one for cooking, one for cleaning and laundry, and one for looking after the twins.

Who was going to look after the household in the fall? wondered Corrie. She and Roz consulted with Fa, who said he had put in a request to an agency but hadn't heard back from them yet.

Corrie sighed. Another Mrs. Oliphant disturbing their peace. Fa had promised that the new person would be nicer than the Elephant, but she'd still be a stranger.

Corrie knocked on Fa's door one afternoon. “Fa, at Christmas Aunt Madge told me that Cousin Daphne was getting better. Do you know if she is? Do you think Aunt Madge could come back?” If only she could!

“Daphne
is
better,” said Fa. “Last week I asked Madge if she could live with us again and she said she would really like to. But …” He pressed his thumbs to his eyes, the way he did when he was worried. “Sebastian doesn't want her to come, Cordelia. I thought I'd better consult with him and he was quite adamant about it.”

“But
why
?”

“He wouldn't tell me why, and I didn't like to press him.”

“
I'll
ask him why!” How could Sebastian quash such a perfect solution?

“My dear, I really don't think that's a good idea. We don't want to upset Sebastian in any way. He's still very fragile, you know. If he doesn't want Madge to come, we can't have her. Don't say anything to the others about this. I'm sure the agency will find us someone good, don't you worry.”

Sometimes Fa was still as authoritative as King Arthur. Corrie knew she had lost.

Roz found her in the den, morosely watching
Perry Mason
. “Corrie, I've just had a wonderful idea!”

“What?”

“Let's ask Fa if Aunt Madge can come back!”

“She can't. She has to look after Cousin Daphne,” Corrie muttered.

“Couldn't we at least ask her? At Christmas she told me that Cousin Daphne was feeling better.”

“Fa did ask her,” said Corrie. “Cousin Daphne is worse again. Aunt Madge said she'd … she'd really like to come, but she can't.”

A knight never lies.
But she was no longer a knight.

“Shoot!” Roz plunked herself down on the chesterfield. “I sure don't want to go through another housekeeper!”