Elixir (11 page)

“Why do you think that?”

“Well, you've been leaning against that wall watching me clean this washroom for the past fifteen minutes. Either you like watching me work, or you enjoy the view, or you have something you want to say.” And with that she took the mop and began washing the floor again.

For a split second I was tempted to tell her I was there for the view, just to prove her wrong, but of course she was right. She was almost always right. That was both reassuring and terribly annoying. Besides, I did want to talk. Or more correctly, I
needed
to talk.

“Well?” she asked.

“It's about those dogs upstairs,” I said.

“The dogs that are being used for medical research.”

“Yes! Did you read that pamphlet?”

“I read it.”

“All of it?” I asked.

“Front to back.”

“Then you know what could be happening to those poor dogs!”

“I know what
could
be happening, but I don't know for sure and neither do you.”

“But I do know!”

“I told you, just because you read it in a pamphlet doesn't mean it's true,” she warned.

“I didn't just read it, I
saw
it!”

My mother stopped mopping and looked up at me. I knew from her expression that I shouldn't have said that, and I knew what was coming next.

“Just how do you know what's happening to those dogs?” she asked.

I swallowed hard. “I was in there … in the room … in the kennel.”

“And why would you be in there?” she asked. Her voice was calm, but I picked up a hint of anger.

“I just wanted to see,” I mumbled.

My mother slowly wiped her soapy hands on her apron and walked over to me, putting her hands on my shoulders.

“I should have realized you might do that after reading the pamphlet. I should have warned you against
going. You're a good girl and you've never defied your mother. I should have figured your curiosity would get the better of you. Haven't you ever heard that curiosity killed the cat?”

“It's not the cats I'm worried about, it's the dogs! Did you know that most of those dogs belong to Dr. Banting?”

“I was aware that he was responsible for most of them,” she answered.

“You were aware and you didn't tell me?” I demanded.

“Why would I?” she asked. “It's not the business of either you or me.”

“But they're killing dogs.”

“You can't be sure of that.”

“I am. Dr. Banting told me. He and Mr. Best are performing operations to give them diabetes, and then eventually the dog dies because they've given it a disease that there's no cure for and—”

“They're involved in medical research to try to save lives,” my mother said, cutting me off. “Human lives.”

“They're killing dogs!” I snapped.

“To try to save people.”

“Are you saying it's all right to torture dogs?” I asked.

“I don't think they'd be torturing the animals.”

“You didn't see what I saw. What else would you call it when they operate on an animal to give it something that will kill it?”

“Ruth, I don't have a simple answer because this is not a simple question. We have to hope that Dr. Banting
and Mr. Best are doing what they feel is right, what needs to be done.”

“I was so wrong,” I said. “I thought they were nice.”

“Dr. Banting and Mr. Best?” my mother asked.

I nodded. “I was so wrong about them.”

“They seem to me to be fine gentlemen.”

“Fine gentlemen wouldn't be killing innocent animals!” I exclaimed.

My mother didn't answer right away. Finally she spoke. “Regardless of what we think or what that pamphlet says, none of this is our business. I want you to stay out of that kennel. Give me your word that you won't be going back in there.”

I didn't answer.

“Ruth?”

“I won't go back in there,” I said. As far as I was concerned I wouldn't ever go back up to that floor again. I didn't need tea or biscuits that badly.

“And if you need to talk about it further, I'm here to listen,” she said.

I did need to talk more, but it wouldn't be to her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

IT WAS ONLY ONE DAY
later that I got my chance. I saw Melissa standing off to the side of the large group of women gathering in front of the building. I'd been excited when Mr. Mercer had mentioned there was going to be a demonstration that day, because I knew it meant there was a good chance I'd see Melissa. After all I'd learned about Dr. Banting's experiments, I was more confused than ever, and I needed to talk to her. It was still hard for me to believe that all the terrible names they were calling the vivisectors were meant for Dr. Banting and Mr. Best.

“I'm just going outside for a while,” I said to Mr. Mercer as I walked past his desk.

“Hold on there, little lady!” he called out, and I skidded to a stop. “You're not going out there.”

“Why not?” I asked. “My mother said I could.”

“Yes, but there's going to be one of those protests
happening and the crowd is already gathering out front.”

“I know, I was watching,” I said.

“Watching is one thing, but going down them steps where they can all watch
you
is another thing altogether.”

“I don't understand.”

“I just don't think it would be wise for them to see you walking out of this here building. Some of them might not be so friendly.”

Maybe he was right. But if I didn't go outside, how could I talk to Melissa?

“So I can't go out?” I asked, feeling very disappointed.

“You can't go out that way,” he replied. “Why don't you go on out through one of the other doors? There's one right at the back of the building.”

“But aren't all the other doors locked?” I asked.

“Locked from the
outside
. Nobody out can get in, but anybody in can get out. Just push on the bar and the door will pop right open. You go down the far corridor, past the stairwell, and you'll find a door you can use … one nobody will notice.”

“Thanks, Mr. Mercer.” I started off.

“And Ruth?” I turned around. “Just take a little stone and put it in the jamb of the door. That way it'll stay open in case you want to come back inside.”

“But if I do that, can't anybody come in?”

“Anybody could, but nobody will. No one even notices that door.”

“They don't?

“Nope. You'll see once you get out there.”

“Sure … okay … thanks.”

I soon passed the stairwell, made the turn, and found a door that I figured led outside. I pressed against the bar and the door opened. I pushed it and it thudded against a tree that was stopping it from opening completely. Right outside was a little wooded area, with lots of trees and bushes. I slipped through the opening, then bent down to peer beneath the bushes and out to the campus. Mr. Mercer was right; the door was completely hidden from view. If you didn't know it was there you'd never find it. I grabbed a rock and put it in the door jamb. I let it close and it stayed ajar, the rock stopping it from locking.

I crouched over again and made my way through the bushes. Breaking free, I stood in the hot summer sun and looked behind me. I knew the door was there, but even I couldn't see it.

I circled around the building and then threaded my way through the crowd. By the time I got close to Melissa I could see that she was talking to three other women. They were all older than her—one much older. She looked sort of like a distinguished grandmother. All the women were well dressed, and two of them were holding parasols over their heads to provide a shield against the sun. The four women were very animated. It was obvious that they were talking about something serious, and I didn't want to disturb them. I stood just off to the side, waiting patiently for them to finish their conversation.

Melissa looked up, caught my eye, smiled and waved. I waved back and she motioned for me to come over. I felt a little awkward but moved to her side.

“Ladies,” she said to the three women, “I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Ruth.”

The three women introduced themselves, but I didn't really catch any of their names.

“And while she may appear young, Ruth here is the future of our movement. She's read our literature and believes in our cause, right?”

All eyes were on me, smiling faces waiting for my answer. “Definitely, completely!” I exclaimed. I wasn't really that sure—I still had questions—but at that moment it felt like the only thing I could say.

“Excellent!” the older women replied. “It's so refreshing to see a member of the younger generation who has a social conscience. Sometimes I worry that young people are interested only in popular music and dancing and ice cream!”

Actually I
did
like music and ice cream, but not dancing—at least not dancing with boys.

“So have you come to join in the demonstration today?” one of the other women asked.

“I wanted to ask Melissa some more things,” I said, a bit evasively.

“I'd be happy to answer any of your questions, but first, could you answer a question for me?” Melissa asked.

“Sure,” I said with a shrug.

“I was just wondering if you got into the kennel.”

“The kennel?” one of the women said. “Here, in this building?”

Melissa nodded. “Ruth's mother works here.”

“In this building?” The third woman sounded shocked. I felt as if my mother and I were being accused of something … something bad.

“Is her mother a vivisectionist?” the second woman asked.

Melissa laughed. “Of course not. She's a cleaning woman.”

“Oh, that's better. Far better.”

“Ruth had some questions about the material in the pamphlet,” Melissa explained.

“Questions? I hope she's not questioning the validity of it. It's all true, completely and horribly true and—”

“She believes us,” Melissa said, cutting her off. “I just wanted her to see things with her own eyes.” She turned directly to me. “So, did you get into the kennel?”

I didn't really want to answer, but I couldn't see any way of avoiding it. “I went in,” I said quietly.

“And?”

I drew in a deep breath. “And it was as bad as you said it was going to be.”

“What exactly did you see?” Melissa asked.

“Yes, please tell us,” one of the women said, and all four pressed in closer, surrounding me, hovering over
me. I felt trapped, with no place to run, almost as if I were in a cage. I didn't want to tell everybody. I just wanted to tell Melissa, but I didn't really have any choice now.

“There were dogs … lots of dogs,” I began. “And they were all in cages.”

“I've heard of cases where the cages were so small that the animal couldn't stand up or even turn around,” Melissa said.

I shook my head. “No, these cages were pretty big. I'm pretty sure they could stand up.”

Strangely, the women looked disappointed, as though they'd hoped the animals were in tiny cages.

“Did they have food and water?” one of the women asked.

“Food, they had food, but one of them didn't have water,” I said, not mentioning that he didn't have water because he'd probably tipped over his bowl.

“And what was the sanitation like?”

“Not good. It didn't look like anyone had cleaned the cages for a while and there were flies everywhere. It was awful!”

“And did you see any evidence that medical research was being performed on any of the dogs?” Melissa asked.

“There was one dog who had its fur shaved off on a spot on its belly, and the skin was stitched back together and it was oozing and it looked like the dog was nearly dead,” I explained. The scene was so vivid in my mind.

“If only we knew what they did to that dog,” Melissa said.

“That would be important,” the older woman said.

“They took out its pancreas,” I said.

“Its pancreas?” Melissa asked. “How would you know that?”

“I don't really know positively, but I'm pretty sure. The man who's responsible for most of the dogs told me he was doing surgery on them to make them diabetic, and he did that by removing the pancreas.”

“He performed an operation to remove the pancreas from a perfectly healthy animal?” Melissa's eyes were as wide as dinner plates.

“I think so.”

“Can an animal live without its pancreas?” one of the other women asked.

“Nothing can live without that organ,” Melissa said. “It's a death sentence. That doctor is condemning those dogs to death. I'd love to give that man a piece of my mind!”

“You already have,” I said.

She gave me a questioning look.

“That man who you talked to on the steps … when you were giving your speech the other day. That's him, Dr. Banting.”

“I didn't know his name, but I just
knew
he was a vivisectionist!” Melissa exclaimed. “I could tell … there was something about the way he carried himself.”

Part of me wanted to defend Dr. Banting—he'd been
nice to me, understood about my spelling, and protected me. But part of me couldn't. After all, I'd seen him lose his temper with Mr. Best. And how could anyone defend what he was doing with those dogs?

“Ruth, do you think you could tell people about what you saw?” one of the women asked.

“I told
you
.”

“No, I mean get up there on the steps and describe it to everyone in the crowd.”

“I can't do that!” I gasped.

“And no one will make you,” Melissa said, stepping in. “That's not fair. Not fair to you and not fair to your mother.” Melissa turned to the woman who had made that suggestion. “She's been very brave already, going into that kennel and then coming out here and telling us.” She turned back to me. “I wouldn't want to get either you or your mother in trouble, but would it be all right if
I
told the crowd?”