Kit's Law (12 page)

Sid stepped to one side as the reverend hurried inside, pulling me behind him. It was a real kitchen, with cupboards all around, not a cup in sight, and a chrome table gleaming to one side. Voices chattered through an open doorway that led into the sitting room, and to its right was a smouldering wood stove. And to the right of the wood stove was a darkened hallway with a curling bannister leading upstairs.

“Did you get everyone?” the reverend asked as Sidney Kidney brushed past us to take a stand in front of the darkened hallway.

“Yes, sir,” said Sid.

“Landsakes, Reverend, where’ve you been; everyone’s waiting,” Mrs. Ropson said worriedly, hurrying into the kitchen from the sitting room. Her mouth dropped when she seen me, her eyes quickly scanning my stained, ripped nightdress, swollen eyes and wet, limp hair. “Goodness, mercy, why’d you bring her here … ”

Her words trailed off as May Eveleigh appeared in the doorway behind her, then Mr. Haynes and his wife, and Jimmy Randall with the chewed-off ear—all wearing their Sunday clothes, and crowding in through the kitchen, their eyes brailling over me, and their mouths opening and closing in speechless wonder as they took in the sight that I was.

“Found her wandering in the snow,” the reverend said, looking me over as if I was some rare duck.

“Where was Drucie?” gasped May.

“Nowhere to be seen, neither was the mother,” said the reverend.

“Landsakes, keep her on the mat,” Mrs. Ropson cried out, coming towards me holding out her hands, more to keep me at bay than to touch me. “Sidney, go on to your room, what with your bad cold. Quick—first get her a chair, mercy on this day.” She bobbed her head from the reverend to Sid as Sid dragged a padded chrome chair over from the table to where I was standing, and what with her arms flapping and the little sacs of fat jiggling around her mouth, I was back to thinking on the old harp seal, again.

“It’s a sorry situation,” Jimmy Randall said, pumping himself up and down on tiptoe as he noted the reverend doing the same.

“Sorry, indeed. I apologize for being late,” the reverend said, turning to everyone and ushering them back towards the sitting room. “But it’s a good thing I did decide to go out there and investigate before starting the meeting. Is there tea?” he asked, pausing as Mrs. Ropson prepared to follow behind him.

“Goodness mercy, I forgot to make tea,” Mrs. Ropson said, twisting around and hurrying towards the cupboards. “Sidney, come help me make tea, although it’s in bed you should be with that flu,” she said, swinging open the cupboard doors and rattling the teacups in their saucers as she lifted them down.

“You’ll stay with the girl till after the meeting,” the reverend said to Sid as he moved to help his mother at the sink. Sid stopped with a half-nod, then turned to me as the reverend shut the door, and motioned for me to sit in the chair he had drawn over from the table. I sat and glued my eyes to the floor as he brought the kettle over to the sink and poured the tea while Mrs. Ropson made quick steps back and forth, back and forth from the pantry to the bin.

“Take a little drop of peppermint in your tea, Sidney,” said Mrs. Ropson. “Landsakes, your father knows how bad your asthma gets, he shouldn’t have sent you running around, gathering everyone together.”

Tea sloshed into a cup, and a spoon clinked against its sides.

“Pour another cup, Mum,” Sid urged quietly. There was a silence from Mrs. Ropson, and then more tea sloshing. Then Sid was standing before me, holding a cup of tea in front of my face, its cool, minty steam seeping up through my stuffed nostrils. I accepted, looking no further than the cup, my hands shaking from a cold no fire could warm.

“Here,” Mrs. Ropson spoke at last, putting a piece of cake onto a plate and laying it on the chrome table for Sid. “Mind you eats it by yourself. I got to cut up what’s left over and you knows it won’t last long, for no sooner is a body in another’s house than he’s wanting something to eat, as if bread taste like tarts coming from someone else’s pantry.”

She lifted the tea tray off the bin, and whatever crossed her mind when she looked over at me holding onto the cup of tea never got said, for Sid was opening the sitting-room door for her, and with a last fretting look at him, she went inside.

Closing the door behind his mother, Sid looked at me and grinned. Then pressing his lips together as if he had finally found something to protest against, he sauntered straight-backed to the table and cut his piece of boiled cake in half. Placing the second piece on another plate, he brought it before me.

I shook my head.

“If you’re worried about it being the last—don’t,” he said. “She always has more hidden in the pantry.”

I accepted the plate.

“Are you afraid they’re going to send you to the orphanage?” he asked, dragging another chair from the table over to the stove. He sat down and faced me, his plate balanced on one knee and his cup of tea on the other.

“You look scared,” he said, after it become clear I wasn’t going to speak.

I kept silent.

“Everybody’s afraid of something,” he went on, conversationally. “Most times, whatever they’re afraid of never happens.” He flicked a quick glance over the tail of my dirtied nightdress. “Do you think it might be better if they did send you to someplace else?”

It was a thought I couldn’t even think on.

“My place is just fine,” I burst out, close to tears.

He shrugged, eating his cake in silence as I fingered the crumbs around on my plate. The murmur of voices coming from the sitting room grew louder. Laying my cup on the plate with the half-eaten cake, I handed it to Sid with a small nod.

“Guess you’re not hungry, heh?” he said, and was taking the dishes to the bin when a loud rap sounded on the door and Doctor Hodgins, wearing a tweed winter’s coat and a derby, shouldered his way inside, bringing the cold of the evening in with him—and Josie. She was wearing a dark blue coat that his wife used to wear to church, and her hair was tucked neatly beneath a black scarf. Spinning around in the centre of the kitchen, her eyes blazed with yellow as they fell on me.

I leaped to my feet with a cry at the sight of them, and shrank from the shocked look on Doctor Hodgins’s face as he took in my dirtied state.

“Go home!” barked Josie, grasping at my arm and trying to hustle me past Doctor Hodgins towards the door.

“Just a minute, Josie,” said Doctor Hodgins, raising a hand to stop her. He dropped to one knee to better examine me, and my mouth started to quiver at his show of kindness. “Hush now,” he said, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Tell me what’s happened.”

“Nothin’,” I managed to say, biting back the choked tears on account of Dead Sid watching on. “I got the flu. And I’d gone down the gully to check on … on her.” I cast a miserable look at Josie, then back to Doctor Hodgins. “Then, the reverend came.”

“Don’t you worry,” Doctor Hodgins said. “I’m back now, and everything’s going to be fine.” He cleansed the scowl off his face and mustered up a smile as the sitting-room door popped opened and Mrs. Ropson peered into the kitchen.

“Good evening, Flossie,” he nodded politely, lifting his hat off his head. Mrs. Ropson turned to stone at the sight of Doctor Hodgins and Josie and then, clasping her hand to her mouth, bristled into the kitchen.

“Goodness, Doctor, you startled me, you did. When was it that you got back, then?”

“Just in time, apparently,” Doctor Hodgins said, with another nod of acknowledgement as the reverend appeared in the doorway, a grim look on his face. “Josie was nearly froze to death, walking into Haire’s Hollow to find Kit.” He stopped and drew a concerned look over my bedraggled appearance. “Who isn’t exactly dressed for visiting. May I ask what’s going on?”

At this point May Eveleigh, Mr. and Mrs. Haynes and Jimmy Randall were all crowding back into the kitchen, and Doctor Hodgins, his dark eyes graven beneath his furrowed brow, nodded in turn to each of them.

“First, may I enquire after Elsie’s health?” asked the reverend sombrely as everyone fell silent upon entering the room, and found places to stand alongside the wall.

Doctor Hodgins, still holding his derby, clasped his hands behind him and bowed his head.

“Elsie … has passed away.”

“God bless her,” said Mrs. Ropson woodenly in the silence that fell. Then grew a mingle of murmurs and everyone stood awkwardly between reaching out and touching Doctor Hodgins sympathetically and keeping to their spots.

“It was an easy passing,” Doctor Hodgins added slowly. “She’s resting in St. John’s, next to her mother and father, where she wanted to be. She sends back a fond farewell to all of her friends here.” He sent a solemn look around the room that ended with a gentle smile at me, and never in my life had the sight of someone looked so dear.

The reverend gave a little cough and spoke equally as solemnly.

“Her suffering was long. Pray she finds release in God’s hands. This Sunday, we’ll have a memorial service so’s her many friends here can say their final farewell.”

“If there’s anything we can do … ” May Eveleigh murmured.

“Pray give the reverend your coat and go sit in the sitting room, I makes you a cup of tea,” said Mrs. Ropson, taking another cup down from the cupboard. “Indeed, it’s a sad time for all of us; she was a dear, gentle woman.”

“A good woman indeed, sir,” Jimmy Randall said deeply, nodding to Mr. and Mrs. Haynes as if it was to them that he was making the declaration. They murmured back in agreement and everyone looked towards Doctor Hodgins and fell silent again.

“Your kindness has long been felt,” Doctor Hodgins said, accepting a cup of tea from Mrs. Ropson and raising it in salute. “However, it’s Kit and Josie who need your kindness right now. What say we finish up this business that has brought everyone together this afternoon.”

“Indeed we shall,” the reverend said hastily, motioning everyone back into the sitting room. Mrs. Ropson followed, asking after everyone’s tea and offering to bring in some sweet biscuits, if anybody wanted some, and the reverend followed behind her. Doctor Hodgins gave a last, reassuring look towards Josie and me before the reverend closed the door behind them.

Sid and I stood looking at each other, then at Josie, who had fallen quiet upon everyone’s presence in the room and was now staring curiously around the kitchen. With her gloved hands resting on the edges of her pockets and her head tilted just so against the brown, curly fur on the collar of her new coat, she looked as if she could have been anybody.

“Take a seat, Josie,” Sid said, holding out the chair he had been sitting on.

She sat down, eyeing Sid with the same intrigue she had just given his mother’s shiny chrome table as he crossed the kitchen in two swift strides, then was back, offering her a piece of boiled cake on a plate. She accepted his offer, then watched as he beckoned me to follow him down the darkened hallway. I hesitated for a second, then looking at Josie with a finger to my lips for quiet, followed after Sid. The voices from the sitting room grew louder as we come before a French glass door, its windows covered with a white sheer curtain. I crept closer and peered through. The men were all standing around the women, who were sitting on a divan, except for Mrs. Ropson, who was sitting in a plump, overstuffed armchair with a crocheted shawl covering its back. She pulled the shawl down around her shoulders as we watched, her eyes fastened on the reverend, who was busy talking to the room at large, his gesticulating hands expanding on his thin, whispery voice.

“It wasn’t a healthy picture I saw when I went out there, Doctor, despite all you’ve done for the family. There was no fire lit, and the girl was outdoors in her pyjamas, loaded down with the flu. She looked as if she was half-frozen.”

“Landsakes, the state of her when the reverend brought her in,” Mrs. Ropson joined in, her lips quivering excitedly as she looked from one to the other. “Throwing up in the car, and her lips blue with cold. It’s scandalous. It was good of you to try and help, Doctor, but we all had our concerns about Drucie taking on such a load. And now it’s come to this.”

The reverend give a sharp cough and brought everyone’s attention back to him.

“My wife and I aren’t the only ones with concerns for the girl,” he said, looking at Mr. Haynes expectantly.

Mr. Haynes cleared his throat and strolled to the front of the room, his hands deep in his pockets, and his nose a pinkish hue.

“I do have concerns,” he said, looking from Doctor Hodgins to the reverend. “Kit’s been missing a fair bit of school. Plus her clothes don’t look cleaned most days, and her hair is never combed. And there are other things.” He tipped back on his heels and glanced around at the others the way he often did in school when he was about to start up a lesson. “She don’t get along well with others. Sits by herself all the time.” He shrugged. “Of course, the others make fun of her, especially when the mother is … about.”

“Well,” May said in the silence that followed, “I don’t know about everything else, but I knows there’s not much flour and yeast being bought. I wonder what they’re eatin’ without bread. And there’s a bill growing … ”

“Drucie never was that tractable,” Jimmy Randall spoke up, fingering his chewed-off ear. “And even if she was, I can’t imagine anyone, not even Josie Pitman, wantin’ to eat her bread, what with her droolin’ into it the way she does.” He ended off with a satisfied look at the reverend, and shifted uncomfortably with the quiet that greeted his say. Then all hands turned to Mrs. Haynes, who had yet to speak. She raised her eyes from studying the rings on her fingers and shrank back a little from the encountered stares. Swallowing with great difficulty, she looked to Mr. Haynes and spoke quietly.

“The girl shouldn’t have to suffer.”

“There you have it, Doctor,” the reverend spoke, as if all of what had been said was purely for Doctor Hodgins’s benefit. “Short of being taken in, there’s not much else can be done for Kit and Josie, and I can’t imagine who, as kind as the people are in Haire’s Hollow, would be willing to take in a full-grown woman and her girl; especially with the problems the mother herself presents. And, as was made clear when the girl was first born, it’s not proper to separate the two, especially now as they’ve been together for this long. I feel there’s but one proper alternative that would be suiting to them both, and that’s the Sisters of All Mercy in St. John’s. I have a friend there, the Reverend Saunders, that would pay special attention to their care.” The Reverend Ropson paused, looking more grimly at Doctor Hodgins. “As attached as you are to the family, Doctor, it wouldn’t be fair to keep them in their dire circumstances any longer.”