The Daring Escape of Beatrice and Peabody (21 page)

There is the wonderful warm smell of bread baking as soon as I get in the door. Ruth Ellen stays outside because she doesn’t want her mama worrying about the tears. Ruth Ellen’s mama has her arms in the sink, soap suds climbing to her elbows. She is washing the big wooden bread bowl.

‘I am sorry.’ I say this to her back because it is easier. I say it quick before I change my mind.

She pulls her arms from the bowl and carefully wipes her hands on a blue-and-white-checked towel, all neat and folded on the counter. When she turns, I see there are tears in her eyes. She must be thinking about Ruth Ellen’s papa.

She smiles softly. ‘Whatever could you have done wrong, Bee? Would you like some apple cake?’

I say I surely would and she cuts me a fat slice.

‘Where’s Ruth Ellen?’ She looks out the window over the sink.

‘She told me to come in. She’s making up with Sammy.’

Ruth Ellen’s mama smiles about that and pours me a mug of milk. I eat all the cake and drink all the milk
before I talk more. I need time to think on things before I say anything.

‘Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?’ Ruth Ellen’s mama sits across from me and pours herself a cup of tea. She cuts me another slice of cake.

‘You know that secret about Francine’s papa you told us about? How he took off with that showgirl?’

I wait for Ruth Ellen’s mama to nod. Already there is worry in her eyes. ‘Well, I told Francine about it, in front of all her friends so everybody would know.’

Ruth Ellen’s mama puts her cup down. ‘But why, Bee? That’s an awful thing to say to someone. I expect you hurt that girl terribly. And that was a confidence I shared that is going to hurt Francine’s mother. I suspect I shouldn’t have told you.’

I nod. ‘Francine hurts me all the time.’

Ruth Ellen’s mama wants to know what I mean, so I tell her the whole long sad story of everything awful Francine ever did to me. I tell her about the ugly tree and spitting (I leave out how I spat first) and how Francine said she would lie down on a train track if she looked like me. I tell Ruth Ellen’s mama about Francine saying I was dirty as the sole of her shoe and how I was too ugly to be alive. I tell her about hitting me so hard right across my diamond and about the sparrow.

It takes Ruth Ellen’s mama a moment to take everything in. Then she says, ‘That is very terrible, Bee. I didn’t know.’
She sets her cup in front of her and moves it back and forth slowly in figure-eights. ‘It must have been awful to be treated by that girl with such cruelty. Did it help to hurt her back?’

I shrug because I’m not sure what I am supposed to say. She twirls her cup a few more times. Then she puts her hand over my hand.

‘You know, Bee, I did the same thing when I was your age. A boy from the neighbourhood tried to burn my cat’s tail and I chased him all the way back to his house and broke his nose.’

The picture of Ruth Ellen’s mama walloping a boy and breaking his nose is so unbelievable I can’t help myself and I giggle.

Ruth Ellen’s mama smiles. ‘It was the same boy who teased your mother. I got him good.’

I look up quickly. ‘I didn’t know she was teased.’

Ruth Ellen’s mama nods. ‘Yes, she was. Not often, because your grandfather kept her hidden away. I remember that birthday party, though. We were all sitting on the porch with the monkey and all the presents and the cake and punch and that boy and his friends snuck up on us, yelling, “Cripple, cripple, what you doing with a cripple.” Your grandfather sent everyone home right after. I broke the boy’s nose a few days later.’

‘Did it help you feel better?’

‘For a while. Maybe I should have told someone instead,
though. As I’ve gotten older I’ve wondered if I didn’t hurt myself by hurting him. I don’t know.’ She looks at me. ‘It’s complicated, isn’t it?’

I nod. She cuts herself a piece of cake. ‘You know, Bee, I’m not sure your grandfather gave your mother a chance to handle the teasing herself. He hid her away. That’s not right, either.’

No, I think, but it might be easier. I sigh. ‘What else do you remember about my mama?’

‘Not a lot, I wasn’t with her much, but I do remember she laughed a lot and she looked just like you.’

That reminds me. I pull my mama’s picture from my pocket. ‘It’s the only one we could find.’

‘Yes, that’s her! See? She looks just like you.’

Except there’s no diamond
. I rub my mama’s face, touch the spot where a mark could begin but doesn’t.

Ruth Ellen’s mama sits back and watches me. ‘Bee, have you noticed you don’t hold your hair over your face when you are here?’

I stop chewing so I can tell her that yes, I have noticed that.

‘And Ruth Ellen says you do not hold your hair down like that when you are in class any more, either.’

I nod that, yes, I have noticed that, too.

‘And I imagine you don’t when you are home, either?’

‘That’s right,’ I whisper, running my finger over my mama’s face.

‘Everyone is always going to notice your birthmark, Bee. It’s like Ruth Ellen’s brace. You can’t help but notice. But it’s what people do after they notice that’s important. Do they treat you like a person with dignity? Or do they baby you and coddle you or make fun of you or worse?’

‘Yes,’ I say, sitting back, thinking on that.

‘You have to be strong, you have to stand up for yourself, you can’t hide and you can’t let yourself be hidden away.’ Ruth Ellen’s mama sips at her tea.

‘Your grandfather was wrong,’ she whispers. ‘Very wrong.’ Her voice trails off and then she gets a funny look on her face. I can tell she is thinking on things.

After Christmas, Ruth Ellen and I catch Mrs Marsh nosing around the school. The morning after that she is waiting by the office when we come in the door, all bundled up for the snow.

‘Humph,’ she mumbles when she sees me.

‘Humph,’ I say, walking right by.

That afternoon when I am reading
Heidi
, Mr Taft says he needs to talk to me. Good grief. Again? Susan grabs hold of me and I have to pull her off before I can stand up and follow him.

We walk all the way back to the dark little office and I sit on the same hard wooden chair. I sit on my hands so I will not try and pull my hair over my face. I want to see if I can be different.

Mr Taft says he wants to talk about my home situation. ‘Now, tell me more about these aunts you live with. Are they able to care for you?’

I am still mad at them because Christmas was not very much fun with me making a big stuffed turkey and mashed potatoes and honey-glazed squash and them not eating a thing. I would have liked to invite Ruth Ellen over
for leftovers, but how can I explain my aunts to anyone?

‘Beatrice?’ Mr Taft leans against his desk and folds his arms over his chest. Lordy, I already went through this whole thing. I do not want to do it again. ‘We are fine,’ I tell him. ‘F-I-N-E.’

‘And you’re eating well and getting plenty of exercise and sunshine?’

I nod.

He writes that down. Next he wants to know how I am feeling about my birthmark, like it is any of his business.

I shift around in my seat, trying to get my pride strong. ‘I am fine. F-I-N-E.’ I am sharp in my voice like I am finished with him.

I do not tell him how Ruth Ellen’s mama helped me get some things straight in my head. I wonder if Mr Taft notices how I am not hiding and how I am not holding my hair.

Snow falls outside the window and the dirt where we leaned against the building for recess is blanketed in white. Everything is changed. I breathe deeply, just like Pauline taught me.

Yes, I think as I stand up and walk right out of his office. I am different now.

The letter arrives two days later.

‘Did you notice there is no “Thank you kindly”?’ asks Mrs Swift. ‘Terrible manners. Just terrible.’ She is sitting at the kitchen table, sipping from her cup. She has switched to plain hot water with a bit of honey, hardly any nourishment at all. Mrs Potter is very quiet. I put a piece of molasses cake in front of her, but she won’t take a bite. Peabody wants to sit up on her lap, but she won’t let him. She looks weak as her tea.

‘Why don’t you eat? You won’t last long if you don’t eat.’

‘I just need a little nap.’ There is a long pause while Mrs Swift stirs her hot water.

‘You’re not going, are you?’ I reach for Mrs Potter’s cake and take a bite.

‘That’s right. We’re not going to that meeting, Bee.’ Mrs Potter sips her tea.

‘Why not this once? Why can’t you be there for me when I need you?’ I finish the cake. Mrs Potter looks down at her tea. I jump up. ‘Why do you hide here all the time and never let anyone see you? Why don’t you at least show yourself to Mrs Marsh? You know she’s the cause of this whole thing. She was at my school the other day!’

‘We came for you, Beatrice. Not for anyone else.’ Mrs Swift sips at her hot water. ‘And we won’t be here forever, just until you can stand on your own feet.’

They’ve been talking like this lately, and each time they do I feel a bear gnawing at the bottom of my belly. ‘Where are you going?’ I have to reach out and touch Mrs Potter to make sure I can still feel the warmth in her arm. Already she is fading so I can hardly see her.

‘We will not leave until everything is set.’ Mrs Swift looks up at me. Her eyes are thin pools of violet.

‘Until what’s set?’

‘Soon enough, my dear, we’ll explain everything.’ Mrs Swift stands up and takes Mrs Potter by the arm and they help each other walk to the library for another nap.

‘Oh, would you look up the word
prevaricate
for me, Beatrice? I have a feeling it is going to make me very angry, but I do need to know.’

‘Where are your guardians?’ the principal wants to know when I get called to the office.

‘My aunts?’

‘Yes, they were supposed to attend this meeting. They are already half an hour late.’

‘Oh,’ I say, whispering, ‘they are ill.’

The principal sits forward. ‘I don’t care whether they are feeling well or not. They must be present at this meeting. We need to discuss your situation. You are not supposed to be here. They are.’

Lordy. I tap my foot. My face is hot. My diamond must be blood-red by now. ‘They are so old, they do get terribly tired,’ I whisper. I look at the floor.

The principal sits back and looks at me for a while. I want to cover my diamond because I know it is being looked at, but I sit on my hands instead.

In a few minutes, Mrs Marsh knocks on the door and wants to come in and the principal tells her to have a seat, like they have this all arranged.

She sits forward and looks over at me. ‘I tell you there are no aunts. She is in that house by herself.’

And then Ruth Ellen’s mama is here, wanting to come in. ‘May I have a word?’ She is tapping at the door. ‘It is about this child.’

The principal sits back and says how this is very odd, that Ruth Ellen’s mama has not been invited, but since there is no one else who will speak for me, yes, she can come in. I hear her tell Sammy he must sit quietly in the hall with his book.

Then she comes into the office. She is surprised as I am to see Mrs Marsh, but she is quiet about it as she sits beside me on the sofa and takes my hand. I thank her with my eyes for coming. I told her yesterday I didn’t think my aunts would come.

‘Her aunts are feeling poorly and are wondering if I could speak for them? They are quite aged. I have never seen a child better cared for, if that helps.’

‘This is highly unusual,’ the principal says. ‘I don’t know.’

Mrs Marsh stands up. ‘I keep telling you, there are no aunts.’

‘How can you say that?’ says Ruth Ellen’s mama. ‘Why, I just had tea with them this morning.’

‘I thought you said they were feeling poorly,’ says Mrs Marsh. She has narrowed her eyes.

‘I brought ginger tea to them. Beatrice told me yesterday that they have been feeling poorly and probably wouldn’t be able to attend this meeting.’

I know Ruth Ellen’s mama is making everything up. She gives Mrs Marsh a sharp look and turns toward the principal.

‘The house is clean and polished and cared for. The ladies love their niece dearly. And they said to tell you her older cousin Pauline is coming back to live with them. She’s twenty-four and is surely old enough to be Bee’s guardian as the aunts are growing older.’

I look up quickly. Ruth Ellen’s mama winks very slowly and carefully so no one else can see.

‘This is a lie,’ says Mrs Marsh. Her face is red, darker than my diamond. ‘I have been watching over the house she is living in for several years. The gentleman who owned it has recently passed away and now it is in probate while ownership is determined.’

‘What do you have against this child, ma’am?’ Ruth Ellen’s mama asks. ‘Don’t you know she is the heir?’

And then everyone is looking at Mrs Marsh, which is a very nice change.

The principal clears his throat and turns to Mrs Marsh. ‘Do you have proof that the child is living alone?’

Mrs Marsh is losing ground. ‘Well, no,’ she sputters. ‘Except no one is ever there.’

‘Maybe they’re out a lot,’ snaps the principal, ‘taking walks or napping or doing things old ladies like to do.’

He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest and watches me for a minute. Then he sits up. ‘Okay, we will
proceed as before. Back to class, Beatrice.’

Ruth Ellen’s mama sits up. ‘Sir, when you suggested this class, it sounded like a nice safe place for Ruth Ellen because she was being teased so much about her leg. Now I see it is something much different. I do not think these children should be hidden away to make things easier for them. It embarrasses them and makes them different, and they will never learn to be part of anything. Perhaps if anyone needs a special class like this it is all the
poor-mannered
children you have around here.’

And that’s how all the attention flies off me. Ruth Ellen’s mama has given me a present, tied with a bow. Thank you, I say with just my eyes, and she smiles back, and I am proud of her speaking up like this.

‘I shall pursue this,’ Ruth Ellen’s mama says. ‘There is a great deal of discussion about this over at the university among the professors and their students. I attended a meeting last week. They call themselves progressive.’

The principal sputters. ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘Children like this need to be separated in a class by themselves. They need the care and attention that can only be provided when they are separate.’

‘They need to be included,’ says Ruth Ellen’s mama, standing up and getting ready to walk out. ‘They don’t need to be looked at.’

I am glowing so much over Ruth Ellen’s mama’s accomplishment, and then I realise what is so funny about
what the principal is saying.

I let my head fill with the pictures of Robert and Thomas dive-bombing and Susan climbing all over Ruth Ellen, and Ruth Ellen letting her, and then of Susan falling and me losing the race and Jonathan coming up and patting my back.

‘You’re right,’ I say, grinning more and more and more until my smile stretches across my diamond. ‘We are in a class by ourselves.’

And then I laugh out loud.