The Hull Home Fire (4 page)

Dot clamped a gloved hand over her nostrils. “I’m sure the hairs in my nose are
frozen stiff.” She looked at Henry. “I’m surprised Mary Norris wasn’t there.
She’s all for Confederation.”

“She knew I’d be there.” Henry stared into the distance. “Right now I’m not one
of her favourite people.”

“She’s a thoughtful girl. Let’s you know what’s on her mind.” Dot looked up at
her grandson. “It wouldn’t hurt to follow her example.”

Henry blushed, relieved his cheeks were already red from the biting wind.
“Here’s Hull Home. Good night, Gran.” He turned to leave.

“Hold on a second, Henry. I have one question for you to ponder over
tonight.”

“What ?” he said, wary of what he would hear.

“Did you give Mary any real consideration before you applied for medical
school ?”

ALICE TOOK MIKE
’
S LETTER OUT
of the sewing box,
stuffed it in her pocket, and hurried to the bathroom. Her heart beat faster
than her steps. She locked the door, sat on the edge of the cast iron tub, and
pulled out the letter. Her eyes scanned the first page again. Footsteps on the
stairs caused her to almost slide off the tub. Her breath caught in her throat
and
she stuffed the letter back in her apron. “Don’t be so
stunned,” she murmured to herself. “Tom can’t see what you’re doing.” When Alice
heard the bedroom door close, she retrieved the two sheets of paper, smoothed
them out on her lap, and read where she had left off earlier.

Alice returned the letter to the envelope, went downstairs to
the kitchen, and opened the top cupboard door nearest the pantry. A cookie tin
was hidden behind a bag of flour. She hauled off the lid and placed the letter
with the many others she had received over the years from Mike. She felt a
guilty knot in her stomach at the thought of Tom.

The kitchen door swung open. Alice whirled around. “Henry, what took you so
long ?” She sounded breathless.

“We were at the big meeting.” He took his gingerbread from the oven and sat
down.

Alice fidgeted with a button on her dress.

“Mom, I knew you wouldn’t be mad at me for going to the CLB Armoury. I did
think you’d at least comment on it.”

Alice twisted a string around the fingers of one hand until they were all but
blue. “Uncle Mike is coming here next month,” she blurted.

Henry’s fork stopped in mid-air. His mouth drooped open and gingerbread plopped
to the plate. “How do you know that ?”

Alice bit down on her thumbnail. “Never mind about that now. He wants to settle
things with your father once and for all.”

Henry laid down the fork. “Dad won’t see him, let alone talk to him.”

“That’s why this has to stay between you and me until Mike gets here.”

“When next month ?”

Alice squirmed on the chair. “The tenth.”

Henry pushed aside the half-eaten gingerbread. “I have an awful bad feeling
about this.”

THE SUNLIGHT SPREAD OVER THE
houses like a warm blanket, yet
when Henry opened the door to get the
Daily News
, the frosty air stole
his breath away. He wondered how the meeting had turned out, and saw the answer
in big black bold letters sprawled across the top of the front page.

Henry laid the paper in his father’s place at the table. “Where’s Dad ?”

Alice stood at the stove and flipped over a pancake. “He’s already eaten and
left for work.”

Henry snapped open his napkin. “He can’t ignore me forever.”

“A ship came in last night and has to be unloaded as soon as possible for
another trip.” Alice put the frying pan in the sink. “You know that isn’t
unusual.” She placed a plateful of pancakes on the table.

Henry watched her smooth butter over a pancake : one, two, three, four, five
times. How many more days until Uncle Mike arrived ? He caught a sidelong glance
from his mother as she smeared a second pancake. The wall clock ticked,
ticked.

“Gran asked me to take her shopping on Saturday.”

Alice’s mouth tilted up in a half-smile. “I think Mom wants to spend as much
time with you as possible before you go away.” She gave a nervous laugh that
sounded like tiny balloons bursting. “Your grandmother has a way about her that
will win over your father in the end.”

“I doubt even Gran’s charms can change Dad’s mind,” Henry said. “Maybe I should
forget about Toronto.”

“Get that notion out of your head this minute, young man.” Alice stared hard at
her son. “You’ll be the best doctor to ever practise in Newfoundland.”

“I wish Dad felt the same way.”

Alice cleared away the dishes. “Get a move on. You don’t want to be late for
work.”

MARY NORRIS TOOK AN ARMFUL
of clean bedsheets from the linen
closet and started down the hall. She passed the office, the door partly open.
Mr. Hull sat at his desk. His wife had all but worn down the carpet from the
window to Isaac’s desk in the last hour. “Don’t tell me not to worry,” Mrs. Hull
said, her voice a decibel lower than a shout.

Mary scooted behind the door and peeped through the crack.

“Cahill was quite perturbed we hadn’t submitted dwelling plans to council,”
Mrs. Hull continued in a normal tone.

“A mere oversight,” Mr. Hull said with the flick of a wrist.

Mary could see the scowl on Mrs. Hull’s face when she turned to face her
husband. “An oversight that is against the law,” she said. “And there will be
more trouble because we didn’t make applications to become a nursing
home.”

“No one’s bothered us so far with any sort of legalities. It’s not like we’re
operating in secret.”

Mrs. Hull flopped into the chair by the desk. “I don’t like the idea of
Confederation either,” she said, her hands palms-down on the armrests.

Mr. Hull’s eyebrows drew together. “What does that have to do with us ?”

“Things will change. Laws will become stricter.”

The jingle of the phone postponed the comment Mr. Hull was about to make. “Hull
Home, Mr. Hull speaking. Yes, yes. No problem,” he repeated several times during
the brief conversation.

“Well, who was it ?” Mrs. Hull said in a shrill voice when her
husband hung up.

“We may have something to worry about after all.” Mr. Hull went to the window
and stared outside, his hands deep in his pockets. “The Department of Health and
Welfare wants to inspect the Home the day after tomorrow.”

Mary gasped.

“Who’s there ?” Mr. Hull called, heading for the door.

“It’s me,” Mary said. “I tripped over a bedsheet. Sorry if I disturbed
you.”

Mrs. Hull shooed Mary away like she was a pesky cat. “Get to work, girl. You’re
wasting valuable time.”

Mary took a deep breath to slow her racing heart before mounting the stairs. At
the top she hooked her heel in the carpet runner and stumbled forward. Her shoes
came off and the linen fell to the floor. “What else can go wrong ?” she
grumbled, stooping to retrieve her shoe and bedclothes. Her face drawn, she
stomped into Dot’s room, changed the bedsheets, pausing often as her thoughts
wandered to the imminent inspection. Dot knitted in the armchair by the window
in the corner, watching the young woman. Worry lines creased Mary’s forehead by
the time she had made the fourth and final bed.

“Not even so much as a good morning,” Dot said when Mary turned to leave.

Mary froze, stunned, like she had been nabbed in the execution of a criminal
act. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Gatherall. I didn’t see you sitting there.”

“I can see that, child. You look like the sun’s about to tumble out of the
sky.”

“It might be for me.” Mary’s eyes watered. “I can’t handle any more terrible
news.”

Dot held out her arms. “Come here,” she said. Mary approached,
and Dot took her hands. “Talk to Henry. He just might put your mind at rest.”
She squeezed Mary’s fingers and let them fall.

Mary tugged on the hem of her apron with both hands. “It’s more than that.
There’s going to be an inspection by the Health Department.” She dropped onto
Dot’s bed. “That can’t be a good sign.”

MARY BUTTONED HER COAT UP
to the collar and put on two pairs of
gloves. She pinched her nose to lessen the strong odour of paint which would
take at least a week to dissipate. “Night, Mr. Hull,” she called down the
hallway.

He dumped the last of six oversized cans of tomato soup into a boiler. “Hold
on, Mary,” he said, and poked his head out the kitchen door. “Glad I caught you.
Mrs. Browne spilled a jug of water over her bed. The sheets need
changing.”

“Right away,” Mary said. She fetched fresh linen from the closet and darted to
the Annex, happy she had kept her coat and gloves on. The room empty, Mary set
about cleaning up. No one to chat with, she completed the task in a matter of
minutes. On her way back into the main house, the stench of oil assailed her.
She hurried to the kitchen to find it empty. She removed the bubbling soup from
the heat before checking the pipes behind the stove. A small patch of oil had
collected on the canvas. “Not again,” she moaned, and placed a bucket under the
leaky pipe. “Mr. Hull !” Her voice blared through the building. “The stove’s
leaking.”

He arrived at her side and gave the area a brief once-over. “I don’t see
anything,” he said. “Mary, girl, you’re always on the lookout for
problems.”

“Can’t you smell it ?”

“The problem with you is that your nose is too sensitive.”

Mary caught a whiff of alcohol under his breath and drew back. She lifted the
bucket to show the oil on the floor. “The leak’s stopped for now.”

“Leave the bucket. If there’s any oil in it tomorrow, I’ll get the mechanic
in.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea to wait ?”

“There’s no need to be hasty.”

Mary lingered. “Do you want me for anything else ?” she said, shooting wary
glances behind the stove. “Sheila Vickers wasn’t well today. Maybe I should
check on her.”

Isaac opened a large can of tinned fish. “She coughed up blood a while ago,” he
said. “I asked young Howard Pike to go for the nurse.”

“Poor Sheila. She’s only a year older than me.”

A gust of Arctic air swirled into the kitchen. “I’m back with the nurse,”
Howard yelled.

Mary went down the stairs to meet her. “Sheila hasn’t eaten since breakfast,”
she said. “With all the coughing, she came down with a pounding headache.”

Jean Baker hung up her coat. “I’ll go right on up. Sheila can’t afford to miss
any meals in her condition.”

Mary went back to the kitchen with Howard, the youngest boarder. He warmed his
hands over the stove. “Is there any tea ready ? It’s enough to freeze your
fingernails off.” He smiled at Mary and the dimples in his cheeks deepened into
caverns.

Isaac took several loaves of bread from the pantry. “Supper will be thirty
minutes late tonight,” he said with a slight slur to his voice. “Mary, butter
the bread while I see how Nurse Baker is doing.”

“Leave it to him to order you around after hours,” Howard
said.
He noticed the empty fish cans on the sink counter. “Looks like fish, jam,
cheese, and biscuits again tonight. Oh, well, I’m hungry enough to eat
anything.”

Dot stood to the side of Sheila’s bed. Mr. Hull moved around her.

“She’s asleep,” Nurse Baker said. “She’s resting comfortably and her breathing
is steady.”

Isaac’s face glowed like a child given a new train set. “Wonderful news.”

“Her temperature’s slightly elevated, though.” Baker pulled the bedclothes up
to Sheila’s neck. “I’ll stay the night to make sure she’s all right.”

“Ah... Miss Baker,” Isaac began. “Is that necessary ?”

“I won’t expect overtime, Mr. Hull.” Baker cooled down the patient’s face with
a damp cloth. “Since her father passed last year, the poor lass is all alone in
the world.”

Isaac straightened his tie. “Madam. It’s not a question of money. I was merely
concerned for your comfort.”

Dot moved closer to the bed. “Sheila’s been feeling poorly all day, and fell
asleep from pure exhaustion.” She looked at Isaac. “Maybe Dr. Kennedy should be
called in.”

Jean smiled. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Gatherall. If Sheila shows any sign of
distress, I’ll call him right away.”

“I must get supper ready,” Isaac said. He bowed to Dot and lost his
balance.

“Oh, my,” she said. “Are you all right ?”

“Shouldn’t turn around so fast.” Saliva spurted from Isaac’s mouth onto his
chin. “Made me dizzy for a second. I’ll see you in the dining room,” he said,
and fled the room.

Dot stared down at Sheila’s grey complexion. “Nurse Baker, maybe she should go
to the hospital.”

“The dear child can’t afford it.”

“I’ll foot the bill for her stay.”

“Mrs. Gatherall, it’s a kind gesture, but you know very well how proud Sheila
is. She won’t accept a handout from anyone.”

“Well, if she gets worse, I won’t give her a choice in the matter.”

THE PAPER BOY FLUNG THE
Evening Telegram
to the houses on his route. A paper whizzed by Henry’s
head, landing on the concrete step. “Great throw, Dougie,” Henry yelled at
Mary’s twelve-year-old brother.

“It’s good practice for my slapshot.”

Henry picked up the paper from the step and opened the door to the aroma of
fried cod. He’d had the meal every Friday of his life, yet never tired of it. He
tossed the paper on the couch for his father to read after supper and ambled to
the kitchen like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Alice placed a bowl of scruncheons on the table and eased into a chair.

“Back trouble again,” Tom said. He kneaded the small of her back with one hand.
“You’ve been complaining about that for over a month.”

Alice spooned mashed potatoes onto her plate. “It’s nothing a little rest won’t
cure. I’ve been on my feet all day.”

“No more excuses, love. I’ll make an appointment with Dr. Kennedy and go along
to ensure you show up.”

“I have no intention of spending money for no reason at all.”

Tom covered his potatoes with mustard. “You’re going and that’s the end of
it.”

Alice grabbed up the pickle jar. “We’ll see about that,” she said, rooting out
a cauliflower with a fork.

Henry smiled. He knew his mother would eventually give in.
“There’s going to be another inspection — ” A loud thump on the front door
silenced him. His fork landed with a clink on his plate. Tom gaped at his wife.
She shrugged.

Footsteps scampered down the hall. Mary hurried into the kitchen, her arms
swinging like a sprinter. “Did you read this ?” she said, holding out the
Telegram
. She pointed to an article in the newspaper. “There’s a
detailed report on the Hull Home inspection.”

Tom smothered a chuckle. “Not good news, I take it.”

Mary sank into the chair next to Alice. She planked her elbows on the table and
dropped her chin into her hands. “What am I going to do if the Home
closes ?”

“Get another job,” Henry said. “Mr. Hull would give you a good
reference.”