The Hull Home Fire (5 page)

Mary punched his upper arm. “It’s not that easy. Besides, I love working at
Hull Home. I’d miss the residents something terrible.”

Alice set a plate in front of her. “Stay for supper. You’ll feel better after a
full stomach.”

Tom’s expression became sombre. “What does the report say ?”

“It’s some awful, Mr. Gibbs. It makes the Home seem like an overcrowded place
where everyone is locked away and forced to eat horrible food.”

“That sounds about right to me,” Tom said.

Alice piled Mary’s plate with two pieces of fish, onions, and mashed potatoes.
“Mom’s never complained about such goings-on,” she said, giving her husband a
stern look.

Henry picked up Mary’s paper and browsed through the report. “It says there’s
been no dwelling plans submitted or any
applications for
occupancy or alterations,” he said. “All that’s required by law.”

Mary went ashen. “I overheard Mrs. Hull talk about that.”

“Hmm,” Tom said. “Doesn’t surprise me at all. What else is in the
report ?”

Mary nearly ripped the paper out of Henry’s hands. “The stove should be
repaired and a firewall placed behind it. All the exit doors must open out.” She
read without pausing. “A fire escape or a ramp should be built at the rear of
the main building.”

“Any mention of problems with the Annex ?” Alice asked.

“The hall stove that blocks the door and access to the stairs has to be moved.
An exterior staircase is essential and all the chimneys have to be cleaned.”
Mary whimpered like a small child. “There’s no end to these grievances.”

Alice smiled at the girl’s overwhelmed expression. “They don’t appear to be
anything too difficult or too expensive to handle.”

“Don’t raise her hopes,” Tom said. “I doubt the Hulls will see it that
way.”

Mary grew even paler.

“Take heart, love,” Tom said in a gentler tone. “Maybe the Hulls will do the
sensible thing. Especially with so many helpless people depending on
them.”

“Of course they will,” Alice said. “The Hulls are not stupid.”

“I heard some of Cahill and Superintendent Vivian’s conversation during the
inspection,” Mary said. “But after reading what they wrote, I’m scared the Home
will close.” She lowered her head and played with a slab of onion. “Sorry for
barging in on your supper.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, barging in ?
You’ve
been welcome here ever since you were a youngster. Now eat up before the fish
gets colder than the temperature outside.”

A burst of static made everyone realize the radio had been on the whole time.
The
Barrelman
show was in progress. Joey Smallwood’s voice pealed out
like a warning bell. Alice leaped to her feet and switched off the radio. “Mr.
Smallwood might as well call it quits,” she said. “England will never permit
such a ridiculous notion as Confederation.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Mary said. “Mr. Connors at the Home said England
wants rid of us, so they just might go along with it.”

Tom shrugged off the statement. “Doesn’t matter if they do or they don’t,” he
said. “Newfoundland will always remain a separate country.”

Mary licked a piece of crusty fish batter from her lip. “Henry, what happened
at the meeting last — ” A gentle nudge in the leg caused her to cough.

“What were you saying, Mary ?” Tom said when she resumed eating.

“I’m just curious if anyone knows how the meeting at the CLB Armoury
went.”

Tom sliced through a thick slab of turnip. “Joey and his team harp on about how
good a change will be for us,” he said. “What’s wrong with the ways things
are ?”

“The way I see it,” Mary said, “there’s nothing can be done to stop
change.”

The conversation lulled while they finished the main course. The talk over tea
and homemade apple pie centred around the weather, a topic on everyone’s mind
since the coldest winter on record had struck with an unrelenting hold.

“There’s another load of icicles hanging from the roof and
windows,” Tom said. “I’d better break them up before they fall on
someone.”

Alice sighed. “I’ve never seen the like before this year. New ones appear as
soon as the old ones are chopped away.”

Mary grinned. “Mr. Gibbs, why don’t you wait until they’re long enough to slide
down to the ground ?”

Henry smiled. “Dougie would love that.”

“I’d better get to it,” Tom said and excused himself. Henry left to put more
wood in the grate in the living room.

“That was some good fish, Mrs. Gibbs,” Mary said, helping Alice with the
dishes. “I wouldn’t mind being Catholic if I had to eat fish cooked like that
every Friday.”

“I wouldn’t mind having you as a daughter-in-law, Protestant and all.”

The cup Mary was about to put in the cupboard crashed to the floor. “I’m
sorry,” she cried, and stooped to pick up the shattered remains.

“Be careful,” Alice said, bringing out the broom. “You’ll cut yourself.”

“I’m not always this clumsy.”

Alice swept up the mess. “It’s only a cup. There’s no harm done.”

The phone rang. Henry appeared in the kitchen as Alice put the broken shards
into the garbage. “Mary, your mother’s leaving for bingo in five minutes.”

“I need to go now, Mrs. Gibbs. Mom doesn’t like to leave Dougie alone in the
house.”

Henry went with her to the door. “Mom really enjoys your company.”

Mary zippered up her rubber boots. “I didn’t mean to almost give away the fact
you were at the meeting,” she said.

“Everything bothers Dad these days.”

“I hope things work out between you two.”

“Mary, we have to talk about us.”

She opened the door. “I need time to think things over.” The wind whipped her
thick hair around her face as she ran to her house. Henry waited until she was
inside to give himself extra time to build up the courage to confront his
father. The flames in the fireplace crackled and hissed as he dressed to go
outside.

TOM STOOD NEAR THE TOP
of the ladder hacking away at an icicle
thicker than a man’s thigh. Henry darted to the side when the lethal weapon
plummeted down. “Dad, I’d like to talk to you about my decision to be a
doctor.”

Tom’s eyes never left the roof. “It won’t do any good,” he said, the axe held
loosely at his side.

“Dad, please.”

Tom looked down at his son. “Will anything I say make a difference ?”

“No, but — ”

Tom swung his arm and smashed the axe into a monster icicle. “Like I told you.
It won’t do any good.”

THE WIND GROANED AGAINST THE
side of the house and rattled the
glass in Henry’s bedroom window, waking him from a restless sleep. He sat up and
stared into the darkness, unsure what had dragged him away from the strange
dream. The details bombarded his head, too vivid, too real. He had stood in the
kitchen surrounded by his parents and grandmother. His father had pounded the
table with a fist. “Mike,” he had shouted at Henry. “You’ve always done what you
wanted with never a thought to anyone else.”

“I’m not Mike, Dad.”

“You’re nothing but a selfish bastard.”

“Mike,” Alice said softly, her eyes sad. “What is wrong with you ?”

His grandmother lightly kissed his cheek. “Don’t fret none, Henry,” she
whispered. “It’ll all work out.” As he turned to her, a thick fog filled the
kitchen. Before he had time to call her name, the fog evaporated as if it had
never been there. His grandmother was gone.

The plastic sheet over the window bellowed like a balloon
in the
Atlantic wind. Through a thin layer of frost he saw a heavy grey cloud swallow
the moon, darkening the room until even the shadows disappeared into a black
void. Although he hadn’t been afraid of the dark even in childhood, Henry
tensed. His throat tight, he lay back and tucked the quilts under his chin. No
stars. No moon. The bedside clock ticked away the seconds. The plastic sucked in
its breath. The glass rattled again. The plastic blew out. In. Out. In. Out.
Waiting for air to breathe. Henry couldn’t tear his gaze away.

A branch from one of the many maple trees in the yard scraped the window. Henry
blinked and looked at the bedside clock. Two in the morning. He rolled onto his
side away from the window and closed his eyes. The memory of the dream screamed
in his head. Henry turned onto his back and looked toward the window once more.
The wind died down. The plastic didn’t move. It’s stopped breathing, he thought.
The clouds separated and the moon’s light filtered into the room. The wind
stirred again, a gentle breeze at first, then it blew stronger. The plastic
ballooned back to life. He closed his eyes and tried to will himself to
sleep.

Wide awake, Henry gave up, crawled out of bed, switched on the light, and read
from the book he had begun the night before,
The Complete Stories of Sherlock
Holmes
. Henry particularly enjoyed Dr. Watson’s constant concern for
Sherlock’s health. Close to four o’clock the book dropped from his hands to his
lap as sleep overtook him.

“Henry.”

He was certain he could hear his mother call to him. Why did her voice echo
like it came from the end of a long tunnel ?

His body shook. “Henry, wake up.”

He opened his eyes. His mother’s hand rested on his
shoulder. He
slowly rose his head. “Oww,” he said, rubbing the side of his neck.

“That’s what you get for spending all night in a chair,” Alice said. She picked
up the book which had fallen to the floor. “It’s a few minutes to nine. Your
grandmother expects you at ten to take her shopping.”

Henry stretched his arms high above his head to relieve the knot between his
shoulder blades. “That won’t take more than an hour. Old ladies aren’t
interested in clothes.”

“Indeed,” Alice said, smiling to herself on the way out of the room.

Henry dressed in record time and hurried down to the kitchen. His night in the
chair had left him shivery all over. He stood by the stove to bathe in its heat.
“I don’t know how you do it, Mom.”

Alice stirred a pot of porridge. “Do what ?”

“Get up every morning in the cold to light the hall and kitchen stoves.”

“You get used to anything after twenty-five years.” Alice removed the cooked
porridge from the stove. “Besides,” she added with a soft sigh, “your father
works hard on the docks in all kinds of weather. He deserves a little comfort to
begin the day.”

Henry cut bread from a freshly baked loaf and put two slices on the toaster
doors and snapped them shut. “You’d have less work if you bought bread from
Walsh’s Bakery.”

Alice turned up her nose. “Baker’s fog, you mean. Proper bread is made at
home.”

The smell of toast filled the kitchen. Henry dished out two bowls of porridge,
sprinkled three spoons of sugar on his, and poured in a quarter tin of Carnation
milk.

Alice buttered the toast and poured the tea, adding cold water
to her mug. “Did you speak to your father last night ?”

“I saw him.”

Alice looked at her son. He shrugged. She scraped the bowl on a heavy
sigh.

“Mom, there’s not much time until Uncle Mike arrives.”

Alice raised her cup to her lips. “Eight days,” she said, and lowered it
without tasting a drop of the tea. “You’d better get a move on. Your grandmother
will think you’ve forgotten about her.”

DOT WAS DRESSED AND WAITING
in her room when Henry charged in.
“Right on time,” he said. “Told Mom I wouldn’t be late.”

“I just hung up from her. You must’ve grown wings and flown here.”

Dot linked into him once they were outside and walked to the streetcar stop
around the corner on Gower Street. The early February sun reflected blindingly
off the snow. Dot shaded her eyes against the brightness. “There’s not much heat
in the sun,” she said. The words were hardly uttered when the streetcar pulled
up, almost filled to capacity. They seated themselves near the exit for the
short ride to Water Street, the only shopping centre for St. John’s and
surrounding areas. Henry and Dot disembarked in front of Silver’s Jewellery
Store a few doors down from the post office.

“Now,” Henry said. “Why did you rope me into this shopping expedition ?”

“Your mother’s birthday is Valentine’s Day. I want to buy her a special gift
this year. You don’t turn fifty every day.”

“You always let Mom pick out something.”

“She never fails to choose a practical item like an iron.
Nothing just for her. Besides,” Dot continued, smiling, “change is good.”

“Tell that to Dad.”

“May I help you, madam ?” the tall, thick-chested clerk asked Dot when she laid
her purse on the glass countertop.

“Indeed you may. I’d like to look at lockets.”

“Good choice, madam.” He inserted a key into the lock of the glass door on the
jewellery display. “We have a wide variety.”

Dot scrutinized over two dozen, seeking Henry’s opinion on each one. “This is
perfect,” she said, selecting a sterling silver heart with a straight-line
indentation on the front, and plain on the back. The chain measured twelve
inches long.

“A wise decision,” the clerk said. “This is one of our recent imports from
Switzerland.”

Dot opened the heart. “I’d like a message engraved on both sides.”

The clerk took a pencil from behind his ear and poised it over a notepad. “Go
ahead, madam.”

“On the left put ‘Alice, my joy.’” She waited for the clerk to finish writing.
“On the right engrave ‘You make me proud.’” She turned to Henry. “One day your
father will come to his senses and say the same about you.”

Henry decided not to respond.

The clerk wrote the last word of the inscription. “The locket will be ready on
the thirteenth.”

“Grand,” Dot said. “Just in time for my daughter’s birthday. I’ll pay now.” She
inclined her head in Henry’s direction. “My grandson will come by for it.”

“Your name and address, sir ?” the clerk said, the pencil
once
again poised over the notepad. The information recorded, he passed Henry the
stub from the envelope containing the locket and chain. “Present this when you
come for the locket.”

Henry pocketed the stub.

“Now on to Bowring’s,” Dot said with a satisfied smile. They crossed the busy
street to the department store, which stocked every kind of merchandise from the
latest fashions to furniture.

Henry trailed behind his grandmother while she browsed through every item of
clothing. “Is there anything specific you’re looking for ?” he said when she
crossed the floor to sweaters neatly stacked on a dozen or more shelves.

“Not really.”

“I see why you and Mom take hours to buy one thing,” he said, hoping to keep
any hint of complaint out of his voice.

“You men have no idea what pleasure you’re missing out on.” Dot moved on to
hats, scarves, and footwear.

Henry traipsed along, trying to appear interested. “That’s it ?” he said when
Dot bought the kind of wool gloves he had seen her knit all his life. “We spent
hours here for those ?”

Dot held out the purchase, a slight grin on her face. “Don’t you think they’re
such a lovely shade of blue ?”

“I’m hungry,” Henry said. “Time to head out.”

“We’ll eat here in the Captain’s Cabin. I told your mother not to expect you
for lunch.”

The restaurant, situated on the second floor, was a popular spot for shoppers
and visitors to the city, boasting a magnificent view of The Narrows. The
entrance to the harbour was bound on both sides by snow-covered, tree-lined
hills. A small fishing boat motored out into the ocean. Henry enjoyed the open
sea. When he was a boy his father often took him outside The
Narrows to view the whales. He had been ten when he first saw one. The boat
nearly tipped over when he jumped to his feet, waving at the whales like they
were his best buddies.

A low hum of voices greeted them. Henry spotted Mary seated by a window, a cup
clasped between her fingers. She stared down into the wharf. The restaurant was
not yet quite full and she had a booth to herself.

His grandmother marched straight for the young woman. “What a pleasant
surprise, Mary. May we join you ?”

Mary jerked around and gasped at Dot. Her eyes moved to Henry for a few brief
seconds before they flickered back to Dot. “Of course, Mrs. Gatherall.”

Dot slid into the vacant seat. Henry sat next to Mary. He felt her tense when
their thighs touched.

“I pray to God this weather breaks soon,” Dot said. She held out her hands, the
knuckles crooked and thick. “It’s murder on my arthritis.”

Mary couldn’t quite pull off a smile. “Gramps suffered from it some bad,
too.”

Henry resisted the urge to hold Mary in his arms.

Dot shimmied out of her coat. “Mary, you look a mite pale. Aren’t you feeling
well ?”

“My migraine’s not quite gone. I’ll be all right in a while.”

Dot rested her back into the cushioned bench. “Thank heavens I don’t get them
anymore. Now, Henry, I’d like a chicken dinner and a scalding cup of tea. Mary,
would you like something to eat ?”

Mary swallowed as if the very thought of food was intolerable. “No thank you.
My stomach’s still off from the migraine.”

“Maybe a light soup would help.”

“I really couldn’t hold down a thing right now,” Mary said.
“Maybe some dry toast when I go home.”

Dot took money from her purse and handed it to her grandson. “Order what you
want for yourself. It’s my treat.”

“He’ll pay for his own dinner,” Mary said as Henry walked away.

“I know.” Dot stared at Mary as if seeking to read her mind. “Dearie, tell me
what really troubles you.”

“I told you.”

“My old eyes have witnessed more sadness and heartache than you can imagine. I
recognize terrible worry when I see it.”

Mary rocked slowly.

“I know your habits, child,” Dot said. “You do that when you’re upset or
worried.”

“The Hulls can be stubborn about repairs. I’m fearful for my job, that’s
all.”

“That’s only a small part of it.”

Mary’s eyelids fluttered as she turned back to the window.

“Love,” Dot said softly. “I’ve known you since you were a baby. I want to help,
not pass judgment on you.”

Mary slowly turned back to the older woman. “Really, Mrs. Gatherall,” she said,
wringing her hands. “It’s just work.”

“Henry’s leaving can’t be easy for you.”

Tears welled in Mary’s already red eyes. “Henry doesn’t love me enough to
stay.” She choked off the last word as he approached the table. A hand to the
side of her face, she looked away when he sat beside her.

“Mary, are you crying ?” When she didn’t answer, Henry turned a quizzical face
to his grandmother.

Mary looked at Dot. Panic flashed across her drawn features.

“Henry, dear,” Dot said. “She misses her grandfather. The loss
is still fresh.”

Mary dabbed at her tears with a paper napkin. “I must look an awful
mess.”

Dot slid out of the booth. “Nothing a splash of cold water won’t put right.
Come along with me, child.”

The two women wove their way through the tables, now filled to capacity.
Several people noticed Mary’s swollen eyes and quickly looked away when she
caught them staring at her. Mary hurried on and pushed open the door to the
ladies’ washroom. Pristine white walls gave the room a sterile hospital look.
Water dripped from a faucet in two sinks. A row of mirrors reflected the stalls.
The sound of footsteps passed outside, echoing farther into the distance.
Relieved no one was there, Mary doused a paper towel with water and wiped her
face, plastering strands of hair to her forehead. “I’m a little better now, Mrs.
Gatherall.” She threw the soaked paper in the garbage container. “I wish Mr.
Hull would let me in on what’s happening.”