No Safe Harbour Page 3

  Fine literature! Hope I’ll be able to sleep now that my head’s swollen to twice its normal size.

  Thursday, October 18

  Don’t know why, but the Titanic was on my mind this morning, so I asked Haggarty if he remembered when she went down.

  “’Course I do!” he says. “It was only five years ago!”

  He told me about the hundreds of bodies that were brought to Halifax by rescue boats, and how the mortuary workers had to label the possessions so that relatives could identify the victims. “Halifax had never seen anything like it,” he said.

  And today after school — oh, that Ruth! Now doesn’t she want to go to Hollywood and be the next Mary Pickford. I came home early and caught her playing Mary Pickford in front of our vanity mirror. Her hands were over her heart and she was gazing up at the picture of Douglas Fairbanks, saying, “Oh, darling! precious love!” Mushy stuff like that.

  “You won’t think it’s funny when I’m a star!” she said when she caught me giggling.

  Well she does have blond curls and dimples like Mary Pickford, but that’s as far as it goes.

  Oh, and a treat! The stores are allowed to sell canned veg again, so Mum sent me to Heine’s to buy some peas and carrots. Eva and Werner were in the store helping their dad stock the shelves. I helped for a while, too, and Mr. Heine gave me a handful of penny candy. One of his handfuls, not mine, so I had lots to share when I got home. Except for that, and the “Mary Pickford” performance, it was an ordinary day.

  Friday, October 19

  Told Muriel how much I envied her, and she said she envied me! Why? Because I have a twin!

  She asked what it was like to have a twin and I was stumped. No one’s asked me that before. I can’t imagine what it’s like not to have a twin.

  Well I thought for a bit, then told her that having a twin is like having a best friend, only better. At least that’s how it is with Duncan and me.

  Piano as usual. Kirsty waited outside while I had my lesson, but her friend with the treats wasn’t there today.

  Saturday, October 20

  Why can’t Ruth leave me alone? All I did was ask Duncan to wait for me, and Ruth says, “Have you ever thought Duncan might not want you tagging along?”

  Well I hadn’t thought, and I worried about it all the way to the harbour. Duncan finally told me to stop being silly. If he didn’t want me to come along he’d tell me himself.

  Saw hundreds of fellows in khaki and blue, as usual. A person can’t take two steps around Halifax without tripping over a soldier or a sailor. Whenever I see a soldier I wonder if he’ll end up wearing something I’ve knitted. I hope my socks won’t fit too tight, or start to unravel before they even get to France.

  Seemed like more ships than ever were in port today. The piers, the basin, every part of the harbour was packed. We saw an ocean liner, over twenty sailing ships, some oil tankers and some other ones. And big fighting ships like the Highflyer. The Germans better not try to attack us!

  I bet we’ve seen ships from all over the world — the United States, Holland, Norway, Sweden, France, England and Denmark, as well as Canada. The ones from neutral countries like Norway have their name and country painted on the sides in huge letters, so other ships will know they’re not the enemy. I like the troop ships the best because they’re painted in “dazzle” patterns, with stripes and zig-zags and triangles. The Olympic is painted like that. Duncan says it’s to confuse the enemy so submarines can’t get a clear target. The ships probably look even more confusing when they’re moving across the ocean.

  I never paid much attention to ships before. Now I’m paying more attention, so when Luke comes home and reads my diary, he’ll know what Halifax was like when he was away — even busier than it was when he left. Dad says it’s sure not the sleepy old town it used to be.

  Sunday, October 21

  It’s early morning. Ruth’s snoring woke me up and drove me out of the bedroom, so I’m downstairs writing at the kitchen table. Dad’s the only other person who’s up. He’s lit the stove and boiled the kettle, and now he’s having a mug of tea and reading the newspaper.

  He said I could let Kirsty in, a rare treat for Kirsty this time of year. She’s sleeping at my feet. Good dog.

  Muriel’s question about twins has been on my mind because there’s so much more I could have told her. For instance, Duncan and I can sometimes tell what the other is thinking. One of us will say something and the other will say, “I was just about to say that!”

  Sometimes we finish each other’s sentences, or start to hum the same tune at the same time.

  If one of us is having a bad dream, the other will wake up and feel afraid, without even knowing what the dream was about.

  Duncan knows when I’m worried without my saying a word. I can tell when he’s worried, too, though that’s a rare enough event.

  Mum says we’re “connected in a way that goes beyond understanding.”

  Now I hear someone moving around upstairs. Time to put my diary away.

  Later

  Edith’s beau, Charlie, came for tea and gave everyone some Juicy Fruit gum. He looked right surprised when we all sang out, “The password to pleasure!” so Edith had to explain about Dad and his habit of quoting the newspaper ads and reciting poems. Duncan told Charlie we were having Solomon Gundy for tea and oh, the expression on Charlie’s face! You’d think we were stewing up a neighbour. When he saw that Solomon Gundy was pickled herring and onions served with sour cream, he looked even more horrified. But he was game enough to try a bite and liked it well enough to try another.

  “Good lad,” says Mum. “Eat up while you can.”

  I hope Charlie and Edith get married after the war and move to Winnipeg. Then I could take the train out west to visit. I’ve never been farther west than Peggy’s Cove, and that’s but a crow’s hop away.

  Who was Peggy? What did she do to have a cove named after her?

  Oh! Maybe she threw herself into the cove because her true love drowned at sea. No, what if that was only a rumour? What if he survived and came back for Peggy? But alas, he was too late! So he hurled himself off the top of the lighthouse and now their spirits are together.

  I’d love to have a place named after me. Charlotte’s Cove sounds nice, but I’d never drown myself to get the name.

  There’s a Charlottetown on Prince Edward Island, but it’s named after a different Charlotte, so it doesn’t count.

  Monday, October 22

  Miserable weather, and me in a growly mood all day.

  Watched the cadets after school, Duncan and the others marching backwards and forwards and doing their rifle exercises. Duncan’s not much taller than his rifle, they’re that long.

  Left after a while because I kept having visions of Duncan charging across No Man’s Land and tripping over his rifle and being trampled in the mud. If they run out of soldiers will they lower the age to fifteen? Or even thirteen?

  I asked Mum when I got home and she shouted at me. “Stop! Enough of your endless worries! Go and do something useful!”

  She was in a growly mood, too.

  And an hour ago, when Dad was coming home from a meeting, he spotted a light in my window. Didn’t I get the scolding! “There’s a reason for blackout curtains! If German planes were flying overhead they could see the light and drop their bombs! If the police had seen your light we could have been fined or gone to jail! It’s dangerous!” And so on and so on.

  I know, I know, I’m sorry — but it’s not just my bedroom! It’s Ruth’s and Edith’s, too, and they should’ve been scolded as well.

  I didn’t say anything, though. Just held my tongue and adjusted the curtains.

  Oh, gosh, I’m tired of the blackout. It used to be fun walking up Fort Needham on a clear night and looking down at the lights. The cheery lights of houses, street lights guiding people here and there, lights in the shop windows, the twinkling lights of the harbour ferry, the lights of Dartmouth across the way. At l
east no one can black out the star lights.

  How far away are the stars? What makes them twinkle? How I wonder what they are.

  Tuesday, October 23

  Went to Junior Red Cross with Eva and Muriel. Deirdre went, too, but this time she sat with some other girls. We heard them whispering behind our backs, saying mean things about Eva’s dad being a German spy. We ignored them, but it was upsetting all the same. Especially since it isn’t true. Because how could Mr. Heine be a spy? He’s much too nice.

  Muriel was upset because her favourite cousin, Todd, turned twenty last Saturday and there’s a new law that says he has to join the army and fight in France. He never wanted to go in the first place, but now he doesn’t have a choice.

  Muriel said her dad told Todd he could start acting like more of an idiot than usual, since idiots can’t be drafted.

  I mentioned this at suppertime, and Dad said the real idiots are the ones running the war.

  Mum gave him a look, but didn’t he go on! Said the law wouldn’t be “enforced” until after the election, but Prime Minister Borden would certainly be getting his vote because it was high time the government did something about men shirking their duty, and he was all in favour of “conscription,” and shame on Todd for not volunteering in the first place.

  Now I’m worried. What if Dad’s right? What if Luke’s fate is in the hands of an idiot?

  Time for prayers and bed.

  Wednesday, October 24

  Nothing happened worth recording, so I’ll muse.

  Everyone says that Duncan and I are like night and day. Duncan’s the day, quick with a smile and a cheery word. He’s the sunny “burn” of Blackburn, whereas I’m “black” like the night. Dark and brooding.

  Charlotte’s a deep one, says Mum. Carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. Worry lines already. No wonder she’s thin.

  I don’t mind that Duncan and I are different. At least we have the same dark hair and blue eyes. And besides, night and day are still part of the same twenty-four hours.

  Thursday, October 25

  Milk run this morning. I told Haggarty that sometimes I pretend he’s my grandfather.

  “I’m right proud to hear it,” he said, and gave me a big hug.

  I wonder what my real grandparents were like. I wish they all hadn’t died early, before Mum and Dad even got married. Dad’s mum died of pneumonia when he was ten, so he hardly knew her, and his dad and older brother died in a storm off Yarmouth a few years after that. Dad says he’s probably got some relatives in Scotland, but good luck finding them. His parents had lost contact a long time ago.

  When I asked Dad about Mum’s parents — since she never says anything — he told me to “let sleeping dogs lie.”

  Friday, October 26

  Weather mild and clear.

  There’s an exhibition of War Trophies in town and Mr. Barker told us it was our patriotic duty to go because it would give us a better understanding of the war if we saw things first-hand and asked questions. How can I have a better understanding when I don’t understand it at all? Except that the Germans are shooting and gassing and blowing up our boys and it’s all the Kaiser’s fault.

  My only question is the same as everyone else’s: When will the war be over? People say it will be over soon, but they’ve been saying that since it started and that was three years ago.

  But since it’s my patriotic duty to go to the exhibition, I’ll go in good spirits. And also because next week’s composition will probably be “War Trophies” or something like that.

  Eva said she’ll go with me, even though she usually helps out in the store on Saturdays.

  Piano lesson. Ouch, sore knuckles. Miss Tebo in a grumpy mood.

  Saturday, October 27

  A terrible day. After lunch everyone went off to the exhibition except for Ruth and me because I was waiting for Eva, and Ruth was looking for her locket. Well doesn’t she go and accuse me of taking it. Right to my face she yells, “Tell me where you put it, I know you took it,” and on and on until I finally snapped, “Stop blaming me! Blame the Kaiser!”

  That really set her off. Before I knew it, she’d pushed me into the bedroom closet and locked the door. I screamed at her to let me out, but she wouldn’t, just ran down the stairs and away outside, slamming the door behind her.

  It came rushing back, all the other times she’s locked me in the closet — the darkness, the panic, the fear of being trapped inside for hours. After a while I heard Eva downstairs, calling my name. I cried out that I was in the closet and up she came to my rescue. Ruth always leaves the key in the lock, but what good does that do me? Thank goodness for Eva.

  But oh, the humiliation. Here I am, twelve years old, and Ruth can still make me cry and wet myself like a baby.

  Edith once told me that Ruth was upset when I was born because she was used to being the youngest and getting all the attention. But isn’t Duncan the youngest, too, not counting the nine minutes? Ruth is never mean to Duncan, probably because he’s a boy.

  Well, enough of Ruth.

  Now for the exhibition. The war trophies were taken from the Germans by Nova Scotian soldiers and brought to Halifax. In addition to the trophies, like guns and such, there was a display of field hospital equipment with real nurses and orderlies on hand to answer questions. One of the orderlies was Charlie. I asked him if Edith had been to the display yet (she had), but I couldn’t think of an intelligent medical question.

  They also put on a demonstration that shows what happens to a wounded soldier, from the time he’s brought into the field hospital by a stretcher-bearer to the time he leaves for the base hospital. I’d never thought of stretcher-bearers before. What a brave lot they are, tearing into No Man’s Land to carry off the wounded.

  After that we went to look at the German rifle that was captured by the Canadians at Vimy Ridge. I was telling Eva about Luke fighting at Vimy when some big boys from our school came over and told her that “Krauts” weren’t allowed at the exhibition and she’d better get out before she was thrown out.

  To my everlasting shame, I turned to go.

  But Eva! She glares up at the boys and says, “I was born in Halifax, my mother was born in Halifax, and my father’s a Canadian citizen. So I’m no more of a Kraut than you are.” Those were her exact words.

  The boys looked right stunned to see a girl standing up to them. They recovered quick enough, though, and muttered a couple of threats before backing off.

  On the way home I told Eva I was sorry I hadn’t helped her out, especially after she’d rescued me from the closet. She shrugged and told me she’s had lots of practice standing up for herself. Most of the time she just ignores the name-calling.

  “But it must hurt your feelings,” I said.

  “No,” she said. “Because none of what they say is true.”

  I told her how much I admired her and how lucky I was to have her for a friend.

  I still feel miserable, though. Duncan would have stood up for Eva, told the boys that she was as patriotic as they were, probably moreso, because how many socks had they knitted for our soldiers? How many bandages had they rolled?

  That’s what I should have said.

  I felt sick to my stomach after seeing the war trophies and thinking of Luke being shot and carried out on a stretcher in a storm of bullets. I threw up after supper and Mum said I’m not to go to exhibitions like that, it only upsets me, and Mr. Barker should have had more sense than to tell our class it was our duty to go. (The part about Mr. B. I heard her say privately to Dad.)

  I was sick because of the bullies, too. Including Ruth, for locking me in the closet. I didn’t dare tell, because Ruth would only make it worse the next time. Duncan says that Ruth picks on me because she can, and that I have to learn to fight back. Stand up to her, he says. Well I would, if I wasn’t Charlotte the Meek.

  If I wasn’t Charlotte the Meek I could stand up to anybody.

  What a miserable, cowardly day. Writing
in my diary usually makes me feel better, but not tonight.

  Sunday, October 28

  Went to church and prayed that I’d be able to lock Ruth in the closet for once. Then I felt guilty and asked God to forgive me.

  And wasn’t I rewarded for my change of heart! For as we were leaving the church, Ruth told me she’d found her missing locket. Where? In the pocket of her Sunday coat, right where she’d left it last week. Being Ruth (and not Mary Pickford), she didn’t think to apologize.

  I was rewarded in another way, too. Because when I was hanging up my Sunday dress, I saw the key and took it out of the keyhole. I’m going to throw it into the harbour. That way Ruth can never again lock me in, and I won’t be tempted to do the same to her. I must be stupid as a bag of hammers not to have thought of that before.

  After church, Charlie came for Sunday dinner.

  Duncan and I dressed up in our Hallowe’en clothes and Charlie said he couldn’t tell us apart until we smiled. He gave me some gum to cover up my crooked front teeth. The colour’s not the same but no one will notice in the dark.

  Ruth said she’d never guess we were twelve, the way we were carrying on.

  Went over to Eva’s in the afternoon, but she’s come down with a cold. I hope she’s better for Hallowe’en.

  Monday, October 29

  Mum spotted an ad in the newspaper for Anne’s House of Dreams and told me I could start saving my pennies if I wanted it, which I do, even though it costs $1.50. I love the Anne books. Muriel does, too. Sometimes we pretend we’re the characters in Anne of Green Gables. She’s always Anne and I’m always Diana.

  Today after school we acted out the scene where Anne invites Diana to tea and gives her currant wine instead of raspberry cordial. Anne does most of the talking while Diana drinks the wine and gets drunk. Then she reels about dizzily and moans, “I’m awful sick. I must go home …”

  We’re going to practise and maybe put on a show for our families. Except Muriel can’t invite all twenty-one Chisholms.