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Authors: Margaret Laurence
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robot’s mechanical voice or someone reading from a printed form, “they’ve been causing some concern to us.”
“Why?” she asks, as though innocently.
Why? Listen to the woman. She wouldn’t care, I suppose, whether he ever got a scrap of education or not. He could grow up illiterate – it would make no difference to her. If ever he decides he doesn’t want to follow his father in the garage business, she’ll stare at him with total blankness. If he’s in a silver ship that one day lands on the moon, she’ll write him off sorrowfully as a boy who didn’t turn out well. Unless he gets in the papers or on TV for it. Then she would know it was all right to be approving. How shall I handle this?
“I’ll have to tell you frankly. On two occasions, when he was supposed to be sick, he was seen in the valley. I’m sure you didn’t know. Perhaps you were out, and –”
I have to allow her to save face, I suppose, although that is not my inclination. I don’t want to look at her, but when I do, I see that her mild placid eyes are in a fever.
“Of course I knew!” she cries. “What do you take me for, Rachel?”
I’m so startled I don’t know what to say. I must be gaping at her foolishly.
“Who saw him?” she asks fiercely. “If I may be so bold as to enquire.”
“I don’t know that I ought to –”
“Well, in that case,” she says scathingly, “it must’ve been Mrs. Siddley. She spends half her time wandering around down there with her little camp stool and that jazzy easel of hers. I’d like to see the inside of
her
house. I bet it’s a pigsty. You know as well as I do, Rachel, that she –”
She breaks off, glances at me, and then looks frightened.
“I didn’t mean to say that.” Her voice sounds subdued and discouraged, but then she speaks defiantly again. “If she’d only looked a little closer those two afternoons, she’d have seen I was with James.”
My first reaction is that she is lying, to pardon him. But when I scrutinize her face, it seems to me she isn’t lying after all.
“But – why? If he was well, why wasn’t he at school?”
“He’d had this bad tonsillitis,” Grace says. “The weather was so warm and fine, on those two days, and he was much better, but still not quite himself. I thought it would do him more good than school, just those few times, to go out around the river, that’s all.”
Her look is defensive now, and yet insistent, trying to explain.
“He’s only seven, Rachel, and he’s a clever kid. I mean, I think he’s quite clever. And yet if he’s sent to school too soon after being sick, and he isn’t feeling up to much, it only makes him cranky. I don’t see how he can learn anything then. I hate him to miss days like that, but then I wonder if it wouldn’t be worse to set him against school? I don’t want that. I want him to go on, as far as he –”
I cannot hear her any longer. I cannot listen as she elaborates. How could I not have known it of her, the way she feels, her determination and her hesitance? The way she cares about him.
“Listen, it’s all right, Grace. Now that I know what happened, it’s quite all right. I wouldn’t even have brought it up, if I’d known.”
The door creaks open a crack, and James’s blue eye peers in.
“Okay, honey, you can come in now,” she says. “We’re just going.”
He comes in and stands beside her, and she brushes his russet hair away from his forehead, as she’s been doing for years, no doubt. She has the right to touch him, at least sometimes. She puts an arm around his shoulders, and he squirms away, frowning. She smiles, not unpleased that he wants to be his own and on his own.
“Well, that’s all okay, then, Rachel?”
Her voice is filled with capability. She gains strength from his presence. This is what happens. I’ve seen it with my sister. They think they are making a shelter for their children, but actually it is the children who are making a shelter
“Why?” she asks, as though innocently.
Why? Listen to the woman. She wouldn’t care, I suppose, whether he ever got a scrap of education or not. He could grow up illiterate – it would make no difference to her. If ever he decides he doesn’t want to follow his father in the garage business, she’ll stare at him with total blankness. If he’s in a silver ship that one day lands on the moon, she’ll write him off sorrowfully as a boy who didn’t turn out well. Unless he gets in the papers or on TV for it. Then she would know it was all right to be approving. How shall I handle this?
“I’ll have to tell you frankly. On two occasions, when he was supposed to be sick, he was seen in the valley. I’m sure you didn’t know. Perhaps you were out, and –”
I have to allow her to save face, I suppose, although that is not my inclination. I don’t want to look at her, but when I do, I see that her mild placid eyes are in a fever.
“Of course I knew!” she cries. “What do you take me for, Rachel?”
I’m so startled I don’t know what to say. I must be gaping at her foolishly.
“Who saw him?” she asks fiercely. “If I may be so bold as to enquire.”
“I don’t know that I ought to –”
“Well, in that case,” she says scathingly, “it must’ve been Mrs. Siddley. She spends half her time wandering around down there with her little camp stool and that jazzy easel of hers. I’d like to see the inside of
her
house. I bet it’s a pigsty. You know as well as I do, Rachel, that she –”
She breaks off, glances at me, and then looks frightened.
“I didn’t mean to say that.” Her voice sounds subdued and discouraged, but then she speaks defiantly again. “If she’d only looked a little closer those two afternoons, she’d have seen I was with James.”
My first reaction is that she is lying, to pardon him. But when I scrutinize her face, it seems to me she isn’t lying after all.
“But – why? If he was well, why wasn’t he at school?”
“He’d had this bad tonsillitis,” Grace says. “The weather was so warm and fine, on those two days, and he was much better, but still not quite himself. I thought it would do him more good than school, just those few times, to go out around the river, that’s all.”
Her look is defensive now, and yet insistent, trying to explain.
“He’s only seven, Rachel, and he’s a clever kid. I mean, I think he’s quite clever. And yet if he’s sent to school too soon after being sick, and he isn’t feeling up to much, it only makes him cranky. I don’t see how he can learn anything then. I hate him to miss days like that, but then I wonder if it wouldn’t be worse to set him against school? I don’t want that. I want him to go on, as far as he –”
I cannot hear her any longer. I cannot listen as she elaborates. How could I not have known it of her, the way she feels, her determination and her hesitance? The way she cares about him.
“Listen, it’s all right, Grace. Now that I know what happened, it’s quite all right. I wouldn’t even have brought it up, if I’d known.”
The door creaks open a crack, and James’s blue eye peers in.
“Okay, honey, you can come in now,” she says. “We’re just going.”
He comes in and stands beside her, and she brushes his russet hair away from his forehead, as she’s been doing for years, no doubt. She has the right to touch him, at least sometimes. She puts an arm around his shoulders, and he squirms away, frowning. She smiles, not unpleased that he wants to be his own and on his own.
“Well, that’s all okay, then, Rachel?”
Her voice is filled with capability. She gains strength from his presence. This is what happens. I’ve seen it with my sister. They think they are making a shelter for their children, but actually it is the children who are making a shelter
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