and pull him along. I pick the first birthday card I find and a package of the cheapest paper. I’m in such a rush to get out of the store I don’t even pause at the perfume and I don’t bother with Charlie’s socks. I’ll have to make up an explanation for the extra expense. Plastic soldiers have gone up in price.
Once we’re safely inside the car, I establish the rules.
“Daddy will be very angry if he finds out,” I say. “We have to keep the doll a secret. The only time you can play with her is while Daddy is at work. When I say it’s time to put the doll away, the doll goes away. No arguments. You cannot bring the doll to school or mention the doll to any of your friends. If you do, I will take the doll back to the store. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Can I hold her now?”
I can’t help but smile when I pass him the box and watch his face light up. How could I deny my child such joy?
“I won’t tell anyone, Mommy. Promise.”
I’m hanging out the laundry on the back line. John is playing in the sandbox. Charlie is driving posts into the ground. He’s working on a fence that will circle our backyard. He plans to paint it white.
“We’ll have to invite the Queen back to see it,” he says to me.
“I’m sure it will be first on her list,” I reply.
The royal tour is coming to Balsden next week. This is the biggest thing to happen in our city in years. There’s a motorcade that will run along Parker Street and stop at city hall while the mayor makes a speech and a high school band plays “God Save the Queen.” Then the motorcade will start up again and wind past the river before ending in Century Park. There, Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip will watch performances by a children’s choir and Ukrainian dancers and the Queen will be presented with a gift on behalf of the city. (Fern says it’s an oil painting of the refineries by a local artist, which sounds just awful to me, but she insists it’s nice and if anyone would know, it would be Fern.) Afterwards, the Queen and Prince Philip will visit one of the refineries. I screamed out loud when I read that, as Charlie is working that day, but he says it’s not his refinery they’ll be visiting.
“Likely Nordoc,” he said. “It’s the newest one.”
John and I will go downtown to watch the motorcade. He’s convinced he’s going to meet the Queen in person. I’ve tried to quash those expectations but with little success.
“Well hello, neighbours!”
I turn from the towel I’m hanging to see Hal Sparrow standing at the edge of the yard, wearing a bucket hat.
“Hi, Mr. Sparrow. I haven’t seen you or Eileen around for a while.”
“Eileen’s under the weather lately.”
“Oh? Nothing serious, I hope.”
“She’ll bounce back.” He waves to Charlie. “I could use a fence around my yard, too.”
“That so?” The back of his shirt is patterned with dark shapes of sweat.
“Good you’re getting that done before the construction starts,” Hal says to me. “I just hate to think of those trees going.”
We stand in silence for a few moments, watching Charlie hammer a post into the ground. A cicada’s trill stretches through the air.
“It’s a shame about the Pender boy.”
It takes a moment for the name to register with me. “Pender?”
“Yeah. Anne Pender’s boy. Freddy. That was his name, wasn’t it? He’s dead.”
“Dead! That can’t be true. Who told you that?”
“Eileen heard it. Apparently he was on a ship. Some Alaskan cruise. I think he was a singer or something. Anyway, he went overboard.”
“He what?”
John’s head turns towards us.
“The official word was that it was an accident.”
I look over at Charlie as he rears back the sledgehammer. He hasn’t heard any of this. John is emptying a bucket of sand on the ledge of his sandbox. Clothes flap on the line. I smell detergent. On the other side of us, the trees.
“Freddy was in Hollywood. He was getting into movies,” I hear
Once we’re safely inside the car, I establish the rules.
“Daddy will be very angry if he finds out,” I say. “We have to keep the doll a secret. The only time you can play with her is while Daddy is at work. When I say it’s time to put the doll away, the doll goes away. No arguments. You cannot bring the doll to school or mention the doll to any of your friends. If you do, I will take the doll back to the store. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Can I hold her now?”
I can’t help but smile when I pass him the box and watch his face light up. How could I deny my child such joy?
“I won’t tell anyone, Mommy. Promise.”
I’m hanging out the laundry on the back line. John is playing in the sandbox. Charlie is driving posts into the ground. He’s working on a fence that will circle our backyard. He plans to paint it white.
“We’ll have to invite the Queen back to see it,” he says to me.
“I’m sure it will be first on her list,” I reply.
The royal tour is coming to Balsden next week. This is the biggest thing to happen in our city in years. There’s a motorcade that will run along Parker Street and stop at city hall while the mayor makes a speech and a high school band plays “God Save the Queen.” Then the motorcade will start up again and wind past the river before ending in Century Park. There, Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip will watch performances by a children’s choir and Ukrainian dancers and the Queen will be presented with a gift on behalf of the city. (Fern says it’s an oil painting of the refineries by a local artist, which sounds just awful to me, but she insists it’s nice and if anyone would know, it would be Fern.) Afterwards, the Queen and Prince Philip will visit one of the refineries. I screamed out loud when I read that, as Charlie is working that day, but he says it’s not his refinery they’ll be visiting.
“Likely Nordoc,” he said. “It’s the newest one.”
John and I will go downtown to watch the motorcade. He’s convinced he’s going to meet the Queen in person. I’ve tried to quash those expectations but with little success.
“Well hello, neighbours!”
I turn from the towel I’m hanging to see Hal Sparrow standing at the edge of the yard, wearing a bucket hat.
“Hi, Mr. Sparrow. I haven’t seen you or Eileen around for a while.”
“Eileen’s under the weather lately.”
“Oh? Nothing serious, I hope.”
“She’ll bounce back.” He waves to Charlie. “I could use a fence around my yard, too.”
“That so?” The back of his shirt is patterned with dark shapes of sweat.
“Good you’re getting that done before the construction starts,” Hal says to me. “I just hate to think of those trees going.”
We stand in silence for a few moments, watching Charlie hammer a post into the ground. A cicada’s trill stretches through the air.
“It’s a shame about the Pender boy.”
It takes a moment for the name to register with me. “Pender?”
“Yeah. Anne Pender’s boy. Freddy. That was his name, wasn’t it? He’s dead.”
“Dead! That can’t be true. Who told you that?”
“Eileen heard it. Apparently he was on a ship. Some Alaskan cruise. I think he was a singer or something. Anyway, he went overboard.”
“He what?”
John’s head turns towards us.
“The official word was that it was an accident.”
I look over at Charlie as he rears back the sledgehammer. He hasn’t heard any of this. John is emptying a bucket of sand on the ledge of his sandbox. Clothes flap on the line. I smell detergent. On the other side of us, the trees.
“Freddy was in Hollywood. He was getting into movies,” I hear
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