And Nothing But the Truth (3 page)

“It’s such rotten luck!” said Rhoda. “I heard one of the girls say she was the crabbiest teacher in the whole school! All the teachers are much stricter than in my old school. And why do so many of them have English accents?”

“That’s just what Victoria’s like,” Eleanor explained. “Dad says people here are more English than the English.”

“Well, I think it’s weird,” said Rhoda. “Where I live we have our
own
accent, not one from another country.”

Polly glared at her; why did she have to keep criticizing Canada?

Miss Poirier, the other matron, came up to them with a notebook. “What are you doing after classes today, girls? Games, walk, or free?”

“What do those mean?” asked Eleanor.

“‘Games’ means you’re playing on a team or watching one. ‘Walk’ means a walk in the neighbourhood. ‘Free’ means spending time in your dormitory or on the grounds.”

“Why do we need to say?” asked Rhoda. “Can’t we just do what we want after school?”

“Certainly not! We need to know what each of you is doing and where you are every minute of the day.”

“But why?” persisted Rhoda.

“Because the school is responsible for you. You’re very
close to being impertinent, young lady! Do you want to go and talk to Miss Guppy?”

“No, Miss Poirier,” muttered Rhoda.

“Let’s start again,” said Miss Poirier. “What are you each doing after class?”

“Free, I guess,” said Eleanor.

“Free,” agreed Polly. “Are we allowed to just wander around the grounds?”

“Yes, but you mustn’t go into the woods—that’s strictly forbidden.”

“A walk around the neighbourhood, then,” said Polly. That would be better. She and Eleanor could explore.

Daisy and Rhoda decided on games. “Finally!” sighed Miss Poirier, writing in her notebook. “Tomorrow I expect you all to tell me right away.”

“What a grouch!” said Rhoda as the matron walked away.

“I’m glad our dorm usually has Mrs. Blake and not her,” said Daisy. She jumped up when a prefect clanged a bell. “Come on, Fearless Four. Back to the fray!”

Mrs. Horner spent the whole of British history telling them facts about early royalty. “I expect you to have all the names and dates up to 1066 memorized by next week,” she said. “There will be a test.”

Next was chemistry, which was in a room full of long tables and high stools in the gymnasium building. Eleanor beamed as Mrs. Diamond explained that later in the term they would be doing experiments. “You’re very privileged,” she told them. “St. Winifred’s is one of the few girls schools in Canada with a science laboratory.”

The last period of the day was gymnastics. They were allowed to take off their ties. Then they tucked their tunics into their bloomers and marched in a line with wooden batons. “I told you it was like an army!” puffed Rhoda.

“No talking, please!” called Miss Gower, the gym teacher. “I know you find this difficult right now, but by the end of the year you’ll be in perfect precision. In June, St. Winifred’s is participating in a province-wide drill competition. Last year we won third place. This time we’re going to receive the cup!”

“We have to do that awful marching for a whole year?” complained Rhoda as they walked back to the classroom. Polly wiped away the perspiration that coated her face. Her armpits dripped, as well, and she felt trapped inside her sweltering tunic.

After the Hornet dismissed them, they ran up to the dorm, stripped off their tunics, and collapsed on their beds. “Pe-uu!” laughed Mrs. Blake as she came in. “Go and wash, all of you. Then you can go to tea.”

Polly felt better after she’d soaped her armpits and
splashed her face with cool water. But then she had to put on the heavy tunic again.

“Don’t forget your hats for your walk, Eleanor and Polly,” said Mrs. Blake. “Since it’s so hot, you can wear your summer ones.”

Polly frowned at the brown straw hat. If only it weren’t so dull! She followed Eleanor to the dining room and sipped hot tea, which made her even hotter. She wished there were cookies, but there was only a plate of brown bread and butter. At least she and Eleanor were going for a walk on their own.

Miss Poirier appeared in the dining room. “Everyone who signed up for walk, meet outside the front door in five minutes,” she announced.

Polly and Eleanor joined six other hatted boarders. “Excuse me, Miss Poirier,” said Polly, “but can you tell us how far we can go and what time we have to be back?”

“We’ll probably just walk around the block today, since it’s so hot, and we’ll be back in plenty of time for prep,” the matron answered.

We?
Was Miss Poirier coming with them?

It was even worse. The matron lined them up two by two; Polly and Eleanor had to go first because they were the youngest. Then Miss Poirier led them in a line down the driveway.

“I think this is what’s called a ‘crocodile,’” whispered
Eleanor. They were allowed to talk, but because she and Eleanor were right behind Miss Poirier, they couldn’t speak freely.

Polly was furious. This was a
walk
? A real walk was ambling along, stopping to look at things and chatting to your friend. She stomped along the wooden sidewalk, barely noticing the houses and trees they passed. She didn’t even feel glad when they paused to pat a wandering terrier—it just made her miss Tarka.

“Tomorrow we’ll say free,” she muttered to Eleanor. But there would probably be a catch to that, as well. Nothing at this school so far was at all
free
! She fingered Daddy’s necklace again. What would he think if he knew his daughter was being treated like a prisoner having supervised exercise?

Before dinner, there was an hour of prep. All the boarders sat in the school library and did their homework, supervised by Gwen Pritchard, the head boarder. Polly stabbed her pencil over her history assignment. Egbert, Ethelwulf, Ethelbald, Ethelbert … how was she supposed to remember such similar names? And memorizing the years the kings reigned was more like arithmetic than history.

Dinner was disgusting: horrible dry liver and greasy onions. “Get used to it,” an older girl told them. “It’s the same every Tuesday.” Polly messed it around on her plate; no one seemed to notice. At least dessert was good: a hot
steamed pudding with lemon sauce. Polly had eaten so little all day that she had two helpings.

After dinner, there were prayers in the sitting room, just like last evening. Then they went back to the school building for another hour’s prep. Finally, they were allowed to go to their dorms and get ready for bed.

Tonight the other three whispered to one another after lights out, but Polly ignored them. What a horrible day it had been! St. Winifred’s was even worse than she had expected. The rules were ridiculous, the food was appalling, and she couldn’t bear to be inside so much. Eleanor and Daisy were all right, but every word Rhoda uttered grated on Polly. If only she could run away …

But she was so exhausted that she fell asleep.

“P
LEASE SEE ME IN MY STUDY AFTER BREAKFAST
, P
OLLY
,” said Miss Guppy.

Polly flinched as the other girls at the table looked at her pityingly. What had she done?

Miss Guppy ushered Polly in and closed the door. Polly sank into one of the chairs and waited.

“I want to talk to you about your father,” Miss Guppy said.

So she knew.

“I was shocked to read in the paper that your father is alive.” Miss Guppy frowned at Polly as if this were her fault.

“It must have been a shock for you—and Maud, as well—after thinking he was dead all this time.”

“We knew he was alive,” said Polly, “but we kept it a secret.”

“You knew? You had to pretend all this time that your father was dead, aware that that was a falsehood? I’m surprised he asked you to live such a terrible lie. I wish Maud had told me that. While she was here, she sometimes seemed unhappy, but I assumed that was because she was grieving. It’s too bad she didn’t confide in me. I could have helped her cope.”

Now she was blaming Maud
and
Daddy! Polly tried to keep her voice calm. “It’s my father’s business what he chose to do.” Then she quaked. Had she gone too far?

Miss Guppy frowned. “That is an impertinent comment, young lady.” She sighed. “Well, it’s all water under the bridge. It turns out that your father
is
alive, and of course I’m very glad for you and Maud that he is. Even though …”

He’s a thief
, finished Polly in her mind.

“Let’s forget what happened and think of the future. Your father confessed, and by January he’ll be cleared. What will happen to you then, do you know?”

“What do you mean?” whispered Polly.

“Will you continue to live with your grandmother?”

It had never occurred to Polly that she wouldn’t. Daddy had to stay in Winnipeg until the end of December. Then he would come to see them on the island, and then he’d return to Kelowna, where he had been working as a bricklayer. Polly would be overjoyed to see him again, but she could never leave the island.

“Of
course
I’ll keep living with my grandmother!” she said firmly. “She’s my official guardian now.”

“I’m very pleased to hear that. I was worried that you’d have to leave St. Winifred’s.”

“I’m only here for a year, though,” Polly reminded her.

The Guppy waved her hand impatiently. “Yes, yes … I remember our bargain. But Polly, can’t I persuade you to become a full-time boarder? You’ll miss so much if you go home every weekend.”

“I don’t care. I
have
to go home every weekend. You said I could!”

Miss Guppy stared at her coldly down her long nose. “There is no need to speak to me in that tone of voice. I know I agreed to that arrangement, but I want you to at least consider changing your mind. Will you?”

Polly nodded because she had to … but she never would.

“Thank you. Now, Polly, I don’t imagine many of the girls know about your father, but if anyone tries to talk to you about him, you don’t have to reply. Just send them to me.”

Polly nodded again.

Miss Guppy smiled for the first time. “Now, tell me, have you heard from our Maud?”

Polly shook her head.

“I’m surprised I haven’t had a letter myself. I asked her
to write to me—you might remind her of that. I want to know if she’s attending the church I recommended. It’s so easy for girls to stray from the narrow path when they go to university. Maud is such a stalwart Christian, however, that I’m sure she’ll keep up her high standards. You’re a lucky child, Polly, to have such a sterling example as a sister.”

“Yes, Miss Guppy,” mumbled Polly.
I’m not a child!
she wanted to add.

“Off you go to your classroom now,” Miss Guppy instructed.

Polly paused at the door. “Miss Guppy, when will the extra art classes begin?”

“Probably next week. I’ve had to look for a new teacher, but I think I’ve found one.”

The morning chugged along in its allotted slots just as tediously as yesterday. At break, Polly again noticed some girls staring curiously, then whispering to one another. At lunchtime, she was nibbling another dry sandwich when she heard her name called.

Alice! The red-haired girl rushed over to Polly’s table and pulled up a chair. “Welcome to St. Winnie’s, Goldilocks! I’m sorry I wasn’t here before. I had a toothache, so I had to go to Sidney to have it out.”

Polly was so relieved to see someone from home she wanted to weep. “Noni told me,” she said. “Are you better?”

“I’m fine. See?” Alice opened her mouth and pointed to a raw-looking cavity. “Now, tell me who’s in your dorm,” she ordered.

Polly introduced the Fearless Four. Alice quizzed each girl so boisterously that they were all intimidated, even Rhoda.

“Has anyone at school asked you about your father?” said Alice as they walked back to the school building together.

Polly shook her head. “Some of them stare at me, but no one’s said anything.”

“You come and tell me if anyone bothers you,” said Alice. “I’ll take care of them!”

Polly smiled, remembering how fierce Alice could be.

The last period of the day was drawing. Polly lifted her head as Pauline announced, “Stand for Miss Netherwood!”

Miss Netherwood, a tired-looking woman with a sallow face, handed out pencils, rulers, erasers, and drawing paper. Polly’s hand itched to make the first lines on its crisp white surface. She gazed out the window and decided that she would draw the majestic beech tree that stood against the blue sky.

First she had to listen as Miss Netherwood explained what they would be doing this year. “St. Winifred’s follows the curriculum of the Royal Drawing Society in England,” she said. “At the end of the Easter term you will complete a prescribed set of drawings, which will be sent to England to be evaluated. At the end of the year, those of you who were successful will receive a certificate saying you have passed the first level.”

A certificate from England!
thought Polly. Noni would be so proud.

“For the whole of this term we will be studying perspective,” said Miss Netherwood. “No one can draw properly until she knows the rules of depth and distance. We will begin by drawing a cube in one-point perspective. Please copy what I draw on the blackboard.” She instructed them to pick up their rulers and draw a horizontal line.

After Miss Netherwood had drawn a cube, she came around to inspect their progress. “Your lines are crooked,” she informed Daisy. “Erase it all and start again.”

Rhoda was next. “Excellent work!” said Miss Netherwood. “Have you done this before?”

Rhoda looked proud. “I took art lessons in Bellingham.”

Polly sat back and waited for Miss Netherwood to praise her, as well.

But when the teacher reached Polly, she drew in her breath. “No, no, child—what is your name?”

“Polly.”

“You can’t draw it freehand! You have to do it as I’ve shown you, with lines to a vanishing point.”

“But I don’t have to. Watch!” Polly quickly sketched another perfect cube.

Miss Netherwood’s pale cheeks turned pink. “Of course you have to! I won’t tolerate insubordination, do you understand? I’m giving you an order mark.”

“I
don’t
understand,” whispered Polly. “What have I done?”

“You are disobedient and a show-off. Now, draw it again properly.”

Polly’s cheeks blazed. She picked up her ruler and tried to draw the cube the way it was on the board, but her hand wouldn’t obey her brain. Making sure Miss Netherwood’s back was turned, she drew a cube freehand first,
then
filled in the required lines.

“That’s better, Polly,” said Miss Netherwood coldly when she came around again. “This one is much more accurate than the ones you did freehand. You see? You’re not as good as you think you are!” She gazed around the room with a triumphant smirk.

Yes, I am!
thought Polly. But that didn’t help. She had been so excited about drawing, and it had turned out to be so disappointing. And she’d received an order mark!

At least she had the extra art classes to look forward to. But what if that teacher was as hopeless as this one?

After school, Polly glanced at the weekly charts posted outside the staff room. There was one for posture, with stars by the names of the girls whose straight backs had been noticed. Beside the weekly charts were the house charts. Sure enough, a numeral one was written by her name on Sussex’s chart. Hers was the only order mark there. Polly fled to tea.

“I’m sorry you got an order mark,” Daisy told Polly. “I don’t think Miss Netherwood was fair.”

“Of course she wasn’t,” said Eleanor. “I saw Polly’s cube and it was just like the one on the board.”

“It’s not how it looks—it’s how you do it,” said Rhoda. “Polly, I could help you, if you like.”

How dare she?
Polly tried to control her voice. “I don’t need any help, thank you. I already know how to draw—I’ve been doing it for years.”

“Polly’s going to be an artist one day,” Eleanor told them.

“A real artist?” Daisy gazed at Polly with awe. “Golly!”

“
I’m
going to be one, too!” said Rhoda quickly. Polly knew she’d just thought of it. “I won first prize in our school contest,” Rhoda added.

“You did? That’s swell, Rhoda!” Daisy went on to ask
her about her art, but Polly pushed back her chair. “Let’s get out of here,” she said to Eleanor.

She and Eleanor had chosen free for their after-school activity. They ran out the door and kept running across the lawn to the woods.

Polly looked around; no one was watching. “In here!” she said, leading Eleanor through the trees to the patch of moss she had seen behind the sequoia. They leaned against its wide trunk, the sun making dappled shadows on their faces. They couldn’t see out, and no one could see in.

“I’ve wanted to come in here since yesterday,” said Polly. She wished she’d brought her sketchbook; but she would feel self-conscious drawing in front of Eleanor.

“Good choice!” said Eleanor. She looked around. “This could be our secret hideaway. Let’s not even tell Daisy and Rhoda about it.” She took off her steamed-up glasses and rubbed them on her tunic. Her large hazel eyes were so pretty it was too bad she had to hide them behind her glasses, thought Polly.

“Miss Netherwood is almost as mean as the Hornet,” said Eleanor. “I like Mrs. Diamond, though, and Mrs. Partridge is quite nice, as well.”

They listed the teachers they liked and the ones they didn’t. “At least we don’t have the Guppy for anything,” said Polly.

“We will next year, for Latin, but I guess you won’t be
here then.” Eleanor looked mournful, then she said, “Tell me more about Alice. She’s very confident, isn’t she?”

“Alice lives on the island. She’s nice to me here, but when she went to my school, she was a terrible bully—we were all afraid of her. But that’s because her
mother
is a bully. Sometimes she whipped her!”

“That’s wrong,” said Eleanor firmly. “My parents have never hit me, have yours?”

“Daddy never did, and I’m sure my mother didn’t. I guess we’re lucky.” Polly swallowed. “Would you—would you like me to tell you about my father?”

“If you want to,” said Eleanor.

Polly told her an abbreviated version: how Daddy had stolen some money because they were so poor, how he had been caught, but had run away and pretended he’d drowned … how she and Maud had had to leave Winnipeg to live on the island, and how hard it was to keep the secret that Daddy was still alive. How he had turned up on the island on Polly’s twelfth birthday, and how she’d hidden him for a week.

“I haven’t seen him since,” she said sadly, “but now he’s confessed and everyone knows he’s alive.”

“Did he have to go to jail?” asked Eleanor.

“No. The judge gave him a suspended sentence. That means he has to stay in Winnipeg until the end of this year. If he hasn’t committed a crime during that time, he’ll be free to go back to Kelowna.”

“Gee … what a story! It’s like something in a book. You’ve been through so much, Polly.”

Polly shrugged. She hadn’t told Eleanor how Daddy had let them believe he was innocent, and how betrayed she felt when she found out he’d lied.

But now she’d forgiven him and had written him a letter telling him so. Just before she came here, she’d had a long, loving letter back.

Polly blinked away her tears.

“When will you see your father again?” Eleanor asked.

“He’s coming to the island for New Year’s—I can hardly wait! Then he’ll go back to Kelowna, but he wants Maud and me to spend Easter there with him.”

“Thank you for telling me,” said Eleanor.

Polly smiled. “It’s a relief to talk about it. But don’t tell the other two, all right? It was in the papers when Daddy turned up alive. I think some of the older girls must have read them, the way they keep staring at me. And Miss Guppy and Alice know. But I’d rather keep it a secret from Daisy and Rhoda.”

“I won’t tell,” said Eleanor. She looked thoughtful. “
I
don’t have any secrets. Our family is happy, but my life is boring compared with yours.”

It sounds more peaceful than boring
, thought Polly. Peaceful, like sitting in here on the soft, warm moss almost falling asleep … Then she noticed something move.

“Eleanor,” she breathed. A small flock of quail scratched at the moss close to them, their plumes bobbing.

The commanding bell sounded. The quail flew up in a startled bunch, and Polly and Eleanor hurried away for prep.

“I can’t sleep,” complained Rhoda that night. “I never go to bed this early at home!”

“Don’t talk so loud!” whispered Daisy. “Mrs. Blake might come back and check on us!”

“She won’t,” said Eleanor. “I heard her tell Miss Poirier how much she enjoyed going to her own room with her book after lights out.”

Polly lay silently. Part of her mind was going over the injustices of the day, and part listened as the other three chattered freely.