involved her inviting multiple men into her home for cards or a discussion of an important matter. In the rules according to Aunt Lil, only the invitation of a lone man to her home was taboo. “Bedtime” was not in her lexicon. When at Aunt Lil’s, children went to bed when they were tired. Given how entertaining she was, children were rarely tired before midnight. She did not require children to eat the entirety of their main course before they were served dessert; some meals were comprised only of dessert.
But the thing we children loved the best about Aunt Lil was that she never lied to us. She was incapable of it. She treated children like adults—never sugar-coating or avoiding a subject that others might consider inappropriate for young ears; she never spared feelings to avoid telling exactly what she thought of our dress, actions, or temperament.
Some people would have been put out at having two nieces arrive on their doorstep with less than six hours’ notice, but those would have been ordinary people displaying an ordinary reaction. Aunt Lil, being anything but ordinary, had no such reaction. As Father feared, she did not meet us at the train station, but thanks to some directions provided by good-natured Torontonians and Ina’s vague recollections, Ina and I were, within a few hours of leaving our home, in that of Aunt Lil. Our bags were thrown to the side of the door as she quickly had us in a circle, holding hands and singing as we skipped around an imaginary maypole. The evening proceeded in a similar spirit as we sang, danced, ate cake, reviewed magazines, and gazed at late-night stars. At last we all retired, me into a little second-floor room beside Aunt Lil’s and Ina quite far away on the third floor.
Sleep did not come easily to me that night. As I lay in the little bed in the little room, listening to Aunt Lil pad about between her room and the bathroom, I reflected on the merry things we had done since arriving at Aunt Lil’s. Eventually, when I ran through our activities three or four times, and when I no longer heard Aunt Lil moving about, my thoughts cast further back. I thought of my ill mother back home and of my brother, grandfather, and father. As I did so, imperceptibly, melancholy replaced elation, trepidation superseded anticipation, and ultimately, guilt ran rampant. For as I contemplated the past days, it came to me that the whole time Ina had shut herself in our room, I had only half-heartedly begged her to come out. The most earnest of all my pleas was for my belongings, but once they were provided, I found myself somewhat indifferent to her situation.
Since I had no access to my own quarters, I was happily ensconced in Jim’s room while he was relegated to sleeping with Grandpa. I confess I delighted in having a bed to myself. I found it an absolute delight to take a meal with my parents, my grandfather, and my brother without receiving a single snide look from my sister.
But it was not my attitude toward Ina’s confinement that particularly struck me. It was my conduct towards my dear mother. Just as I heard Mrs. Hudson’s sneeze, I also heard Mother’s first sneeze. I admit it did not cause me concern. It gave me hope. “The Lord helps those who help themselves,” Father often said. As I lay in the border’s bed at Aunt Lil’s house, I became ashamed of how I had tried to help myself—at Mother’s expense. We had two apples in the house when Mother first sneezed. I confess that in order to deprive Mother of their preventative powers, I ate them both.
Over the next two days, I never once suggested she consume chicken soup. I never once mixed honey and lemon for her cough. I never brought her a blanket to avoid a chill. I never suggested a mustard plaster for her chest. While I did not pray for her condition to deteriorate, I did not pray for it to improve. I had brought on Mother’s ill health, and my only contribution to her improvement was in running to get Dr. Heggie when I was finally permitted to do so. While I did that with alacrity, it was not for Mother’s sake but for my own. I was willing to jeopardize Mother’s health in order that I could obtain a younger sibling. The more I reflected on my conduct and on the ill health of my poor mother, the more my mood sank. I concluded that I was a bad person—quite possibly as bad as Ina always said I was.
That realization brought tears, quiet at first and then louder and louder. The noisy tears brought my aunt, who came to me clad in a billowy flannel nightgown, her red hair stacked high on her head in cotton ties, her face covered in white cream. Had I not already been awash in tears of pity, the sight of her would surely have brought tears of fright. Aunt Lil immediately assumed my tears sprang from worry, and, too ashamed to declare their real cause, I did not disabuse her.
“Oh Curly Top,” she cooed—a term of endearment reserved for me, her lone niece with hair the texture if not the colour of her own. “Your mother is going to be perfectly well.”
Taking a deep breath, I managed to ask why, if Mother’s health was so certain to be fully restored, it was necessary for Ina and me to leave our house?
“As I understand it,” she replied, “that prescription had less to do with your mother’s health and more to do with Ina’s. Dr. Heggie determined that the best way to treat your sister was to remove both of you on the pretense of your mother’s poor health. And you don’t mind, do you? We’ll have lots of fun together while your mother rests.”
Because the explanation was provided by Aunt Lil, I knew it to be true. But as I continued to rue my part in the events of the past three days, my tears did not abate. Finally, Aunt Lil grew tired of trying to reassure me, and, possibly because she had so little experience dealing with children in this state, she asked me how my tears could be overcome. No one had asked me that question before. I thought about it and between more shallow sobs suggested what I knew my mother or father would suggest: “Should I pray?”
“You can do that if you like,” she said, with little conviction as to its utility. “But for myself, when I get into that state, I look for a diversion.”
“A diversion?” I inquired, not understanding her meaning.
“Yes. Something to get your mind off your worries.” As she said that, I recalled my last crying jag. It wasn’t that long ago, and I realized diversion was the method ultimately employed by Grandpa on the verandah swing as we waited for my parents, Ina, and Jim to return in the storm. She was right. Diversion worked perfectly well—at least it did when I didn’t know that someone was attempting to divert me. But I was willing to try it when consciously applied. I had not heard the whole of Grandpa’s story. Aunt Lil was a history teacher. Maybe she could tell me more.
“Aunt Lil, do you know the story of Grandpa and Grandma?” I asked.
“Their story?” she replied. “Do you mean their story about how they met and how they settled in Canada?” Seeing me nod, she went on. “I know that story. It is a very romantic one. Do you know any of it?”
“Not really,” I said. “I only started to hear about it recently.”
“Then I shall tell you it all—but I warn you it is a long story, and I won’t be able to recite all of it tonight. We will make it your bedtime story this week!” She was quite enthusiastic. “But tonight we can get started.”
“Wait,” I said. “Before you do, do you have a picture of Grandma? I would like to see what she looked like. I heard she was very pretty.” Aunt Lil left the room and returned a few minutes later holding two framed photographs.
“This was taken about ten years before she died,” she said, holding out one of the two photographs. “It doesn’t do justice to the beauty she possessed in her youth—but her eyes and her mouth are little changed from their younger days.” I stared at the sepia portrait of my grandmother. She had a well-lined forehead atop a square-shaped face. Her wide cheeks and solid chin allowed ample space for her well-defined nose. Her thinning grey hair was parted in the middle and pulled severely to the back of her head. Of her neck nothing could be known, for it was covered to the top of her throat with the long bodice that extended over her upper frame. Her mouth, like all
