gripped her shaking shoulders, then pulled her forward into his arms. “I knew this day would come and I’m prepared.” He led Lily to Mrs. Birch’s chair and knelt as he had before. He was a tall man, who often lowered himself so his elderly clients could hear. “Lily, I helped deliver you into this world. Your mother was staying at the Anglican rectory when you decided to announce yourself. I’m not a doctor, but I am a pharmacist and your mother was in great pain. I gave her a little morphine. I was there from the beginning, Lily. So to answer your question, yes, I am your dad. As real as you need me to be.”
Over the following weeks, the story was gradually revealed. Lily’s mother, Amelia, pregnant and unmarried, had been sent from England to board with an Anglican minister and his family in Halifax, Nova Scotia. After her arrival she had provided light housekeeping services in the rectory. Before her condition was noticeable, the minister had asked her to be a live-in companion to a dying parishioner, assuring her she could move back to the rectory during her confinement. This is how she met Robert White, the grandson of the elderly man she was caring for. Robert’s habit was to visit his grandfather once a week. Daily pop-ins began after he discovered Amelia. Pregnancy had not prevented Amelia from looking stylish and attractive, and her bright personality captivated Robert. He proposed. In a quiet ceremony, attended by his wife, the Anglican minister joined Amelia and Robert in marriage and Lily was born five months later.
Robert had grown up in Halifax, where his father was an officer in the Royal Navy. His mother had often cared for sailors with prolonged illness in her home, and Robert became very interested in healing and medicines. He greatly disappointed his father when he chose to study pharmacy instead of following his father’s career path.
After his marriage, he bought an old building in the centre of town in Sydney and put up a sign reading White’s Pharmacy. Customers warmed to the young pharmacist who treated their illnesses. When Lily was born they put suspicions aside and cooed over Lily as she lay swaddled in a cot behind the counter. Robert would explain with a sheepish grin that he was just giving his wife a rest.
Lily began her final year at Sydney Academy full of optimism that she would win a scholarship. Remembering the “bird in the hand,” however, she marched into the principal’s office and introduced herself in the third week of the school year. She had scanned the notice board and found, among requests for child minders, dog walkers, and help in an old folks’ home, that there was a student who needed help to pass a mandatory English comprehension test. She offered her assistance.
“That would be nice,” the secretary said, giving Lily an appraising look. “What are your qualifications?”
“I’m smart.” Lily instantly regretted her flip remark and added, “I’m smart about people. I like them.”
“Well, you’ll have to be smart with Ed Parsons. He doesn’t like school. His father told me Ed would be the first of his boys to have more than a grade eight education, and he’s upset that we’re making Ed repeat his school year. But the rule is you must pass an English comprehension test to enter the matriculation year and Ed failed it.”
“I plan to go to teachers’ college next year. Tutoring Mr. Parsons will give me some practice.”
Lily agreed to the twenty-five-cent hourly rate and arranged to meet Ed after school. He arrived at the end of the school day just as the other students were piling out to smoke or hurry to part-time jobs. They cast knowing glances at him as though he were there to fetch his sweetheart, not to be tutored in English. Lily play-acted the part by handing her bag of books to Ed. The ruse seemed to work. He had deep-set blue-black eyes that reminded her of anthracite. His dark stubble, short-cropped black hair, and six-foot stature made him look more adult than his classmates, but he was actually a year older than Lily.
“I’m the dolt on the notice board,” he said with a sarcastic edge.
“What did you find difficult on the test?” Lily asked.
“I had one hour to answer questions after reading a passage from a book. I panicked and wrote whatever nonsense came into my head. I’m no scholar.”
“That’s not true! You’re almost through high school and that’s more than your brothers achieved. Don’t you want to graduate with a diploma?”
Ed’s eyes became iridescent with moisture. “Everyone in the school will know that I need special help.”
“Look, as soon as the bell rings and the students have cleared out, come to my classroom. If someone asks why you’re there, say you’ve come to carry my books.”
Ed shrugged and gave Lily an appraising look that embarrassed her. She ignored the flirtatious look in his eyes.
“English is just words, and words make up stories. People from Cape Breton make up their own stories. But you need to be able to read and hear a story and know what you’ve read and heard. Panic cuts concentration. I know that. Let’s start with stories and leave grammar out.” She pulled out a book that had taken several days to find amongst the old-fashioned British Annuals, which Lily considered boring.
Lily opened the book and handed it to Ed. “What am I supposed to do with this?” Ed asked.
“You’re to write the first paragraph on the board and then read it. The only way to improve your illegible handwriting is to have you read what you’ve written. Let’s start here.”
Ed groaned as Lily handed him a piece of chalk. She stood beside him as he scribbled the words on the board. Lily had chosen an adventure story about a young stowaway being tied to the mast of a ship. At the end of the first hour, they were well into the story and Ed had seemed to enjoy it.
“Were you ever tied up as a boy and not able to free yourself?” Lily asked while Ed was doing his best to write the words legibly. She recalled Beth tying her to a tree when she was six years old, and then running into the house when a storm hit. Although Beth had been practising slipknots, the knot would not budge, and Lily, terrified, was left with a deep fear of storms. “I wonder if your older brothers did mean things. I’m sure you got your share of torture, being the youngest of six boys. Or maybe boys are not as cruel as girls.” She shivered, recalling the enormous claps of thunder and the zigzag flashes she was sure would strike her tree.
“I don’t think being tied to a mast or a tree is torture,” Ed said.
“I guess boys from Glace Bay are pretty tough. You’re lucky if your brothers weren’t mean.”
“My brothers were rough, but they never beat me up. We used to have wrestling matches in the parlour that drove my mom crazy. Always worried we’d damage her furniture.”
“Mothers are like that,” Lily said. “But your parents have your best interests at heart. That’s why they want you to get your diploma.”
A janitor was spreading septic-smelling sawdust down the aisles and sweeping it up with a wide broom just as Ed dropped a piece of chalk in Lily’s cleavage. His action was so quick she almost didn’t notice, but felt the hard lump at her bodice. The janitor witnessed her furious slap on Ed’s cheek. Ed slouched away embarrassed, and Lily muttered, “I hope I never see you again, Ed Parsons!”
Both Lily and Beth had dreams of being on the stage. While they were at Sydney Academy, they buried their rivalry and joined the same theatre group. The school play for the year was Macbeth. Beth gave a star performance as Lady Macbeth while Lily played a minor character. However, once in Truro at teachers’ college, Lily tried out for the lead female role in the school play that had been written by the drama teacher.
