The Little Shadows - By Marina Endicott Page 0,212

theatres went dark in July, there was a chance. She sent a prepaid answer, hoping that might ensure a reply, but did not mention it to Clover or Mama, for fear Bella would refuse. She did not allow herself to think how badly she wished for Bella’s wildness, her bountiful overflowing energy—and for her to see Avery, and Harriet.

And Bella would help Clover, who seemed sunk into an understandable despair that Aurora could see no way to lift.

Like a Soldier

Clover watched as Uncle Chum and Victor walked down to the garden, turning at the bean-row hedge; back up to turn again at the lilac bushes that sheltered the south porch, over and over. Clover sat on the porch with Harriet sleeping on her knee, screened from view but able to see her beloved as he walked to and fro.

Nearing the lilac bushes she heard Chum say, ‘What amazes me is that you were able to survive. I suppose the thought of your wife and child …’

She did not expect Victor to answer that. But as they reached the turn, she heard his voice: ‘I survived by acting like a soldier.’

That was like opening a letter, one Clover could not quite read. Perhaps he meant that he’d shut off his questioning, curious, independent self. That he had yielded to his training.

Chum said, ‘Yes.’ Nothing more. They turned and walked away.

All men who had been in battle knew things she would never know. She was eavesdropping. But she, waiting without word for weeks, being with Victor when the visions plagued him, knew things that men did not seem to remember.

Harriet stirred and sat up, bewildered and afraid. ‘It is all right, dear heart,’ Clover told her. ‘We are here in Saskatchewan.’

‘Dama?’ Harriet asked; she missed Madame still.

‘Come, let’s find Avery.’

The men were down at the hedge, Chum on the wooden bench and Victor standing, a cigarette in one thin hand. Harriet pulled on Clover’s hand, and they went inside.

Aunt Elsie had invited several people for dinner, wishing to present their guests to the town—and there was the Dominion Day concert to discuss. Mrs. Gower was coming with Lewis Ridgeway and Miss Frye from the high school, and since it was a dinner, the doctor and the Dean might as well be included.

Clover went to talk to Uncle Chum in his study that afternoon, remembering how he had seemed to understand Victor’s silence in the garden.

He put an arm over her shoulders, as if they knew each other well. ‘Don’t fuss, my dear. Victor will get along very well.’ As Clover hesitated, not even knowing how to ask for help, he added, ‘It’s nobody but the doctor, the Dean and Lewis Ridgeway—the Dean was in the Boer War, you know, distinguished himself. I’ve seen a deal of trouble myself, in various ways. If he is having difficulties, I’ll bring him in here for a bit of quiet. We won’t make the poor fellow uncomfortable, I can promise you. Men understand these things better than you’d think.’

But they didn’t know this war, Clover thought. She went away.

To Correct Myself

The doctor and Lewis Ridgeway were the first to arrive for the dinner party, while Aurora was still arranging tiger lilies in the big silver vase for the dining table; Clover and Victor had not yet come downstairs. Chum took Dr. Graham off to his sanctum; Aunt Elsie, smelling the cheese straws burning in the kitchen, pushed Lewis into the dining room, making a pleading face behind his back and saying, ‘Dear Aurora, here is our first guest!’

‘Hello, Mr. Ridgeway—will you mind if I carry on with these flowers?’ Aurora said, tension making her slide into ridiculous formality. Aunt Elsie vanished again.

Lewis stood against the wood panelling, not fully entering the room. ‘I would like to correct myself,’ he said. ‘I misspoke, about your sister.’

Oh dear, thought Aurora. ‘Lewis, that was so long ago! I promise I have forgotten it.’

‘Well, you have not forgotten,’ he said, looking at her carefully. ‘Or you would not have known which sister I meant.’

Aurora looked at his sharp, unhappy face; at his tired eyes. ‘It is I who ought to apologize,’ she said. ‘I am tigerish in defence of my sisters. I’m sorry I spoke that way.’

‘Your sister’s—Mrs. Saborsky’s—sterling quality is plain to see,’ Lewis said. ‘I made a wrong assumption about Miss Bella.’

He had better stop talking, Aurora thought. And always perceptive, he did.

She took up the last tiger lily, careful of its dusty black pollen. ‘Bella is flirtatious