But Curly had clearly been left with the short end of the stick.
Hickman’s fists had found all the same spots on Curly’s face that his father had, and several more as well. A tremendous cut on his chin had been stitched closed, but the effort was wasted; flaps of flesh were dangling from the split that had been carelessly joined by green pieces of thread. His chin looked as though a farsighted person had attempted to sew two thickly cut slices of bacon together in a dark room.
In spite of their injuries, Curly and Hickman behaved as if everything was normal, as if their bumps and bruises and cuts were regular features on their faces.
Hickman said, “Hey, fellas, what’s everyone talking about?”
We were all too thunderstruck to answer.
Curly said, “You act like you’ve seen a ghost. I’m sick at home for a week and everything comes apart at the seams?”
I couldn’t take my eyes off the gash on his chin and think. Indeed, everything!
Bucky Baylis said, “This is quite peculiar. The last time we saw you, you were each vowing to never rest until the other was dead.”
Hickman and Curly looked at each other through their respective one eye that was open and laughed.
Curly said, “Shucks, friends always have disputes. I suppose none of you has ever had an argument with a pal. If you were older and smarter, you’d do like I did and apologize for my unkindness and shake hands and let bygones be bygones.”
Buster Baylis said, “Me and Bucky have disputes all the time, but they’ve never ended in attempted murder or mayhem.”
Hickman said, “If we aren’t worried about it, why should you be?”
The school bell rang and we lined up.
Buster whispered to me, “Maybe they want to act like there’s nothing wrong, but we’ll see what Miss Jacobs has to say about the matter.”
Miss Jacobs greeted us at the door. “Hello, Kimberly. Please leave Leonard alone and tie your shoe before you sit. Good morning, Leonard. Good morning, Jessica.”
Instead of saying anything to Hickman when he got to the door, she grabbed his arm and pulled him aside. Curly received the same treatment.
“You two. A word.”
When the last of us was in, Miss Jacobs put her head in the classroom and said, “Take your seats and no talking. I shan’t be long.”
Buster cupped his hand to his mouth and whispered what we all knew. “It’s a good thing they’ve become such chums; they’ll be duck-squatting in the cloakroom together until the dismissal bell is rung.”
Five minutes passed before the classroom door opened and Hickman and Curly walked in. Instead of going to their seats or the cloakroom, they walked to the front of the class and stood side by side. Curly’s head was slumped and Hickman stood in perfect speaker’s posture, as if he were in the Upper Ontario Forensics Competition again.
Miss Jacobs said, “Mr. Bennett.”
Curly said, “I said some unconsiderate and rude things to Mr. Holmely and I …”
If Curly thought this was going to be easy, Miss Jacobs had other plans.
She said, “Mr. Bennett, I have never seen a speaker approach his audience with his eyes so tightly clenched. I understand that the swelling has seen to it that your right eye is closed; please respect your audience by looking at them through the left one.”
Curly sighed and opened his good eye.
“I spoke with rudeness and unconsideration to Mr. Holmely and I sincerely apologize.”
Miss Jacobs said, “Well, I suppose your eye was open even though it was rolled all the way back in your head. You may be seated.
“Mr. Holmely?”
Hickman is by far Miss Jacobs’s favourite student. She teaches English, and he has won the Upper Ontario Forensics Competition two of the past three years and sees every chance to speak in public as an opportunity to show off his oratorical skills. He is so talented that it’s widely agreed he was cheated the one year he lost.
His face twitched as he tried mightily to open his left eye. He saw that it was too tightly closed, so he looked at each of us in the classroom with his right eye and said, “To my dear gathered fellow students whom are here all together on this special occasion of Mr. Bennett apologizing, I, being the humble and modest soul that all of you have learned to respect, must say that I too have fallen short and that to admit this to such a distinguished group leaves your lowly speaker humiliated and at a loss for words.”
Miss Jacobs said, “Hardly, Mr. Holmely. Please limit the verbiage and get to the point.”
“Thank you, Miss Jacobs; your most welcomed criticism is appreciated and warmly taken deeply into the deepest and darkest chambers of my heart.”
“Mr. Holmely, would you like me to walk you home after school?”
Hickman saw she was serious and finished quickly. “I apologize to Curly and my family for reacting to words that I should have ignored. Fighting and violence are traits of lower animals, not God-fearing human beings.”
“Take your seat. Open your science books, please.”
Curly and Hickman had obviously straightened out their difficulties. Somehow I didn’t think it was going to be so easy for Curly to get back into Petey Demers’s good graces.
There was a furious pounding on our front door, followed by those hair-raising wails people make when they know their very lives are about to be cruelly snuffed out.
Maybe when I’m older, my newspaperman instinct will take over and I’ll want to go investigate. But for now, my instinct was to get behind the couch as quickly as possible and make myself as small as I could.
When the door poundings continued with more and more screaming, I screamed too and peeked out as Mother rushed to open the front door.
The Miller twins nearly knocked her off her feet as they barreled in. They looked devastated, and each one had his cupped hands pressed hard against his ears. They huddled around Mother like startled chicks around a hen.
“Oh, Mrs. Alston,” Big Twin wailed, “you must lock all the doors and close every window this minute! The woods are overrun with haints!”
“What?”
Little Twin said, “Haints! They’re capturing most of the children and are leading them to who knows where! It’s like the pied piper of Hamelin, Mrs. Alston! It’s the same dreadful story!”
Big Twin said, “We were walking through the woods and saw hundreds of children that had already been captured; the poor souls had bags tied over their heads and were under some wretched spell! They were laughing as they were being led away, laughing, I tell you!”
Little Twin said, “Their hands were tied behind them and they were holding another rope and marching in a long line! There was a tiny ghoul that wasn’t more than two feet tall flying in front of them, enchanting them with a magic flute while another was behind beating a drum.”
Big Twin cried, “It has to be the Madman of Piney Woods behind this! He’s using those demons to get revenge on everyone who’s ever lied about him!”
Little Twin said, “Yes, and I’m afraid Big Twin has made up some horrible tales about him!”
Mother grabbed one of each twin’s arms, but they kept their hands over their ears.
“Boys! Calm down! Stop all of this exaggerating!”
Big Twin said, “Pardon me, ma’am?”
Mother pulled his hands from his ears, held his arms at his sides, and looked directly into his eyes.
“Philip, Gregory, do not tell me what you imagined, tell me exactly what you saw.”
I’d forgotten the Miller twins had real names.
Big Twin said, “It’s just as Little Twin said, every horrible moment of it! There are two small demons leading away hundreds of enchanted children who have sacks tied over their heads!”
The second he stopped talking, his hands flew back over his ears.
“Boys!” Mother said. “Calm down!”
She pried Little Twin’s hands from his head and said, “There are no demons in the woods. Do not put your han
ds near your ears again!”
Little Twin said, “Oh, Mrs. Alston, I’ll never be able to get the sight out of my eyes! Please, if you don’t give us shelter, our deaths will be on your hands! Please don’t turn us out into those woods! Please, we beg you!”
They were frantic. They began jumping up and down and their hands once again covered their ears. Their eyes remained squeezed tightly shut.
Mother said, “Benji, get from behind that couch and come help me.”
Mother roughly shook each twin and pulled their hands from their ears. They opened their eyes.
Big Twin said, “Please tie us to something so we can’t be enchanted and led away, please!”
“Calm down! Why are you covering your ears like this?”
“The music, Mrs. Alston! The dreaded music was what the demons were using to enchant the children. We don’t want to hear it and become enchanted too!”
Mother threw her hands up in despair. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense. Benji, walk them home.”
First one, then the other twin darted behind the couch that I had just left.
I couldn’t believe my luck. What had started as a dull Tuesday evening was going to end in great fun! I began planning what I’d do as I walked them home.
I could lead the twins through the deepest part of the woods, tear away from them, and once I was sure they couldn’t see me, I’d start whistling and banging!
They’d smack full speed into one tree after another! I knew this walk through the woods would produce one of the greatest headlines in the history of newspapers:
ANOTHER MYSTERY IN WOODS!! TWINS FOUND SENSELESS AT FOOT OF NEARLY TOPPLED ELM TREE! OTHER TREES IN FOREST SHOW SAME DAMAGE!
Mother said, “Benji, get those boys from behind that couch and take them home!”
The twins had other plans. They clung to each other and the back of the couch so hard that a team of the strongest draught horses couldn’t have pulled them out. All I was able to do was tug the shoe and sock off of one of them and the britches off of the other.
Mother said, “Never mind, Benji. I blame Willie Swan and those foolish Saturday night fright stories of his for this. Run and tell their mother or father that these two are on the brink of losing their minds and need to be taken home.”
I was disappointed but had no choice but to follow Mother’s orders.
Of course I didn’t believe the nonsense the twins were spouting, but I’ve noticed if a person sounds really sincere when they’re telling you something and they even will disobey an adult’s orders because they’re so scared, you’d have to be daft not to wonder what they’d seen.
I’m not a coward, but I was glad there was a moon so everything was well lit as I walked to get Mr. and Mrs. Miller.
Not far from home, my breath caught when I saw two figures on the road walking toward me.
I was relieved when I recognized my brother and sister. They were coming home from their apprenticeships at the carpentry shop.
The second Stubby saw me, he hid what looked like an empty flour sack behind his back.
His shoulders stiffened and he avoided looking at me.
My spirits started rising again. Maybe this was going to be a fun Tuesday evening after all!
I didn’t hear her sneak into the kitchen as I stirred the boiling potatoes I’d just peeled and cut into cubes.
My first clue should have been the whooshing sound her weapon made as it cut through the air. Instead, the stars that followed the solid clomp to the back of my head were what made me aware that she’d done it again.
It was simply by the greatest of luck that I didn’t fall face-first into the boiling pot of potatoes.
I whipped around with the heavy metal spoon raised above my head like a dripping club. I knew full well it was she, but if I struck her one time quickly, I could tell Father I just blindly reacted and didn’t know whom I was hitting.
She glared at me, her cold green eyes filled with anger.
I couldn’t do it. I slowly brought the spoon down.
“Grandmother O’Toole! What is wrong with you?”
She cried, “Go ahead, ye little red-haired cur; ye think I don’t know what ye’ve planned for me since your eyes first blinked into mine thirteen years past? Here! Here, blackheart, I’ll make it easy for ye! D’not use a spoon; use what it is the divils are telling ye to!”
She picked up the knife I’d used to peel the potatoes and I saw how fortunate I’d been; she had hit me only with her cane. As confused and angry as she becomes, the whooshing sound I’d heard could have just as easily been the knife cutting through the air before she buried it to the hilt in my back.
She clasped the knife’s blade and tried to force me to take the handle.
“Go ahead! Go ahead!”
She began unbuttoning her black sweater, showing so much of the skin on her bony chest that I feared I might have to gouge the eyes out of my head if she continued.
She finally stopped unbuttoning and pulled the sweater apart and shouted, “Plunge it in me chest! Finish the deed, filthy assassin! Why don’t you just get it over with and murder me straight off instead of torturing me this way?”
She pointed and I saw what had caused her to become so upset.
The potato peels.
She scooped a handful of them from where they lay on the old newspaper. There was no confusion. Grandmother O’Toole was truly devastated.
“Grandmother, I’m sorry.”
“Why do you spit in my face like this? Who are we? Are you the Queen of England? Am I? How can you do this? How dare you after all your great-grandparents went through?”
For being as old as she was, she had a terrific throwing arm. The potato peels hit my face with a splat.
“Are we so bloody wealthy that we can peel half the potato away? Are we so bloody high and mighty that we can throw out perfectly good peels?”
Grandmother O’Toole was absolutely insane when it came to potatoes. She had shown me many times how a potato was to be properly peeled, but I never could get them thin enough for her liking. She had the hands of a surgeon when it came to peeling potatoes; the peels were so thin when she finished that I wouldn’t have been surprised if they had floated daintily to the ceiling. They were thinner even than the plant slide specimens I used in the microscope at school.
And she believed I cut them too thick on purpose.
I reached back to feel the spot on my head where she’d struck me. There was no blood, just the beginnings of a swelling.
Grandmother O’Toole said, “Aye! Serves ye right! That’s the heavenly Father’s punishment on ye for wasting his gifts.”
She picked up her cane and limped out of the kitchen.
I looked at the clock. Father was supposed to be home from the courthouse in an hour; I hoped he’d see she’d gone too far. I hoped he would finally understand she really was out to kill me.
* * *
Father called from the front door, “Hullo! Another day’s work is done and I’m back in the loving embrace of home!”
I went into the parlour to greet him.
“There he is, the handsomest boy in Chatham! And how was your day?”
I turned so he could see the back of my head and the lump Grandmother O’Toole’s cane had given me.
Father sighed. “Oh, dear.”
He looked carefully, frowned, and said, “My, my, my.”
He sat down and patted the spot next to his on the divan.
“Alvin, have a seat.”
“Yes, Father.”
He put his arm around my shoulders.
I didn’t even have to tell him what happened. He pulled me closer and said, “I’ll talk to her.”
“But, Father …”
“Let me finish, Alvin. She’s gone too far, I know. But I want you to be aware of what the future holds if we do what we’ve talked about.”
“Sir?”
“We both know the only practical solution is sending your grandmother away
.”
I was so relieved! “Oh, yes, Father! She could move in with Great-Aunt Margaret in Windsor.”
“No, Alvin, your great-aunt can barely fend for herself. We’ll have to have Mother O’Toole put in an asylum.”
Father paused and I knew it was a time in which I was supposed to reflect on Grandmother O’Toole being forced into an asylum. It was time wasted, though; as far as I was concerned, sending her away was a grand idea.
Father and I each waited for the other to break the silence.
Finally he said, “Do you know what that means?”
“Yes, sir.” I’d done my research and paraphrased one of the advertisements, “She would be in a place where she could be lovingly looked after. Where she’d be a hazard neither to herself nor others.”
Father smiled. “That’s nothing but advertising, son. The reality is much different.”
“It is for the best, Father.”
“Alvin, me boy …”
Those words and the return of his Irish brogue always signaled Father’s best efforts to reason with me.
“You’re a bright lad, so I’m going to speak to you the same way I’d speak to an adult. I know your grandmother can be difficult, but we do have to make certain allowances for her behaviour.”
I was willing to hear him out, but I’d be amazed if he changed my mind.
“First, she’s an elder to both of us … and second, she’s kin as well. She is also the mother of the woman you and I loved above all others. Am I right?”
“Yes, Father.”
“She’s due all the respect in the world for those reasons if for nothing else. Plus, you should ask her about her life before she came to Chatham. Have you ever tried that? You might get an understanding of the crosses she bears.”
“Father, it’s difficult to talk to someone when they’re always trying to slip up on you from behind and bash your skull in.”
Father put the crook of his arm around my neck and tapped the top of my head with his fist.
“ ’Tis a good thing then that ye’ve a rock-hard Irish skull, is it not, me lad?”