Pelham Continuation School - Pelham Pnyx (Fenwick, Ontario Canada)

Page 32 text:

I6 THE PELHAM PNYX That night when Jim came home she asked him if, when they got back home, they couldn't go and see her mother right away. What's the matter? Tired of me? he asked. Jim had never spoken to her like this before. This was a new side of him. Timidly she pointed out that they hadn't even written to her mother- she'd like us to, you know. Well, write then. Good heavens! I bring you out of that mess and be- fore I know it you want to go back. I should have known it. They told me. Who told you what, Jim? All of them, the people I've known for years, they said it would be this. I couldn't see it, but they knew you'd love to go back. It's in your blood. You're a little slum orphan and you always will be. Jim, that's not true. My mother and father were both from good fam- ilies. It . . it was, well, hard times, and . . She went no further, Jim had slammed out of the house, leaving her tremb- ling, afraid and bewildered. Late that night she heard him come in and go to his roorn. He did not come in as usual to say good-night. She was hurt and a little angry. Next morning things were no better. Jim didn't speak all through breakfast and she was too afraid to say anything herself. That afternoon a new Jim came to her. We're going home, Janie, he said softly, A'we're going back to the city. Janie's spirits soared and suddenly the sun was shining. Immediately she forgave, though she could not forget, all of Jim's nasty reproaches. i They drove all afternoon, Jim silent, Janie excited and breathless. To- wards evening they stopped at an inn to have supper, at midnight they reach- ed the city. Things ran smoothly then for a week. On Monday Jane walked to her mother's, they embraced, both silent, overcome. Janie was only beginning to realize what het mother really meant to her. She told Jim about her visit at bedtime. She was in bed and Jim was just cleaning his shoes for the following day. I-Ie dropped the brush and shoes in a heap and coming over to the bed, he looked down at his wife, Listen, I told you I didn't want you going there. You know it. Now look here, you're not to go again. Understand? ButJim . . You're not going back and that's that. You're my wife and you're doing as I say. If I catch you again, I . . I . . I've told you. Was this then to be the end of her beautiful new friendship with her mother? She thought of the intimacy between herself and her mother that day. She wrote a note next morning and gave it to a little boy standing on the side- walk. That afternoon she took' a street car and met her mother in the park -here Jim had asked her to marry him. Without any preliminaries whatso- ever, she told her mother about the quarrels- I told you most of it in the note. What shall I do? ' In the next few moments, Ma Perry made the greatest sacrifice of her life. You just do as Dr. Jim wants. It won't be so bad after a while. You'll be having arties and new friends. I've got my work and at night I'm most always ready for bed right after supper. Anyway we'll see each other some- times in the stores. I'll be going now. As she stood up something fell to the ground, a book. Janie did not notice it till her mother was lost to view, She did not notice that her mother slipped quietly back behind a newsstand. All she saw was an open page on which a sentence was written which burned itself on her heart and made her promise to Jim easy to keep, and hard to break. I It was a page of a diary. She didn't know her mother kept one. She

Page 31 text:

THE PELHAM PNYX I5 After the wedding, Janie was taken in a new car to Dr. Jim's house, sit- uated in a fashionable part of town-she had said good-bye forever to the be- draggled street on which she had been reared. Jim and she were not going on their honeymoon yet-maybe in a couple of months. Jim had a funny new experiment and he just had to stay and see it through. Two months later Janie was lying on the warm sands of Carry Beach. Jim had brought her here for their 'honeymoon and had rented a ring? cottage overlooking the quiet little lake. I-low different all this was from her former life. She had not seen her mother since she was married, hadn't bothered to find out if she were well or in need. As she lay there she thought of her life before her marriage. I-ler father had died when she was tiny. All she remembered of him was his deep gentle voice, his tenderness towards her mother. his doggedness to find work after a war which had left him all but useless, till finally in a long cold spell he was stricken with pneumonia. Janie remembered but slightly the tiny funeral procession consisting of three cars. All she remembered clear- ly was her mother's tears and her own lonely frightened heart. Things went from bad to worse after that, her mother moved to the tiny house on the other side of the tracks. Truly she had found vvork, but it was scrubbing floors in downtown offices and they didn't pay much in those days. Janie recalled how her mother had scraped to send her not only to public school but to high school afterwards. She certainly was a lucky girl, for no other child in the neighbour- hood had had that opportunity. Then she had ITICI Jim. It happened one night while she was at a tiny supper house in a better part of the cityetwo blocks from the hospital. She had a job there as hostess. She didn't enioy it nor did it pay her well, but it was something. All that evening they had danced and talked because he was lonely, she eager to listen. Here was some- body from that other world, her world, her parent's world. l-le told her of his work, his studies and how he enjoyed her company. At that she blushed, confused in the sudden overwhelming joy and reawakened interest in life. Would she meet him again the next Friday at the same place? Yes, she would be there. Four months passed, then came the night when she met him on the street and he had proposed going to her place and meeting her mother instead of eating at the club. She was terrified to think what he would say when he saw where she lived, but he insisted they go. He did not seem to notice the narrow filthy streets and ugly houses. He entertained them royally with his cheerful banter mingled with common sense and educated talk. Janie knew Ma Perry took to the young man and he to her mother. She was glad for them and a shy hope sprang in her heart for herself. Maybe-Then it all came at once. They were walking through the park along the side of the river. I'm leaving for Montreal to-morrow, Janie, only for a few weeks. At her sudden start and paleness it suddenly came to him that she was going to miss him more than he had realized. I shall miss you, she stumbled over the words, How long, really? Oh, about seven weeks, it's a new course . .Janie, . . I . . Look, Janie, if we were married . . I mean . . well, we wouldn't have to be sep- arated. Thus it was settled, but Ma Perry persuaded them to wait, to see if he were successful. That's what I did, Janie. I got married before your father was on his feet. Then the war came and you. I-Ie never could get a hold on life after. They waited for over ten months. One thing, they were sure of each other. Only Ma Perry had misgivings and these she locked in her heart. Now they were married and she was lying here in this glorious sunshine revelling in her new life.

Page 33 text:

THE PELHAM PNYX I7 didn't know her mother had purposely dropped it. She thought it was an accident. Dazed, she read the words again. Now Janie is married a great load has gone. To think I shall have no more expenses, no more tales of woe to listen to. The house will be always quiet, that means rest for me! Poor Janie didn't realize why I gave her a good education. Now she is gone, I shall be free again . . . to do as I like, no ob- ligations, no cares. Gradually her sorrow gave place to anger. So this was her mother. Stormily she went home and toldJim she would do as he said. He did not hear the bitterness in her words, he only knew she was not like those other slum people at all. She was going to be a lady. Wearily that night Ma Perry walked to Marlborough Street. There was where Janie lived. There was Jim's name in gold and black letters over the doorway. It was just dusk, the street lights were not yet on. The trees were pale green in the soft light, the flowers in Janie's garden gave offa sweet tan- talizing perfume. Oh, to live here again, not just look. Now she would no longer see Janie. Had she done the right thing in writing the diary? She knew Janie would never forgive her. i A gentle rain began to fall. Ma Perry heeded it not. She looked around at the stylish houses with their stained glass windows, their ornamental roofs, their trim lawns, flowering bushes and bright lights within. She longed to ride in such a car as was standing by the curb. She glimpsed a table set with fine silver, dainty dishes and rare foods. Her feet trod the smooth sidewalk with a heavy step, she thought of the mud and cracks associated with the walk in front of her door. Here the houses were set well back, far apart. Here the cool night breeze would make the evening enjoyable, not stifling with heat and flies. She kept on walking unaware of the thickening traffic and busy corners. She was alone in all the seething crowd. She was tired. Not con- scious of what she was doing, she stepped from the curb into the path of a long shining car. Too late she saw its approach. The next moment she lay, a crumpled heap, in the middle of the road. She was taken to the morgue where they found no identification. Ma Perry was only one other of those people. Suicide, one said. Another grave for the pauper cemetery- flourishing well these days, Wonder where she came from, she looks dif- ferent from some that you see. What's it matter to you? You didn't know her. I guess nobody else will either. No use advertising her. Just bury her. That costs enough as it is. Sometimes Janie wished for a glimpse of her mother. She looked furtively around any store which she entered, but she never saw her mother. It was just as well perhaps, although the anger had somewhat gone. The only emo- tion she felt now towards her mother was indifference. Perhaps it was best so. She and Jim were happy now. There were no quarrels and she had a lovely home, always heated, always bright and cosy. There were no more cold walks in the early morn, no longer would she eat bread and jam and por- ridge and potatoes day after day. Now she had a cook who could make wonderful, different dishes. Life was so good to her! I do feel a little sorry for Ma, living in that hole, but she seems to like it all right. Maybe some day soon she will be out of it. I wonder . . An ex-Naval gunner's mate tlozed off in front of the kitchen stove and let his evening paper fall against the red-hot bars. Fire! exclaimed his startled wife, running into the room-as the paper blazed up. Waking up with a start, the gunner rammed the cat into the oven, slam- med the door, and roared, Ready, sir.