Housekeeping Page #3

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"Helen Foster ten years' old,

10-10-28."

She wrote it so tiny

because of Grandma.

We were frightened for weeks

that she'd find it.

God, it still gives me a shiver to see it.

And Grandpa's mountains.

- I like them.

- Yeah.

He grew up in the plains,

where everything was flat.

Then Sylvie told us the old story

about Grandpa and his mountains.

We wanted to hear

more about Mother,

but we listened politely

and smiled in the right places.

After all,

there was plenty of time.

Already we had

great plans for Sylvie.

How did he get here?

Well, when he was sixteen,

he walked to the railroad,

he jumped on a train and he said,

"Just let me off at the mountains."

That's how we all ended up

in Fingerbone.

Then he married Grandma

and he built her this house.

He was always restless, though...

Oh, my...

Oh!

I've never seen such a thing!

He must've been such a strange boy.

It sounds like the bridge is breaking up.

It's just the ice.

The Simmonds' house

isn't where it used to be.

Oh, it's so hard to tell.

Those bushes used to be on the other side.

Maybe the bushes have moved.

It is a shame.

Well, he's mixed up, anyway.

So, what do you say

to a game of crazy eights? Hm?

No, I don't really want to.

Okay, well, what do you want to do?

I want to find some other people.

Now?

Well, tomorrow.

We could wade up

to the higher ground.

There must be lots of people

camping up there.

Well, we're fine here.

I mean, we can cook our own food

and sleep in our own beds.

What could be better?

I'm tired of it.

Oh, it's the loneliness.

Yeah, it bothers a lot of people.

You know, I once knew this woman

who was so lonely,

she married an old man with a limp

and had four children in five years

and none of it helped at all.

She was still lonely.

Why didn't you have children?

Well, I dunno.

I guess it just wasn't in the cards.

Did you want them?

Well, I always liked 'em.

But, did you want to have them?

You must know, Lucille,

that some questions aren't polite.

I'm sure my mother must have told you that.

She's sorry.

It doesn't matter.

Let's just get some warm bricks

and then play some crazy eights, okay?

Hi, Mr. Wallace.

I'm looking for Moses,

Mrs. Watling's dog.

He came back into town

two nights ago.

How are things here?

Well, we heard some dogs during the night,

but nothing's come by.

Not even a cat.

Oh.

Oh, er, I'd ask you to sit down,

but the couch is full of water.

Oh, that's all right.

I'd better find that Moses.

Would you have

some coffee beans?

I had a whole little sack

just float away.

Sure.

Thanks.

You were lucky up here.

Yeah.

I'm looking for Dash.

Has he been around?

Lucille disliked

school even more than I.

Her ears turned red

just at the thought of it.

Just after school took up again,

she was wrongly accused

of cheating in a history test

and had to stand out in front

of the whole class.

She stayed home for a week.

Sylvie didn't seem

to mind or worry

because Lucille's symptoms never

included fever or loss of appetite.

Listen to this.

"Please excuse Lucille's absence.

"She had pains in her wrists and knees,

"a buzzing in her ears, a sore tongue,

"faintness, a stomach ache

and double vision,

"but not fever or loss of appetite.

"I did not call the doctor

"because she always seemed quite well

by nine-thirty or ten in the morning."

Well, we'll have to get her

to write another one.

Say you lost it.

What if they call her?

She never answers the phone.

I'm not going to school.

What'll you tell Sylvie?

Maybe I won't go home.

Where will you go?

Down to the lake, maybe.

It'll be cold.

I'll go, too.

Then we'll both be in trouble.

This prospect seemed

oddly familiar and comfortable.

We expected someone to step out

from behind a rabbit hutch

or the sheets on a clothes line

and question us,

but no-one did.

We spent every day

that week at the lake.

We had no choice

but to wait until we were caught.

Every day

the situation grew worse,

until we began to find a giddy

and heavy-hearted pleasure in it.

I suppose the very worst thing

would be the sheriff.

Yeah, that would be the worst.

We were cold,

bored, lonely and guilty,

and longing to be caught.

Why does she buy

these stupid shoes?

She likes the colours.

I don't mind them.

Rosette Brown's mother takes her

to Spokane just to buy shoes.

And she gets ballet lessons.

Her mother sews all the costumes.

There's Sylvie.

She's looking for us.

But Sylvie only

looked out across the lake,

or up at the sky if a gull cried,

or at the ground at her feet.

She didn't seem to notice us.

We'd been waiting all week

to be caught.

Sylvie's behaviour

was annoying.

Then it became frightening.

Sylvie!

Hi!

Ain't our business.

I had no idea it was so late.

I thought it would be hours

before school got out.

School isn't out

Oh! Then I was right

after all.

The one thirty-five just came through,

so it must still be pretty early.

Oh, boy, I've been wanting

to do that for the longest time.

You know, I'm sure I could

feel it shaking.

What if you fell in?

Oh, I was pretty careful.

If you fell in, everyone would

think you did it on purpose.

Even us.

Oh...

Well...

I guess that's true.

I, I didn't mean to upset you.

Really, I thought you would be in school.

We didn't go to school this week.

But, you see, I didn't know that.

It never crossed my mind

that you'd be here.

Sylvie's attitude to

our truancy was... unsatisfactory.

As Lucille said,

"Any decent person would have

dragged us back to school by the ears."

Sometimes it felt that

we were looking after Sylvie,

instead of

the other way around.

- The beads are so pretty.

- Yeah.

Oh, it fits!

But no matter how much

Lucille and I worried about Sylvie,

we didn't talk about her.

Oh!

We were afraid to

put our thoughts into words,

but we watched her...

very closely.

Clearly our aunt was

an unusual person.

Happy birthday to you

- Happy birth...

- Sylvie!

Oh!

...birthday dear Ruthie

Happy birthday to you

When we did go back

to school, nobody questioned us.

They said our circumstances

were special.

This was a relief,

but it meant that Sylvie was

already drawing attention to herself.

As soon as the weather allowed,

we stopped going to school altogether.

Although we still left home every

morning, as a courtesy to Sylvie.

I felt an odd affinity with the hoboes

who gathered at the bridge.

There we all were

on a chill spring morning,

in unsuitable clothes,

wordlessly passing the time

by the lake,

like the marooned survivors

of some wreck.

When summer came, we would spend

whole days high up in the woods.

We remembered

Grandma telling us

she had gone there to hunt for

wildflowers with Edmund, her husband.

He used to wear a necktie and

Sunday suit even to stalk the forest.

Tra la la, tweedle-dee dee-dee

It gives me a thrill

Gone are the days

When he would take me on his knee

And with a smile.

He'd change my tears to laughter.

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