The Birthday Lunch (27 page)

Hal hasn’t told Claudia or Matt that he suspects their aunt, that it was she who had interfered with his car. He hasn’t told his children because the difficulties he has with Laverne have nothing to do with them. There is also the likelihood that Claudia would regard his suspicion as far-fetched and would be alarmed on his behalf. Matt, on the other hand, would regard the suspicion as plausible but insufficient to prove his case. But proving his case doesn’t matter to Hal. What matters to Hal is that Laverne admit, at least to herself, that if she had not tampered with the Impala, he would have been home on time to drive Lily to the hospital for the X-ray. Neither of Hal’s children know about the tug-of-war he and Laverne had over Lily’s birthday lunch, and that if he had given in and let Laverne have her way, their mother would still be alive. These are bitter truths that are not easily forgotten or set aside. Which is why Hal decided that come hell or high water, he and Laverne cannot occupy the same house.

Before leaving his apartment, Hal put the gold earring in his trouser pocket and is now pacing the upstairs rooms of the Old Steadman House, trying to work out what he will say to
Laverne. He reminds himself not to make an accusation she will dismiss out of hand. First, he will tell her that he has moved and then he will show her the gold earring. “I believe this is yours,” he will say. “I found it on the garage floor and I think you should have it back.” If Laverne refuses take it back, he will put the earring on top of the Volkswagen and walk away before he falls into the trap of saying too much.

Downstairs Laverne is in the kitchen eating a late breakfast. For the first time in her working life, she has taken to lying in bed on weekends. Without Lily upstairs she has no desire to get out of bed. And why should she? She has worked hard all her life and has earned the luxury of sleeping in. Now that she has the exercise of walking to and from school, Laverne sleeps soundly, but sorrow does not sleep and in the mornings she wakens exhausted from carrying its weight. Because of the fatigue she finds neither satisfaction nor pleasure in teaching, and if she could afford it she would ask Walter Coombs to hire a temporary replacement. Walter has been considerate; he has relieved her of recess duty and has not broached the subject of remedial classes after school.

School resumed two days before Laverne returned from Holland. She had wanted to stay in Amsterdam and be consoled by visits to the Rijksmuseum and walks along the canals with Lucas and Jan in whose company she felt lively, even carefree. Laverne does not remember being lively and carefree as a girl. What she remembers is Dorothy’s illness and Lou’s insistence that Laverne come straight home from school to look
after her mother and her little sister. Her father expected too much of her when she was a girl. He did not expect as much of Lily which is why she was carefree and Laverne was serious—according to Dorothy, too serious for her own good.

Because she no longer tutors Xuan Pham, when the afternoon dismissal bell rings, Laverne is now the first teacher to leave the school. After a day of teaching, she longs for the solitude to contemplate the beauty and calm of the rooms that are her refuge, a retreat from the dashed hopes and difficulties of her life. As soon as she enters the apartment, Laverne opens the pantry and kitchen doors and makes herself a cup of tea. Settling herself on the wooden bench beside the window, she sips her tea while watching the afternoon light vanish from the opposite wall. It is from this vantage point that she likes to admire the economy and simplicity of her rooms. Laverne’s fascination with de Hooch’s painting has never included the woman and child. What fascinates her is the power of light to transform her home. It is the light that calms her and allows the comfort of solitude to take hold. Laverne has always needed solitude, except on those rare occasions when loneliness creeps in and she wonders if she might have been happier if she had sought a housemate. But the moment soon passes as she reminds herself that if she had a housemate, she would be denied the secret pleasure of these rooms.

Laverne hears rain pattering against the apartment windows. It has been three days since Katjana battered Cuba and all that remains of the hurricane is the tail end of the donkey: a fitful wind, grumbling clouds and bursts of rain, not enough to keep Laverne from her garden. Hennie has
already telephoned to remind her that a hard frost always follows the last hurricane of the season and Laverne knows that if she doesn’t pot the herbs and plant the tulip bulbs today, Hennie will do it for her. Laverne pulls on the green poncho, knots the coolie hat firmly beneath her chin, and carrying a basket containing chipped herb pots, a spade and two dozen tulip bulbs she brought from Holland, she goes outside and digs six-inch holes in the narrow garden on either side of her door. The soil is cold but crumbly and in half an hour thirty-six tulips have been planted and Laverne moves to the herb garden where the digging is slower because she must take care not to damage the roots. While she works, Laverne reminds herself to telephone Harold Briggs and arrange a time when he can attach the tiles she bought in Friesland to the cornered wall. Before Jan and Lucas arrive to spend Christmas with Hennie, every detail must be true to the rooms Pieter de Hooch painted. Although the walls of Lucas’s gallery on Westerstraat are hung with contemporary art, his knowledge of the Dutch Masters is extensive and during her first visit to Holland it was Lucas, not Jan, who guided her through the Rembrandts and Vermeers, the de Brays and de Gelders. When they came to de Hooch’s
Woman and Child in an Interior
Lucas declared the painting his favourite and Laverne is determined that when he sees these rooms at Christmastime, the illusion will be perfect.

Lucas will understand why these rooms are important to Laverne. He will understand that they are meant to be a place of quietude and calm, a place where beauty can be found in the changing light.

——

Through the living-room window, Hal watches the maples bend to the wind as heavy blue clouds move in from the Dutch Valley. Soon rain will be lashing the windows and drumming the roof and if he is to follow through with his intention to speak to Laverne, he must do it now before the storm breaks. Telephoning is not a possibility. Neither is knocking on the door at the bottom of the back stairs because if Laverne hears him coming down the back stairs, she will not open the door and what he has to say to her has to be said face to face. Before he can lose his nerve, Hal goes down the front staircase with the intention of knocking on Laverne’s outside door.

But there is no need to knock because here is Laverne on her knees in the garden she keeps at the corner where her apartment joins the main house, the garden where she planted a cherry tree after digging up the blue spruce Hal had planted without asking if he minded, and of course he minded. There are four pots lined up beside her, two of them containing herbs of one kind and another.

Hal regards the removal of the spruce tree and the Sevres teapot as theft. He did not know the Sevres teapot was missing until a few weeks ago when he was delivering an assortment of china cups and other odds and ends to the Phams and there, proudly displayed on a shelf in their upstairs apartment on Essex Street, was the Sevres teapot Laverne had bought as Lily’s and his wedding present during her first trip to France.

Hal crunches across the gravel driveway and stops about ten feet from Laverne. “I would like a word with you,” he says.

A word? When has Hal ever spoken a word? “A word about what?” Laverne says, but she struggles to her feet, and tilting
back her coolie hat, she looks up at the man who was once her brother-in-law.

“About the upstairs apartment. I’ve decided to rent it out.”

“You decided to rent it out without speaking to me first?” Laverne hears herself shouting against the wind. Hal has caught her off guard and she is furious.

“I am speaking to you. Or trying to.”

“Are you renting it furnished?”

“Yes. Except for the antiques I inherited from my mother.”

“What about the antiquarian books Lily inherited from our father?”

“Claudia has the books so you don’t need to worry about them ending up in the store.”

“Where will you live?”

“I am already living in the apartment above the store.”

Laverne did not know there was an apartment above the store.

“When did you move?”

“In late August. When you were on holiday.”

When she was out of the picture.

“But I have often seen your car parked in the driveway.”

“Well, there are a few things that need doing before the new tenants move in.”

“New tenants.”

“Yes. The upstairs apartment has already been rented out.”

Laverne’s lower lip trembles. “You should have consulted me first,” she says. “After all, I am co-owner of the house.”

“And you should have consulted me about the costly renovations you made to your apartment, which became part of our mortgage agreement, but which I have never been permitted to see.” Permitted, Hal thinks, a school teacherish word intended to keep an unruly student in place. Hal knows Laverne will not comment on his remark, but he waits until there is a drop in the wind before confronting the impasse between them. “The fact is you never thought I was good enough for Lily. You thought she should have married a doctor, a professional who would make a lot of money.”

Hal is right. Laverne always wanted what was best for Lily even if she couldn’t have it for herself, and what was best for Lily was that she marry the Boston doctor. Lily was smart and Laverne had high hopes for her future and thought she could have done far better for herself than marry a glib salesman who, though handsome and well-dressed, was cocky and full of himself. She was astonished when Lily told her she was marrying Hal McNab and asked why on earth why she would do such a thing. When Lily replied that she and Hal were in love, Laverne had nothing to say. She had endured painful crushes, but had never been in love.

“The husband has already signed the rental agreement,” Hal says. “He’s boarding in town until his wife and children arrive this week.” Hal does not mention the new baby.

“Have you told Sophie Power that you have moved?”

“Yes, Sophie and I have talked about it. I assured her that I am not leaving town and that if there is anything in her apartment that needs fixing, she is to telephone me at the store and I will see to it that the job is done.”

Laverne is annoyed that their tenant was told about Hal’s move before she was told. “Why didn’t you wait until I returned from Holland before renting your apartment?”

“I needed the rental income and I have a dog, a golden Lab. I didn’t think you’d want a large dog on the premises.” Hal is already attached to Jock and will take him along when he spends Christmas in Bragg Creek. It was Claudia who gave him the dog and Matt who sent him the airplane ticket to fly to Alberta.

Laverne does not reply. It is true that she wouldn’t have wanted a large dog on the premises, but she wouldn’t have objected to a small dog.

“I haven’t seen you driving the Volkswagen,” Hal says.

Laverne hasn’t driven the Volkswagen since Lily died, knowing she will be reminded that her sister got out of the car and never came back. And there is the recurring nightmare Laverne has of being trapped in the crosswalk herself, the truck rumbling toward her while she, paralyzed by fear, is unable to move. “I am selling my car,” she says.

Thunder barrels overhead and glancing at the sky, Laverne sees swollen clouds riding the wind. If only Hal would leave now so that she can finish potting the herbs before the rain comes crashing down, but he stands there fumbling inside his trouser pockets. Be patient, Laverne says to herself, in the inner voice she uses with slower students. She looks at the ravaged face of the man leaning over her like an uprooted tree and asks, “How are you, Hal?”

“How do you think I am? Why do you care?”

Laverne hears the bitterness in his voice and she watches as
he pulls out his trouser pocket linings. He looks like a halfwit standing there with the linings flopping down like rabbit ears, but she waits until he has shoved the linings inside his trouser pockets and stoops to pick up something from the driveway.

Now that he has the gold earring in his hand, Hal isn’t sure what he will say, and to avoid saying too much he decides to set Laverne straight about the truck driver. “You were wrong about Curtis Parlee,” he says. “He was speeding and you should not have told him the accident wasn’t his fault.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Laverne says. “It was a collision.”

“What’s the difference?”

“
Collision
is a more complicated word than
accident
, especially in French,” Laverne says, but does not explain that in French collision can mean
une bagarre
, a quarrel.

“It doesn’t matter what the word means,” Hal says. “What matters is that you never liked me.”

“And you never liked me.”

“I don’t dislike you.” Even now Hal is unwilling to admit disliking Laverne because admitting dislike would diminish his generosity, which he steadfastly refuses to do.

Laverne knows that Hal is waiting for her to say something kind, something that will release him from this conversation, but she cannot think what she can say that will not ignite the bully in him. The problem with Hal is that he has never learned that bullying reveals vulnerability, a contradiction Laverne has often observed in boys and girls in school corridors and playgrounds. If only Hal had more distance, more self-control. Lily had far more of both and without her, Hal is adrift. “You were right to move. We should never have lived in
the same house,” Laverne finally says. “It was a mistake.” This acknowledgement is all she is able to concede and picking up the spade, she returns to the task of potting the herbs.

Hal stands, oblivious to the rain dripping off his nose and sluicing his cheeks, and he thinks about his children and his grandchildren; his brother who has been urging him to visit Vero Beach. He thinks about Laverne who, without Lily, has no family and he feels what Laverne would not want him to feel, which is pity. But pity will not prevent him from returning the gold earring. Hal does not want Laverne to say anything to him about the earring. What he wants is that she admit to herself that she put water in his gas tank. “I have something to give you,” Hal says, “something that belongs to you.”