Chapter Two, Episode Ninety-Nine - Stand Tall - Situationally Theirs

Stand Tall

“You know, Miss Eliot, you have lovely hair! What do you not like about it?” Sharon had been washing, cutting, dying and styling hair for 35 years. She no longer owned a salon, but had taken her business home with her. A corner of her basement had been turned into her ‘Home Salon’. A select clientele and her own schedule had made her life much easier. Emelina, one of her select clientele, had moved with her. 

Dez was quiet. She ran both hands through her hair. “Not sure. Everything? Too short. Lopsided. Don’t like the colour - it makes me look like a purple zebra. My hair is curly, but they insisted that it should be straightened. Can you really do something with it? I want my normal hair back.” Dez almost sounded like a petulant six year old.

~~~~~

Dez and her sister had driven into Hartley for two reasons. She was going to see this magic hair dresser of Emelina’s. Emelina was going to the hospital to meet with her husband. Dr. Jeremy, finishing his two week rotation, had some time off. The three of them were to meet up later and return to the Estate. 

Sharon did what she could with her hair. It was still short, but at least no longer lopsided. She’d just have to be patient while it grew out. Sharon had coloured her hair so she no longer looked like a purple zebra. It still wasn't her normal colour, a rich dark brown, but close. Em had taken care of her nails and promised to help Dez keep them in trim. This whole mess was all about taking the spa job. Keep the job, have ‘the look’ and a regular paycheque. Quit the job, have her own look and no money. Paying the rent on Martha’s duplex was her responsibility  Emelina had insisted she would pay for it, but Dez put her foot down. “I need to do this Em. After all, I’ll be 50 in a couple of years.” The matter was closed. 

So here she was, in a park not far from the hospital. Alone with her thoughts and glad of it. Her head had been spinning for two long. Trying to hide away. She laughed aloud. “That was a mistake. I had no one to help me out.” Stopping at a pond where ducks floated, she looked at her reflection. “No one that I knew and trusted.” The ducks ignored the crazy lady talking to herself until she tossed bird seed on the water. “I’ve had few close friends over the years.” Another handful of seed pebbled on the water. “When Covid got serious, they all seemed to disappear. Breaking the habit of being stubbornly independent, to ask for help……well, it’s still there. What do you guys think?” Her question was answered with a loud quacking that sounded like a demand for more treats.

“Dez! We’re here.” Turning away from the ducks, she saw her beautiful sister with her handsome husband coming across the beautifully manicured lawn. “You ready to go? We’re going for supper before we go back out of town.” Before Dez could say much, he continued. “We’ve already called Cook to tell her not to wait for us.” Dez smiled. To herself she said ~ ‘There are my supports right there. And I forgot. Glad I came to my senses.’ To her family she said ~ “Sure am ready to go and hungry too.”

“Was it you or I who stumbled first? It does not matter. The one of us 

who finds the strength to get up first, must help the other.

~ Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

Book Review: Bloomsbury Girls by Natalie Jenner

Evie Stone moved from the role of servant girl at the Chawton Great House to Cambridge. She expected more when her term at Cambridge was completed. However, it was not to be. 

In February of last year, The Jane Austen Society, the first book by Natalie Jenner, was our book club’s choice for that month. This is where ‘quiet and unassuming’ Evie Stone is introduced. It is not necessary to read The Jane Austen Society to enjoy Bloomsbury Girls. The author makes reference throughout as some of the same characters show up in Bloomsbury Girls; characters that helped Evie move forward in her life.

Natalie Jenner has brought Evie Stone to us in this second novel, Bloomsbury Girls. Evie’s quiet and determined care for all books, but especially rare books, brought her to the Bloomsbury Books, a book shop with a centuries old pedigree in post-war London. Herbert Dutton, the general manager, established a strict list of fifty one workplace rules and expects them followed without question. The employees are two women, Vivien and Grace; and four men, Frank Allen, Alec McDonough, Master Mariner Simon Scott and Ashwin Ramaswamy. 

Vivien, manages the floor while Grace is Mr. Dutton’s very dutiful secretary. They are also expected to make tea four times in the work day. Both women are concerned and annoyed by the lack of women authors in the shop. Evie shares their concern. Each of the men has their own areas of work. Bloomsbury Books is very slowly losing its grip as a notable book seller as Mr. Dutton does not wish to upgrade or change. The balance of power in the shop changes the day that Mr. Dutton is taken ill and must be off for a time at the advise of his doctor. When Evie gets hired, the female to male ratio improves. The potential sale of the bookshop to Herbert and Frank becomes the twist in the story. High society, an American benefactor and the founders of The Jane Austen Society are involved. 

Natalie Jenner gives us ordinary women and men at a time of great societal imbalance. The women, especially, struggle to gain a more solid footing at Bloomsbury Books. An enjoyable and easy read.

“Rule No. 31

Staff shall treat each other with pleasantness at all times.”

~ Bloomsbury Girls

Title: The Bloomsbury Girls 

Author: Natalie Jenner

Copyright: 2022

Publisher: St. Martin’s Press, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group

Type: Novel

Format: Soft Cover

ISBN - 9781250283221 (Canada & international (sold outside the U.S.))

ISBN - 9781250276704 (ebook)

T-Rex Rocks

Don’t remember the last time I was in the Museum of Natural History - decades? When I was a kid ~ or maybe when my kids were kids? One of those two. Back in Regina for just over two years, the dust of moving almost settled, I am beginning to investigate more than coffee shops or restaurants. T-Rex was my first solo stop. He lords it over the first floor of the museum, even has his very own room. I suppose he is rather big to be sharing a space. I could almost hear him roar!

A recent visit with my very busy, curious three year old great-granddaughter was really the impetus. Where do you take kids for a good time besides the ice-cream store? To see bones and relics that feed their natural curiosity. Then it’s time for ice-cream.

“Tyrannosaurus was truly the Schwarzenegger of dinosaurs.”

~ Kenneth Carpenter

(from kidadl.com)

Rainy Day Rest

glistening drops drizzle

down cool window panes

branches sway wildly

damp breezes waft 

through open windows

to freshen cosy inside 

curled under a blanket,

the steady patter of rain

surrounds my rest.

“Let’s just sit quietly and listen to the secrets the rain wants to tell us.”

~ John Mark Green, author

(from goodreads.com)

On an Afternoon Walk ~ Still Singing

Passed by the singing tree the other day ~

leafy shoots sprouted ‘round the trunk

in charming joyful greenery ~

each time I pass that singing tree

I smile and say ‘hello’ ~

and taste its silent joy.

“You’ll find that life is still worthwhile, if you just smile”

~ Charlie Chaplin

On an Afternoon Walk - Down the Street

Stepping out,

grocery bag on my shoulder, 

journal tucked inside

I wandered past the grocery store and went three blocks too far.

Errands are those must do things with opportunities to look around

so down the street I followed my feet to 13th Ave Coffee Shop for my lunch, coffee and a write.

Then it was time to move on home

past hair salons, an ice cream and candy store, a flower shop, fish store, butcher shop, a pub, chocolate shop, and so much more ~ oh yes, and a grocery store ~ errand was complete.

“We often miss opportunity because 

it’s dressed in overalls and looks like work.”

~ Thomas A. Edison

 

Chapter Two, Episode Ninety-eight - The Girl in the Mirror - Situationally Theirs

The Girl in the Mirror

“Couldn’t you tell?” 

~~~~~

The two sisters had been apart while Dez tried to find herself again. Be independent again. But she was between the proverbial rock and hard place. She needed her job and she needed her sister. Exposing herself to Em was taking her back to high school. She had tried to paint herself up and dress like her sister……. once. The girl in the mirror just wasn’t her. And now the girls at the spa ~ girls two generations younger ~ had painted her up into some kind of doll and pushed her to upgrade her too comfortable wardrobe. The woman in the mirror just wasn’t her. And the way she pushed away from her sister just wasn’t her either. It never occurred to her that her sister may have some better ideas about how she could be coiffed and made up. At the same time, the sudden break had done its job. Given her time to shake off the soft grip of the Estate. She hadn’t expected such a dramatic change. In the few kilometres to the estate, she had rehearsed an apology. Short and to the point. She hoped that Cook had been able to keep her sister there.

~~~~~

Cook quickly put her cell phone in her apron. She hoped that her boss did not suspect that she was faking that phone call. “Miss Em? Can you stay a minute for tea?” Cook thoughts raced. What could she say next? “I’m….I’m worried.” What was she worried about? “You’ve mentioned that you’ve not seen your sister. I’ve thought about it and we’ve not seen her out here for too long. And then Samuel thinking……..there’s someone here!” A car had ground to a sudden stop at the back of the house. Cook took a big drink of her tea. “Maybe it’s just Samuel now.” 

Without stopping to hang up her coat, Dez burst into the kitchen. “Cook, you can stop covering for me now. Em, I’m sorry. Sorry for the way I just left. Sorry for not telling you where I was. Sorry for……”

Emelina was almost in tears. “Dez, stop. You’re home now and that’s all that matters.”  Cook had slipped away from the table to let the sisters talk. She smiled a ‘welcome home’ to Dez as she stepped away. Quietly, Em said “Let’s go upstairs and talk.”

~~~~~

“Couldn’t you tell?” The sisters had been talking for an hour, Dez doing most of the talking. All the reasons behind her short absence. How she felt like she was sliding into her sisters world. How vulnerable and out of place she felt. Emelina interrupted her. “My world? It was all an act, Dez. It has always been an act. I don’t know why, and I’ve never wanted to find out. I just know that I needed the image, the perfect glossy magazine image, just to feel safe. It’s always been like an armour. Over the years it just became normal and comfortable. Now, even in the casual clothes I wear, I want them to be just so. You really couldn’t tell?”

“Years ago, I just thought you were just prissy. Then stuck up and holier than thou.” Dez shook her head. “And I was never good enough in your eyes because I liked blue jeans and sweat pants. Never cared about hairstyles.” Emelina smiled slowly, looking ready to burst out laughing. “Looks like you still don’t care about hairstyles.” Dez started to look offended, for about a second, and then she burst out laughing. “Oh, Em, I am so ashamed….no, I’m not. I just feel stupid. I don’t know how to manage this mess. And these nails! They’re horrible. If this is supposed to be a suit of armour then it’s just not working for me. Can you help me out?

~~~~~

Cook had gone home. Before she left she called up to the sisters that supper was ready for them and that they could just leave the dishes in the sink. She’d take care of them in the morning.  After they had eaten, and cleaned up the kitchen they got to work. Dez told her sister all about her job, the things she liked and the things she didn’t like. In the meantime, Em was stripping the polish and fake nails from Dez’s hands. Back upstairs, Dez sat at Em's vanity. Em stood behind her sister, combing her hair. They looked at each other in the mirror. “I can’t do anything about your hair tonight. But I know a hairdresser that can fix up this mess. I don’t like it either. It just isn’t you.”

“I have laughed, in bitterness and agony of heart, 

at the contrast between what I seem and what I am!”

~ Nathanial Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter

Out of the Shadows

Out of the Shadows

“Midnight on the bridge. Come alone.” Jock found the note taped to his computer. He laughed and brushed it aside. Mike must have put one of the secretaries up to this. While he finished up the days entries, he thought about his so called buddy. Did he really think I’d fall for something that juvenile? The cute little heart in the corner? I’m passed all of that. So I haven’t had a day off in over a year. I barely have time to sleep anymore. Four jobs just to keep body and soul together. I should be mad at him

~~~~~

He loosened his tie and then tightened it again. The mirror couldn’t tell him which was better. Jock hadn’t been able to make a decision about what to wear. Not that he had much of a wardrobe. Casual for work. Suit and tie for going out. He had two good sweaters for work. The navy one was clean. Even his mother approved of it when he wore it to Sunday dinners. When he put it with his other clean shirt and his red tie, she said he looked ‘well turned out’. He grimaced at the thought ‘There’s my boy and so well turned out. Now straighten your tie.’ At the thought, he loosened his tie. “If she knew what I was about to do, she’d probably send me to my room. Or at least try to.

~~~~~

And now here he was, hiding behind a large bush in the park, the smell of hydrangeas and roses softening the night. Bright lights from the city lit up the park, throwing long shadows across the bridge. Rustling in the dark bushes made him uneasy. The park was often home to the homeless at night. Had he disturbed someone? Mike’s note was a fake, just to see if he’d show up. Jock was about to turn and leave when he heard a sob. And then ~“@#$@#% ~ That mean, stupid *%^&*%^! He’s probably two feet away laughing at me. Well, I’ll show him!” The bushes parted violently, leaves torn from their branches. “You! What are you doing here?!”

“Brenda?! What are you doing here?” Jock was almost whispering. Brenda was not. “I could ask you the same thing, Jock. What are you doing here? I got a message to come here alone at midnight. Well it’s after midnight, there’s no one even on the bridge. That’s why I’m hiding here ~ to see if anyone would even show up on the stupid bridge.” As tough as Brenda sounded, Jock could see tears glistening in her lovely eyes. Softly he said “I got the same note Bren. Look.” He pulled the wrinkled note from his pants pocket.

~~~~~

There wasn’t anything to do in the park after midnight, and only one all night coffee shop open in the city’s central core. It was diner fare and the coffee wasn’t the best, but Jock and Brenda decided that they needed to talk. Over an early morning breakfast of crispy fried eggs and soggy waffles, they plotted and laughed.

“Sometimes a Cupid plays hard to catch

as he always got new couples to match.”

~ Ana Claudia Antunes, author

Author’s note: Another writing exercise <writingexercises.co.uk> 

The exercise: Random dialogue: “Midnight on the bridge. Come alone.” This is the second draft of this story. The first was handwritten and completely stream of consciousness. When I was transcribing it an hour later, there was a sudden and unplanned name change! ‘Sam’ became ‘Jock’. Sam’s story fizzled out. Jock had an entirely different story to tell. I know, always blame it on the characters!

Turning A Corner

Turning A Corner

Was it simply luck that had caused her to turn down this street? It wasn’t really a street, more like a passageway. She’d only stepped onto the neat cobblestones when she saw it. Just lying there. Glistening in the weak sunlight; waiting for her to come along and pick it up. So different from the cobblestones, the little white card seemed to glow. Did Annabelle hear a choir of angels from the puffy white clouds or was she just imagining things? Who dropped it? Or did someone throw it away? Did that matter? She picked it up. Scouring newspapers, the internet at the library, posters on cork boards, anywhere she could find them and even telephone pole, Annabelle had found many jobs. She dressed carefully each morning in her only dress and her only shoes; both showing age and wear. Mailing out many resumés, she had a few unsuccessful interviews and rent day was coming soon with no way to pay her landlord. 

Annabelle’s face fell when she read the card. It was her last failed interviewer’s card. She almost flung it back on the ground, but turned it over. A phone number, a name and a scribbled note. Deciphering the note, she read: need nanny, talk with Joe Farley at Agency. Should she call whoever wrote this note? What did she have to lose? She had wanted a nanny placement. She tried everything else.  She’d be brave and call just incase these people were still looking. 

~~~~~

Years later, her two charges were grown and had moved on with their lives. Sitting quietly with their father one evening, Annabelle pulled out the little card. A reminder for them both of the magic of the day she turned a corner.

~~~~~

“Ability is of little account without opportunity.”

~ Napoleon Bonaparte

Author’s note: Another writing exercise! 

                        Same website: writingexercises.co.uk 

The exercise: Random First Line: I chose: Was it simply luck that had caused her to turn down this street? From childhood, I was taught to always answer a question - and quickly. A story was not the best response then, but I am a bit older now. Still lots of questions and answers can be as long as I want them.

A Silly Story

A Silly Story

The town of Gnatsbridge was barely a spot on the map. Only its name was a curiosity. Curious enough to attract the occasional passing tourist. Passing may be a bit of a stretch. Gnatsbridge was five kilometres off the main highway and one hundred km  from the nearest city. One restaurant was attached to a small motel, elegantly named the Grand Gnatsbridge Motel. To get to this quaint little town, there was a bridge to cross. An old wooden bridge over the Gnat River.  

Each tourist that detoured to Gnatsbridge for gas, for a night off from the road, or just because was treated to Ma Malarkey’s story of how the town got its name. No one really knows if it’s true because Ma is the oldest woman in town. She was just under four feet ten, her long white hair was piled randomly on her head. A navy dress with tiny flowers was her uniform along with blue suede track shoes with white soles. She always carried a stack of Gnatsbridge Sights pamphlets in her voluminous apron. “Well now, I’ve got you in Unit 105 and I’ll walk you down there, show you where everything is.” 

“In 1905, when my great-grandfather homesteaded here, the river was barely a stream. Always clouded with flying bugs. Oh, he hated those wicked things. But, the town, struggling as it was, needed a bridge to get to the next town….that town’s gone now but they still needed a bridge to get to the main road. In those days, horse drawn wagons brought goods in from other towns. And we’re so glad you’re here but you wanted to know how our town was named…..you did, didn’t you?” Ma didn’t wait for a reply. “Well, building that bridge with only picks and shovels, hammers and nails was a big, sweaty job. The men complained and complained about the bugs. They fought them off ~ swarms of them, clouds of them very unhappy with having their stagnant river home disturbed. One day they were particularly bad. My great-grandfather told me ~ so I know it’s true ~ that all the men threw their tools down and left him alone. All of them grumbled but one of them hollered “You and those damn gnats and have their bridge!” Great grandfather smiled and said ‘Gnatsbridge. That’s what I’ll name the town.’

The man and woman looked at each other, rolling their eyes. She whispered to her husband “Do we dare ask how one man could name a town?” He looked panicked, shaking his head wildly. She touched Ma’s shoulder to stop her. Ma stopped in her tracks. “Yes dear? Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no. It’s just that my husband and I are extremely tired. You know, we’ve been driving a long time. We’ll freshen up and go to the restaurant for supper and it’s off to bed for us!”

“How disappointing! I’m not working in the restaurant tonight. But that’s ok, I’ll finish my story in the morning. You dears get a good supper and good sleep. Check out time isn’t until 11a.m. so we’ll have lots of time to chat in the morning.” 

~~~~~

Mr. and Mrs. Jones left at 4 a.m. leaving their key on the table, thanking the credit card gods that their payment had been made.

“Stories are like children. They grow in their own way.”

~ Madeleine L’Engle,  A Swiftly Tilting Planet

Author’s note: This story grew out of a writing exercise on the website writingexercises.co.uk 

The exercise: Town Name Generator: First I was to generate a town name: Gnat came up. The second step was to choose an ending. I chose: bridge. I liked the silliness of the name and a story began to form. It was fun!

Afternoon Outing ~ Regina's Big Book Sale!!

Laundry, make the bed, do my exercises, feed the cat and go to the Big Book Sale. But as the morning wore on, it became afternoon. Afternoon ~ when I get kind of sleepy. My avoidance mechanism threatened. After all I don’t really need any more books. And I don’t have anymore book shelf space. They would be heavy and it’s really hot and I’ve never been there before and…….. listening to all that chatter was really getting annoying. Laundry done, no time to tidy the place ~ but that can wait ~ I’m not expecting company.

I saw the big blue and yellow Big Book Sale sign! I had arrived at the Highland Curling Club. People going inside empty and others coming out ~ bags of books leaving with them. Inside, where once were sheets of curling ice there were long rows and tables of books! Organized by author, categorized by type, children’s books, fiction, history, self help and so much more..… almost overwhelming. I wandered….picked up this book and that book….put them back. Then I thought of cook books. I pulled out the little map I was given when I arrived. Then, like a fridge magnet headed for the fridge door, I headed for its location. Right beside the Tally tables - that’s where they add up how many books you have and send you to the cashier. Do I need more cookbooks - well, these three, I do. I’ve never had one about Mustard, or about Barbecue tips, or about peppers. And they’re only small, I can fit them in …….

“Some books should be tasted, some devoured, 

but only a few should be chewed and digested thoroughly.”

~ Sir Francis Bacon

On an Afternoon Walk - A Summer Wander

Meandering a walkway lined with bushes laden with berries, 

grasshoppers hum in long grasses

Wascana Creek paused and slow

in the heat of this summer afternoon

off the beaten path into open park,

elm trees offering shady oases, until

a gravelled path directed me into 

a peaceful neighbourhood

when a wide back alley 

lured me onward 

back yards hidden 

by fences and flowers, 

a sly glance at a garden 

abundant with vegetables

From pathway to open park, 

gravelled path to back alley, to 

cement sidewalk all the way home.

“Summertime is always the best of what might be.”

~ Charles Bowden