Will pointed to a boat as they walked away.
“That one there, the Sir Francis Bond-Head, we sailed she right up to Lake Superior. Now that’s as fair a body of water as ever I hope to see. Put me in mind of my native Newfoundland, it did, the coastline right wild and rock bound, as you yourself remember,” he smiled down at Aggie.
The idea that he was a sailor made Aggie’s heart sink. “So I imagine you spend a good deal of your time away?” she asked.
“No, maid,” Will said, “I sail no more. Thought I’d try my luck ashore about a year ago. I had my reasons . . .” he began, then suddenly fell silent.
Night was coming on now, and this part of the city was full of factories and warehouses, deserted on a Sunday evening. But when Aggie looked up at Will she felt she had nothing to fear.
“I’ve flattened your ear long enough, my dear,” he said.
“Tell me something of yourself.”
“Well, you know I come from Scotland, and you know my sister Emma.” Aggie couldn’t help but smile, recalling the look on Emma’s face when she took Will’s slip of paper. “And you know I’m a domestic servant . . .” she continued.
“I do? You told me no such thing,” Will said.
“Aye, that’s true, but you called me a maid.”
Will laughed and Aggie felt a little hurt. This must have shown, because he stopped at once. “Maid is just a word we use where I comes from,” he explained. “It means a young girl. What do you say in Scotland?”
“We say lass or lassie, and a young boy is a lad.”
“We say lad too, or youngster, but a girl is a maid. I didn’t know you were a domestic at all, my dear.”
“And do you call everyone my dear?” Aggie asked, teasing.
“My dear and worse, my dear,” he said laughing. “My duckie, me darling, me young trout . . .” he began to list. “That’s just our way where I belong.”
“Well, Aggie is what they call me at home.”
“Then I will call you Aggie, and perhaps you’ll call me Will.”
They walked along in the brisk night breeze, the pungent smell of the lake in the air. When Aggie drew her arms around her and shivered a little, Will took off his jacket and gently placed it on her shoulders without touching her. It smelled pleasantly of pipe smoke and sweat. Aggie found Will easy to talk to. She told him of her family in Scotland, and her work in the Stockwood house. She told him about Rodney and the wristwatch last spring, but not about Bobby Chandler. When they reached the foot of Spadina where they might have boarded a streetcar, Will said, “Perhaps, if you’re not beat out, we might walk a ways more.”
“That would be fine,” Aggie said. Her legs were beginning to ache, but she wanted this evening to last.
“You’re not hungry are you?” Will asked. “We could stop in to a café somewheres around here.”
Even though she’d eaten nothing since the picnic lunch, Aggie shook her head. She was far too excited to eat. As they walked up Spadina through the Jewish neighbourhood, Aggie thought of Rachel. Without meaning to, she found herself telling Will about Rachel and how Emma had upset things.
“Well, I can see how Emma might,” Will said. “She has a tongue like a gaff hook, that one. But it seems to me that these people were unfair, telling you not to come back because of something your sister did.”
Aggie considered this seriously before replying. She noticed Will kept silent, letting her think. “I dinna think so,” she said at last. “They paid me well, even gave me my supper if I wanted. The Mendorfskys were kind to me. Rachel’s husband felt he had to protect her from being hurt.”
“But you were hurt in this as well, my dear,” Will said. “Who protected you?”
“No one,” Aggie replied. “Since I came to Canada, I’ve learned to take care of myself.” Aggie was surprised at the pride in her voice. Maybe Will would think she was boasting.
He looked down at her and smiled, but it wasn’t a teasing smile. “I can see that,” he replied. He was perfectly serious. Aggie liked him for that.
“Well,” she said after a moment, “you’ve told me your stories, but not about yourself. Tell me about your family.”
For the first time, Will seemed uncomfortable. He hesitated, then spoke reluctantly. “I’ve no family to speak of, just myself. There only ever was my mother. I was eleven when she died. From then on, I fended for myself. I fished and sailed. I came to Canada three years ago. About a year back I left the boats. Now I work on the high steel, building those skyscrapers you sees from the lee shore of the islands. You’ve seen the Royal York Hotel?” he asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, I worked on she for more than a year. She’s almost finished now. My job was over a few months ago.”
“Oh,” Aggie said. “That was the first thing I saw the day I came to Toronto.”
Will smiled. “Well, there’s a good chance I was up there. I’m working on something smaller now, just an addition to a factory. But I’ve got my eye on that new Bank of Commerce building. It’s no more than a hole in the ground now, but they’ll be needing me soon. Thirty-two storeys, she’s going to be. Tallest building in the British Empire.”
“It sounds as if you like your work,” Aggie said.
“I do. But still, I sometimes miss the water.”
“Why did you leave the boats then?”
Again Will seemed uncomfortable. “There were reasons,” he said, and then he smiled. “It’s a long story. Perhaps I’ll tell you when I knows you better. In any case, when I’m working up high I can look out to the lake and see the ships passing sometimes. They likes us Newfoundlanders on the skyscrapers because we’re right fearless on the heights. Spent our lives scrabbling up and down the rigging of vessels till all the fear was drove out of us, see? That’s not boasting,” he added quickly.
Aggie laughed. “I didn’a think it was. But my feet are tired now,” she said, hating to admit it. “And there’s still a long way to go. Could we catch a streetcar at the next stop, do you think?”
Will nodded. “Whatever you like, Aggie my maid.” When they finally stood before the Stockwood house it didn’t seem possible to Aggie that the long journey from the ferry docks had flown by so quickly. She shyly removed Will’s jacket from her shoulders and held it out to him.
“This is where I live, Will. Thank you for seeing me home,” she said. She wanted to see him again, but she had no idea how to let him know. There was an awkward pause, then Will began to talk so rapidly that Aggie almost had trouble understanding him.
“When I said I saw you last October month, I used to watch you from afar, walking, writing . . . and I’d think to myself, I wish I could know that maid. But somehow I knew if I came after you I’d only drive you off. And then, I thought, perhaps there’s some fellow she’s writing to, perhaps she’s spoken for. I could hardly believe my luck when I saw you aboard the ferry tonight. I’m an honest man, Aggie Maxwell, and sober. Would you walk with me if I calls for you?”
Aggie was so overwhelmed she could only nod. Will looked a little disappointed.
“When will I see you again?” he asked.
“Thursday is my half day,” Aggie said. She knew it wasn’t much of an answer. Her words came out in a whisper.
“My shift is finished at four,” Will said, “I’ll need time to wash up after. Would you meet me for supper at five?”
Aggie didn’t trust her voice, so she nodded. Will took out his small notebook and pencil again and wrote down directions. “Do you think you can find this place? I often eat there. It’s on King Street West.”
“Yes,” Aggie said. She couldn’t think of another word to say.
Will looked at the ground. She could see things were not going as well as he would have liked.
“Well then,” he said, “goodnight to you, maid. I’ll see you on Thursday . . .” he hesitated, “. . . if you do want to meet me again, that is.” And he hurried away without even a handshake.
If you let him go off like that, Aggie told herself, you may never see him again. She finally found her voice.
“Will,” she called after him. He turned around.
“Yes, my maid.”
“I will. Want to see you again, I mean.”
Will’s grin almost gave off a light of its own. “Well, I’m some pleased to hear that, my dear. I though you were only trying to be polite.”
Aggie shook her head. “I’ll never say anything just to be polite to you, Will Collins.”
“I’ll hold you to that, my maid,” he said, and he was gone.
After the chill spring night, the Stockwood kitchen seemed flooded with warmth and yellow light. Although she had only left it a few hours before, Aggie saw everything as if for the first time: the bright blue dishes stacked neatly on the drain board, the stove that Mrs. Bradley kept blindingly clean, the faint and pleasant after smell of food. Nothing had ever seemed as beautiful or vivid. As she made her way upstairs in a daze she wondered if love might do this to someone.
Or maybe she was getting sick.
When Aggie woke up the next morning, she knew she was not sick. It was as if the mere fact that Will existed on this earth had taken away all the pain she’d felt since she left her family. But before she even left her bed, she made herself a promise. No matter what I feel for Will, I’ll not make a fool of myself. I’ll no be like Emma is with Stuart.
Although Aggie had promised herself not to act silly, her happiness could not be hidden. She flew through her chores, humming to herself until finally Mrs. Bradley said, “You’ve met some young man, haven’t you?”
Aggie blushed and nodded. “How did you know?” “Well, you’d never guess it now, but I was young once myself. Actually, I’m surprised it’s taken this long. A pretty girl like you, I expected the boys to be flocking around way before now. I thought to myself, she must be mighty particular, that Agnes of ours.”
Thinking of Bobby Chandler, Aggie blushed again. When the mail came at noon Aggie had a letter from home. Letters did not come often enough, but Aggie knew that was because her mother had so little time. Eagerly, Aggie ran up to her room and tore this one open. She read:
My Dear Aggie,
I hope this letter finds you well. The children and your Da send their love. We’ve counted our pennies and it seems we will be able to come to Canada in August or September. We never could have done this without your help, my brave lass.
I must tell you another thing, and I do not know how you will take the news. I was to see the Canadian Doctor when he was in Louqhlinter, to speak with him about having the children’s needles. He knew as soon as he saw me that you would soon have another little brother or sister, sometime in July he says. I thought honestly that my time for such things had passed and I laughed at him, but now I know he was right. I hope you and Emma pray for us, and look forward to meeting your new wee brother or sister when we come to Canada.
And it was signed, as always, “love, Mum.” Aggie was amazed that her mother would tell her such a thing. Until now, births were never discussed. Emma would be kept home from school, or later from work, the midwife sent for, and the new baby simply seemed to arrive. Aggie was happy, but somehow the news seemed unreal, perhaps because it was happening so far away.
Later that afternoon, Emma telephoned. This was rare. The telephone was still a luxury in most houses and servants were not encouraged to use it. Aggie expected Emma to say, “Well, I see you’re not at the bottom of the lake.” But, to her surprise, Emma sounded worried, even contrite.
“I’m sorry we fought yesterday, pet,” she began. “Did you have a letter from Mum?”
“Aye, Emma . . .” Aggie began, but Emma continued without stopping.
“Aggie, could I see you on your half day, do you think? We’ll have tea, just the two of us. I need to talk to you.”
Aggie wondered if this was really Emma. She was about to agree, but then remembered Will. “Not this half day,” she said quickly. “I’ve . . . I’ve made plans.” Aggie wasn’t about to let an afternoon with Emma ruin her dinner with Will.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Aggie, could you no . . .” Emma started, then she seemed to change her mind. “Sunday then. Will you meet me Sunday?” And Aggie agreed.
The week passed with painful slowness. The hands on the clock dragged no matter how hard Aggie worked. Finally, Thursday afternoon came. Aggie put on her prettiest weekday dress, a violet cotton print freshly washed and ironed. It was beginning to fade now, but there would be no money for new dresses this summer. Maybe after her family was settled in Canada. Then she washed her face and brushed her hair. She decided to leave it loose, just pinning it back from her fine, sharp features. She was about to leave her room when she remembered something. Going over to her bedside table, she opened the small velvet box Davy had given her, took out the swallow-shaped, marcasite brooch, and pinned it on.
Aggie spent the afternoon in Simpson’s, shopping for a birthday present for Jen. This was the second birthday of Jen’s that Aggie had missed. It was hard to believe she would be eight before Aggie saw her again. Aggie made the shopping last as long as she could, and still it was only four o’clock. Somehow, time seemed to have stopped altogether. She forced herself to browse among dresses she couldn’t possibly afford and today was not even particularly interested in, until at last it seemed reasonable to head down to King Street West.
Aggie found the cafe ten minutes early. Rather than stand on the street, she went inside. Will was already waiting at a table for her. He stood when she came in and pulled out her chair. He was wearing a spotless white shirt and looked so pink and clean that he might have been washed with a scrub brush. He didn’t bother to hide his pleasure.
“I’m some happy to see you, Aggie maid,” he said. “I thought perhaps you’d change your mind.”
Aggie shook her head, suddenly shy. Will seemed to understand her shyness. He steered away from personal questions while they ate, telling her stories about the seal hunt instead.
“I travelled to St. John’s just the once, to get a berth on a sealing vessel. The seals comes up on to the pack ice in the spring to pup, see? The ocean turns right white—a sea of ice. Sometimes, on a foggy day, the light seems to come more from the ice than the sky, almost as if the world were upside down. And everything right silent, still and calm . . . but the ice bears in on the ship till all the timbers creak. You wants a wooden vessel on the ice, because it gives. I seen square hatches in the deck of that vessel pushed to diamonds by the pressure of the ice.”
Aggie listened spellbound until finally the meal was finished.
“But here I’ve been going on the whole time, never giving you a sliver of silence to slip a word into, my maid,” Will said. “You’ve been shopping I see,” he nodded to Aggie’s parcel on the table.
“Aye, my wee sister’s having her birthday in June. My Mum and Da haven’t money for presents, so I try to make sure there’s something,” Aggie said.
“Tell me more about your family,” Will said, and Aggie did. Will seemed hungry for details, asking her all the children’s names.
“I’ve a photograph of them,” Aggie told him.
He seemed pleased. “Next time, you bring it and show me,” he said.
Next time. Aggie liked those words. “We hope they’ll be in Canada by the end of the summer. There’s going to be a new baby too.” She told him about her mother’s letter.
“Still a lively couple then, your parents,” he said. Aggie looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing,” he said quickly, “Listen, maybe this Sunday you’d come with me to me brother’s?” he asked. “A crowd from home gets together some nights, and I said I’d bring you along.”
“I promised to meet Emma on Sunday afternoon, but I’ll be happy to meet you later. But Will . . . I thought you said you had no family.”
He’d blushed then for the first time. “Well, he’s like me half brother, see? We share the same father. But tell me, where do you think your family will live when they comes here? Will you be looking for a place?”
It wasn’t until much later, alone in her room that night, that Aggie realized how quickly Will had changed the subject, how embarrassed he’d looked. It’s almost as if he’s hiding something, she thought.
Still, he seemed to be someone she could trust. More than that. When he shook her hand that night outside the Stockwood house, she had wanted to press her face against the clean white cotton of his shirt and feel the warmth of him under the cloth, to smell the scent of his skin. Aggie had never felt anything like this before. Not with Davy, not with Bobby Chandler. Sitting on her bed now, brushing her hair, Aggie wondered why.
She’d been fond of Davy and she’d admired Bobby. But this was different. This was more. It was as if Will had opened a door to a place in her heart that she never knew existed, a place filled with new emotions. Aggie, who had always feared the touch of men, realized that she was not afraid of Will. She was amazed.
At the same time, a small shiver ran down her back—a different kind of fear. They had just met, but Will was already this important to her. In some ways he was still a stranger. How could she feel so much for someone who might decide not to see her again? It was enough to make her panic. I have to stop, she thought, before I feel too much, before I’m hurt too badly. But then she thought of Will, who he was, and how happy he made her. The panic subsided. It’s too late, she thought. I have to trust him.
On Sunday the weather turned colder and by afternoon the sky was dark. It began to rain just as Aggie left the house, and she doubled back to borrow an umbrella from Mrs. Bradley. Emma had arranged to meet in a park, but by the time Aggie arrived, it was pouring. Emma looked pinched and nervous.
“Can we go somewhere dry, do you think?” Aggie asked.
Emma nodded. “There’s a wee tea shop just around the corner. I could use a cup. Aggie, pet,” she said when they settled themselves at a table, “thank you for coming.”
“What’s wrong, Em?” Aggie asked.
Emma seemed to change the subject. “You had a letter from Mum this week?”
“Aye, I did. We’ll have to think about finding them a place to live, Emma,” Aggie replied, remembering what Will had said.
“And what did you think of Mum’s news?” Emma asked, frowning.
“About the baby? Well, I’m pleased, of course.”
“Och, Aggie, you’re such a child. It’s almost indecent at their age. That sort of thing.”
Aggie looked at her sister blankly. “What sort of thing?” Emma glanced around. “I suppose you have to know some day, and it might as well be from me. Forget tea,” she said shortly. “Let’s go to the park where we can talk.”
“The park?” Aggie cried, looking out at the hard rain.
“Emma, are you daft?” But Emma left without looking back. Aggie could only follow.
They walked in the park, cold and wet under their umbrellas, for some time before Emma spoke. “Aggie, where did you suppose babies came from all this time?” she finally asked.
“Well . . .” Aggie paused. It was painfully difficult to speak about these things, even with Emma.
“Did you no wonder?”
“I knew there must be things I didn’a know,” Aggie confessed. “I suppose I was happier not knowing.”
“Well, you’re old enough now that you should know,” Emma said. “A man and woman have to . . . to lie together to make a child. That’s what makes the man the father.” Emma went on to explain. There was no tenderness in her account, only the raw physical facts. It sounded to Aggie like a brutal act, something a woman would only subject herself to if she wanted a baby very badly. It seemed impossible to believe that any woman she knew had ever willingly participated in such a thing, let alone her own mother.
“But Em, how do you know this? Did Mum tell you?” she finally thought to ask.
“Oh, Aggie, dinna be daft,” Emma said. “Can you imagine Mum talking about this?”
Aggie had to admit she couldn’t. “Then how . . .?” Emma lowered her voice. “Stuart told me,” she said.
“Stuart wants . . . he says he’ll leave me if I won’t.”
Aggie was horrified. “And he’s no offered to marry you?”
Emma stared at her feet and shook her head. When she spoke her voice was scarcely audible. “No, he hasn’a. But I dinna want to lose him, Aggie. What will I do?”
“Emma,” Aggie said, “Stuart has no right to force himself on you. What would become of you if he left you with a baby?”
Emma said nothing.
“My feet are fair soaking,” Aggie said finally. “Please Em, let’s have some tea.”
They went back to the cafe where they dried out a little and warmed their chilled bodies. Emma was quiet, dry-eyed, and calm. It seemed to Aggie as if her sister had already gone somewhere she was not prepared to follow. Aggie was relieved to let the subject go, but she had to ask one question. “Emma, you know I don’t care for Stuart. I wonder what you see in him.”
“It’s not hard to guess, is it?” Emma replied. “You never seem to mind working so hard, being so poor. But I do. Stuart Donaldson is going to make something of himself, Aggie. With a man like that, I might never have to worry about money again.”
“What are you going to do, Em?”
Emma rested her chin on her hands. She was silent for a moment, then she said, “I canna say.”
Aggie didn’t know whether Emma meant that she did not know, or she would not tell, but Aggie knew she couldn’t probe any further.
It had stopped raining when Aggie said goodbye to Emma. For the first time all afternoon, Aggie thought of Will. This morning, she had planned to tell Emma about Will. But she hadn’t said a word about him. Now, she realized with a shock, she was glad. Suddenly, her feelings for Will were all muddled up with what Emma had just told her. The streetcar rumbled up and Aggie boarded it. Imagine, she thought, every person I see here is a product of that act. She felt ashamed, embarrassed. Then she remembered what Will had said about her parents still being a “lively couple.” He knew! He knew and he’d even joked about it. Maybe he was no better than Stuart.
When she got off the streetcar a few stops later, Will was waiting for her. His eager smile faded a little when he saw her face. They walked a few blocks in near silence, Will’s attempts to make conversation dying quickly one by one, until finally he turned to her and said, “Aggie maid, what’s troubling you?”
She couldn’t talk at first, but she knew she needed to.
Besides, underneath her anger, she had known as soon as she saw Will again that he was not Stuart Donaldson and never would be. So, little by little, the story of her meeting with Emma came out.
“He said he’d leave her if she wouldn’a . . . do that with him,” Aggie ended. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
Will laughed and reached out to pat Aggie’s shoulder, but she misunderstood.
“You!” she cried. “Dinna touch me. You knew about this all along and there you were, laughing at me. Making a joke of my own mother and father.”
Will looked as if he’d been slapped. When he spoke, his voice was low and gentle.
“Of course I knew. Reared up where I was, who would let me forget?” He sighed. “I had hoped to know you better before you heard this from me, but I see it’s time. Forget my brother’s for tonight.” They passed a small park. “We’d better sit down,” Will said. “There’s a story you must hear.” The bench was just dry after the rain. Will sat, studying his hands in his lap, not looking at Aggie at all.
“My mother was a school teacher,” he began. “Only eighteen when she came to the harbour and met my father. He was the son of the merchant in the place I belong to. Handsome as the devil, they always said of him, and well accustomed to getting what he wanted. It wasn’t long before he wanted my mother. She trusted him. That was her sin—she trusted the wrong man. She believed that he would marry her. But she was wrong. When she told him that . . . that I was to be born, he dropped her like a live coal. Her own parents wouldn’t have her back to her home then. She couldn’t teach, she had no money. She had to bring a bastardy case against that man, to sue him for our keep.”
Will stood and began to pace as he spoke. Aggie sat transfixed by his story.
“I grew up in that place, and there was not a living soul but knew how I was begot on my mother. ‘Bastard,’ they called me, everyone, sometime or other.” He stopped pacing. Aggie could feel Will’s anger and shame radiating like heat across the space between them.
“Slapped me down with it, they did, every time I tried to hold my head up. While that bastard who was my father lived in comfort and not a one would say a word against him. He married another maid while I was still at my mother’s breast. Three children they had, two girls and a boy. How I hated that young boy, George. Born on the right side of the sheets, a little prince.
“My mother always told me it was wrong to hate.” He sat down again and looked at Aggie. The anger drained from his voice.
“Well, she was right. She died when I was eleven, and I began to work like a man, as you knows. About a year ago, I learned young George is in Toronto. I wanted nothing to do with him. But it’s a small circle, the crowd from home, and we got to know each other. He can’t stand the old man, wants no part of the family fortune. We gets along now. I feel as if I’ve found a brother. All those years we were youngsters, we might have been friends.”
He paused and looked down at his hands again.
“Now you knows. I was afraid to tell you, you being so proper a maid, I thought you’d be ashamed of one such as me. A bastard. And it may be that you’ll not want to see me again. But Aggie, maid, I swear on my own mother’s grave, I will never leave a woman or a child as that man left us. When I father a child on a woman, I’ll stay with them both till I die.”
Aggie felt so many things at once, she didn’t know what to say. She was quiet for so long that Will finally stood again and turned away from her. “I’ll see you home if you’ll allow me to,” he said. “If not, I understand.”
She could hardly speak for fear that she might cry.
“No,” she said at last. “I won’t let you see me home, Will Collins.” She rose and stood in front of him. “It’s far too early.”
A slow smile spread over his face as the meaning of her words took effect. She reached up, standing on tiptoe, and kissed him quickly. He put his arm around her shoulder and they left the small park together.