Saturday, December 1
Still no word but my letter may have just arrived.
I suppose I should tell you of some normal happenings in our lives. Once you stop writing every day, it is hard to start up again. You, dear Reader, grow far off and faint in my mind.
But I did recite “In Flanders Fields” at the concert. It was terribly hard to do. I hated the bit, “We are the Dead. Short days ago, we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset’s glow …” It was written up in the paper and the reporter said: Young Eliza Bates brought tears to our eyes with her recitation.
I don’t know how I managed not to cry but I told myself it was about nobody I knew and just kept going. On the way home, nobody said a word but Mother squeezed my hand so tight it almost hurt.
We are beginning to start preparing Christmas gifts. It is not easy when you don’t have much pocket money.
Tuesday, December 4
I finally heard from Rosemary again. It was mysterious, to put it mildly. I will copy it as I did with the other. She does not prattle on for pages.
Dear Eliza,
I took your advice. They were not going to let me into the ward because he had said he would not see anyone. But I sent in your password, gave him time to take it in and then just pushed the ward sister aside and made for his bed. He was holding my note, which made it easier to be sure it was him. Oh, Eliza, poor old Jack is having a rough time of it these days. He blames himself for Rufus’s death. And he thinks he has turned into some sort of monster because his face is so scarred. At first he thought he was going blind because of the bandages, but he is not. He is a brick. I think I managed to turn his mind in a new direction by telling him about my troubles and asking for his help. I knew Jack had promised Rufus to look after me if I ever needed looking after. Well, I do need help and he rose to the challenge. I can’t tell you now. But you will learn soon what a honey your brother is. No wonder Rufus loved him! He said “Jack is very decent, an all around great fellow.” That really means he loved him as though they were brothers.
Thanks a million for your help, Eliza. Jack and Rufus both said you were a great kid and they were surely right. I met Hugo, you know. He came to England on leave just before Vimy. He spoke of you too. He told me you were his favourite sister. That is quite a compliment from a man with four. I must go. Maybe we will have happy times together some day. They seem far off at the moment.
Write to Jack, Eliza. He needs to hear there are people out there remembering him.
Your friend,
Rosemary
I wonder why she wanted to see Jack so urgently. I mustn’t be a Nosey Parker but it does make me curious. She sounded almost desperate. What help did she need?
I will write to Jack every chance I get. I will tell him about Charlie trying to make poor Isaac’s ears match with flour paste he made himself. Isaac looked a sight! It is a good thing paste is not hard to wash out.
Finally Mother and Father got a proper letter from him. They look much happier, although I know they will not stop worrying over him until he is here where they can touch him and feed him and hear him speak. And hug him, of course. We’ll all hug him until he begs for mercy.
Friday, December 7
There has been a terrible explosion in Halifax harbour. The newspaper headlines are full of the story. A ship called the Imo collided with a French one, the Mont Blanc, and the Mont Blanc was full of munitions. Many buildings are destroyed, many people killed. It will take officials weeks to sort out the number of dead and injured, the newspapers say. The only good news we can see in it at all is that 150 soldiers who had been wounded at the Front and were on their way back home to Toronto had left Halifax before the tragedy happened. But what of any other wounded soldiers who were still there, dear Reader? What if Jack had been coming home and got off the ship there? To think of the brave wounded men getting all the way back from the Front only to be blown up right here in Canada.
Father can only shake his head. I hope you do not live in Halifax, dear Reader.
Saturday, December 15
Dear Reader, you have to forgive my neglecting you, because today is my birthday. I am entering on my fourteenth year or, in other words, I have turned thirteen. It took a lot of explaining before I understood that. Did you know that in China you are one when you are born? If I were Chinese, I’d be fourteen today.
I got a strange present from my parents. Elocution lessons! The teacher is not the one who rolls her eyes. She has just moved to Uxbridge. Her husband is an invalid. I suppose she is a Duck but she doesn’t droop or carry on about herself or act like most Ducks. She was an actress before she got married and, of course, gave up her stage career. I heard one of the regular Ducks say that about her.
Why did she say “of course”? People say such things all the time. Grandmother Bates was a Methodist before she married Grandfather and she used to say, “Of course, I became a Presbyterian.” But why couldn’t Grandfather have turned Methodist?
Grandmother also used to say he couldn’t hold onto a tune “even if it were tied up and put in a lidded basket.” She has funny ways of putting things.
As for my elocution teacher, I don’t think you must stop acting because you marry. It would be hard, though, to take care of your house and children and be ready to play Lady Macbeth after the dishes were done. Maybe, when you marry, you need to wed a millionaire who can pay for people to clean your house and raise your children.
The others pooled their money and bought me some secondhand books. My favourite is Jo’s Boys. I already had Little Men. And Grandmother gave me Little Women and Good Wives when I was ten. I got Daddy-Long-Legs by Jean Webster. It looks wonderful. I do so like books about orphans.
Corny gave me a present. Are you ready for a shock? She gave me a cross-stitch kit complete with a small embroidery hoop and all the thread. I said I was thrilled and I did not laugh, but Susannah almost gave me away.
“But, Eliza, you always said —” she started.
I was brilliant. I interrupted her fast and firmly and said, “… always said how badly I wanted a kit just like this!”
Susannah closed her lips and Corny beamed.
The Webbs are talking about making a fresh start somewhere else, far from here. They have relatives out West and Richard might do better there. I do pray so. Corny says he’ll be hunky-dory. That sounds funny applied to Richard.
Friday, December 21
This is the beginning of winter officially. It is the shortest day and the longest night. It is nice to toast our toes at the hearth fire in the evenings but I will be glad when the light begins to come back. Dark skies make gloomy thoughts harder to chase away. I try never to write to Jack when I am gloomy. I tell him the funniest and most beautiful things I can think of. I feel it is like throwing him a lifeline. Maybe I am wrong.
Sunday, December 23
Dear Reader, I am busy making some Christmas gifts. I like drawing and I decided I could make Belle a colouring book and draw some paper dolls for Susannah. It is harder than you might think. I would trace the clothes from Vogue, which Mrs. Webb gets, except then they do not fit the dolls. I can’t seem to draw a Vogue doll and make her look one bit real.
Everyone says the War is nearing its end. I do not quite believe it though, because they have been saying the same thing for so long. It is strange to think that Belle cannot remember a time when there was no war. I wonder if she will forget Hugo. She was so little when he enlisted. She will know his face from photographs and lots of family stories about him. But will she really remember him the way I do? Poor Belle.
Christmas Day
Tuesday, December 25
It is Christmas morning and I do not hate my sister Verity! It is strange, when I look back, how angry I was just one year ago because they went skating without me. I wanted to strangle poor Verity. I forgave her long ago. Although I still do not relish being called an immature limpet!
So much has changed since then. Verity is so much easier to put up with now that she is a nurse. They all liked their presents, which was nice. Father and Mother gave me a big fat dictionary for my very own. Two years ago I would not have wanted such a useful present. But now I love sitting and reading it in odd moments. There are so many strange words. Dear Reader, do you know what an ygdrasil is? I thought I might try to learn one new word every day. Merry Christmas to you.
What we hear from Jack is extremely skimpy. He has not said whether he will have to stay in hospital over Christmas. Maybe he has been with Rosemary and met her family. Neither has ever told me what happened about that secret wedding.
I wrote to him anyway and did my best not to sound reproachful.