THE PROBLEM WAS HOW to tell Walter.
Two days passed while Poco and Georgina tried to think. A mother cannot be simply announced. And if she is changing from dead to alive, from ghost to flesh-colored, everyday woman, a great deal of care needs to be taken. The friends had not really thought of it before, but lost and found mothers can be very difficult.
Walter had a sensitive nature. He might get upset and refuse to listen. He might decide he didn’t want a real mother around. After all, he’d spent his life with Granny Docker. What if this mother wanted him to be with her? He’d have to move in with a whole new person.
Georgina said, “We’re lucky we already know our mothers and have learned how to live with all the crazy things they do. If we had to meet them now, we probably couldn’t stand them.”
They were sitting under a tree in Poco’s backyard on a blazing hot afternoon. Juliette lay nearby, flat on her back and all four feet in the air. But she was not quite asleep, because when, from above, a robin’s voice sang out, one of her Siamese eyes cracked open.
“Walter will be stubborn,” Georgina went on, steeling herself.
“He will tell us to go away and leave him alone.”
“He’ll be angry, just the way he was before.”
“His whole life could change.” This thought made them rather breathless. But how could Walter be allowed to go on believing in ghosts? There comes a time when a person must grow up and face the facts.
“We must tell him today,” Georgina declared. “We’ll call him and ask him to meet us at the park. Then we can explain what we saw in the sandwich shop. He’ll probably want to go alone to see his mother.”
Poco said, softly, “I hope she wants to see him.”
They were just on the point of getting up from the grass when who should appear but …
“Walter!”
He came across the yard with a cheerful stride. Juliette sat up at once.
“Hello. And hello, Juliette.” He bent over and gave her ears a friendly scratch. “I came to tell you,” he said, straightening up, “that everything is back to normal. You can come see the Little Match Girl whenever you want. My mother has left.”
“Left!”
“Yes, and I’m sorry I got so mad. I just wanted to be sure she had all the space she needed.”
“Space?” The friends gazed at him in alarm.
“To leave me my things. But now she has.”
“Wait a minute! How can that be?” Georgina sounded as sharp as a chief of police.
Walter drew a thin box from his pocket. “A message came from the Match Girl in yesterday’s mail, and when I went to the park, this is what I found.” He took off the box’s cover. Inside, on tissue paper, lay a curl of dark brown hair.
“Your mother’s?” Georgina leapt back in horror.
Walter laughed. “Of course not. It’s a baby’s.”
“It’s yours,” Poco said. “Your mother must have cut it just before she gave you up.”
“That’s right. This is her last treasure. When I found it yesterday, I knew she had gone.”
Walter sighed. “My mother was the bravest person. You can’t imagine how hard she worked. To be invisible and have to watch, not to be able to reach out and touch—it took all her energy and force. She lasted as long as she possibly could. Someday, who knows, she might come back. She never really told me about my father, though she left some clues. I think he was a soldier.”
Poco and Georgina could only stare.
“And my grandmother said his last name might have been Walter, because of the name on my hospital bracelet. Like yours, Poco, remember how you said—”
“Walter, good grief …!” Georgina began, and stopped. He had it all so completely worked out. He loved a mother he’d made up. How could they tell him about the real one?
“Anyway,” Walter said, “we can talk about it later. Right now I have a special treat. My grandmother gave me ten dollars and said I should use it on my friends. I think she was afraid they might have given me up.”
“You mean us?” Poco said.
“Who else?” Walter’s face clouded over. “Unless you don’t want to …”
“Of course we do! Why do you always have to say that?” Georgina thundered.
Walter smiled with relief. Then, while Juliette looked on with approving eyes, he issued a startling invitation. He would like it so much if they would come with him now to visit the Little Match Girl. On the way they would stop at the sandwich shop so he could buy them … well, whatever they wanted! Sodas, candy, magazines, hot fudge sundaes.
“Because I’m loaded!” he cried, pulling his money out. “And then I’d know for sure we’re all back together.”
There was no way around it. Walter’s mind was set. To suggest any change would have hurt his feelings. He led them eagerly down the street and even insisted on taking Juliette when she staggered to her feet and tried to follow.
“We should put her in the house,” Poco objected. Walter wouldn’t think of it. The old cat had taken a hold on his feelings.
“Would you like a ride?” he offered her gallantly. Juliette switched her tail and walked ahead. Above her came a rustle of robin wings.
“Go home,” Poco told the bird sternly. “And take Juliette. This is none of your business.”
But neither paid the least attention, and on they all went in Walter’s weird procession.
“Are we going to tell him?” Georgina whispered to Poco.
“We have to.”
“But how?”
“I don’t know.”
The iron gate of Andersen Park rose into view. Georgina stopped to look at the Little Match Girl as they went by. Mysterious and distant she appeared from there, and far removed from all that was happening.
“George! Come on.” The procession had arrived. Everyone else was poised outside the sandwich shop door. Walter stood in the lead like a proud general. They waited for Georgina to cross the street, then all went in—except for Poco’s robin. He settled down in a nearby tree. With his craning neck and shiny black eyes, he looked just as excited as anyone else. Would Walter’s mother dare to come out in the open?
Inside, Poco and Georgina squinted and had a first wave of doubt. Behind the shop’s counter stood another woman.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, we all want to order.” Walter swept his guests forward to a table. Never had he seemed so pleased with himself.
“That cat is not allowed in here.” The waitress spoke as they sat down. She was large, middle-aged, and prickly looking. “Animals of any kind are against the law.”
“I’ll keep her on my lap,” Walter promised. He tucked his knees and Juliette under the table. “See? No one will even notice.”
“The law is the law. Absolutely no cats!”
“But we can’t put her out on the street alone.”
“Why not?”
“We just can’t!”
“In that case, out you go.” The woman placed threatening hands on her hips.
At this, Juliette herself stood up and gazed at the waitress from Walter’s lap. In the sun her blue eyes blazed up like sapphires.
“What is she, a Siamese?” The waitress’s voice sounded suddenly nicer. She stepped close and offered her hand. “You certainly are a fascinating thing.”
The old cat smiled and gave her a wink.
“Well! I guess … I guess she could stay. Who could possibly mind? She is such a beauty.” A look of surprise went over the waitress’s face, as if she had not expected to say this. Then she shrugged and asked to take their orders. Two hot fudge sundaes. One orange soda. Juliette lay back and began to lick a paw. Georgina stared at her in horror.
“Did you see that?” she whispered to Poco.
But Poco was thinking of something else.
“Where is the other waitress?” she asked the older woman.
“There isn’t one, dear. Just me, that’s all. We run the place together, me and my husband. There he is standing behind the meat counter.”
When they turned, they saw the mean-faced old man eyeing them.
“But someone else was here whenever we came before.”
“That part-time girl? We got rid of her. She was supposed to wash dishes and keep the place clean. But there, every time our backs were turned, she’d be doing what she shouldn’t—gabbing to folks, writing letters, staring out the window as if her life depended on it.”
“But when did she leave?” Georgina couldn’t believe it.
“Yesterday morning. We gave her notice a week ago. She didn’t mind much. She said she had to go home.”
“Home!” Poco glanced at Georgina. “Where was her home, did she ever mention?”
The waitress shrugged and shook her head. “Who knows? Who cares? Not around here anyway. The one time I asked her, she said, ‘Across an ocean.’”