AS THE DAWN broke, panic crashed against me like waves smashing against a boulder. Then again, I’d never seen the ocean, so what did I know? Still, I bet that’s what it felt like. I stared at the sputtering river, trying to calm the pounding within me. It wasn’t a dream.
It happened.
It’s okay. We’re all okay. I said it over and over, like a prayer. I’d been praying for hours. This was my safe place, sitting on the riverbank, under the willow in the woods near the orphanage. They all knew I did this. Well, the Seven knew, and so did Joe.
Get up, Toni. Time to go back. Time to see…what?
The voice inside called it like it was. Coward. Shame nipped at my heels as I made my way to Mrs. Hazelton’s cottage. Her place was far enough away from the orphanage that I figured it would be okay. That she would be okay. That she would know what to do now.
Please.
The rest of the Seven and the Little Ones would be at the church. That was the drill: Should an emergency occur at the orphanage, you are all to make your way over to St. Jerome’s Anglican church in Hope. The good reverend will know what to do.
I wondered whether the good reverend knew what to do now.
“Toni, praise the Lord!”
Miss Webster scooped me up and into her substantial self. This was startling. Miss Webster was by no means an affectionate woman. She hustled me onto the verandah, clucking, cooing and chiding the whole way. “You gave us such a fright, dear. Mrs. Hazelton, here she is! Our Toni’s here! Mrs. Hazelton!”
Mrs. Hazelton, our matron, stepped out her front door, which had been left wide open. She looked like she didn’t know whether to hit me or hug me. Against her better judgment, she reached out and embraced me. It had been such a long time since I had been held, not since I was one of the Little Ones. She was as frail as tissue paper in my arms. That scared me.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Toni, my dear! Joe said not to worry, but…but…how could you! How…never mind, you’re wet with the damp. I’ve laid out a uniform for you from one of our former charges—shoes, socks, everything—hanging in the bathroom, that first door down the hall.” She let go of me, but then grabbed both of my hands. “It’s been quite a night. Change, Toni, and then come into my study. I’ll have some tea and toast waiting.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I couldn’t stop shivering. “Thank you, ma’am. The others?”
“They are all at the church where they should be. They will be coming over later—at least, the Seven will. We have much to discuss.” She sighed. “In a way, I’m glad that you’re the first.”
The first?
She pushed me toward the bathroom, which had been one of the great mysteries of our world if only because none of us had ever been in there. Over the years we’d all had cause to be in Mrs. Hazleton’s study for various “talks.” Some of us more than others. I was there a fair bit. It usually had to do with my attitude and/or deportment. Many things would be expressed in a firm tone, accompanied by a fair bit of sighing and eyebrow raising. This would be followed by excessive promising and apologizing on my part. Attitude or not, not even I had ever dared to use her bathroom. It was one of the unwritten rules: no one goes, even if you have to go.
I gasped when I opened the door. The inner sanctum was everything we’d ever imagined it would be. There was a dainty claw-foot bathtub and a really fancy pedestal sink. A purple bar of soap sat in a curlicued china soap dish. Lavender? The aroma made me dizzy. The whole room was covered in red and pink cabbage-rose wallpaper, with curtains that matched exactly. Pink, puffy towels were draped precisely over elaborate brass towel holders. I didn’t know that towels could look like that. Do I dare? No, absolutely not. I let my face and hands air-dry after I washed up. I just stood there, swallowed up by all those roses, and fretted about dripping on the fluffy bath mat. The shirt, uniform jumper and underthings were all much too large, as were the shoes, and I was one of the taller girls. Whoever used to wear this must have been one substantial girl. I combed my memory. Peggy! She’d left years and years ago, but the Seven had always got her confused with the staff, she was that hefty. Where had Peggy gone?
Where would I go?
I rebraided my hair, smoothed my eyebrows with a lick on my finger and, when I could no longer postpone the inevitable, made my way to the study.
Mrs. Hazelton, as always, was behind her beautiful polished desk. She was dwarfed by the large leather chair that I swear she used to fill up. When did she shrink? Her desk, usually immaculate, was smothered with papers, ledgers, binders, boxes and envelopes. “Sit down, Toni, and please help yourself to the toast and tea on the side table.”
I poured the tea and smeared the toast with butter and huge dollops of jam. Rather than drawing a reprimand, my greediness made her smile. “Go on, Toni, put in all the sugar and milk you want. I know you like it sweet.” I helped myself to three extra spoonfuls, hardly feeling guilty at all.
She watched me gulp down two cups of tea and four pieces of toast. She also watched as a large drop of raspberry jam rolled off the toast and landed on Peggy’s immaculately clean uniform. She saw it but pretended not to.
“Feeling better?” she said after I’d eaten the last crumbs.
“Yes, ma’am. You said something about me being the first?”
She nodded and turned to the window. “Yes, yes I did. Well, it’s no secret that the Home has been winding down for the past several years. You all know that we haven’t been accepting new charges in quite some time. In fact, the times have been changing all around us.” She made a face. “Hideous bureaucratic nightmares are replacing homes such as ours.”
She was in preamble mode. I hated preamble. Especially when I didn’t understand it. I wanted everyone to get to the point instantly or sooner. This was where I would usually have interrupted and gotten myself in trouble. Instead, I stared at the bright-red jam dot decorating my lap and realized to my horror that I really had to use the bathroom. I was afraid to before, and now, with all the tea…
“So, even given this horrendous event, I—we—have had quite some time to prepare for this, Antoinette.”
Uh-oh. I was only “Antoinette” when I was in serious trouble.
“Actually”—she turned to me again—“I have been preparing for you Seven almost from the beginning. You are my very special senior girls.”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s very kind of you, and don’t think for a minute that we don’t appreciate it.”
She shook her head. “You have, at times, a certain charm about you, Toni. It will serve you well.” She leaned into her desk. Papers fluttered to the floor in protest. She didn’t seem to notice. This was all wrong.
“I have to attend to my health, you see. So I won’t be directing the changeover. Our board of directors will appoint a trustee to oversee the process. The Little Ones will be placed in foster care.” Again, she made a face. “Homes will be found for each of them.”
“Homes? You mean adoption?” My heart soared.
“Well no, not exactly, maybe, eventually…” She paused and looked at the mess of papers on her desk as if she was surprised to see it. “But not for the Seven, Toni. You see, you are all of an age…even Malou is sixteen now. You’re almost seventeen, Sara is eighteen, Betty is seventeen, and…”
“With respect, ma’am, I know how old we are!” I jumped up. “What about us? What’s going to happen to us?”
“Ah, there’s my Toni.”
She meant the reckless Toni.
“You will be just fine. Sit down, Antoinette.” She sat back and seemed to study me. “How much do you want to know about who you really are?”
“Ma’am?” I fell back into my chair. I knew who I was.
“It’s not much, but it’s the best I can offer, my dear. That and some money.” She rubbed her forehead. “It is the least I can do.”
“Ma’am?” She wasn’t making any sense.
“There are no provisions for the Seven aside from what I have been able to save for you over the years. You are of age.” She sighed and paused. “I have set aside a sum of money to help each of you on your way. If you’re careful, it should take you to your destination and aid with food and lodging for quite some time.”
“My destination? Excuse me, but…”
“What I am about to give you, Toni, is highly irregular and quite possibly illegal.” Mrs. Hazelton raised her hand as if to ward off more words. “You see, I have items from when each of you came into the orphanage. They may hold clues to your identity, perhaps to whatever family you have left out there.”
“My family! My mother? You mean the woman who almost killed me before she abandoned me?” I embraced myself as if to shield the scars that were still there underneath Peggy’s extra-large uniform. “The crazy lady who cut and—”
“Calm down, Antoinette. You don’t know that. We don’t anything for sure. Allow me to finish.”
My head pounded. “Yes, ma’am.” What was happening?
“You’re a strong and capable worker. Your skills in the kitchen and in serving will stand you in good stead. You have a lot to thank Joseph for.”
Was I supposed to sling hash alongside Sara at Loretta’s Diner, Hope’s sole dining establishment?
“These skills will be useful to you in Toronto. I have no doubts that you will thrive. I have a bus schedule here.”
“Toronto! Wait. What? Toronto?” I stood up again.
“Sit down, Toni. Yes, Toronto. It’s on the hospital-release form. Sit.”
I stayed standing. Mrs. Hazelton shook her head as she reached into a drawer and pulled out a beat-up, old manila envelope. She handed it to me.
“Yes, Toronto.” She raised her hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry, dear, but there’s very little for you here in Hope—for all of the Seven. I did my best, but as it stands…You can all stay a few days at the church, but…” Again she paused, seeming to search for words. Mrs. Hazelton never had to search for words. “I believe that the few items I have for you lead you directly to Toronto, and even to a certain area within the city. I’ve looked into it. There are three buses that leave each day from town, or you can, as you know, flag the bus down on the road. The bus leaves at 9:40 AM, 12:40 PM and 4:40 PM. The money is in a smaller envelope inside, and then there’s your…” She stopped to cough. “Well, all that I have for you—your identifying clues. Clues to who you are, Toni. You need to sit, dear.”
I sat at the edge of my seat, trying to locate my breath. I couldn’t, so I focused on her instead. She didn’t look good, and I didn’t feel good. I fumbled with the manila envelope; my fingers felt like bricks. Aside from the money envelope, three things fell into my lap. Three pieces of me. Mrs. Hazelton leaned back in her chair and waited.
There was a much-folded, small white sheet, now sticky with raspberry jam.
Release Form: Antoinette Royce
Birth Date: September 13, 1947
Released From Toronto General Hospital: April 30, 1950
Admission: Smoke inhalation, extensive lacerations, spleen removal
Follow-up: Released to Dr. Reginald G. Blunt, The Benevolent Home for Necessitous Girls, Hope, Ontario.
Mother: Halina Royce
Father: Unknown
Royce? My surname was Royce? Really? Royce? We girls had each been given surnames when we arrived at the orphanage. Mrs. Hazelton had christened the Seven with ones she had pulled from Anne of Green Gables. Until that very moment I had been Antoinette Cuthbert.
And that was only the beginning. There were so many shocks from so few words.
Extensive lacerations, smoke inhalation? Was there a fire?
Spleen removal? Wait, whoa, hang on—they took out my spleen? What was a spleen?
Wait, wait. Mother: Halina Royce.
Mother.
The word made me woozy and angry at the same time. “My mother, was she, is she…?”
“I don’t know, dear. No one does. Did she survive her injuries, if she had any? Did she just…perhaps it was all too much for her, whatever it was. We don’t know. Toni, I would tell you if I knew. All we know is that you were transported here before your fourth birthday.”
It was too much. No more, no more. The room spun.
“Excuse me, I have to use your, um, go to the…I’ll be right back.”
I ran to the bathroom and used the toilet this time. I splashed water on my face, washed my hands with her purple soap and dried myself with the fat fluffy towel. I wanted to stay in there forever. Outside, out there, was impossible. I repeated the whole process two more times before I found the courage to drag myself back.
Mrs. Hazelton had not moved, yet she looked even smaller than she had a few minutes ago. The next item I picked up was a torn menu from some restaurant called the Noronic. It was yellowed and stained, but the featured menu of the day was still clearly visible. The appetizers were Oysters Rockefeller, the main was Dover Sole Almandine with Potatoes Gratin, and the dessert was Baked Alaska. Despite all my years in the kitchen with Joe and all that he had taught me, I didn’t know what a single one of those things was.
What kind of pathetic clue was an old menu?
The last piece was an ancient playbill like the little posters you’d see around town for Harvest Festival, only this one featured a jazz band, the Smokers, in a club called Willa’s on Gerrard Street in Toronto.
And that was it. The sum total of me and all that I was, on three useless pieces of paper. Words were spoken by Mrs. Hazelton, many more words, but I heard only some of them. I was to receive a small suitcase, which would be filled with “items of necessity” donated by the nice church ladies. They had been working through the night. I knew from her tone that I was supposed to be filled with gratitude.
Gratitude eluded me. It eluded me even when she went to her shelves and extracted a book, Immortal Poems of the English Language. “Miss Webster said that you were always sneaking off with the library copy. This one is mine, Toni. Now it’s yours.” She placed it on my lap. It felt like a brick.
I didn’t thank her. I didn’t have any words. I will burn in hell.
“I know this is a shock, dear. Each of the Seven will have similar meetings with me. Each of you will have a journey ahead. That is, if you so choose.”
Choose? What choice? I may have said that part out loud.
Every so often, I stood and was told to sit again.
“Be very, very careful with the money. You mustn’t let anyone see it.”
I stood up.
“Sit down. Don’t talk to anybody at the bus station, especially men. This is important. I cannot stress that enough. Toronto is a big city and sometimes a dangerous one for pretty young girls. Certain types of men sometimes patrol the bus depot—bad men. You understand, dear?”
I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, but I nodded.
“You will be fine, Toni. You, my dear, are made for the world, a bigger world.”
Did I nod again?
Finally, it was over. I knew because I stood up and Mrs. Hazelton didn’t tell me to sit right down again. I walked over to her. She hugged me, and it felt like she would splinter in my embrace. But I didn’t want to let go.
There isn’t an orphan alive who isn’t hurting for a hug.