Chapter 4
No One Knows You Better Than Me!
Sister Evangelina had to slog her way through the pouring rain pushing her bike because of a flat tyre all the way back to the convent from the Canada Tendaments. With a pause she takes a deep breath and ups the steep incline to the bike sheds. She notices that all of the bikes are out but Chummy's. She passes Peter on the stairs, "Good Afternoon Constable." "Good afternoon Sister." She removes her tunic in the main hallway and hung it to dry glad that she'll have a bit of peace and quiet before Compline and sets off to find a slice of Mrs. B coffee cake. As she rounds the corner heading into the kitchen she notes heavy trodden footsteps caked in mud across the floor heading through the gardens disappearing into the boiler room. There could be only one man who could make such a mess, and that's Fred.
"Fredrick Buckle." She follows the footsteps and up to the boiler room only to see him in his coveralls drenched and caked in mud. "You better explain why you've messed the hallway and kitchen floors again?"
Fred gave a perplexing glance towards the door through to the kitchen then back to the nun not really seeing the problem. "I was cleanin' the pigs' pen and collectin' the pigs' dirt for compostin' the garden. Then rains came down fast and I got out of there just in the nick of time. Then the boiler was clangin' like usual and thought to clean it out only to find you here." That's a perfectly reasonable argument he thought.
"Fredrick, I am warning you, gets that mess cleaned up before Sister Julienne comes back. And fix the boiler."
She retires to the kitchen and searches each tin until she does come across one slice of coconut cream cake. She could hear the clanging and clattering in the back room among a few choice words leaving Fred's mouth. Once he had figured out the problem with the boiler he quickly tidied his area, places his tools away and leaves the room closing the door behind him.
"Don't forget the floor, Fred." She points out with a piece of cake at the end of her fork, and then takes a bite.
"I'm gettin' too it." He quips back.
Cynthia enters the front door, wind whistling now and rain sheeting away. With a force she slams the door shut. "Oh hello Chummy!" Both women walk together in unison.
"Young Sir and I wish to offer some help, one can get bally alone up there." She held the bassinette with a sleeping Freddie.
"Chummy that's awfully good of you." Cynthia comes across the medical supply room and opens her case replenishing her equipment and supplies then closes it back up again. "How about answering the phone?"
They enter the kitchen only to see Fred moping it up while Sister Evangelina sits there eating here cake. "Oh good Sister, glad to see you, Sister Julienne needs you, she said the twins are stubborn, 9 hours now and counting. She's asks for you."
"Chummy can stay and answer the phone, she's asked to help." Cynthia cuts through the kitchen checks the teapot notes it's already steeped and pours herself and Chummy a cup.
Fred looks at Chummy, "Why so glum Chum?"
She straightens herself into the kitchen chair does it really show she's feeling a bit down? "It's just the bally bad weather we're having and poor Peter is walking the beat today." That is a very small trickle of fear she actually felt. The other fear was how she can be a mother if she's this morose every little thing sets her off. Cries at a drop of a hat.
"FREDRICK NOW!" bellows Sister Evangelina from the front of the house she's clearly ready to go but her bike tyre needs fixing.
He turns to facing them walking backwards stepping cautiously as he went, avoiding knocking anything over in the hallway. "Chum, we need you back, us the Cubs Scouts." He taps her head with the tyre pump and pivots to turn facing the front of the house and leaves with a heavily gaited step.
With the house quite again the two sit in the parlor drinking tea and just watching little Freddie sleeping away. Chummy was well known to worry and yet she could always produce a smile but right now Cynthia saw how down her friend was.
"Does your scar hurt?" she asks Chummy.
"Only a twinge here and there, if I reach too far or twist the wrong way, sends shooting pain through my spine and down my legs." She eyes her friend.
"Oh, Chummy, do see the doctor if you feel it still, that pain shouldn't feel that badly now."
"Don't tell Peter, whatever you do. He doesn't need more worry." Chummy didn't feel like talking about it anymore.
"Tell me how you feel?" Cynthia presses Chummy on. "Have you and Peter been intimate again?"
There wasn't any other way to get to the point.
"I dislike my scar, it makes me feel weak."
"Don't cry Chummy." She finds a hanky for her friend. "It's not a weakness. You could have died, you had to have it."
"I don't think he'll want me anymore."
"Peter loves you – "she didn't get to finish her sentence because Chummy stood and left the room with her baby in her arms.