CHANGE of HEART

...

Roy was wrong too. Perhaps not in the realm of Gilbert's complete and all-encompassing wrongness, but getting close to it. As Anne stood at the pier that morning and watched her bag get tossed in the boat, she began to feel afraid. She had never experienced a crossing that had gone wrong before. The thought of trying again with no hand to hold onto made her doubt herself.

This wasn't helped by the fact that the crossing would be made by the same two men who carried Roy's trunks. No one else was coming today. The crew of the Progress and Pilgrim announced it was pointless to try so soon when they were likely to strike the same patch of lolly. Though they had no trouble promising a considerable sum of money to the fools making a second attempt to get Her Majesty's mail across.

The recipients of that mail were arguing about how best to load it onto their much smaller boat, when Roy joined Anne on the pier.

"I've got something for you," he said, his hands behind his back.

Anne found herself hoping it was a ticket Roy was holding, and that he would tell her he had changed his mind and wanted to come with her.

"Wine?" she said, when he revealed his surprise.

"They didn't have champagne. Now think of a name–a good one," he said.

Roy beckoned a fellow in a thick woollen hat and a nose looked like it had been broken more than once. Anne watched them have a short conversation, which ended with the crooked-nosed man giving a shrug. He pulled the boat closer to where Anne stood. Roy handed her the bottle.

"Thought of a name yet?"

"Roy, I have no idea what–"

"We have to christen the boat. That's what the problem was yesterday. Boats with no names are very unlucky. I talked to Mr Dickens, here–"

"Dixon," the man said, wiping his nose over his sleeve.

"Dixon, yes, and got him to agree."

"I ain't agreeing," said Dixon, "it's a waste o' good booze if you ask me. But if it makes you feel better, little Miss, then by all means."

"Roy, we really don't need–"

"Come now Anne, you've always been good with names. What was the name of that little house? Dorothy mentioned it once or twice, said it was very romantic. Some sort of lodge, I think?"

"Echo," said Gilbert.

Anne had not seen him approach; his head was behind three canvas bags of mail. When he dumped them onto the pier the boards jumped beneath her feet.

"Blythe, so you are going after all?" If Royal Gardner had been the sort to roll his eyes, he would have done so now.

"My train doesn't leave till nine thirty, so I offered to help bring the mail. There's a massive backlog, if this boat wasn't crossing today nothing would make it in time for Christmas."

Anne wasn't sure who Gilbert was speaking to, he wouldn't look at her or Roy. If she didn't know better she would think he was addressing his nails, which he spent some time inspecting before retying one of his boots.

She got his attention pretty quickly when she smashed the wine bottle against the prow of the boat. The glass was thin and shattered into tiny pieces, the red wine splashing everywhere.

"You daft carrot!" Dixon scolded and gingerly got to his knees. "Murtagh, look here, that little Miss has only gone and covered the mail sacks in wine!"

Murtagh, who was a foot shorter and a foot wider than Dixon, pushed Anne out of the way and grabbed the sacks. He dropped them almost instantly. "What the hell is in these, bricks?" The sacks fell into the wine-red puddle and plopped onto their sides. "Open 'em, for Pete's sake, afore the wine gets in!"

Dixon and Murtagh busied themselves with the drawstrings and pulled out wads of letters and parcels. Anne stood over them, mortified, wishing the earth would swallow her up like the snow soaked up the wine.

"Don't put it there," she heard Dixon shout, "snow's just as bad!"

Roy tutted, Gilbert was chuckling, or at least he had been before a frown twisted his features and he dropped down beside the two men.

"Let me help," he said, grabbing hold of a small parcel.

"Git your mitts off, that's Her Majesty's property," said Dixon pulling it out of Gilbert's hands.

The Captain of the Pilgrim joined them, and started tutting too. "I'm a right fool to trust this job to you two."

"But you're going to, aren't you," said Dixon tersely, "cause you're too lily-livered to do it yerself!"

The Captain pushed Dixon, Dixon pushed back, and then the fists came out.

"Give 'em a wide berth," Murtagh warned, kicking the shards of glass away. "This could get nasty."

Nasty was an understatement. Soon the two men were rolling around on the pier, laying their fists wherever they could get in a swing. Anne couldn't tell what was blood and what was wine, but it ended almost as quickly as it started when Dixon rolled off the pier and hit his head on the ice.

Gilbert was about to jump down and help him, when to his amazement, the Captain shoved him out of the way and got to him first.

"What on earth is going on?" Roy demanded, shielding Anne behind him.

Murtagh gave a viscous laugh. "Ah, this always happens, least once a week. They're cousins," he added, as if that would explain.

"Well that's it, then," Roy said, pulling Anne away from the scene. "Looks like the crossing is off today, and tomorrow too by the look of Dickens' head."

Anne looked to Murtagh. Murtagh spat into the snow.

"Well, I'm going. With or without you, little Miss. I need this payday."

Anne clutched Roy's hands and held them tight. It was dawning on her that the only thing worse than attempting a crossing this morning, was taking the train back to Kingsport with Gilbert on one side of her and Roy on the other.

She stood close to him and went up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. "Come with me, please Roy, I'm asking you to come."

Roy stood tall. He rarely made use of his full height and tended to stoop for the ladies, now he threw his head up and puffed his shoulders out.

"Absolutely not."

His dark eyes flashed to Gilbert as he said this. Gilbert was tying his other boot. Dixon was up, his arm slung round the Captain's shoulders. When he reached the pier, he murmured something about wishing that wine bottle was still intact.

Murtagh shook his head and kept sorting through the mail, throwing anything dry and unstained into a large oilskin bag. "Got room for more cargo, thanks to you," he muttered as Dixon wobbled by him. "Go on, git yerself to bed, you lazy badger."

The Captain pulled his cousin away and headed for the Hotel. Gilbert remained on his knees and gathered up the spoiled mail. He said he would take them to the ticket office in order to get them dry. Murtagh grabbed him by his coat collar and plucked several parcels out of Gilbert's hands.

"These can come with me," he said. "I got plenty of room now I've lost me one passenger."

"You can't go alone," Gilbert objected, "there's strict rules about that."

"So, come along. I could use a good hand," said Murtagh, sizing him up. "You proved pretty useful yesterday, and I wouldn't mind another man at the oar."

Gilbert looked to where Anne was standing, then back at the mail in the boat. If they weren't going, and Roy was doing a good job of persuading Anne they would not, then he might as well. More importantly, it was the only way for him to get his hands on that parcel. Inside it was a certain pink enamel heart. Gilbert recognized it immediately, and desperately wanted it back.

"Let me get my bag," he muttered, and dashed past Anne and Roy, who were still in deep discussion at the edge of the pier.

Anne's eyes followed Gilbert as he went. He didn't even say goodbye.

…

Gilbert sprinted back to the hotel, hurled a couple of bills on the counter and grabbed his bag. The boat was setting off at eight, and it was five minutes to. As he passed the ticket office he remembered he hadn't bought a ticket. He careened into the office and almost collided with Roy, who was purchasing tickets for this morning's train.

Gilbert stood behind him, pulsing jumpily, as Roy enquired about a first-class carriage. Gilbert smiled grimly as he heard this. Of course, they would be travelling back to Kingsport first class. He could buy a third-class ticket and never see either of them.

As Roy continued his enquiries about what sort of fare would be served, Gilbert thought over his decision. He could go back to Kingsport. He had a whole lot of work he could be doing, and his mates at the boarding house would be glad of his company. They had even planned a New Year's Party, and gave him a good-natured ribbing when he suddenly announced he couldn't make it. It surprised him when he said this, the hollowed out feeling he had gotten so used to felt a little less hollow at the thought of going home. It would be good to be taken care of for a change, and even better to give his mother a chance to do it. She never said so, but he knew she missed him, as she had missed him last summer and the Christmas before. His father missed his presence too. He was much older than his mother, older even than Marilla. His back was troubling him, not that he said. Gilbert knew this from Fred, who had mentioned in his letters that John Blythe was getting behind on this or that, and was too proud to ask for his help.

Roy had finished with his business and dawdled by the door. Gilbert bought his strap ticket then wondered why he bothered, he knew he would end up helping Murtagh row the boat.

As he was thinking this, Murtagh bowled in with an overflowing mail sack in his arms.

"Didn't have as much room as I thought I would. If yer coming, lad," he said to Gilbert, "be quick about it."

Roy harrumphed loudly when he heard this, and continued hanging around the door. Murtagh shoved by him and told Gilbert he would be leaving with or without him at eight o'clock on the dot.

"It might please you to know," Roy announced, "that Anne and I have parted ways."

Gilbert had been following Murtagh out the door, and let it close with a slam. He didn't understand what Roy was saying, and assumed this was his roundabout way of explaining why Anne was not with him.

"Good to know," he said, touching his cap, "good day."

"Good day? I tell you Anne and I ended things and you tell me to have a good day?"

"Ended things?" Gilbert's eyes went to the clock by the counter, then to a young girl opening the bag of mail. She pulled out thick wads of letters and began slotting them into pigeon holes.

"Don't act surprised," said Roy, "I'm not a total fool, you know. You just happen to turn up at the Harbour, and now you just happen to change your mind about crossing the Strait?"

Gilbert was only half listening, he was torn between following Murtagh and giving into a pathetic impulse to buy a ticket to Kingsport so that he could follow Anne.

"What'll I do with the big mail, Gracie?" the girl at the counter shouted. "They don't fit into the slots."

"Let's talk about this somewhere private," Roy suggested, taking Gilbert by the arm.

Gilbert lurched back, Roy had lost almost all his attention now, as he saw his parcel–the parcel that should be on the boat–being thrown into a box on the counter. The clock chimed loudly. Roy tried again to lead Gilbert away.

"Listen Gardner, I'm sorry, I am." There was a measure of truth to what Gilbert said, despite his growing distraction. "But Anne is, well she's… she's…" He tried to reach for the right words while his fingers reached for the box.

"Clearly my pain doesn't interest you," he heard Roy say over his shoulder.

The pain in Roy's voice was obvious, and was confirmed when Gilbert turned, somewhat reluctantly, and saw tears in the man's dark eyes.

"Come now, Gardner–Royal. I am sorry, but it won't do any good feeling sorry for yourself. If you want Anne, if you truly love her, then go to her, fight for her."

Roy hastily wiped his face. "I can't, she's gone, it's over. She made her choice and I had to make mine, there was simply no reasoning with her."

Gilbert was getting impatient. The boat was probably on the ice by now, and that parcel was inches from his grasp. He wanted this conversation to be over. Why was it up to him of all people to make Royal Gardner feel better? Maybe on another day, yes, they might go back up to the Hotel and commiserate together. But Anne was still here, she was going back with him on the train, and Roy was wasting his time sulking.

"Roy, I've got to go, and you should go too. Go to Anne–talk with her."

"I can't." Roy sounded bereft. "She's gone."

Gilbert's hand touched against the parcel then he swivelled on his heel. "What do you mean, she's gone? Where has Anne gone, Roy?"

"She's on the boat with that Murtagh fellow. She wanted to go to the Island."

"You let her go alone?" The parcel crumpled under Gilbert's fingers. "Get out of my way," he yelled, pushing past Roy, "I can't believe you let her go off alone, what were you thinking, why didn't you tell me!"

He stumbled down the iced-up steps and pelted down the street, his bag completely forgotten.

Roy stood in the open doorway, oblivious to the dark looks the girl was giving him about letting out all the heat. "That's what I was trying to do," he said.

…

Gilbert got as far as the pier before the Captain nabbed him. The man was already in a foul mood after wrestling with his cousin. Having a young girl yank him away from a well-earned toddy sent him almost apoplectic. He waddled down to the Pier on gouty feet and spied the thief near a small covered wagon hiring ice-skates. There was Gilbert, frantically trying to lace one over his knee-high boots.

The Captain stood over him. "That him, Agnes?"

Young Agnes nodded yes.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," said the Captain. "You're a biggun, I give you that, but I play dirty, 'specially when it comes to Her Majesty's mail. So, hand it over nice and easy, and you can make your statement at the station."

Gilbert waved him out the way and started tying his other boot. This was an obvious case of mistaken identity, and he didn't have time to sort it out.

"One last chance," the Captain said. "It'd be a real shame to ugly up your pretty face."

"For what?" Gilbert stood, and tested the straps at his ankles. "Listen, I'd like to help, I really would, but I am trying to catch the mail boat. It only left ten minutes ago, and I've scoured the route we took yesterday and can't see it anywhere. There's no way one man can pull the boat further than my line of sight in ten short minutes. Where the hell is it?"

"Don't you sass the Captain!" said Agnes, who was latched onto to the fat man's coat tails. "I saw you take a parcel from the box on the counter. I saw you!" She poked out her pink tongue and kicked Gilbert's shin for good measure.

"Hold on, what do you mean one man?" the Captain demanded. "You mean Murtagh's gone off in the boat alone?"

"He has a passenger," said Gilbert shaking himself free. "A young woman–"

"A female?" The Captain's face began to pulse in odd places. "Which makes it even worse! Why that Murtagh, if I get my hands on him–"

Gilbert huffed. "Can I go now?"

The Captain ignored this and asked Gilbert if had been hired as one of the crew. Agnes was about to take great pleasure in announcing he was not, that she had sold a him a strap ticket same as the day before, when Royal Gardner trotted cautiously over the icy pier.

"Blythe, you're still here!"

He was holding his reindeer coat in his arms and had a canvas sack of mail strapped to his back. He threw it off and brought his head to his knees, panting heavily, while the Captain and Gilbert stared at each other with expressions of mutual confusion.

"I brought your coat," Roy said between puffs, "and your mail. That parcel you took," he looked up at Gilbert, his eyes wide with meaning, "it must have fallen out of this sack."

As far as cover stories went it wasn't very subtle, Gilbert almost expected Roy to wink. The Captain peered at Agnes, who now looked as though she wasn't so sure about her recent accusation. What she did know was that the posh man with the hoity-toity voice sure did tip a lot, and thought perhaps if she went along with his story she would probably get more than the last tuppence.

"My mail. Ah–yes," Gilbert said, straight-faced, "and my coat. Thank you, Gardner."

He slipped the reindeer coat over his own. It was very heavy but also wonderfully warm. Roy was about to offer his balaclava too, when the Captain decided to do a bit more digging.

"Say Blythe, are you really an oarsman?"

"Say Captain," Gilbert responded, "did you really allow a lone man to take a boat out on the ice?"

"All right, all right, get going, smart arse."

The Captain slapped him hard on the back. Gilbert barely felt it through the reindeer fur, and would scarcely have cared if he did. Foremost on his mind was working out how Murtagh got so far, and how he was going to catch up. This was explained soon enough. Murtagh was taking a longer route with a detour two miles east. He was gambling on missing the lolly that way, which was why he set off an hour earlier.

"Look there," said the Captain, his finger like a dimpled grub as he pointed to a stretch of ice in the shadow of a ridge. "Like ants on a tablecloth. That's Murtagh and your girl."

Gilbert bristled.

"She is not my girl," he said to Roy, as the Captain departed with Agnes (who now had a whole sovereign in her pocket).

Roy ignored this and hoisted the sack of mail onto Gilbert's shoulders. "I must say I'm relieved I got to you in time. Didn't you hear that minx scream 'thief'? You were about to find yourself in a right to-do. I really had to think quick."

He was looking very proud of himself, though he wore it like a consolation prize. While he had been a fool to let Anne go, Royal Gardner proved his wisdom by helping Gilbert get to her now.

"You can have your coat back," said Gilbert, not sure what else to say.

"Take it please. It's the least I can do. I would offer to go with you but I would only slow you down."

"Well, you could…"

"It's quite all right, I know my limits," said Roy, "I've made quite a hash of it, all things considered. Still, you can't blame a man for trying, particularly for a prize like that."

Gilbert had been staring out to the ridge, now he turned back and frowned. He didn't want to talk about Anne anymore, what he wanted was to get to her. "Look, I've gotta go. I've got half a mile to make up and I don't even know how much use these skates will be. But I want you to know, Gardner, I appreciate what you did for me just now."

"Oh," Roy picked up a crumpled parcel by Gilbert's feet, "mustn't forget this one," and he tucked it into the mail bag on Gilbert's back. "Now off you go!"

Gilbert gave him a salute and climbed from the pier onto the shore ice. He skated a few feet before he circled and waved back at the tall man watching him.

"Hey Gardner," he called, "you want me to pass on a message?"

"No," Roy called back, then, "oh yes! Tell Anne she must be sure to name the boat!"

…

I had to post this right on the heels of the one I posted last night because I am about to paint my bathroom ceiling. See you again tomorrow, when Gilbert finally catches up with Anne :o)