The hospital is sterile and cool as ever as she makes it through the tile hallways.
"Mrs. Ford, back from vacation are you!" The nurses call out to her. "I hope it was relaxing?"
"It was…it was chaos as it is with children," Rilla settles with and the young nurse laughs. "Matron is doing rounds, if you wish to catch up and figure out what to get into."
"I will thank you," Rilla says nodding her head. She takes a deep breath going back behind the doors that bring you to the nursery and recovery. Crying babies hit harder than she used to, and her stomach cramps slightly at the memory.
"Rilla! You are back," she sees the matron almost look at her with relief. "How was the island?"
"It was good thank you," Rilla tells her pausing, looking at a chart, heart stinging at the words as she put it down.
"Good, let's go sit in my office for a moment. Talk over things will go for the upcoming months?" She beckons Rilla to follow her.
"There is no need for that," Rilla tries to explain without explaining.
"Of course there is, one cannot have you showing on the floor. I saw your file after all, looks like the sickness isn't as bothersome this time?"
"Rachel, please—," Rilla starts. "There is no need…it…it didn't stick." She whispers as they were in a room of mothers who have been through hell.
"Oh!" the Matron says feeling like she stepped on a snake. "My apologies, I should have waited for you to come to me, or not for me to come to you."
"It's fine, I just…I don't want to talk about it if it's all right. I had excellent care while on the island and it's all over and has been dealt with."
"Of course," She says nodding her head as they continue on the hall. "I suppose being who you are makes it easy to work through such things."
"It doesn't make it easier at all, I had no choice, so I accepted it for what it was," Rilla tells her.
"At forty I believe one would call that a blessing," Rachel laughs lightly. "Christmas coming early is never fun or exciting. Men, you think they would just leave us alone?"
Rilla just harrumphs and shrugs a shoulder.
"Oh there is cake in the break room, and by the looks of it you can use some meat on your bones," Rachel tells her. "Just do your usual, room thirty-two has a mother with a stillborn, and fifteen is a young mother, honeymoon baby, who is terrified of having her first child. She actually asked where the baby comes out of?"
"What did you tell her?" Rilla's eyes and brows raise….surely…surely mothers prepared daughters better than this?
"Oh you know, the same way it got there My Dear," she says with a small crooked grin.
Rilla laughs lightly. "Really, I'm sure she wasn't terrified enough that wedding night and you tell her that?"
"She'll be fine Rilla, she's eighteen and a strong girl," the matron waves her off.
Eighteen…..four years older than her teenage daughter. Rilla could only wonder if this was a true honeymoon baby, or someone saving face. Rilla shutters at the thought of Rowena being married at fifteen, even Ollie! He was nearer to that age than Roe was!
"You should have taken a few days off and not gone back in immediately," Ken tells her as he watches her scrub at the blood in the bathroom sink later that day. "Clearly your body isn't ready for that yet."
"It's just some spotting, it happens." She tells him wringing out her underwear and rolling them into a towel.
"Faith told you to take an easy though." He reminds her gently.
"I'll spread out my shifts or make shorter ones," Rilla tries to compromise.
"Thank you," Ken says kissing her forehead. "Now can we talk about other things that need to be talked about, mainly school uniforms and start-of-the-year packages?" He asks cautiously.
Rilla sighs nodding her head, sitting down on their bed, pinning a napkin to a pair of clean panties before wriggling it over her hips as she stood up.
"They changed the uniforms and Rowena needs a bunch of new things, it can be mixed-matched for the year. Juniors are the same pinafores and blouses, sailor shirts and bloomers for physical education and play days."
"I'll get Lillian to help me," Rilla says simply, pulling on a new house dress and tying it at the waist. Looking at the old pillow that Artemis used to frequent, before sighing.
"We can get another cat," Ken says noticing. "When you're ready for one?"
"I just thought…I just thought she was there for a moment," Rilla says sighing. Pushing her hair back for a moment.
"Come here," Ken says trying to comfort her.
"I don't need…" Rilla growls at him.
"Fine then," Ken says stepping away from her, hands in the air. "I'll tell the children to be up and ready in the morning so we can get their school supplies over dinner tonight."
"Whatever you wish to do," Rilla tells him before leaving the room. She finds herself in the kitchen, Mrs. Clarke looks at her and passes her a teacup.
"Anything you wish for dinner?" She asks simply. "Now that you are appearing to feel better?"
"Anything you planned on is fine, you know I am far from picky," Rilla tells her. "I hope you didn't stock too much on things?"
"Nothing that wouldn't be used up for various things either way," Gloria waves her off as Ken comes into the kitchen. Children follow him as they fill him on their days.
"Are we going to go school shopping soon?" Rowena asks him as she hangs off his arm.
"Most likely, I believe Clara will need a bunch of new things," Ken says smiling.
"You mean I get to go to the store!" Clara exclaims.
"Of course," Ken says, eyes drifting towards his wife who set down her glass, almost too forcefully.
"Does this mean I get to go to school?" She asks clambering up to stand in her chair excited at the idea.
"Sit down Clara," Rilla tells her.
"I can't wait! Do you think I'll get to make Mr. Ribbit?" Clara says plopping down on her bottom once more.
"One day sure," Rowena tells her as she takes a bite of her breakfast. Making Ribbit the Frog was a rite of passage for young girls learning how to sew at Branksome Hall after all. In embroidery for their things, and as an easy plush toy to have for at home.
"Can I wear a pretty dress?" Clara asks.
"You can wear one of your tea dresses," Ken tells her, sneaking a look at his wife. "If your mother allows it." He adds on looking at Rilla.
"You can wear your polka dot one," Rilla relents with a sigh. "now eat dinner and then you can play outside for a bit before bathtime," Rilla tells her.
"It doesn't look good between the Chinese and Japanese that is for sure," Ken says from his spot at the table a few days later on a warm August morning.
"That doesn't sound good does it?" Rilla asked quietly.
"It's not ideal." Ken agreed with her as Oliver who was still in his pyjamas walked into the kitchen. His shoulders were hunched over as he made his way to the orange juice.
"Have you been up all night?" She looked over at her son that had dark purple circles under his eyes as if he hadn't slept.
"No," the teen shook his head. "I got at least four hours of sleep, I was reading A Brave New World," he said yawning.
"While I'm not entirely sure what that book is and I am sure your father is glad you enjoy reading. But staying up all night isn't good for you." Rilla tried to explain to him without sounding like she was trying to control his life.
"I'm up aren't I?" Oliver said under his breath as he took a bowl from the cupboard. Deciding at that moment he would start making pancakes. Mrs. Clarke was nowhere to be seen, but she had a sixth sense whenever someone tried to use her kitchen.
"The issue is that you need your sleep," Rilla gave him a look.
"Just leave him be Rilla," Ken said from behind his paper. "If he wants to spend the night reading, he's old enough to deal with the consequences, plus it's summer after all."
"I mean at least I'm not reading your Lady Chatterley's Lover or something?" Oliver said back to his mother as he measured out the flour into the bowl.
Ken folded his paper looking at his son. "I would watch that mouth young man," Ken told him as he tossed the Tuesday morning edition paper aside. "You know that talk isn't allowed in this house."
"Sorry Mom," he said to his mother albite it seemed painful for him to do as he was cracking an egg into a smaller bowl.
Mrs. Clarke who was patting her hair came in from her quarters. She briefly looked at the clock wondering if she had mistaken the time but it was only 7:30 in the morning.
"What are we making today young sir," she asked Oliver looking over his ingredients.
"Pancakes," he said yawning. She nodded her head and grabbed her large skillet and turned on the stove as you heard the scampering footsteps of Clara come down the stairs and into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of panties as she went straight to collect the milk from the back door.
"Hello dear girl, what have we told you?" Rilla caught her daughter.
"To not run around naked?" Clara said tilting her head. "I'm wearing underwear, I didn't want to get my dress dirty before we go shopping."
Ken choked down a laugh before he stood up and picked her up and hauled her over his shoulder. "I believe your mother means, that you need to wear at least wear pyjamas at the breakfast table and collect the milk?" he told her as he made his way back upstairs with her.
He brings her back down in her nightgown.
Clara was in amazement as Ken led them into Eatons, "Mommy it's so big," she says in amazement as she preens in her red and white polka dot dress. Her patent shoes tap on the tiles as she bounces as she walks.
"Come along, and don't touch things," Rilla says taking her hand, her hang bag in another. Rilla had dressed in one of her Sunday summer dresses, emerald green with polka dots with a matching belt. While Rowena was wearing a mint green delicate floral, cut with lace details around the neckline and pockets.
"Can we come here every weekend?" Clara says still in awe.
"There is no need to come here every weekend," Ken says laughing. "Your mother and sister would bleed me dry." He jokes.
"Oh yes, blame it on us," Rilla says rolling her eyes.
"Come along Clara and do not touch anything without asking," she says taking her child's hand.
"I'll go with Ollie to men's wear, you take the girls and we'll meet you in ladies' wear when we're finished?" Ken asks her.
"Sounds good," Rilla nods her head.
"I've never seen such a place, is there a section just for toys?" Clara asks in amazement as she looks around in wonder as Rilla beckons her along.
"There is, they have rows and rows of dolls," Rowena tells her. "And teddy bears, and of course all the Mr. Rabbits you could ask for."
"New shoes, underthings and stockings for you girls, a new school dress for when uniforms are required for something." Rilla rattles off mostly to herself.
"Can I have pink panties again?" Clara asks loudly, though luckily within ladies' wear. Where other mothers and ladies all chuckled to themselves at the loud declaration.
"Can get a satin bra?" Rowena asks hopefully. "All the girls have them lately."
"We'll see," Rilla tells her sighing. She understood the importance of pretty things, truly she did, but undergarments are far more scant these days compared to what they were when she was Roe's age and couldn't decide if girls Rowena's age needed such things.
When Ken finds her at the counter, with a stack of purchases.
"Do I want to know the total?" He asks raising an eyebrow.
"Never," Rowena laughs.
"I got new panties," Clara tells him tugging on his coat.
"Clara, one does not go around telling people such things," Rilla says shaking her head.
"But it's Daddy," Clara says tilting her head lightly.
Rilla sighs. "Still, Ollie you got everything on your list?"
"I do, we even looked at a new razor," Ollie said nodding his head, and for the first time, Rilla realizes how tall her son is. She always knew that he was tall, but she realizes at that moment he is towering beside her. To think she would have had another baby in a few months when her eldest natural born was already so grown?
The radio is on that morning, as it usually is these days but it's turned on to the CBC and Ken listens to it with dark shadows under his eyes. Rilla looking not better as she tries to get breakfast on the table for her children for the first day of school, the day after labour day.
War
War is all you hear about now, war is all you will be able to think about now.
The older children who are usually chattering are solemn and quiet, only Clara doesn't quite understand what war means truly and how the world is turning upside down.
"We don't have to go do we?" Clara asks.
"Only Men go to war," Rowena tells her as no one else seems to be answering her sister.
"You can't go, Jimmy! Please tell me you're not going!" She scatters to the young man and climbs into his lap. Hugging him as if it would make some sort of difference.
"Unless they call on me personally," Jimmy starts. "But right now Canada is not in it, so you don't have to worry just yet."
"No talk of that today please, Son," Ken tells him looking over from his adoptive son to his younger son. Knowing it was only a matter of time before Canada declared it would send men to help Britain. This time, he was not filled with some sort of need for glory, and the thought of his children living through a war did not make his feelings any better.
"No, you and Mum need to know that unless they draft me I will never join the war," Jimmy says shaking his head.
"I gotta go," Oliver says looking at the clock breaking into the talk of war. Then at almost sixteen, he didn't know what to make of it or how to feel about it yet. "See you when I get home mom, down at two-thirty this year, so I'll be home early," he says grabbing his things "Have a good day Clare-Bear," he tells his youngest sister with a ruffle to her hair before skipping out the back door.
"Come on, let's go get ready for school," Rilla tells her daughter as they push away their plates.
Rowena dresses herself of course, but Rilla does the tasks of braids and buttons to the plaid pinafore that was her youngest's uniform.
"You'll be good? Don't go around licking things and be polite and raise your hand," Rilla reminds her.
"Why are you crying?" Clara asks her mother confused.
"Because squirt she won't have you at home anymore," Jimmy says from the hallway.
"I don't like uniforms," Clara says looking in her little mirror. "Can't I wear my other clothes?"
"Sadly Branksome Hall prefers uniforms for their students," Rilla tells her as she ties the small necktie. "You'll have casual days, and weekends for other clothes. Come on we'll put ribbons and shoes on downstairs. Roe you almost ready?"
"Just fixing my hair," she calls out from her room.
"Leave the lipstick at home," Rilla reminds her knowing her daughter.
"Hold up there!" Ken calls out as Rowena comes rushing through the kitchen in her school bag and tucking her feet into her shoes.
"Is something wrong with my hair!" She says looking towards the mirror by the doorway. Her white sailor blouse and it's still undone and untucked.
"Where is your skirt!" Ken asks her and Rowena looks down at her thin cotton stockings that go and disappear under the skirt and her skirt.
"We shortened the hems?" she says reaching for another piece of toast at the table and chews loudly. She wipes her buttery hands on her skirt after licking them and moves to tuck in the shirt. Ken still in disbelief flips the skirt with his hand, seeing the familiar old white bloomers and the elastic of garters made him feel slightly better, but still! The skirt was far too short to be proper, it was well above her knee by at least four inches. Surely if she did anything other than stand her bloomers would be on display!
"Daddy!" Rowena shrieks, patting it down.
"Excuse me for making sure you still had bloomers on," Ken huffs.
"Ken leave her be," Rilla says trying to tie Clara's hair ribbons while walking.
"You cannot be al all right with that skirt?" Ken asks his wife almost dumbfounded when the children leave the house.
"It's a school skirt, and if they find it acceptable it's fine," Rilla says shrugging.
"She's fourteen, or well in two weeks and that skirt is practically indecent!" Ken says vehemently.
"She's a little girl and it's a school skirt," Rilla brushes him off grabbing her own thing to head off to the hospital after she drops off Clara of course.
"She's nearly fourteen, if anyone called you a little girl at fourteen you would have been indignant about it for a week," Ken give her a look. "Or are you saying you were a little girl when I kissed you all those years ago? You were only a year older?"
"That was twenty-five years ago and times have changed since my teenage years," Rilla tells him, rolling her eyes at his gruff father moment.
"Not by that much," Ken grumbles.
"Of course, I mean if you want to explain to her how you kissed her mother at fifteen and asked her to wait a war of four years. Then go ahead, dear but my main goal in life had been to get married, not school, not college. Rowena can do so much more than I could at practically fourteen which makes her ultimately younger than who I was at her age." Rilla tells him.
"No one was going to marry you at fourteen, let alone sixteen. Seventeen, eighteen? Possibly but I know boys her age and those skirts are just going to be problems.
"Well, that's their problem, not Rowena's," Rilla tells him kissing his cheek. "The skirt is fine."
"Mom come on! We'll be late," Rowena calls out from the front of the house.
"I'll see you later," Rilla looks at her husband.
"Wait a minute," he says crossing the tiles of the floor until he's there with her. He turns to his daughters and kisses Rowena on the forehead and crouches down to Clara.
"Have a good day sweetheart, listen to your teachers, and I'll pick up all right?" Ken says and then hugs her.
"We gotta go," Rowena urges them looking at the clock.
"I'll be one second, go outside," Rilla tells him looking at Ken. "If she gets sick—,"
"She won't get sick," Ken tells her. "Just enjoy this day, and take an easy please." He says quietly before he kisses her soundly, and rather surprised she allowed him to.
