Chapter 103

From the Journal of Elaine Hartley Jan. 31, 1939

I wish that I could work up the nerve to tell Mom and Dad about my breakup with Hugh. I just know that they will think that the whole thing is my fault for wanting a career. I'll say this much for them though. They may not always tell me what I want to hear, they may even be mistaken sometimes, but at least they don't lie to me.

I did tell Hub about Hugh and I being finished. I couldn't stand having it on my chest anymore and needed to tell someone even if that person wasn't family. It was nice of him to offer me a clean rag to wipe the sweat from work off my brow before I told him. I was still sure that he thought that Hugh was right, that I should quit trying to be a mechanic and stick to babysitting. His reaction wasn't what I expected. He just looked at me thoughtfully and said, "I've worked with you. I know that you're a good mechanic and the more cars you repair, the better you get at it. Once and for all, I think you ought to be able to have a career as a mechanic if you want one."

I'm sure I stared at him as though he had grown an extra head out of his elbow. "You do?"

He flashed me that impish grin that always set off my temper. "I've been trying to tell you that for a month, but you always cut me off. It's nice of you to actually finish a conversation with me for a change."

Any temptation I felt to blow my top vanished in confusion. "I thought you agreed with Dad that the only women who should have careers are old maids and widows with children to look after."

At this point, his grin had become less impish and more sympathetic. "I'm not him. My mom, my grandmother, and my aunt all worked before they lost their husbands. None of them are any less feminine or any less fine human beings."

I couldn't have felt lower, misjudging him that way for so long. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't think that just because you agree with Dad on some things that you agree with him on everything." I extended my hand to him. "Friends?"

He took my hand and shook it. "Friends."

Grace Mainwaring to Sally Henry, Feb. 1, 1939

… I can't believe that I actually felt my baby move. There are no words for the sheer wonder and joy of it. I really am going to bring a life into this world. It is only a matter of time before the flutter beneath my heart becomes a tiny, helpless, wriggling thing that will depend on me for everything. The thought of that responsibility fills me with a profound sense of awe. If I know one thing, it is that, if I have anything to do with it, my child will have a much easier and happier life than mine has been.

… Mother is more upset than I am about the efforts of Mrs. Grady and Mrs. Hartsfield to keep me away from the welcoming ceremony for their majesties because they believe that my support of the Spanish Republic makes me far too controversial. Three years ago, I would have been outraged. Since then, I have learned that there are worse kinds of heartbreak and greater concerns than missing a royal visit.

From the Journal of Elaine Hartley Feb. 3, 1939

There really is a Grace Mainwaring. Not that I didn't know that before but hearing Hub's stories and meeting her in the flesh are two different things. I wasn't expecting the bitter, homely old maid mom and dad are always telling me I'll turn into if I live the life of a career girl. However, Hub didn't tell me that she was so glamorous.

The woman Hub introduced to us at supper was an attractive blonde who could have passed for an older but still lovely department store model. Her traveling suit was stylish. So was her hair. Lots of girls are starting to wear theirs long these days, me included, but if a bob suited me as well as it does her, I wouldn't change it either.

Apparently, she really has been a radio announcer and spent four months as a company president. She had a lot of stories about how radio stations work, some of them pretty funny and some of them pretty scary. I had no idea that live remotes could be so hazardous. She might have been safer disguising herself as a man and going off to war with her husband. Either that or seeing if the Three Stooges need a female fourth stooge.

She couldn't have been warmer or more friendly to me. She seemed very interested in my desire to become a mechanic. She even confessed that she wished that she knew more about cars herself. She knows how to check fluid levels and even changed a tire once, but, for anything beyond that, she has to call in Hub's old boss, Ollie Jefferson.

Hubert Bailey to Max Sutton, Feb. 3, 1939

It was swell of Aunt Grace to take time to visit me before she returns to Toronto to meet with Mr. Garnett to consult with him about Van's investments. She has certainly made a hit with the Hartley household.

… Mr. Hartley is glad to hear that the Silverdome Mining Company and the Alawanda Lumber Company have both expanded their production capacity to meet the demands of rearmament. He is also glad that a solid businessman like Ernest Smith who knows the lumber trade will be staying on as president at Alawanda until next fall at least. Mr. Smith has even told Aunt Grace that he is willing to stay on for the duration if war comes. With a son in the army already, he feels obligated to do his part.

Aunt Grace insisted on hearing about everything my friends in the RCNVR and I have been doing. All of us are very serious about our training. We exercise hard on the drill deck, study hard in the classrooms, and practice our shooting constantly on the target range. We study the scale model of our division's whaling boat. Then we march out to the dock at Bay St. to put what we have learned into practice on the real thing.

Mr. Hartley was nice enough to say to Aunt Grace that he hears nothing but good things about me from his friends among the Hamilton Division officers. I wasn't aware that they thought more of me than any other rating.

Of course, Elaine couldn't keep from asking Aunt Grace about her journey to Spain as though it were a picnic at the beach. Mr. and Mrs. Hartley insisted that she didn't have to say anything about it if she didn't feel like it. They understood that bringing her husband's body back from a war zone might be a painful subject. She thanked them for being so considerate but assured them that she was willing to answer Elaine's questions.

I give the girl credit. She didn't ask Aunt Grace about how much fun she had walking through casualty wards and having bombs dropped on her. She did ask if she had met any communists in Barcelona. Aunt Grace's answer shocked everyone, including me. I had no idea that she met La Pasionaria face to face.

… Elaine listened avidly. I don't think her parents appreciated her remark that she was inspired by what she had heard. "If I can't be a mechanic, maybe I should go into politics. At least I'd be doing something important instead of keeping a house." She turned to Aunt Grace. "Do you really spend time doing something that boring?"

Mr. Hartley gasped, and Mrs. Hartley looked very hurt. Before either of them could say anything, Aunt Grace lived up to her name. Smiling warmly, she raised her hand to signal them to keep quiet and then spoke mildly to Elaine. "I've kept my mother's house since our housekeeper left during the Great War to build airplanes in Toronto."

I couldn't resist putting my oar in. "She even writes a housekeeping column these days."

Elaine was irritated at the reminder. "I know. You've told me before." She turned to Aunt Grace. "Why do you do that? Hub showed me your editorial on the Prime Minister's call for rearmament. You could be the next Dorothy Thompson."

"It's kind of you to say so. I hope I will get to write more on public affairs in the future. However, without housework, we'd all be living in pigsties and eating nothing but canned soup and frozen vegetables from supermarkets. Delicious, healthy meals like the one your mother cooked for us tonight would be impossible." Aunt Grace turned to Mrs. Hartley. "Your bread pudding was heavenly? Could you possibly let me have the recipe?"

Elaine looked on slack jawed as Mrs. Hartley promised to write it down for her. Aunt Grace promised to give her the recipe for those incredibly buttery scones she makes. I think Mrs. Hartley got the best of the deal.

Elaine looked on at a complete loss for words. She just looked at her mother as though she were seeing her for the first time. If her father's look of satisfaction hadn't been so smug, maybe she would have said something.

I took Aunt Grace up to my room to show her my uniform.

Next week: A fine young man. Bitter memories. Elaine's joy.