Chapter Sixteen

16

Anglican

Cowgirls

ELIZABETH & KATHERINE

With a firm stare into Katherine’s eyes, Elizabeth tilted her chin to indicate the monstrous wall of balcony, painting and elevator doors, “Isn’t this a lovely setting for your picture? You must feel fortunate to be here.”

It was the syrup in the voice that irritated Katherine. She’d not say a word about the rope holding up her painting, or about the petty stalling over payment, she had promised to be nice, but really…“I might, except for that godawful balcony. When does the cuckoo pop out?”

“We like it.” The syrup crusted. “Do you consider yourself an Expressionist then, or do we call this Realism, Miss Bailey.”

“Missus. They’re rocks, Elizabeth, hard rocks, the edge of the Shield, granite,” Katherine’s eyes stroked her hostess’s dress, “a lot of hard grey and quite a lot of glitter, quartz, feldspar, iron pyrites, you know, fool’s gold. The Great Northern Shield, you see.”

“Yes, I do know some of our geography and I suppose… Tom Thomson and those others with their trees and such… You’d consider this in the Canadian tradition then? Well, that’s safe. Thank heaven it’s not one of that muddy brown school, all log cabins and habitants in sleighs. You do have a husband then? Is he with you? And I understand from Martin that you’ve brought along others, quite the little reunion. I think I would have been happy to extend invitations had I known you expected to bring the whole family.”

With only a promise and no cheque in hand, Katherine was determined to hold her tongue, and rising instead on her toes to exercise her anger, searching the room for distraction, she spotted David’s fair head bent in attention to a group near the bar, “There, the tall blond by the bar,” evidence of no young women in his vicinity softened her voice, “That’s my husband, my David.”

PAUL & MAUDE & BENA
& KATYA & MARTIN & DAVID

“No, no, Bena, it’s true that I know Mrs Preston…” Paul ducked his head to Maude, “your sister… but it’s David here who invited me, that’s his wife’s painting up there. We’re old friends, David and I, I’ve never met the wife, always thought he was being a tease, he’s a terrible flirt.”

“So it’s your wife Lizzie has pinned to the wall for the sake of culture. Does she enjoy my sister’s sensitive beastliness?”

“You know, I’m not sure they’ve even met yet. It’s all been arranged by… There he is. Martin!”

Placing his empty glass with deliberate care and avoiding the barman’s eye, Martin selected two stems of wine, a red and a white with the air of considering another’s need, and answering to David’s call, allowed himself to be introduced as the invaluable connection between Art and Mammon. “No one likes a smart-alec, David. As a matter of fact they’re tête à tête over Meaning at this very moment.” Sarcasm constricted Martin’s throat and he had to pause in his drinking or choke, “George, Mr Preston, and I were dismissed and quite frankly I don’t care if the damned thing falls off the wall.” The red wasn’t bad, but the white was sweeter.

“George, Mr Preston, to where has he gone? I must be introduced in his bank.”

“Bena.” The worried, warning note in Katya’s voice went unnoticed by the others.

“Of course you must. He’ll be tickled.” Maude couldn’t remember having such fun and in the warmth of so much sociability had managed to slip her arms from her jacket to wear it capelike in admiration of her new friend’s style.

“He was off like a shot, probably needed a drink as much as I did. He should be… No, there he is, by the buffet. Good God, he’s talking to Mrs Sutherland. Look, David, Tillie, and that’s George Preston. She said she might find herself a man, a cuc to squeeze. Didn’t she?”

Bena’s topknot snapped in the direction of the buffet tables, “Missus Who? What is a cuc to squeeze?”

“A cucumber. She said she…”

“Marty!” David’s glare stopped him short.

With a moue to mock David, Martin apologized, “Sorry, I’m not allowed to repeat what the lady said. The lady is Mrs Sutherland, David’s grandmother-in-law, if there is such a thing.”

“Tillie? You said Tillie. Tillie Sutherland?” Something was nibbling at Maude’s memory as she sipped her scotch. “Your wife’s grandmother?”

“Yes, her mother’s here too, somewhere. Oh God!” David clenched his eyes shut, “I forgot all about her. I promised I’d be right back.” Opening his eyes, he nodded sheepishly, “You’ll have to excuse me, I left Bea with the coats.”

“Bea? Tillie?” Maude watched his back, sipped and remembered.

ELIZABETH & KATHERINE

Elizabeth was shocked, possibly mortified; this woman was married to that handsome young man she herself had almost fallen over in the Gallery, the young man who hadn’t bothered to join her in the Members’ Lounge when she had so generously offered sherry… Had she said anything? She hoped not… and whom she had seen being patted at by that young… Well, Good Lord, they’re at it again! It’s that Paul. Here. Now who invited… And those women, where… It’s that awful creature from the sidewalk, that dreadful gypsy! Good God, that’s my sister! “What’s going on here? Who let those people in?”

“I beg your pardon.” Katherine pulled back a step from the fury. “My husband came with me.”

“Oh, well yes, your husband, you’ll be lucky if he leaves with you, from what I’ve seen of him.” Too upset to notice or care for the effect of her words and noting the direction David took moving away from the group by the bar, Elizabeth added to the insult, “On his way to tour the washrooms from the look of it.”

GEORGE & TILLIE

George had thought a cracker a good idea. Feeling light-headed, he supposed adrenaline had pumped the scotch too quickly into his blood. It’s fear, George, same gut-dumping fear you felt whenever the Spit jumped into the sky, so have a cracker like you did in the cockpit, chew on the dryness and you’ll think yourself calm by the time you can swallow again. Have one of those brown rye things that looks like a porch mat. Maude can’t keep Bena and her friend occupied forever, you’re going to have to get them out of here. In a city this size, how could she have latched onto those two? The world’s too small, or God’s a nasty bastard. Well, you know that. Now there’s a handsome woman.

Swallowing a dry rasp of fibre, contemplating the remaining chunk of rusk in his hand, George spoke to the woman, “Do you suppose these things were invented as some cruel sort of protestant penance?”

Shifting her stick to a studied pose, Tillie looked the man over and stopped at his cracker, “Not catholic, are they? Terrible with wine. Thought up by somebody in a hard pew and worried about the consequences; Lutherans, I’ve always imagined. Have you sinned?”

“Unavoidably. I’m George Preston,” he swung a hand at the room, “this’s my wife’s affair.”

“Ah. Tillie Sutherland, how do you do.” With a graceful manoever of black stick and brown rusk, they shook hands. “That is my granddaughter’s painting on your wall.”

“Truly? Well, this is fortunate, I quite liked your granddaughter. You must be very proud of her. I’m afraid she’s less than pleased with us, with the hanging arrangements.”

“The rope.”

“Yes. I tried to explain to her that we’ve a rather difficult Board of Directors – it took some doing to convince them of the need for this new lobby; shuffling out of the nineteenth century looked like break-dancing to them – and they simply wouldn’t give permanent approval until they’d seen for themselves that none of our widows and orphans fled in horror. I suggested to Elizabeth, my wife, that she be more assertive, but that’s not possible.”

“Well, you know it’s really just old-fashioned, isn’t it? We used to hang pictures from a cord, as I remember, and young Martin has done a splendid job. It must have been quite the effort, ladders and whatnot, to reach that balcony. Rather a fanciful bit of decoration, that.”

“Actually, it’s meant to be used, though god knows what for. Our Brigadier Monteith insisted it be accessible – there’s an opening on the back to the elevator – in fact he insisted on the thing, period. I think he dreams of being proclaimed Governor General with a blare of coronets, King, possibly, when he’s three sheets away.”

“A private elevator?”

“No, the farthest one there. The button’s unmarked. There’s general agreement never to let Monteith see which one it is and he’s so used to having his buttons pressed for him it’s unlikely he’ll ever find it for himself. Can’t have him bungee jumping in banking hours.”

BEA

Oh, dear, where has David gotten to? He promised he’d be right back. Bea looked about her nervously, her determination softening on the edge of strangers. She almost patted her hair again, but pulled her hand down to help clutch her purse. Don’t draw attention, maybe they didn’t see the hat. Oh they did, of course they did. Where’s David? Where’s Mother? There. Oh, good heavens, with a man, eating and drinking and chatting him up. And laughing with him! She’ll make a fool of us. We have to leave. Holding her lip with her teeth, Bea headed for the buffet.

KATHERINE & ELIZABETH

In a gulp, Katherine sent wine chasing up to meet the vodka and the hatred smashing through her head. This bitch is a beast! A snob’s a snob, she can put her boots into me all she likes if she’s forking over enough cash, but she doesn’t get mouthy about my man and get away with it. “I think you’re very much mistaken, Mrs Preston. David is probably seeing to my grandmother and my mother, he’s a gentleman that way. Not something you’re familiar with, I expect. Your husband doesn’t know enough to remove his gloves.”

Stiff with fury, both women watched David take several steps, turn his head, alter direction and arrive smiling by the buffet.

“There. You see? My grandmother.”

“But that’s George.”

“Yes. Should be good for a lesson in manners. Hah, and there’s my mother.”

A knee tried to buckle, her nose tickled painfully, but Elizabeth managed a clear question, “That woman is your mother?”

“That’s the Bea.”

“Excuse me, I have…” Elizabeth tried a dim smile, a little wave of her hand, but her grey kid pumps broke into a trot and she was gone.

Another one who needs a diaper, Katherine thought, I hope she pisses herself.

BEA & DAVID
& TILLIE & GEORGE

“Bea, I’m sorry, are you all right? I’m sorry I took so long, I got waylaid by gypsies, found Paul though. Did you manage all right? Find the facilities?”

“Yes, David, never mind. Look, Mother’s right there, bothering some poor man and waving her stick about, I’ve got to take her home before she starts saying things we’ll all regret. Will you help? There’s no need to bother Katherine, she’s much too busy, we’ll just slide off and I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Oh, no need to worry about him, that’s George Preston, the man himself. Besides, you just got here, haven’t even had a look at the painting yet. Come on, let’s go meet him before Tillie puts the moves on him.” Placing an encouraging hand on her shoulder, David noticed the absence of the hat, “Hey, good move, you look great.” And steering her into her mother’s presence, he tipped his chin over her head winking at Tillie, “Mission accomplished. Now tell her she can’t leave yet.”

“Thank you, David. Beatrice, you can’t leave yet.” And turning with a smile, “Mr Preston, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Beatrice McAlpine, and her son-in-law, David Bailey.”

“A pleasure, how d’you do. You must be very proud of Katherine, your daughter, I assume, and your wife.” George shook hands and felt a trace of pity for this tense and nervous little woman who linked the rock to the hard place. The young husband looked comfortable enough, though tired for his age. “She’s very fortunate to have your support at a time like this. I know it’s a nerve-wracking business and friends are a help, but there’s nothing like family and that’s rare nowadays.”

“Speaking of family, I believe I just met your sister-in-law, Maude… Matthew, is it?” David noticed Tillie’s fists tighten with a jerk on her stick and he rested a protective hand at her back.

“Maude, yes, I’m delighted she could come, not often out and about these days, prefers her own company since her husband’s been gone. Actually, she preferred it while he was alive, for that matter.” George squeezed a dry, apologetic grin, “Pardon the candidness, but Harry was a pain.” These people made him garrulous, it must be the family thing. “I was quite surprised when she turned up, she tends to avoid Elizabeth, my wife, as much as possible – sisters, you know, it seems inevitable, worlds apart – but it seems she invited some friends of her own. My goodness, who, by the way, I must attend to.” His time was up, and feeling calm give way to fear again, he wondered where he’d put the remains of that miserable rusk.

“Oh yes, there’s an interesting woman… Bena, I think? who seems very eager to meet you.”
“Then you will have to excuse me. A pleasure. You must introduce yourselves to my wife. Excuse me.”