“Where is that blasted ribbon?” she muttered the following morning. The last thing she needed was to be late for her first day of school.
Katie’s cat, Pussy, must have knocked it down or taken it with him on one of his many nightly prowls. He was an aggressive little thing, but a good mouser who would often cuddle with Maud when she was writing. Pussy didn’t have much use for humans, the only exceptions being Maud and Katie, even if the latter loved to pull on his long black tail.
Wherever it was, Maud’s ribbon was not on her bureau, and she was running late. Edie had gone downstairs to help with breakfast, Annie was going to be there any minute, and it had already taken Maud too long to fix her corset.
What was she going to do? Given her recent conversation with Mrs. Montgomery, she had to wonder what would be worse: going back on her word to wear her hair down or being late for school? She suspected that not being able to find a ribbon for one’s hair would be a sorry excuse for tardiness. Hopefully Mrs. Montgomery would understand.
Maud tied her hair in a bun, liking the effect. With her corset accentuating her waist, her ring against her shirt, and her new fringe bangs, she could almost pass for one of those drawings she admired in the Young Ladies’ Journal.
When Maud came down to the kitchen, she noted how much more active it was compared to the reserve of her grandparents’ home. Annie was talking with Mrs. Stovel, Mamma’s niece, who had come by to discuss the forthcoming church dialogue. Maud had done them in Cavendish—it was like a play, only with a religious moral—and she thought it might be a good way to get to know people, and to get out from under what was quickly becoming Mrs. Montgomery’s suffocating supervision. Mrs. Stovel was just recently married and very enthusiastic about the church and being involved. She had encouraged Maud to take part in the church’s concert “as there was never enough young people.”
Edie was serving breakfast while Maud’s stepmother was doing her best to listen to Mrs. Stovel and help Katie, who was more interested in putting porridge in her hair than in her mouth. Father was absorbed with the paper, completely oblivious to the noise around him.
If Maud had hoped that all the activity would distract Mrs. Montgomery from the hair situation, she was deeply mistaken. Mrs. Montgomery did notice, and glared at Maud as though she had broken one of the Ten Commandments.
“I see you added your own flare to my advice,” Mrs. Montgomery said.
“Nice fringe bangs, Maud,” Annie said, linking arms with her. “You are now perfect.”
Maud smiled in gratitude and said, “I was looking for my ribbon, but I think that it fell behind the bureau, or Pussy has taken it.”
“That’s her excuse? The cat ate it?” Mrs. Montgomery murmured. She picked up a dirty Katie and left the kitchen. While her stepmother’s reaction came as no surprise, it bothered Maud that something so trivial upset her.
Saying goodbye to Father, the three girls headed out.
Only a year before, she had been nervous about what her old classmates (and a certain boy) were going to think about her. Now Maud was worried about what kind of first impression she was going to make on a new teacher in a new school in a new town with new schoolmates.
As the three girls walked down the street, they passed a few men huddled, shuffling, in Hudson’s Bay blankets. One of them looked directly at Maud, his brown eyes seeing right through her. She looked away, but Edie didn’t.
Maud turned back to see the Hudson’s Bay blanket disappear around the corner and remembered something that Prime Minister Macdonald had said on the train, and had even appeared proud of: that he was keeping the Indians on the verge of starvation as a way to teach them a lesson. At the time, she hadn’t quite understood what he meant, but, now, seeing these men, it troubled her.
“The high school was once a hotel,” Annie said, quickly forgetting about the starving men. The girls stood in front of the building that currently housed the high school while the new one was being built. It was two storeys tall, brown, and bleak. “They haven’t even considered taking down the sign,” she went on, referring to the big rectangular wooden board that read “Royal Hotel.”
“It’s…quite something,” Maud said.
“Don’t be surprised if it appears the classrooms are being used for other things.” Edie giggled.
“Other things?” Maud said.
“It’s better if we show you.” Annie smirked, pulling her toward the building.
It was certainly grander than the Cavendish school, or even the Cavendish Hall. There were a few boys playing outside, about twelve or thirteen—maybe fourteen—years old, roughly kicking a ball around. Normally, Maud wouldn’t mind playing with the boys, but these ones were different. It was the way they played: deadly serious, as though the game wasn’t just for sport.
“Are we the only girls?” Maud asked.
Edie and Annie exchanged a look.
“Some girls come and go,” Annie said.
As they climbed up the wooden steps, Maud was impressed by the size of the building. On one side of the hall, they passed a room that was so dusty and full of cobwebs Maud wondered if anyone cleaned it at all.
“The Town Council room is upstairs.” Annie pointed up and put her hand over her mouth so Maud and Edie had to lean in. “The back of the building contains patrol quarters where two or three Mounties guard jail cells.”
“Jail cells!” If Grandma knew this, Maud was sure she would come out here and drag her home by her hair, or send her to the convent school—Papist institution or not.
“I’ve seen them drag drunken men through the town and lock them up until they’re sober,” Edie said.
“Will they be doing that during school?” Maud said.
“If they have to,” Annie said.
“Unbelievable.”
“Not what you expected, is it?” Edie asked.
Maud shook her head. Not what she had expected at all.
Maud was even more disappointed when she saw the state of the classroom. Unlike her old school—which always smelled of lemon water and fresh cedar—this one smelled of dust and sod.
“No one thought to dust,” Maud said, taking a handkerchief to a chair near the window.
“Oh, aren’t we a pretty little thing,” one of the boys who had been playing outside said as he sat down. His face was filthy.
“Didn’t anyone tell you that you should wipe your face for school, Tom Clark?” Annie said.
Tom Clark wiped more dirt across his face and grinned. If Miss Gordon were here, she would have sent him home.
Then another boy, about twelve years old, with blond hair and freckles, who Annie called Willie MacBeath, winked at them. At least he was a little cleaner.
“He prides himself on getting ladies with his charm.” Edie giggled.