Mavis Gallant - Across the Bridge

“Maybe they weren’t expecting a child. It was too much for them,” her mother said.

“Give us a break,” said Ray. “Mrs. Fenton wasn’t in any shape to look after him. She had her mother down from Toronto because she couldn’t even run the house. They’ve got this D.P. maid always threatening to quit.”

“Does he mind having his mother-in-law around the whole time?” said Nora.

“He sure doesn’t.” Nora thought he would add some utterly English thing, like “She’s got the money,” but Ray went on, “She’s on his side. She wants them together. The baby’s the best thing that could happen.”

“Maybe there was a mistake at the hospital,” said Nora’s mother, trying again. “The Fentons got some orphan by mistake and their own baby went to the home.”

“And then the truth came out,” said Nora. It made sense.

“Now when you’re over there, don’t you hang out with that maid,” Ray said. “She can’t even speak English. If somebody says to you to eat in the kitchen, I want you to come straight home.”

“I’m not leaving home,” said Nora. “I’m not sure if I want to go back to their place after tomorrow.”

“Come on,” said Ray. “I promised.”

“You promised. I didn’t.”

“Leave your dress on the ironing board,” said her mother. “I’ll do the pleats.”

Nora switched off the iron and went to stand behind her father. She put her hands on his shoulders. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not going to let you down. You might as well throw your hand in. I saw Maman’s.”

3

Obliged to take the baby from Nora, Missy now held him at arm’s length, upright between her hands, so that no part of him could touch her white apron. Nora thought, He’ll die from his own screaming. Missy’s face said she was not enjoying the joke. Perhaps she thought Mr. Fenton had put Nora up to it. His laughter had said something different: whatever blunders he might have committed until now, choosing Missy to be the mother of a Fenton was not among them.

“You’d better clean him up right away,” said Mrs. Clopstock.

Missy, whose silences were astonishingly powerful, managed to suggest that cleaning Neil up was not in her working agreement. She did repeat that a bottle was ready for some reason, staring hard at the doctor.

“The child is badly dehydrated,” he said, as if replying to Missy. “He should be given liquid right away. He is undernourished and seriously below his normal weight. As you can tell, he has a bad case of diarrhea. I’ll take his temperature after lunch.”

“Is he really sick?” said Nora.

“He may have to be hospitalized for a few days.” He was increasingly solemn and slower than ever.

“Hospitalized?” said Mr. Fenton. “We’ve only just got him here.”

“The first thing is to get him washed and changed,” said Mrs. Clopstock.

“I’ll do it,” said Nora. “He knows me.”

“Missy won’t mind.”

Sensing a private exchange between Mrs. Clopstock and Missy, Nora held still. She felt a child’s powerful desire to go home, away from these strangers. Mrs. Clopstock said, “Let us all please go and sit down. We’re standing here as if we were in a hotel lobby.”

“I can do it,” Nora said. She said again, “He knows me.”

“Missy knows where everything is,” said Mrs. Clopstock. “Come along, Alex, Boyd. Nora, don’t you want to wash your hands?”

“I’m feeling dehydrated too,” said Mr. Fenton. “I hope Missy put something on ice.”

Nora watched Missy turn and climb the stairs, and disappear around the bend in the staircase. There’ll be a holy row about this, she thought. I’ll be gone.

“It was very nice meeting you,” she said. “I have to leave now.”

“Come on, Nora,” said Mr. Fenton. “Anybody could have made the same mistake. You came in out of bright sunlight. The hall was dark.”

“Could we please, please go and sit down?” said his mother-in-law.

“All right,” he said, still to Nora. “It’s O.K. You’ve had enough. Let’s have a bite to eat and I’ll drive you home.”

“You may have to take Neil to the hospital.”

Mrs. Clopstock took the doctor’s arm. She was a little woman in green linen, wearing pearls and pearl earrings. Aunt Rosalie would have seen right away if they were real. The two moved from the shaded hall to a shaded room.

Mr. Fenton watched them go. “Nora,” he said, “just let me have a drink and I’ll drive you home.”

“I don’t need to be driven home. I can take the Sherbrooke bus and walk the rest of the way.”

“Can you tell me what’s wrong? It can’t be my mother-in-law. She’s a nice woman. Missy’s a little rough, but she’s nice too.”

“Where’s Mrs. Fenton?” said Nora. “Why didn’t she at least come to the door? It’s her child.”

“You’re not dumb,” he said. “You’re not Ray’s girl for nothing. It’s hers and it isn’t.”

“We all signed,” Nora said. “I didn’t sign to cover up some story. I came here to do a Christian act. I wasn’t paid anything.”

“What do you mean by ‘anything’? You mean not enough?”

“Who’s Neil?” she said. “I mean, who is he?”

“He’s a Fenton. You saw the register.”

“I mean, who is he?”

“He’s my son. You signed the register. You should know.”

“I believe you,” she said. “He has English eyes.” Her voice dropped. He had to ask her to repeat something. “I said, was it Ninette?”

It took him a second or so to see what she was after. He gave the same kind of noisy laugh as when she had tried to place the child in Missy’s arms. “Little Miss Cochefert? Until this minute I thought you were the only sane person in Montreal.”

“It fits,” said Nora. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, I’ll tell you,” he said. “I don’t know. There are two people that know. Your father, Ray Abbott and Alex Marchand.”

“Did you pay my Dad?”

“ Pay him? I paid him for you . We wouldn’t have asked anyone to look after Neil for nothing.”

“About Ninette,” she said. “I just meant that it fits.”

“A hundred women in Montreal would fit, when it comes to that. The truth is, we don’t know, except that she was in good health.”

“Who was the girl in the lane? The one you were talking about.”

“Just a girl in the wrong place. Her father was a school principal.”

“You said that. Did you know her?”

“I never saw her. Missy and Louise did. Louise is my wife.”

“I know. How much did you give my dad? Not for Neil. For me.”

“Thirty bucks. Some men don’t make that in a week. If you have to ask, it means you never got it.”

“I’ve never had thirty dollars in one piece in my life,” she said. “In my family we don’t fight over money. What my dad says, goes. I’ve never had to go without. Gerry and I had new coats every winter.”

“Is that the end of the interrogatory? You’d have made a great cop. I agree, you can’t stay. But would you just do one last Christian act? Wash your hands and comb your hair and sit down and have lunch. After that, I’ll put you in a taxi and pay the driver. If you don’t want me to, my mother-in-law will.”

“I could help you take him to the hospital.”

“Forget the Fenton family,” he said. “Lunch is the cutoff.”

Late in the afternoon Ray came home and they had tea and sandwiches at the kitchen table. Nora was wearing Gerry’s old white terrycloth robe. Her washed hair was in rollers.

“There was nothing to it, no problem,” she said again. “He needed a hospital checkup. He was run-down. I don’t know which hospital.”