Too bad I hated the idea. But as Donalda had pointed out, it didn't matter a toot what I thought of Conn. I wasn't marrying him.
“Go see Daddy,” Edwina said.
My father held court in the wingback chair in Edwina's brocade and mahogany living room. He's a tall, fair man. My sisters got their elegant bones from him. He still maintains the look of authority developed in his years as principal of St. Jim's High.
I rated the usual look of surprise.
Just once in thirty-three years, I would have liked to have seen him without that expression.
“It's me, Daddy. Camilla.” I don't know why I always feel I have to introduce myself. After all, it was my mother's name, and I'm suppposed to take after her.
“Of course. Um, Camilla.”
It's hard to tell what he's thinking. A career school principal learns to play his cards close to his chest. I thought I detected the same look that had been on his face the summer I had hot-wired our next door neighbour's new Lincoln Town Car and took it for a midnight spin down the Queensway. I was fifteen. It had seemed like a fine idea at the time. All three of my sisters did a lot of talking in their smooth musical voices, or I wouldn't have been out of the house again before Christmas. I can remember Alexa saying, “Oh Daddy, girls will be girls.”
Not one of them ever rated the look of surprise.
“So, um, Camilla. How is our young man, Alvin, making out in your office?”
“Making out? That's the only thing he hasn't tried.
Otherwise, he's rude, abrasive, weird, intrusive, and his feet smell.”
“Now, dear, try to remember he lacked your wonderful advantages.”
Lucky for me my father is hard of hearing, because I couldn't prevent myself from snorting.
Alexa said, “Oh, Camilla.”
My father said, “It couldn't have been easy for his mother living all those years with an alcoholic. Poor Mary raised those children on her own. And every single one of them made it through university, too.”
Well, Alvin scraped through art school.
“I spoke to Mary the other day. I was happy to be able to tell her Alvin is flourishing under your wing.”
“My what?”
“Camilla.” I heard the warning note in Edwina's voice.
“You know,” my father said, “February in Ottawa is a lot tougher than in Nova Scotia. Mary's worried he won't be dressed properly. The poor lad's prone to bronchitis. Can you make sure he's bundled up?”
I guess no one heard me choking. All eyes were on my father.
“I assured his mother you were more than glad to do anything you could for him, since he saved your life during that terrible business last spring.”
“That's not quite my recollection of Alvin's participation, Daddy. If memory serves, Alvin was nothing but a pain in the butt.”
The doorbell rang before any of my sisters could say oh, Camilla. Alexa's hands were a blur fluffing her hair, smoothing her skirt, adjusting her sweater. She finished topping up her lipstick and gave herself a quick spray of L'Air du temps before Conn McCracken strolled into the room. It was enough to make you sick.
Dinner at my sister Edwina's features Minton china, damask table cloths, roses in silver vases and the chime of fine crystal. She has not yet heard we've entered a more casual age.
Not surprisingly, the food is first-rate. The conversation, lively and frequently dangerous. And the main course is always gossip.
As usual, the men were quiet. Stan because his practical jokes were off limits until after the wedding. Donalda's husband, Joe, because he lives in his own internal world of golf courses and fishing camps. McCracken because he was new to the crew. My father wades into a conversation if someone veers too far from traditional Catholic theology. Or swears. That's usually me. Tonight was no different.
“Well,” Edwina passed a gold-rimmed plate with pear, walnut and gorgonzola salad, “am I the only one who's shocked about Elaine Ekstein?”
Donalda looked up from serving pork tenderloin in orange soy sauce. “Who would have thought she had such a vivid imagination?”
“Indeed,” Edwina said.
“Pass the can of worms,” I said.
“Excuse me?” Edwina narrowed her eyes at me.
“Oh, Camilla.” Alexa gave me a look.
McCracken's lips twitched. I decided to concentrate on the rice. Edwina makes the best rice in the family. Firm, fluffy, safe.
“Well,” said Alexa, “don't you think something needed to be done? Imagine what those women suffered. And that poor officer who was shot. It's a miracle he's going to live. That Benning was an absolute monster.”
The girls never let go of a topic quickly.
“You bet,” Edwina said. “It's time we women started to fight back when bullies and wife-beaters get their own way with a spineless and craven justice system that dumps them back on the streets with a slap on the wrist. Or less.”
Conn McCracken hunched miserably over his plate.
“Of course, but I would never have thought Elaine Ekstein could kill somebody,” Donalda said.
“Didn't you?” said Edwina, “Elaine has spine. I'm glad she took the law into her own hands. No one else was prepared to do it.”
“Wait a minute.” I made an attempt to wrestle back the conversation.
“Oh, Camilla, there's no need to get defensive,” Edwina said. “I know you wanted to, but you weren't as effective as you could have been. The situation got beyond your control. But no one blames you.”
“It's not true,” I said.
Donalda said, “Well, not you alone, dear, society at large. When you come down to it, how did the man get loose?”
I slammed my silver fork on the table. “Goddam it, I mean, Elaine didn't do it.”
Everyone's eyes slid to my father's face. Waiting for the reprimand. His mind appeared to be elsewhere. Playing golf with Joe maybe.
“Of course she did it,” Edwina said.
“Don't be silly, Camilla.” Donalda moved a few serving pieces out of my reach.
“What do you mean?” Alexa said.
“I mean she didn't do it. What do you think I mean?” I barked. I caught Conn McCracken staring at me. I refrained from tossing food at him.
“Well, she confessed, didn't she?” Edwina said. “That's enough for me. And what's more, I think she has support from the community, and she'll get off on a self-defence.”
“Self-defence?” Conn didn't quite catch himself in time.
It surprised me too. Freezing someone in a block of ice? Quite a challenge to portray that as self-defence.
“I don't understand you, Camilla,” Alexa said. “Elaine is your friend. Why don't you want to help her? She'll suffer through a long, terrible trial, and for what?”
“She'll get off,” Edwina said. “She did what she had to.”
“Except she didn't do it!” I might as well have screamed into the wind.
“Fine, Camilla, be like that. Even I know if she pleads Not Guilty she's more likely to get a prison sentence, and then who benefits?”
“No