There were myriad activities for a teenager growing up in Glace Bay: There were football games and hockey games, skating rinks and bowling, and in the summer, swimming and fishing. Carl's Drug Store was the popular after-school hangout. There were two movie theaters, and for dancing, the Venetian Gardens.
Lara had no chance to enjoy any of those things. She rose at five every morning to help Bertha prepare breakfast for the boarders and make up the beds before she left for school. In the afternoon she would hurry home to begin preparing supper. She helped Bertha serve, and after supper Lara cleared the table and washed and dried the dishes.
The boardinghouse served some favorite Scottish dishes: howtowdie and hairst bree, cabbieclaw and skirlie. Black Bun was a favorite, a spicy mixture encased in a short paste jacket made from half a pound of flour.
The conversation of the Scotsmen at supper made the Highlands of Scotland come alive for Lara. Her ancestors had come from the Highlands, and the stories about them gave Lara the only sense of belonging that she had. The boarders talked of the Great Glen containing Loch Ness, Lochy, and Linnhe and of the rugged islands off the coast.
There was a battered piano in the sitting room, and some-times at night, after supper, half a dozen boarders would gather around and sing the songs of home: "Annie Laurie," and "Comin' Through the Rye," and "The Hills of Home," and "The Bonnie Banks O'Loch Lomond."
Once a year there was a parade in town, and all the Scotsmen in Glace Bay would proudly put on their kilts or tartans and march through the streets to the raucous accompaniment of bagpipes.
"Why do the men wear skirts?" Lara asked Mungo McSween.
He frowned. "It's nae a skirt, lass. It's a kilt. Our ancestors invented it long ago. In the Highlands a plaid covered a mon's body agin the bitter cold but kept his legs free sae he could race across the heather and peat and escape his enemies. And at night, if he was in the open, the great length of the cloth was both bed and tent for him."
The names of the Scottish places were poetry to Lara. There was Breadalbane Glenfinnan, and Kilbride, Kilninver, and Kilmichael. Lara learned that "kil" referred to a monk's cell of medieval times. If a name began with "inver" or "aber," it meant the village was at the mouth of a stream. If it began with "strath," it was in a valley. "Bad" meant the village was in a grove.
There were fierce arguments every night at the supper table. The Scotsmen argued about everything. Their ancestors had belonged to proud clans, and they were still fiercely protective of their history.
"The House of Bruce produced cowards. They lay down for the English like groveling dogs."
"You dinna ken wha' you're talking aboot, as usual, Ian. 'Twas the great Bruce himself who stood up to the English. 'Twas the House of Stuart that groveled."
"Och, you're a fool, and your clan comes from a long line of fools."
The argument would grow more heated.
"You ken wha' Scotland needed? Mair leaders like Robert the Second. Now, there was a great mon. He sired twenty-one bairns?"
"Aye, and half of them were bastards!"
And another argument would start.
Lara could not believe that they were fighting over events that had happened more than six hundred years earlier.
Mungo McSween said to Lara, "Dinna let it bother ye, lassie. A Scotsman wi' start a fight in an empty house."
It was a poem by Sir Walter Scott that set Lara's imagination on fire:
Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west:
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And save his good broadsword he weapon had none;
He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone.
So faith in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
And the glorious poem went on to tell how Lochinvar risked his life to rescue his beloved, who was being forced to marry another man.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?
Someday, Lara thought, a handsome Lochinvar will come and rescue me.
One day Lara was working in the kitchen when she came across an advertisement in a magazine, and her breath caught in her throat. It showed a tall, handsome man, blond, elegantly dressed in tails and white tie. He had blue eyes and a warm smile, and he looked every inch a prince. That's what my Lochinvar will look like, Lara thought. He's out there somewhere, looking for me. He'll come and rescue me from here. I'll be at the sink washing dishes, and he'll come up behind me, put his arms around me, and whisper, "Can I help you?" And I'll turn and look into his eyes. And I'll say, "Do you dry dishes?"
Bertha's voice said, "Do I what?"
Lara whirled around. Bertha was standing behind her. Lara had not realized she had spoken aloud.
"Nothing." Lara blushed.
To Lara, the most fascinating dinner conversations revolved around the stories of the notorious Highland clearances. She had heard them told over and over but could never get enough of it.
"Tell me again," she would ask. And Mungo McSween was eager to oblige...
"Weel, it began in the year 1792, and it went on for more than sixty years. At first they called it Bliadhna nan Co-arach - The Year of the Sheep. The landowners in the Highlands had decided that their land would be more profitable with sheep than with tenant farmers, so they brought flocks of sheep into the Highlands and found that they could survive the cold winters. That was when the clearances began.
"The cry became Mo thruaighe ort a thir, tha'n caoraich mhor a' teachd! 'Woe to thee, oh, land, the great sheep is coming.' First there were a hundred sheep, then a thousand, then ten thousand. It was a bloody invasion.
"The lairds saw riches beyond their dreams, but they maun first get rid of the tenants, who worked their wee patches of land. They had little enough to begin with, God knows. They lived in sma stone houses with nae chimneys and nae windows. But the lairds forced them out."
The young girl was wide-eyed. "How?"
"The government regiments were ordered to attack the villages and evict the tenants. The soldiers wad come to a little village and gie the tenants six hours to remove their cattle and furniture and get out. They maun leave their crops behind. Then the soldiers burned their huts to the ground. More than a quarter of a million men, women, and children were forced frae their holdings and driven to the shores of the sea."
"But how could they drive them from their own land?"
"Ah, they niver owned the land, you see. They had the use of an acre or two frae a laird, but it was niver theirs. They paid a fee in goods or labor in order to till the land and grow some tatties and raise a few cattle."
"What happened if the people wouldn't move?" Lara asked breathlessly.
"The old folk that didn't get out in time were burned in their huts. The government was ruthless. Och, it was a terrible time. The people had naething to eat. Cholera struck, and diseases spread like wildfire."
"How awful," Lara said.
"Aye, lassie. Our people lived on tatties and bread and porridge, when they could git it. But there's one thing the government could nae take away frae the Highlanders - their pride. They fought back as best they could. For days after the burning was o'er, the homeless people remained in the glen, trying to salvage what they could frae the ruins. They put canvas over their heids for protection agin the night rain. My great-great-grandfather and my great-great-grandmother were there and suffered through it all. It's part of our history, and it's been burned into our very souls."
Lara could visualize the thousands of desperate, forlorn people robbed of everything they possessed, stunned by what had happened to them. She could hear the crying of the mourners and the screams of the terrified children.
"What finally happened to the people?" Lara asked.
"They left for other lands on ships that were deathtraps. The crowded passengers died of fever or frae dysentery. Sometimes the ship would hit storms that delayed them for weeks, sae they ran out of food. Only the strong were still alive when the ships landed in Canada. But once they landed here, they were able to hae somethin' they niver had before."
"Their own land," Lara said.
"That's right, lass."
Someday, Lara thought fiercely, I will have my own land, and no one - no one - will ever take it away from me.
On an evening in early July, James Cameron was in bed with one of the whores at Kirstie's bawdy house when he suffered a heart attack. He was quite drunk, and when he suddenly toppled over, his playmate assumed he had simply fallen asleep.
"Oh, no, you don't! I have other customers waitin' for me. Wake up, James! Wake up!"
He was gasping for breath and clutching his chest.
"For Gude's sake," he moaned, "git me a doctor."
An ambulance took him to the little hospital on Quarry Street. Dr. Duncan sent for Lara. She walked into the hospital, her heart pounding. Duncan was waiting for her.
"What happened?" Lara asked urgently. "Is my father dead?"
"No, Lara, but I'm afraid he's had a heart attack."
She stood there, frozen. "Is he...is he going to live?"
"I don't know. We're doing everything we can for him."
"Can I see him?"
"It would be better if you came back in the morning, lass."
She walked home, numb with fear. Please don't let him die, God. He's all I have.
When Lara reached the boardinghouse, Bertha was waiting for her. "What happened?"
Lara told her.
"Oh, God!" Bertha said. "And today is Friday."
"What?"
"Friday. The day the rents have to be collected. If I know Sean MacAllister, he'll use this as an excuse to throw us all out into the streets."
At least a dozen times in the past when James Cameron had been too drunk to handle it himself, he had sent Lara around to collect the rents from the other boardinghouses that Sean MacAllister owned. Lara had given the money to her father, and the next day he had taken it to the banker.
"What are we going to do?" Bertha moaned.
And suddenly Lara knew what had to be done.
"Don't worry," she said. "I'll take care of it."
In the middle of supper that evening Lara said, "Gentlemen, would you listen to me, please?" The conversations stopped. They were all watching her. "My father has had a...a little dizzy spell. He's in the hospital. They want to keep him under observation for a bit. So, until he comes back, I'll be collecting the rents. After supper I'll wait for you in the parlor."
"Is he going to be all right?" one of the boarders asked.
"Oh, yes," Lara said with a forced smile. "It's nothing serious."
After supper the men came into the parlor and handed Lara their week's rent.
"I hope your father recovers soon, child..."
"If there's anything I can do, let me know..."
"You're a braw lassie to do this for your father..."
"What about the other boardinghouses?" Bertha asked Lara. "He has to collect from four more."
"I know," Lara said. "If you'll take care of the dishes, I'll go collect the rents."
Bertha looked at her dubiously. "I wish you luck."
It was easier than Lara had expected. Most of the boarders were sympathetic and happy to help out the young girl.
Early the following morning Lara took the rent envelopes and went to see Sean MacAllister. The banker was seated in his office when Lara walked in.
"My secretary said you wanted to see me."
"Yes, sir."
MacAllister studied the scrawny, unkempt girl standing before him. "You're James Cameron's daughter, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Sarah."
"Lara."
"Sorry to hear about your father," MacAllister said. There was no sympathy in his voice. "I'll have to make other arrangements, of course, now that your father's too ill to carry out his job. I..."
"Oh, no, sir!" Lara said quickly. "He asked me to handle it for him."
"You?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'm afraid that won't..."
Lara put the envelopes on his desk. "Here are this week's rents."
MacAllister looked at her, surprised. "All of them?"
She nodded.
"And you collected them?"
"Yes, sir. And I'll do it every week until Papa gets better."
"I see." He opened the envelopes and carefully counted the money. Lara watched him enter the amount in a large green ledger.
For some time now MacAllister had intended to replace James Cameron because of his drunkenness and erratic performance, and now he saw his opportunity to get rid of the family.
He was sure that the young girl in front of him would not be able to carry out her father's duties, but at the same time he realized what the town's reaction would be if he threw James Cameron and his daughter out of the boardinghouse into the street. He made his decision.
"I'll try you for one month," he said. "At the end of that time we'll see where we stand."
"Thank you, Mr. MacAllister. Thank you very much."
"Wait." He handed Lara twenty-five dollars. "This is yours."
Lara held the money in her hand, and it was like a taste of freedom. It was the first time she had ever been paid for what she had done.
From the bank, Lara went to the hospital. Dr. Duncan was just coming out of her father's room. Lara felt a sudden sense of panic. "He isn't...?"
"No...no...he's going to be all right, Lara." He hesitated. "When I say 'all right,' I mean he is not going to die...not yet, at least...but he is going to have to stay in bed for a few weeks. He'll need someone to take care of him."
"I'll take care of him," Lara said.
He looked at her and said, softly, "Your father doesn't know it, my dear, but he's a very lucky man."
"May I go in and see him now?"
"Yes."
Lara walked into her father's room and stood there staring at him. James Cameron lay in bed, looking pale and helpless, and he suddenly seemed very old. Lara was engulfed by a wave of tenderness. She was finally going to be able to do something for her father, something that would make him appreciate her and love her. She approached the bed.
"Papa..."
He looked up and muttered, "What the bluidy hell are you doin' here? You've work to dae at the boardin' house."
Lara froze. "I...I know, Papa. I just wanted to tell you that I saw Mr. MacAllister. I told him I would collect the rents until you got better and..."
"Ye collect the rents? Dinna make me laugh." He was shaken with a sudden spasm. When he spoke again, his voice was weak. "It's the Fates," he moaned. "I'm gang to be thrown oot into the streets."
He was not even thinking about what would happen to her. Lara stood there looking at him for a long time. Then she turned and walked out.
James Cameron was brought home three days later, and put to bed.
"You're not to get out of bed for the next couple of weeks," Dr. Duncan told him. "I'll come back and check on you in a day or two."
"I canna stay in bed," James Cameron protested. "I'm a busy mon. I have a lot to dae."
The doctor looked at him and said, quietly, "You have a choice. You can either stay in bed and live, or get up and die."
MacAllister's boarders were, at first, delighted to see the innocent young girl come around to collect their rents. But when the novelty wore off, they had a myriad of excuses:
"I was sick this week, and I had medical bills..."
"My son sends me money every week, but the mail's been delayed..."
"I had to buy some equipment..."
"I'll have the money for you next week for sure..."
But the young girl was fighting for her life. She listened politely and said, "I'm so sorry, but Mr. MacAllister says that the money is due today, and if you don't have it, you'll have to vacate immediately."
And somehow, they all managed to come up with the money.
Lara was inflexible.
"It was easier dealing with your father," one of the boarders grumbled. "He was always willing to wait a few days."
But in the end they had to admire the young girl's spunk.
If Lara had thought that her father's illness would bring him closer to her, she was sadly mistaken. Lara tried to anticipate his every need, but the more solicitous she was, the more badly he behaved.
She brought him fresh flowers every day, and little treats.
"For Gude's sakes!" he cried. "Stop hoverin' aboot. Hae you nae work to dae?"
"I just thought you'd like..."
"Oot!" He turned his face to the wall.
I hate him, Lara thought. I hate him.
At the end of the month, when Lara walked into Sean MacAllister's office with the envelopes filled with rent money, and he had finished counting it, he said, "I don't mind admitting, young lady, that you've been quite a surprise to me. You've done better than your father."
The words were thrilling. "Thank you."
"As a matter of fact, this is the first month that everybody has paid on time in full."
"Then my father and I can stay on at the boardinghouse?" Lara asked eagerly.
MacAllister studied her a moment. "I suppose so. You must love your father very much."
"I'll see you next Saturday, Mr. MacAllister."