go in now,” I mumbled. “Good night.” I tiptoed into the house and into my bedroom. It felt so alien to me. My feelings were all mixed up. What was I doing here in this strange place where I knew no one, where I didn’t have any family members whatsoever, where people were mean spirited? Suddenly I felt so alone. It’ll be alright, I told myself. I’ll be alright.
Chapter 2
Finding Family
I liked working for Barbara Crawford and I adored the children. I settled into my job and enjoyed the freedom she allowed me to run the household. She appreciated my cooking their meals each night. Then, after supper, I was allowed to get dressed up and go out.
Murray loved me. I knew that because he kept telling me so. I wasn’t sure if I loved him as much. I did appreciate him, especially in getting me out of Cartwright and getting me a job. I liked his kisses. They were warm and passionate, which made me lose myself.
It was shortly after I arrived in Happy Valley that I saw a guy in Saunders’ Restaurant — a really cute guy. I was sitting with a friend who was visiting from Cartwright. And we were eating chips … again. He stopped by our table and was tugging on my friend’s jacket and making some remark to her. I stared at him and kept staring at him, but he paid no attention to me whatsoever. I fell-head-over-heels in love the moment I set eyes on him!
I thought he was very handsome. He stood about five feet ten inches, slim, and had huge hands, sandy hair, and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. He was wearing a Hudson’s Bay striped jacket. I assumed he knew I was new in town. Then Murray came through the door.
“Hi Keith,” Murray mumbled, giving him an odd look as he sidled past Keith and made a motion for me to join him. I reluctantly got up and joined him. We left together on his motorcycle. As we sped down the road Murray didn’t say much. We stopped at the river and sat in silence. I couldn’t stop thinking of Keith. At least I knew his name now.
“Who is Keith?” I asked Murray.
“Das Keith Penny, and he’s a loud-mouthed bum,” he said to me in a tone I wasn’t familiar with.
“He don’t look like a bum. He looks good to me.”
“Oh yah? Josie, you’re my girl, and I love you so much,” he crooned, nuzzling my neck.
“Is ya jealous Murray?” I asked. “Besides,” I continued, “he didn’t even pay any attention to me. He was too busy teasing Beulah.”
Suddenly I felt uncomfortable. What was happening? Murray and I had been lovers for over two years! Each summer he’d come to Cartwright to be with me. I felt somewhat guilty because all I could think of was Keith, who, as I said, hadn’t noticed me at all! Was it me he was trying to reach when he was teasing Beulah, but didn’t quite know how?
Murray and I necked for a while on the grassy riverbank. Something had changed in me. I faked the emotions to keep the peace, but my mind was racing. I would have to wait for another chance meeting with Keith. There were several other guys in his group of friends that I thought were cute as well. Later I laid on my bed and thought of Marty Parsons. He seemed to be very popular in the group and was so handsome with the Elvis Presley hairdo. Was I boy crazy?
While doing my chores the next day I thought of Keith again. I wondered where he lived, where he worked. Did he have a car? How old was he? And on and on. Until then, I had never felt so intensely emotional about anyone in my life. I would have to wait another few hours and hopefully he would be at Saunders’ again. It was the hangout for many young people. There were several tall, beautiful girls as well: Brooks, Madeline, Pauline, and Joyce. Joyce was Marty’s girlfriend and very beautiful, with blond hair and blue eyes that jumped out at you from a flawless face. Compared to their tall statures, my short, four foot, eleven inch frame matched the feelings of my insides and the perception that I did not measure up to their beauty. It seemed the boys I liked already had girlfriends and the ones that wanted to date me were weird. This was too much! There were too many choices, too many boys interested in me, too much attention, and too many mixed emotions. I didn’t have the wherewithal to handle them. My seventeen-year-old mind was thrown into chaos.
The following evening Murray took me farther down Hamilton River Road to his friend Abe Webber’s house. It was a common occurrence for Abe to have parties that involved beer, a drink I had not yet tried. It was during this party I found out something that would change the dynamics of my life here: Abe was related to me through his brother Ken. Ken Webber was married to my father’s sister, Winnie. A real aunt? I had family here after all! I was delighted.
“Will you take me to see her, Murray?” I begged as soon as we left the house.
“Okay, Josie, we’ll go.”
As we sped along the road, my mind was focusing on what I’d heard Mom and Dad say about them. I remembered little, except that they had visited Cartwright in the late fifties. I wished I had paid better attention. Suddenly I remembered a story. That wee Vivian, the youngest of Aunt Winnie’s five children, had been accidently shot by her father, Ken. Some of their other children were grown and married.
We pulled into a driveway on Grand Street where a single, rundown bungalow perched on a sandy lot looked like it could use some repair. As I stepped inside and saw my Aunt Winnie I cried. She reminded me of Aunt Emma Winters from Muddy Bay; a two-family community just outside of Cartwright. I could see the resemblance to my dad. I felt akin to her immediately. She was a short, plump woman with warm brown eyes and wispy salt and pepper hair. Like my dad and Aunt Emma she also walked with a slight limp.
“Josie! My, my, my, you’re all grown up,” she said, giving me the warmest hug I’d had in a long time. I didn’t want to let go of her for fear she’d disappear. “Well,” she continued, “you didn’t grow very tall, but you’re a pretty little thing.”
“Tank you,” was all I could mumble.
Her children, Archie, Olive, Marina, and Vivian, were there. What a comforting feeling to know I had real family here and that I wasn’t so alone anymore. I grew to love this woman very much. Like my father and my Aunt Emma she was a gentle soul, a kind and caring person.
I lay on my bed after work the next evening, taking a breather before getting ready to go out. I thought of this family of Curls. Where had they come from? In my altered state as a teenager I’d had no time to think of such things. While living at home with my mother I was always angry or hurt at the way she treated me. I had to work hard, I had to do everything right. I had to do as she said or get a lacin’. I had to look after all the little babies that seemed to come every year. Even though I loved all of them, I resented having to babysit them. As an adolescent I’d become a tomboy and choose whenever possible to be with my father or big brother. I’d had no time to think of family. What was a family anyway? I’d been sent away to a hospital at age four because my head was torn up by husky dogs. I was sent away to boarding school at age seven, because there were no schools on the Labrador coast. I was sent out to work at age eleven because my mom and dad needed help to feed the babies that kept coming every year, and as an adolescent I did hours and hours of babysitting for several Cartwright residents, and was sexually molested by a couple of them. At age fifteen I moved out of the family home and worked for the Mission that I’d attended as a little girl, and now, at age seventeen, I moved away from my hometown forever. What would I know about home or a family setting? Would I ever see them again? Tears soaked into my pillow. Yes, I had freedom, but freedom from what? And at what price?
Chapter 3
Dating Games
Black and pink — those were the colours I was told were sexy. I craved love and attention. I wanted to be sexy, so I bought myself sexy new clothes. I’d get dressed up in my black skirt with lots of crinoline underneath, pull on my sexy pink top, brush my long wavy hair, and head to Saunders’.
I entered the restaurant and a group of girls were sitting at a table. They didn’t invite me to join them, and it looked like they were talking about me as my tiny frame meandered