It's
probably just as well that we don't always know what stirs a memory.
I remember this one as clearly as I remember that bathroom – the
water heater was there and the room was always toasty warm. There
was a two level linen closet large enough to hold a couple of kids
playing hide and seek and a single window, hung low and close to the
floor. From it, you could see all of Peter's Island and the rise and
curve of the Old Road. The walls were painted in a soft shade of
cream with even softer yellow trim. It was a sunny, peaceful room.
And there was a musical toilet paper holder.
“Alice,”
my Aunt Helen said in a voice dripping with disapproval, “I must
say that's the most appallingly tacky thing I've ever encountered.
It's so unlike you and I must say I can't imagine what you were
thinking of. I am, if I may say so, completely shocked and
offended.”
“My
dear wife,” Uncle Eddie remarked off handedly, almost managing to
turn a laugh into a cough, “You just ended a sentence with a
preposition. Whatever this appalling thing is, it must be
practically a criminal offense.”
Aunt
Helen glared at him, her mouth so grim and white I thought surely she
would growl. She didn't but I was sure she wanted to. My gruff and
usually down to earth uncle made a hasty exit but my grandmother just
shrugged and tightened her grip on her knitting needles.
“Helen,
dear,” she said cooly, as always making it sound as if it were one
name, “You surely can't have led such a sheltered life to be undone
by such a harmless and silly little thing.”
"You
can hear it all through the house!” Helen protested righteously,
“After all, one does expect a modicum of privacy in certain
situations!”
It
was then I realized they were talking about the musical toilet paper
holder. Each time the roll was pulled on, it played a whimsically
cheerful version of “Whistle While You Work”. Helen was right
about one thing - Nana had very little sense of whimsy and it was
very much unlike her.
My
grandmother continued to knit ferociously, making a herculean effort
to control her temper. I was gleefully preparing for fireworks,
hoping as I always did, to see my prim, proper and detested aunt be
brought down. Instead, she stiffened her well brought up spine and
stubbornly stuck our her aristocratic chin.
“Really,
Alice,” she resumed drearily, “It's quite intolerable that one's
family should be exposed to such a lower class novelty.”
“Have
another glass of sherry, Helen, dear,” my grandmother interrupted
in the icy tone she reserved for truly the most impossible and
egregious situations, “You're becoming overwrought over nothing.”
Aunt
Helen fingered her perfect pearls, smoothed her cashmere sweater and
matching skirt, adjusted her spectator pumps and then stood, checked
that her stockinged seams were straight and her pearl earrings were
securely in place. She was, I thought, every inch the blue blooded
Boston headmistress of a girls finishing school - elegant, haughty,
intolerant and insufferable. How could my blue collar, fair minded
and cheerful uncle ever have married her?
“I
have no wish to be disagreeable,” she was saying to my grandmother,
who by then was white knuckled and barbed wire tense, “but I do
think it's in everyone's best interest to remove........”
She
never got to finish the sentence. Nana carefully put down her
knitting needles, moved the yarn to its basket, closed the lid.
“Helen,
dear,” she said venomously, “This is my house and you are a guest
in it. If you are so disturbed by such foolishness, you are welcome
to leave at any time. Or, if you value your privacy so much, you can
always use the two holer in the garage. But you will no longer
lecture me on everyone's best interests or tell me how to run my
house.”
Shocked
to her core and horrified speechless, my Aunt Helen turned deathly
white, burst into tears and fled.
“Jesus
wept,” I heard my grandmother say ruefully, “I've gone and done
it this time. I don't expect I'll ever hear the end of this. Damn
that woman and her society standards!”
It
was my Uncle Eddie who saved the day. He coaxed Nana into an
apology, soothed Aunt Helen and dried her tears and managed to
restore a fragile peace. The two women made up and with effort and
sustained mutual avoidance, got through the next two weeks. It was a
narrow thing, the entire household knew, and it was hardly a real
solution, but all out war had been averted for one more day.
