Matrons and Madams - Sharon Johnston Bread and Roses

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of public health for Alberta. He wrote me that there’s a serious problem in that province with the rapid spread of venereal disease brought back by the soldiers. The highest incidence is in Lethbridge. He explained that it’s not surprising since the city had the highest enlistment for its population in all of the Dominion.”

      “Well, that suggests great loyalty to our country,” Miff said, nodding approval.

      “What about your living arrangement?” Di asked, joining the conversation. “We worry about you being so far away.”

      “I’ll have a small flat in the nurses’ home. I was sent a photo, and it seems that the home is attached to the hospital. The nursing students, or what we call probationers, live there as well.”

      “What’s this segregated area you’ve talked about, Clara?” Addy asked, frowning.

      “It sounds very American,” Di interjected.

      “No, it’s quite Canadian.” Clara laughed.

      “But you’re a surgical nurse, not a social worker,” Addy added.

      “Well, it looks as though I’ll be both. Lethbridge began as a mining town filled with amorous bachelors, so it tolerated prostitutes. The segregated area is a red-light district for brothels and some Chinese merchants that citizens refuse to have in the downtown area. Prohibition complicates things, according to Dr. Orr. He indicated that brothels are also a place to have a drink and as such most prosecutions are for liquor infractions. The ladies of the night themselves are rarely charged. I won’t know much more than that until I arrive.”

      Ivy was now sitting down again beside her mother, and Addy gave Miff a censoring look.

      “Dr. Orr covers the entire province. I’ll be working more closely with Dr. Morris Lafayette, the medical officer of health for Lethbridge.”

      “What a strange combination of English and French,” Miff said.

      “Dr. Newbury explained that Dr. Lafayette’s mother changed Maurice to Morris when her husband died to appease her Scottish family, who never approved of her marriage to a Frenchman.” Clara looked at her brother-in-law. “I’ll have my challenges, Miff. I know that.”

      Miff put his arm around Clara. “We’re going to miss you both terribly.”

      Chapter 4

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      New York City, 1914

      All the way to New York, Lily had made up scenarios: Beth needed money; was engaged; had a serious illness; was moving back home. She stepped out of the taxi and took a deep breath of the big city air. She gaped at the strange surroundings — tall apartment buildings bookended by little shops and eateries. She plastered herself against the taxi as a bicycle whizzed past.

      “Nice place ya got here,” the taxi driver said as he smiled at the twenty-five-cent tip. Lily gawked at the eight-storey brick building where Beth lived. Shimmering late August heat rose up from the sidewalk. The driver plopped her suitcase down and puttered off, looking for the next customer. Lily entered the apartment lobby and scanned the mailboxes until she found the name Mac Whittaker, and under it, Beth White. She pushed the buzzer for apartment 302.

      “It’s Lily! Are you going to let me in?”

      There was a giggle, followed by a click. Lily pulled open the wrought-iron door and started up the carpeted stairs. Her nose crinkled at the musty smell. As she knocked at the door of 302, she heard a door slam inside the apartment and then light footsteps. Beth opened the door slightly and poked her head out.

      “I’m not dressed,” she whispered. Stepping back momentarily, she opened the door wide. Her satin slip clung to her body with the humidity. Her chestnut hair was tied back, making her face with its aquiline features and striking blue eyes seem gaunt.

      Embracing Beth, Lily could feel the round hardness of her sister’s belly. “How are you faring in New York?” Lily asked. “Mom and Dad made me promise to bring back details.”

      “Let’s not stand at the door. The building is filled with nosy tenants.” Beth closed the door behind Lily and dragged her to a sofa upholstered in a nubby green fabric, pushing several theatre reviews to the floor. She plopped down, pulling Lily beside her.

      “Lily, I’m pregnant. I don’t think that’s the kind of news Mom and Dad want to hear.”

      “I can’t believe it! You’re going to have a baby?”

      Beth slipped a cigarette from a Pall Mall package and knocked the end gently on the coffee table. She took a match from a glass box and struck it under the table, lighting her cigarette and inhaling deeply.

      “Want one?” she asked.

      “Not a habit I’ve started.” Lily shifted to face her. “When are you due?”

      “The baby would be born close to Christmas. I’m five months along. But I don’t want a baby. I’m going to have an abortion — and I wanted you with me. Please don’t judge me, Lily. Life in New York has been complicated and not what I planned.”

      Several minutes passed before they spoke again.

      “Beth, tell me what’s been going on. Who’s the father? Why can’t you have the baby and put it up for adoption? Why can’t you keep it? Come home, and Mom will look after it.”

      Beth tossed her head and scoffed. “Me, the favoured daughter, bringing home an illegitimate son or daughter? It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to have this baby.” Her tears softened the hardness of her voice.

      Lily got up and sat on the end of the sofa. She couldn’t remember ever having seen her sister cry.

      “Beth, you can’t go through with this. At five months you might injure yourself, or harm the baby and still deliver it alive. You could end up with a defective child.” She shook her head in dismay that Beth was being so foolish. “Come home and I’ll look after you. I’m not afraid of Mom’s opinion. I’m begging you!”

      Lily scanned the room for evidence of another person. “I saw the name Mac Whittaker beside yours. Is Mac the father of the baby?” An end table was scarred with cigarette burns. Lily put her finger on a burn mark and picked up a butt smeared with lipstick. “Someone’s a careless smoker. Who else lives in this apartment?” Lily stared at the two closed doors off the living room.

      “Are you conducting an investigation?” asked Beth. She got up and went to the kitchenette, which was separated from the living room by a serving hatch that looked like a homemade adaptation. Lily watched her sister pour two glasses of water.

      “I’m guessing Mac is the careless-smoking father.”

      “He is a smoker, but he’s not the father.”

      Lily gulped down the water, plunking the glass beside the ashtray. “Phew, I hate the smell of cigarettes!”

      Beth let out a snort and smiled. “Getting back to Mac. He’s an aspiring actor. Ben Shenker is the owner of the theatre and he adores Mac, but he’s also married with two daughters.” Lily cocked her head, looking pensive. “Neither Mac nor I can afford the forty-dollars-a-month rent for this place on our own, but the next step down is pretty awful. I don’t really know if Mac’s queer or not, but he does need help with the rent.”

      “So you’re saying Mac is a kept man?” Lily said, wrinkling up her nose in distaste.

      “Mac’s a nice man and we get along. But he’s certainly not the father.”

      Lily narrowed her eyes. “How do you pay your half, Beth?” Lily reached out and took Beth’s hand, shaking her head with slow comprehension. “So you and Mac are both being looked after.”

      “Don’t distort the situation.”

      “Who

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