Josie, Book 35

The next afternoon, Richard’s mother had invited the grade seven and eight classes to her home for a Christmas party. The big sone house was just across the road, next to the original stone Maplewood Schhol where both Gramma and Dad had attended. The girls had all worn special dresses and the boys wore Sunday-best dress pants, shirts and ties, Grade eight consisted of four girls and one boy, while grade seven sported four boys and one girl.

After a morning of math exercises and an attempt to write poetry, both classes bundled up and trudged along the snow-covered ditch to the McEwan household. Josie had heard the history of these stone houses from her father, who had been raised in one. She knew of the Scottish stonemason, who had made his living locally by building them, and of the similarity of the floor plans of each house. The deep wood floor, window and door trim was made of local wood, chestnut of a type that had suffered near-extinction decades before the blight. When Josie had voiced the desire to live one day in such a romantic-looking house, her father had turned to her and informed her that such houses were cold in the winter, impossible to heat, daughty and in need of much upkeep and that a small, well-insulated cottage was much more comfortable and liveable. “And build it on a hill!” her mother chimed in.

Nevertheless, Josie was charmed by the elegant interior of the McEwan house. The children were invited into the living room by Mrs. McEwan, whose elegant, kindly manner subdued Josie and most of the other students. John appeared the most comfortable with the surroundings. Josie didn’t know if that was because he was friends with Richard and had occasion to visit often, or if it was his innate lack of respect for any kind of authority.

There was a fire in the large fireplace which was flanked by ornate chairs and a piano. The room was divided into two sections; one with the fireplace as its focal point and opening into the dining room, and the other facing the tall windows at the front of the house and opening into the front entrance. This front section had been denuded of its carpet which lay rolled up in the front hall, and the furniture had been moved back toward the walls to create a dance floor. Two of the largest Christmas cacti Josie had ever seen decorated the space in front of the windows.

When everyone had found a place to sit (Josie realized that ten people in her living room at home would have been a suffocating crowd), Mrs. McEwan came in with a tray of drinks: a selection of eggnog (which Josie had never tasted) and fruit punch. The girls were asked to accompany Mrs. McEwan to the kitchen to help bring out the platter of sandwiches. Jenny complimented Mrs. McEwan on her lime green dress and, inspecting it closely, asked if it was crocheted. “yes” Mrs. McEwan beamed, “I made it myself.” As Jenny’s mum was an accomplished needlewoman, and had made enviable ensembles for Jenny, Josie could tell that Jenny genuinely admired Mrs. McEwan’s skill. Josie thought that the colour of the dress flattered Mrs. McEwan’s auburn hair, pink complexion and blue eyes (those same blue eyes).

The sandwich and pickle trays were familiar food to all of the children since all had experienced church social, but dessert was exotic. Mrs. McEwan had mad an English trifle with elegant ladyfingers lining the bowl which hel the mixture of sponge cake, fruit, custard and whipped cream. It was a confection. “Don’t tell your folks” Mrs. McEwan murmured conspiratorially to Josie and Jenny “but I put a dash of sherry in this.” Josie could taste the flavour of something unfamiliar and heady and felt very sophisticated.

Josie was wearing her Sunday best, not possessing any kind of party dress, and felt completely outclassed by Jenny whose blue chiffon day gown made her look like a model. Even Linda and Patti, although they were plainly dressed were, with their endowments of physical maturity which Josie had yet to develop, more attractive than she felt herself to be. Only Vera, with her comparative youth and boyishness did not make Josie feel inferior.

Dance records were put on the long and low stereo console (Josie’s family listened to their limited set of records on the small, portable record player they had given Josie last Christmas) and dancing started. Josie wanted to dance with Richard bu was at a complete loss as to how to attract an invitation. With dismay, she saw him approach Jenny and with envy and a tuch of jealousy watched them dance familiarly with each other. She was not aware of John approaching her until she heard him say: “Would you like to dance?” She turned to see his mischievous eyes on hers. She supposed it was better than not dancing at all.