“Not really. It only came this afternoon, and I was going to give it to you anyway, but then we started talking and I forgot.” She sniffed. “What does it say?”
Dash’s hands shook a little. “I have to go to HMCS York the day after tomorrow for a medical examination.”
On the morning of her appointment, Dash left the house early and walked to the bus station. She knew the schedule, so after she’d settled into a seat, she sat back to enjoy the hour-long ride to Toronto. She’d done this about a year ago, to go to a dance with Gus and some of her friends from school, then again last July when they’d gone to the Miss War Worker Beauty Contest. What a riot that had been. More than a hundred women, all of whom worked in the local military manufacturing plants, had competed for the title of Miss War Worker. Dot had stuck close to her all that day, gesturing at the women. She’d insistedthat none of them would have stood a chance against Dash, if Dash had a job.
This was the first time Dash was taking this trip by herself, and the freedom gave her a little thrill. At the end of the line, she got off to wait for a streetcar. When it arrived, she paid her dime then paused to speak with the driver.
“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but I’m not exactly sure where I’m going. I have to get to the HMCS York. Is it at the docks?”
“The docks? Well, it’s near there,” he said.
Dash was still confused. “How do I get to it?”
“I’ll just drop you off,” was his response. Then a light went on in his eyes. “You’re thinking the York is a ship. You’d think that from the initials, but it’s the Automotive Building of the CNE. The military muster there before training.”
She thanked him, slightly embarrassed, then she spotted a free seat at the back of the car and made her way toward it, squeezing between the standing passengers. At least she knew how to get to the CNE, since that’s where the Miss War Worker contest had been held. Once she was settled, she peered out the window at the wet road. As the streetcar rolled past a park, she spotted army men doing exercises on the hill.Is Gus wearing one of those uniforms?
Signs of war were everywhere, even in this city thousands of miles away from the conflict. After three years, a lot of people looked haggard and stooped, tired of it all. Despite the mild fall day, Dash shivered, remembering last winter. There’d been a coal shortage, so the government had imposed a restriction on how warm people were allowed to keep their homes. Sixty-five degrees meant Dash, Dot, their mother, Aunt Lou, and other volunteer knitters had made good use of wool and needles, though sometimes it was almost too cold for their fingers to work. With the war still dragging on, Dash imagined this winter would be worse.
Yet even with so much unhappiness, people were carrying on. They stopped to chat with one another, standing in front of lawns that had been dug into victory gardens. Instead of hauling bags of groceries hometo their families, they carried ration tickets in their pockets, doing the best with what they had. And yet, there were signs of optimism. Just the other day, her father had read something to her and Dot fromThe Starabout the Toronto Transit Company’s plans to build a second streetcar line either parallel to this one orbeneathit to help out with the rising demand. A train underground. Just imagine. People came up with the most unexpected solutions. So far nothing had come of the idea, but even if the plan worked, she figured it must be practically impossible to find enough construction workers. They were all fighting overseas. Just like Fred had been. Just like Gus.
When the streetcar eventually dropped her off at Exhibition Park, Dash didn’t see any signs at all indicating the Women’s Royal Canadian Naval Service members belonged here, but the letter in her hand was clear. She wandered into the massive agricultural complex then stopped the first man in a uniform and asked for directions.
“This area’s for the air force,” he said. “I don’t know where the Wrens go.”
She thanked him and continued on, pausing by one of the renovated stalls where the men lived during training, the stink of cows and horses, pigs and chickens thick in her nose. Overhead she spotted a sign bearing the wordSWINEand a smaller one below indicating this area was reserved for officers. According to another, all other ranks belonged underCATTLE AND SHEEP. She’d laughed out loud, and despite her excitement she felt a twinge of regret that she wasn’t sharing the joke with her sister. Dot would have loved the irony.
When a woman in a navy-blue uniform strode past, Dash called out, asking where she should go.
“You’re in the Agriculture Building. You want the Automotive Building,” she said, pointing. “Medical exams for the Wrens are in the upper gallery.”
Dash found her way to the tiny room, marked by a doorway with no door. It was divided in three by a set of short, flimsy shower curtains, and the largest section held a desk, a filing cabinet, and two chairs. She took a seat, filled in the required forms, then was told to go behind the firstcurtain, remove her clothes, and don the required open-backed gown for her medical exam.
“All my clothes?” she clarified, peering at the indicated curtain. Beneath it, she spied two pairs of legs: one male in navy trousers, and one female evidently in nothing at all. The curtain was so light it swayed with the hint of a breeze, and when it suddenly parted and gave her an unexpected glimpse, she looked away, cheeks blazing.
“Every thread.”
The doctor was professional, thorough, and quick, but she still felt humiliated by the indignity of it all. Afterward, he checked her paperwork, flipping over a couple pages to be sure of something, then he dismissed her. Slightly flustered but energized with anticipation, Dash left the tiny office carrying a different letter. This one said she must be ready to report for duty when called.
It wouldn’t be long.
sevenDOT— Oshawa, Ontario —
Dot was like a bat when it came to her hearing. Bright and early this morning she had heard the rustle of Dash pulling on her clothes, then the groan of each step as her sister snuck downstairs and out the front door. Once she was gone, Dot remained in bed with an upset stomach. She felt a deep sadness that Dash was really leaving, but she also acknowledged a twinge of envy. If only she could find the courage to be like her sister just this once.
But Dot had never been that way. Just after they had started school, she’d realized she was different. The other children used Dash’s new nickname in a way that suggested she was fun and popular. Dot, on the other hand, was only Dot the Dormouse: meek, small, and hidden away.
When Dot was fourteen, she had asked her father why she was this way, and he’d turned it around on her: What way? He saw nothing wrong. Dot was the smartest girl on earth, and there was nothing wrong with that.
She asked her mother the same question, and at least she’d been sympathetic. She tucked a strand of Dot’s hair behind her ear and assured her that she would find her confidence in time.
She asked Dash, who had squeezed her tight. “Because you’re my perfect sister. You’re Dot, and this is how you’re meant to be.”
She even asked Gus. She’d been sitting on the stump with a book, the summer breeze ruffling the pages, but her concentration was broken. It bothered her that her father said everything was fine when Dot didn’t feel it was, and that her mother seemed so certain that Dot would eventually find courage, because Dot had no idea how to do that. She wanted instructions. Something factual, though she knew that was unrealistic. Gus was walking up the drive, and when he saw her, he came over. He sat at the base of the maple tree and studied her, his expression soft.
“Why so gloomy?” he asked.
She’d always thought he had the most beautiful blue eyes. They only seemed to get nicer with age. “I’m not gloomy.”
