My mother was pleased when the Price family moved to our neighbourhood. They had left their failing farm in Alberta, so Mr. Price could work in the wartime shipyards in Esquimalt. They went to Victoria Gospel Hall, and Ruth would be in my class at school next fall. Connie was by now absorbed with her own pals from High School, so it seemed ideal that Ruth would become my friend. It was therefore arranged between the mothers that I would go over and spend the day with Ruth, and have dinner with her family.

Ruth met me at the gate to her yard. At the side of their house was a huge peach tree, laden with ripe yellow fruit, smelling gorgeous. Our peach tree never produced anything, so I was amazed at all this bounty. Ruth selected a beauty for me, and one for herself. Never have I tasted such a delicious peach, ripe to perfection, warmed by the sun. Ruth was also enjoying hers, evidently. She bit into it delicately with her sharp little teeth, let the juice bubble on her lips and run down her chin, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. Her tongue came out like a little kitten’s and delicately licked her lips. I had never met anyone like Ruth before. She was a skinny 11 year-old, lavishly freckled, with vibrant chestnut hair which she told me had “never been cut” (for religious reasons) and which, unlike my perennially tangled mat, fell down her back in luxurious gleaming waves. Her eyes were a strange liquid green, light and luminous like a cat’s.

“We have to give Gran her lunch first.” said Ruth. Gran turned out to be the tiniest woman I had ever seen, propped up in bed wrapped in a dingy shawl, just bright eyes and a toothless grin, and tiny claws which grasped my hand with a surprisingly powerful grip. “This is my friend Felicity, Gran,” said Ruth. “I’ll get your lunch for you now.” She saved me from the old lady’s clutches and took me to the kitchen to prepare Gran’s lunch. Lunch consisted of wedges of lettuce, ground up in a meat chopper. That was it. No wonder the old lady was such a wisp. This meal was dumped in a bowl and shoved at Gran. “We’re going downtown now, Gran”, said Ruth, “Back for dinner.” “I didn’t know we were going into town, Ruth,” I protested. “I didn’t bring bus fare or anything.” “Don’t worry about that,” said Ruth, feeling behind the clock on the living room mantel. She brought forth a fistful of coins, pocketed them, grabbed a large paper bag from her room, and we were off. “Where are we going downtown?” I asked. “Doesn’t matter,” said Ruth, “We’ll see when we get there.” We got off the bus at the Douglas Hotel, a place I’d never been, and headed for the women’s washroom. You needed a nickel to open the cubicles, but Ruth just dived under the door, while I stood by astonished. She was in the cubicle a long time.

When she emerged, instead of wearing the schoolgirl blouse and skirt she’d left home in, she was attired in a tight sweater which revealed all there was of her budding breasts, a tight short skirt, and glamourous sandals. Her hair she then proceeded to pile on top of her head in a very sexy grown-up style. She produced a bright red lipstick (oh, forbidden!) and used it liberally, she sprinkled her neck and chest with “Midnight in Paris”.

“You might as well carry this,” she said, handing me the bag which now contained her proper clothes. And she swaggered out, hips undulating like the most shameless movie star. I don’t know why she wanted me along; my childish presence would have scared off any sailor she might have hoped to pick up, even if he was taken in by her phony glamour.

After all this, where did we go? We went to the Public Library. By this time, I had my library card, but only for the Children’s Room upstairs, which I had read dry. Ruth’s card was for the Adult Section. She headed directly to a certain place on the shelf where her current book was filed, found her chapter, and settled down to read. She had first kindly found another racy book for me, one she had read already, and pointed out the naughty chapters. I read alongside her, always with one eye alert in case anyone who knew me might come in.

Ruth was reading her way through all the sexy books in the library, one chapter at a time. When she finished today’s installment, she neatly turned down a comer of the page, and selected another innocuous book to take home to show her parents, one they couldn’t possibly object to. We hung around a bit longer in front of a smoke shop, but no sailors materialized; then it was time for Ruth to turn herself back into a little girl again, and catch the bus for home.

Ruth’s mother met us at the door. She grabbed Ruth’s arm in a powerful grip, staring at her wildly with piercing, mad-seeming eyes. “Where did you go? You were supposed to stay with Gran this afternoon!” she cried. Ruth shrugged and pulled her arm away, where red marks remained. “Gran can manage all right,” she said sullenly, “Felicity had to go to the Library to return her book.” I shuffled my feet in embarrassment. Mrs. Price seemed to notice me for the first time. She relaxed visibly, her crazy grin turned into the sweetest of smiles “Oh, well, that’s all right then,” she said.

Dinner was soon ready, and the whole Price family gathered around the table. Ruth had an older sister, Isabel, who was sickly, and seemed to spend much of her time in bed. Her young brother looked cheeky to me. I tried to avoid his eye. Her Father was a wiry little man, who seemed to share the slightly wacky look of the family. Of Gran there was no sign. Maybe she’d just drifted away like a bit of thistledown.

Dinner was on the grand side, me being “company”, and I had the uncomfortable feeling that the best tablecloth and china had been put out for my benefit. We had some kind of meat with lots of rich gravy, and, a thing I’d never seen before, the vegetables all put in separate covered dishes which were handed round from person to person rather than being dished out by the mother. A lengthy Blessing was said by Stuart, the young brother, and the family fell to, silent and intent on their feeding. Everything tasted strange, I felt a stomach ache coming on. Dessert was bright yellow Bird’s Custard, which I’d always hated. Mum always made her own custard with real eggs.

Then, after the dessert bowls had been cleared away, Father brought out a large Bible, and ostentatiously read a chapter. This was something new to me too. Was it something they did every evening, or was it too put on for my benefit? Our family were certainly confirmed Christians, but we would never have thought to engage in family devotions like the Prices seemed to do. “Let’s play the Game,” Isabel cried when at last he closed the Bible. “The Game” was a nightmare for me. It consisted of a set of cards, each printed with a Bible text. Chapter and verse were printed on the reverse. Each person in turn would read out his verse, and the others would call out where it could be found. They were all amazingly good at it.

I could not identify a single verse. I felt humiliated. I felt I was letting my family down in a most dishonourable way. Finally someone took pity on me and read out “For God so loved the world… ” In great relief I was able to shout out “John 3:16”, and thus at least partially redeem myself, but I had been thoroughly shown up as a scriptural ignoramus, and I could see by the ring of triumphantly gleaming eyes around the table, that they knew they had caught me out, and by imputation the Christian values of my own home.

I don’t remember how I got home that evening. Presumably since it was summer time, it would be light still, and I would have walked home. Perhaps Ruth walked part of the way with me. I know I was never invited back to her house, nor did she come to ours.

I did see plenty of her at school, however. I was often embarrassed to be thought of as her friend, as she was so obviously strange, wild, even evil. I was thoroughly afraid of her. She showed me how to palm a chocolate bar from a candy-store shelf, and dared me, taunted me, until I had to do it too.

She was often mysteriously absent from school. She was forever hanging around street cormers, hoping to entice the boys. She was not interested in real boys, however; for Ruth, it was a sailor or nothing, and sure enough, in time she did catch herself a sailor or so, and went from bad to worse. But by then we had moved away from the Gorge House, she had drifted out of my immediate circle, and I would only see her briefly, after Sunday School, in the Ladies’ Cloakroom at the Gospel Hall, tarting herself up for a clandestine meeting of some sort.

Ruth Price and the Invasion of the Prairie People Clip

Next:

The Gorge House: Pets