How Far the World Will Bend

When something bad happens

we play it back in our minds,

looking for a place to step in

and change things... Maybe

the exceptional man can change direction

in midair, thread the needle's eye,

and come out whole. But even the hero

who stands up to chance has to feel

how far the world will bend

until it breaks him. He can see

that day: the unappeasable ocean,

the cascades of stone. A crowd

gathers around his body. He sees that too.

Someone is saying: His luck just ran out.

It happens to us all.

--The Hero's Luck, Lawrence Raab

Chapter 1. Queen Alice

London, 1920

"Meg, is that you?" The anxious voice echoed down the hallway, reaching the young woman who had entered the front door. Meg sighed, and left her handbag and gloves on the side table near the entrance.

"Yes, Aunt Lily, it's me," she replied in a clear, soft voice. She removed her hat and checked her appearance in the hall mirror, smoothing down the wisps of soft auburn hair that had escaped from the braid down her back. Her cheeks were pink from the brisk November wind and her blue eyes were brightened from the exercise of walking. She straightened her uniform and moved toward the stairs.

Her aunt called down again. "Mother has been waiting for you-she would like you to pack her valise."

Meg sighed again. It had been a long day at the hospital, and now she had to pack Grandmother Armstrong's valise. Meg longed for a few moments by herself, away from the bustle of the hospital or the busy come and go of the boarding house her aunt managed. That was obviously not going to happen today. Still, she did not mind packing for Grandmother Armstrong or Gran as she called her. Best to do it now, Meg thought resolutely, and headed up the staircase.

It could be difficult living in a home with people who were not your flesh and blood, Meg thought yet again. Margaret Armstrong, known as Meg to her adoptive family, had come to live with the Armstrong family on her sixth birthday. During the sixteen years she had been with them, Aunt Lily reminded her constantly of the generosity and hard work that enabled Meg to continue living in this comfortable row home on the outskirts of London. It did not seem to matter that she worked, first as a nurse in the wards during the Great War and now at hospital, and contributed a portion of her earnings to the household income. She suspected she was often viewed by the woman she regarded as her aunt as one less room available to let.

Not that Aunt Lily treated her unkindly. She had always loved and cared for Meg, who had been educated at the same schools that Lily's daughter, Amelia, attended. She took piano lessons with Amelia, had shared the same drawing instructor, and had the same number of dresses made for her, spring and fall. Meg suspected that Lily was so completely overworked and tired that she had little energy left to lavish affection on any family member. Widowed at a young age, Lily opened her home to boarders to help pay the family's bills. She was a plump and pretty woman who ran her boarding house with such precision and attention to every detail that she had little time to care for herself, let alone her family.

Meg tried to remember this situation whenever her aunt was irritable or tired, and she attempted to help out in whatever way she could at the boarding house. She would play piano and sing for the boarders on the musical evenings arranged by Aunt Lily. She retrieved Mrs. Rawlings' medications from the pharmacist, and read to Mr. Abernathy, whose vision was waning. Meg also checked on the health of the elderly boarders, ensuring they took their medications on schedule and ate properly. She was well thought of by all of the boarders, and Lily appreciated her efforts in her own way.

Lily met Meg at the top of the stairs. "Mother has spoken of nothing but this journey the entire day. She is so happy at the thought of returning to her home town," her aunt exclaimed, fluttering her hands in a nervous gesture. "Thank you for agreeing to go with her, Meg," she added as a distracted afterthought.

"I am very happy to accompany her," Meg responded promptly. Indeed, she had long desired to see this manufacturing town in the North that was so dear to the older woman.

Several weeks ago, Gran had expressed a strong desire to see her hometown once more before she died. Lily opposed the trip at first, thinking her mother too frail to endure a train ride and the ensuring excitement, but Gran was adamant that she wanted to go. Furthermore, Gran insisted that Meg accompany her. She was quite attached to the young girl, and informed Lily that she would take Meg or no one. Lily eventually agreed, secretly relieved that neither she nor Amelia would have to go to the destitute little town her mother loved so well. It was enough for Lily to know that Meg would care for her mother, and that she and her daughter would not be inconvenienced by the trip.

Seeing the anxious look on her aunt's face, Meg clasped Lily's hand comfortingly. "I will take very good care of her, I promise you."

Lily patted her hand affectionately. "I know you will. You have always loved her as if she were your own grandmother." As Lily hastened downstairs to prepare the evening meal, Meg stepped into the spacious bedroom and smiled at the petite woman seated in a wing chair near a large window.

"Are you ready for our big adventure?" Meg asked.

Gran put down the cup of tea she had been sipping, and returned Meg's smile. "I am ready to leave now, if you can arrange to whisk us away," she replied with a wink.

Meg laughed. Gran was a spry woman in her eighties with a keen intellect and zest for life. Unlike her no-nonsense daughter, she took an avid interest in everything Meg did, and loved to listen to Meg's stories about her work in the hospital or involvement in the burgeoning woman's suffrage and peace and prosperity movements. Meg loved Gran with all her heart, and regarded her as her savior. After all, it was Gran who had brought Meg home from the orphanage and decided to adopt her.

Stepping into the cozy, bright room, Meg saw that Gran's well-worn valise was perched on the end of the bed. "What would you like me to pack?" she asked.

Gran shrugged. "Since we are staying two nights, I don't think I will need much. Why don't you choose what you think I should bring?"

Meg went through Gran's closet and dresser drawers quickly and efficiently, selecting what she thought the older woman would need for two days and nights-undergarments and nightgown, toiletries, a warm robe and slippers, a skirt and blouse, and various other items deemed necessary for the older woman's comfort and appearance. The small bag was packed in a matter of minutes, and Gran heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, my dear. Now I truly feel as if we will go tomorrow." At Meg's puzzled look, she explained, "Until my bag is packed, I always believe something might occur to prevent my departure. Seeing that bag reassures me that we are about to venture forth on our adventure."

Meg sat down on the corner of the neatly made bed. "What is it you wish to see in your hometown? From what I understand, it is by and large deserted."

Gran gave her a sad and wistful look. "That is true. After the demand for cotton dwindled, most of the mills closed. But in my day, it was a bustling and busy place. It seemed that everyone was involved in making cotton. All of my friends and neighbors worked in the mills. I was the only one in my family who chose not to work in the mills there-I found other means of earning a wage."

Gran paused and sighed nostalgically. "My father loved our town. He would never hear of moving elsewhere, even during the strikes when jobs were scarce-" She broke off, and Meg looked at her inquisitively. The dinner bell sounded downstairs, and Gran waved her hand dismissively. "I will tell you the entire story tomorrow," she promised. "For now, let us go have our dinner."

Meg rose from the bed and stretched out her hands to help the older woman from her chair. Gran clasped them, but rather than rising, she pulled Meg down to her eye level. Gazing at the young woman with gratitude, Gran said, "I am so happy that you are going with me. I have ghosts that I would like to lay to rest. Having you with me will be such a comfort."

Meg cocked her head to one side and raised an expressive eyebrow in inquiry, but Gran merely smiled mysteriously and shook her head. "I will tell you soon enough, but for now let us join the others in the dining room." She stood and linked her arm about Meg's waist, and the two women proceeded downstairs to the dining room.

As she packed her own bag later that evening, Meg thought with excitement of her trip. When Meg was a young girl, Gran told her stories of her childhood and how her family worked in the cotton mills. Life had been unbearably difficult at times, Gran said; still, it was her birthplace and she often reminisced about her neighbors and friends, and the fun they would make from nothing.

Gran had worked in different industries as a young woman, and had plied many different trades. Meg loved to hear her stories, but the one that fascinated her most concerned the disappearance of a young woman of gentle birth whose family had relocated from a village in the south of England. The day after the family arrived, the young woman had stepped out to run errands and had apparently vanished into thin air. She was not seen or heard of again, and, although foul play was suspected, her body was not found. Her family never recovered from their loss, Gran remembered. The girl's mother and father died within a year or two of her disappearance, and it was assumed by the town folk that their grief hastened their deaths.

As a young girl, Meg shivered in ghoulish delight whenever she heard this story, and would invent fantastic tales concerning where the young woman had gone-perhaps she had run off to the Orient like Lady Hester Stanhope, or, like the character in Meg's favorite story, gone through a looking glass into a magical world of white rabbits, smoking caterpillars, and croquet-playing cards. Gran would smile at the girl's fanciful ideas and shake her head. Nothing was ever known, so nothing could ever be resolved.

Meg never told Gran, but she experienced frequent dreams of life in a mill town. Her dreams were filled with smoky skies and factories spewing soot, the clatter of machinery, and the sounds of men shouting and feet stamping. Her most frequent dream revolved around a tall, authoritative man. He appeared in different places, but most often she dreamed of him hurling invectives at some unknown entity. Meg sensed danger, and often awoke with a start to find she was standing next to her bed, having started up to do she knew not what. She believed that Gran's home town might hold the clue to her dreams, and fervently hoped to one day visit the town to resolve her curiosity.

Once she completed her packing, Meg prepared for bed. As she undressed and did her nightly ablutions, she thought once more about her good fortune to be adopted by the Armstrong family. She had been so grateful for their love and care that she did everything within her power to prove she was worthy of the love and trust that her new family bestowed upon her.

While at school, Meg earned high marks and, at sixteen years of age, entered a nursing program at a local hospital. It proved to be a felicitous decision, as war was breaking out across Europe and the young men of England were enlisting, fighting, and returning home injured, shattered, or worse. Meg worked in a private mansion converted to nursing ward at night, and attended classes at the hospital during the day.

Meg was clever and intuitive, practically knowing what a doctor wanted before being asked. Her light touch with dressings and the cleansing of wounds made her popular among the patients. Any number of besotted young soldiers impulsively asked for her hand in marriage, but she would only smile and stroke their heads comfortingly. She was content to flirt with the men, but had no intention of engaging in a serious relationship. Happily, her heart was her own. She had no time or inclination for romance; she planned to strike out on her own and make her mark upon the world.

She dreamed of becoming a doctor, so that she might establish a clinic to serve the poorer classes of London. She recognized that becoming a doctor would be an uphill battle; the men of the world resented women intruding on their sacred turf. However, her mind was quite made up. She had gone so far as to discuss the possibility of attending medical school with the head of the hospital. While he had not been overly enthusiastic about her desire, warning her that she would have a difficult time given that men occupied the rank and file of the medical profession, he had not discouraged her; in fact, he thought her abilities such that she showed great promise, and he pledged to support her in her quest. Buoyed by his honest counsel and support, Meg had completed the initial paperwork required for acceptance into the medical training program. She fell asleep feeling hopeful, as if her life were about to unfold for her as she had always dreamed it might.

**********

The following morning, Gran and Meg ate an early breakfast of porridge and toast with Lily, who fussed and fretted about all the details of the trip-were they certain they knew where their hotel was located? Did they have enough money? What would Meg do if Gran became tired or did not want to walk about Milton? Meg answered all of her aunt's questions to her aunt's satisfaction, and announced it was time for them to depart.

As the travelers donned their coats and prepared to leave for the train station, Lily took both of Meg's hands in her own and said earnestly, "I rely on you to take care of my mother. She forgets how old and frail she is, and will overtax herself if you do not watch her carefully."

"I know,' Meg replied soothingly, "and I promise I will take care that she does not come to any harm." Lily kissed her on the cheek affectionately, hugged her mother, and waved them out the door and into the hired carriage.

At the train station, Meg purchased their roundtrip tickets and took care that their baggage was stowed safely onboard the train. She settled Gran into the train compartment, and wrapped several shawls about her legs to protect her against the chilly November draughts. She placed the picnic basket containing the repast Lily had prepared for them on the floor next to Gran's feet, and settled herself on the opposite seat, smoothing the navy skirts of her smart travelling suit.

Within moments, the train pulled away from the station and they were on their way to Milton. Excited at the thought of traveling somewhere new, Meg hugged herself with glee. She was ecstatic at the thought of an adventure, and two days away from the cares and concerns of the hospital and boarding house. She caught Gran watching her and laughed sheepishly.

Gran smiled sympathetically. "You cannot possibly be more excited than I am." She yawned. "I must confess, however, that I did not sleep well last night. I must be journey proud, I guess." She smiled apologetically at her traveling companion. "Would you mind if I closed my eyes and tried to sleep? I believe the rocking of the train might help me to doze."

Meg assured Gran she no objection to her napping, and helped the older woman find a more comfortable position on the seat so she might sleep. Comfortably ensconced across the seat, Gran closed her eyes, leaving Meg to gaze out the window at the passing scenery and let her mind wander. She wondered what Aunt Lily and Amelia were doing this morning, and what was going on at the hospital. She thought about becoming a doctor and all of the hurdles she would face in her training. Most of all, she thought again about her great good luck in being adopted by Gran; all of the blessings she had experienced throughout her life seemed to blossom from that one lucky event.

Gran had discovered Meg at the orphanage while taking tea with her friend who was matron there. When she met Meg by chance in the hallway, she asked to visit with her, and decided to bring Meg home as a foster child. Before that time, Meg held little hope of being fostered, as so many families had met and rejected her. She was left on the steps of the orphanage as a baby, just like a changeling in a fairy story. But it was no charmed life to be left in such a manner. Most of the people looking for children wanted to know something about the child's background or history. Since nothing was known about Meg's history, prospective adopters avoided her. Until Gran arrived, that is.

When Gran beckoned Meg into the parlor of the orphanage to visit with her, she pulled the young girl close to her and placed gentle hands on either side of her head to examine the young girl's features. After several moments' perusal, Gran turned to Matron and suggested that she take the girl home as a foster child. If Meg dealt well with her family and wanted to live with Gran, she would consider adopting Meg.

Later, when Meg asked Gran why she had chosen her, Gran had said she did not know; she just had a feeling that Meg was the right child for her family. From that day forward, Meg was determined to show Gran that her trust had not been misplaced. No one worked harder or accomplished more than Meg. She helped Lily with the heavy chores, and willingly assisted Amelia, a small shy girl, with her chores and her studies. She read Bible passages, novels from the circulating library, and newspaper articles to the women as they did their sewing and mending, ran errands for the family and the boarders, and performed numerous small, thoughtful services for everyone she came into contact with. Gran often told her affectionately that adopting Meg was a better bargain for her family than for the girl.

Meg never forgot her early life in the orphanage. She was determined to make something of herself, refusing to become an idle, decorative woman. So many other nurses with whom she worked gave up their profession as soon as they married, choosing to become appendages to their husbands. Meg valued her independence too much to think of marriage, and knew she would never marry unless she found a true partner who would accept her as she was, not as she might or should be. Gazing out the train window, she idly wondered if she would remain a spinster for the remainder of her life, as she had never found anyone to whom she was remotely attracted or attached.

When Gran woke after an hour's nap, declaring she felt quite refreshed, she and Meg shared their lunch of sandwiches, fruit, and cider. They spent the afternoon reading and discussing the novels and newspapers they had brought with them, and in desultory conversation about current events and the various escapades of those who lived in Lily's boarding house.

The train arrived at the Outwood Station in Milton at dusk, just as the gloom of night shrouded the town in shadows and mist. Meg shivered as they left the railcar and collected their baggage. She hailed a carriage to their hotel as quickly as possible. It seemed to her that some malignant aura hung about the station, and she was eager to leave as soon as they could manage.