The Quintland Sisters(88)
OFFICIAL WORD TODAY in the papers that Their Majesties will permit the quintuplets to be presented to them in one month’s time, in Toronto. We’d already been counting on this, but still. To see it in print makes it real.
April 22, 1939 (Toronto Star)
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NEW DIVE BOMBER IS CANADA’S CONTRIBUTION TO THE SKIES
Fighter does 300 miles an hour in tests over Montreal MONTREAL, Quebec—A droning streak of fighting power has been cutting capers over Montreal. The FDB fighter and dive bomber, the first military airplane developed in Canada, has been put through rigorous tests and has exceeded 300 miles an hour at less than full throttle. Lewis Cartwright, a junior engineer of the Canadian Car and Foundry Co, working with Canada’s first lady engineer, Miss Elsie MacGill, designed the plane with retractable landing gear to give added streamlining. Canadian Car and Foundry Co, under Miss MacGill, has also stepped up production of the Hawker single-seater fighter dubbed the “Hurricane” under a special order from the British Royal Air Force.
Used with permission.
May 1, 1939
More confusion in the bath with the girls today with much talk in French about this being dirty or that being dirty. I had so hoped we were finished with this when Nurse No?l was fired, but according to Nurse Corriveau, who continues to jot nervous notes in the book she keeps in a pocket she’s stitched into the underside of her nurse’s apron, the girls have started saying it again. She wanted to show me the record she took of an exchange when they were splashing in the play pool yesterday, while their mother sat at the edge, but I told her she must take it to Dr. Dafoe instead.
I can well imagine what Mme. Dionne must have said. She has forbidden the new photographer to take any pictures of the girls in their little pool, never mind the thousands of people who come and watch them playing here firsthand. Her view, the view that she’s teaching them by example, is that five-year-old girls frolicking in their swimming costumes or having their bath are “dirty” in their own skins. It breaks my heart. I scolded Yvonne for saying silly things as she was climbing out of the bathtub this evening, then bundled her in my arms when I saw her eyes pool with confusion. “Not dirty, my sweet girl,” I whispered to her. “You are perfect. Every bit of you. Perfect.”
I’m copying Nurse Corriveau’s idea and sewing a little pocket into the underside of my apron for my diary. Can’t hurt.
May 1, 1939
Miss Emma Trimpany Dafoe Hospital and Nursery Callander, ON
Dear Emma,
The whole factory is to be turned over to Hurricane fighter planes, which means we’ll have to ditch many of the designs we’ve been working on, no doubt my landing feet included! No one is especially cut up about it—we’re all so excited by the new planes. Today I looked up at the sky and pictured them soaring, diving, and swooping, then quite suddenly tried to imagine someone squinting up at our planes out of fear, not wonder. It gave me pause.
Unfortunately I won’t be visiting Callander anytime soon and I, too, would like the chance to see you. Here’s a bold proposition, and I hope you’ll at least consider it: would you pay me a visit in Montreal? You could travel with the quintuplets to Toronto for their audience with the Royals, then continue on by train to Montreal. Surely the other nurses and staff could manage the return journey to Quintland on their own?
I’ve taken the liberty of asking my boss, Miss MacGill, about suitable lodging for a young lady traveling on her own, and she has kindly offered to host you in her own home, which is rumored to be very grand, on the west side. So you see, my intents are honorable—and from your letters, I figure you could use a proper break.
I would be thrilled to show you around Vieux-Montréal and maybe even take you out to the hangar to see our planes. Plus, we’d get a chance to speak of some things that don’t belong in a letter. I’m sure you’d be very comfortable staying with Miss MacGill—you’ll like her, I know it.
Hopefully I haven’t shocked you with this idea. Give it some thought and let me know what you want to do.
Yours sincerely, Lewis Cartwright
11 Rue Saint Ida
Montreal, Quebec
May 5, 1939
Mr. Munro was at the nursery today to collect the last of the documents for the government audit. He asked me to step into Dr. Dafoe’s office when George was taking his lunch. He pointed me to a chair at the table, then took a seat across from me, peering out from under his snowy mane.
“I’m bound to inform you that the record of payments made to you, Emma Trimpany, since you started receiving commissions from commercial entities for your portraits of the Dionne quintuplets has been turned over to M. Dionne’s lawyer, at M. Dionne’s insistence.”
I stared at him, wondering if I was supposed to be alarmed. He raised a hand to stop whatever I’d been about to ask.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” he said. “These payments have all been scrupulously documented.” He tucked his chin and glowered at the papers in front of him before continuing. “Thank heavens for George, that’s what I say. If only all of this had been managed differently from the outset.”
He pushed a piece of paper across the table toward me.