Life’s Journey: Part 5 by Eustacia Cutler – Mrs. Huckle

Miracles of miracles. Temple, with the help of her teacher Mrs. Reynolds, had accomplished speech. And now that she was
nearly five, Mrs. Reynolds thought she would benefit from St. Hubert’s, a camp for special children run by Mrs. Huckle. So off we drove– rattling down a dirt road through the pinewoods to a low wooden building.
From it – her arms held wide in greeting– emerged Mrs. Huckle. The epitome of matriarchy in a vast pair of flowing black velvet pajamas, on her gray shingled bob a floppy black velvet tam. She gave off the aura of a British pre-WWI Edwardian actress. Authority, good sense and theatrical timing.
She clapped her hands, and running out of the wooden building came a flock of children One by one she made them introduce
themselves —easier for some than for others. Now she turned to Temple: “Temple, you may come to my camp, but by the end of the summer you must have learned two things. You must learn tomsay the Lord’s Prayer and you must learn—always—to do your
veddy veddy best.”
A tall order for a little girl who’d only just accomplished speech. But Temple accomplished it. And most of the time since she’s
did her “veddy veddy” best. Mrs. Huckle wound up the encounter telling the story of her school on the Riviera for the sons of maharajahs– but not why she closed it, nor how she escaped from WWII Vichy France. Whatever her fortunes then and whomever her enemies, I felt certain she’d met both in her black velvet pajamas and tam, unimpressed and undaunted.
I trusted her as I’d trusted Aunt Ruby. Would I have the judgment and character of those two? All I could summon then was a sense that there’d be no established routine for guiding Temple. Only choices. What I had yet to learn, was that the choices would change both of us.