Where Old Ghosts Meet (13 page)

Nora, rigid with fright, listened for the sound of Peg's bedroom door closing. The house fell silent again.

Nora awoke feeling sluggish, her eyes still heavy with sleep. She rolled over, dragging the bedclothes over her head. Something was not right in this befuddled world of bedclothes. She sniffed, sniffed again, pushed back the bedclothes and slowly raised herself on one elbow. Only her eyes moved as she scanned the room: the stack of boxes, the books neatly arranged on the wooden dresser, the open window. She sat bolt upright as it began to dawn on her. Someone had been in her room during the night, over by the window. She remembered the little whimpering noises, the pale shadowy figure coming towards her, the staring eyes. A loud clatter coming from beyond the bedroom door made her jump. She could smell baking. Peg, of course, she had been in her room last night, rummaging about in the dark. In an instant Nora was out of bed, across the floor and standing in the kitchen.

Peg was by the stove, her back to Nora.

“You're all right?”The words rushed out and immediately seemed misplaced.

“Oh, good morning, my dear,” Peg called over her shoulder. “Yes, of course I'm all right. Once the sun's up, I'm up. Did you sleep well? It was hot last night, too hot for my liking.”

“I was fine. I left the window open all night.”

Peg turned and smiled at her young guest. “That's fine. I never lock the house.” Her hand brushed against her apron, sending a poof of white particles into the air.

“Good.” Nora could think of nothing else to say. A night had passed and things had shifted, but she was relieved to see the same Peg looking back at her. She realized suddenly that she felt very protective of this woman.

“I'll just have a quick wash and get dressed then and I'll be with you in a minute.”

“No hurry, my dear. You just take your time.”

In the bathroom Nora splashed her face with cold water. When she raised her head and looked in the mirror, she saw uncertainty. What in the world had been going on last night? Peg obviously had no recollection of her wanderings but she must have had a very troubled sleep. Nora told herself to be careful, to pay more attention to how things were progressing. The whole thing had to be emotionally very trying. With that resolve she went to dress.

There were freshly baked blueberry muffins and mugs of hot tea on the table when she returned to the kitchen.

“You've been busy.”

“I promised a plate tart for the garden party today, so I had to get that on the go. It was no trouble to do up a few muffins at the same time. Eat up now. I'm nearly done here.” Unsteady hands lifted a tart from the oven and set it on top of the stove. Nora watched as Peg lightly touched the golden crust with her fingertips.

How could everything seem so normal? Nora began to doubt her memory. Had she been dreaming? But the thought of the luminous, vacant eyes coming towards her in the darkness sent a shiver right through her and made her realize that it had been no dream.

She heard Peg give a little grunt as she reached over and turned off the oven. Systematically, Peg did a quick check, touching knobs. Finally, nodding her head, she made her way to the table.

“Did you sleep well, Peg?” Nora put the question casually.

“Oh, best kind, but I was some tired. It was a bit late when we shut her down.” There was no sign of unease or embarrassment, no indication that anything was other than normal.

“I've been thinking, Nora, maybe you'd like to take a run down to visit Bird Rock today.” Peg poured more tea, using both hands to steady the pot. “It's a wonderful sight to see this time of year with the thousands of birds feedin' and busy with their young and it's not too far from here. I used to go there with my father the odd time, when I was a girl, but I haven't been there in the longest while. I wouldn't mind seeing the place again and it would be nice for you too.”

“I'd love that. It's not too far, you say?”

“No, just a few miles down the road, a nice little run in the car. Years ago, the fishermen used to row down there and then across as far as Golden Bay to the fishing grounds. Those days it took nine and a half hours of solid rowing just to get to Golden Bay. They'd set out on a Monday, fish all the week and come back again Saturday.” She reached for a muffin. “My father had an engine on his boat so it was an easier run for him, but on the way back, if I were with him, he'd pull in for a spell near the rock to watch the birds. It was just a bit of fun.”

“We'll do that then.”

Peg's face lit up. “Right, soon as we get clear of the dishes, we'll be off.”

11

They
drove south, through Great Barasway, Ship Cove, past Gooseberry Cove and Angel Cove, the narrow road cleaving tightly to the edge of the ocean. To the left, brown rocky barrens pocked with massive boulders and great clumps of low stunted bushes stretched back to where a great big sky met the horizon. Nora was glad to be out and about. It was part of her reason for coming here. She hadn't placed a whole lot of hope in finding a link to her grandfather but she was interested in seeing this remote place, reputed to be the closest thing to Ireland on the North American continent. On the way back she'd hoped to stop and explore some of the little communities along the way. The road began to climb into an area of low hills covered with thick lanky spruce. The dark earthy smell of the woods filled the warm air.

“You know, Nora, he came down here one time,” Peg began tentatively, “with a student of his; he wanted to see the birds. Of course he wouldn't hear tell of going in the boat, so they walked all the way. They went in across the path from St. Bride's, but here on the way home, all of a sudden, didn't the fog come in as they were crossin' the barrens. In no time they were lost, but the young fella with him, smart enough, knew what to do. Got in under the tuckamores, them's the low bushes you see out there, and settled down 'til morning when the fog lifted. They got home none the worse for the wear, but God knows what might have happened had he been by hisself. He wouldn't have had the sense to lie low and wait.”

“You said he had a student with him?”

“Yes. He taught school on the island for a spell. It was after he come back home one time. The young teacher to the school up and left suddenly, to get married: I believe there was a love child on the way. Anyway, the parish priest, Father O'Reilly, was to the door the next day lookin' for Matt to take on the job. Matt wanted none of it but there was no sayin' no to Father O'Reilly. He would have him.”

“So when was that?”

“October 1928,” she said without hesitation. “He'd been back a year or so by then.”

“So, he'd been gone for a long time, seven or eight years?” She looked for confirmation but there was none. “Did he just show up after all that time, just like that, right out of the blue?” She couldn't keep the disbelief from her voice. “In all that time, did he write, send a postcard, anything?” She threw a worried glance in Peg's direction but Peg quickly turned away. A wire hairpin dangled from the knot of hair at the top of her head. It danced about as she moved but hung on tenaciously.

“No. There were no letters.”

Nora had to resist an urge to reach out, take the hairpin and tuck it back into place.

“I was some pleased to see him when he come back.”

Nora turned again to take a quick look at Peg.

“Havin' him around again was like seeing the ice break up in the spring of the year; winter was gone and the good weather was on the way.” Her mouth worked slightly in an effort to find the right words. “My father had been dead several years by then and I was alone. I had my chances, mind, while he was gone, just like father said I would, but there was none could match him, not to my mind anyways, even with all his faults. He had been in New York all that time. Things were booming there, plenty of work to be had and good money to be made, so he said. The old crowd from Dublin had shown up also, doin' a tour with their plays and he met up with them all again. The two sisters he thought so much of, they were there as well. He talked a lot about them. They were makin' piles of money on the stage in New York and had all the finery to go with it: silks, velvets, furs. I was a bit jealous, tell truth, but just the same time I wanted to hear all about them.” She laughed at her own foolishness and suddenly startled, pointed her finger to a turn off in the road. “My dear, I've been talkin' too much. Here's where we turn off.”

A narrow dirt road pointed straight to the horizon. “You're sure we can drive in?”

“Yes, girl, this is the way the locals come now.”

The narrow path stretched away in a straight line as far as the eye could see. Edging the car carefully along, Nora sat forward, straining to avoid the potholes, praying not to get a flat tire, and trying not to think of what might happen should they become stuck. She brushed aside a fleeting image of herself and Peg huddled under a bush for warmth.

“Can you change a flat tire, Peg?”

“No, girl, but I've been in tighter spots than this and managed.” She chuckled, knowing exactly what was in Nora's mind as she picked her way along the bumpy road. After what seemed like an endless run, the sea appeared, a flat dark blue streak above the craggy cliffs. She parked on a grassy spot and rolled down the window all the way. The scream of the birds rushed in on a stiff breeze.

“What a racket! There must be thousands of them!” Nora had to raise her voice to be heard.

“That's nothing. Bird Rock is across the barrens a little ways, towards the cliff. That's where you want to be.” She pointed off to the left.

“You're not coming?”

“No, my dear, I'd forgotten how wild it is here. I'll just sit in the car. Off you go and take your time. I'll be happy here just listening to the birds.”

“You'll be all right on your own?”

“Yes, off you go and take your time.”

Nora hurried across the wild exposed terrain, battling with every step the fierce wind off the Atlantic. She stopped to catch her breath. To the right a lighthouse and keeper's home sat comfortably on the point, but otherwise, there was no other sign of human habitation. A small bird, unafraid, alighted by her feet and pecked away at the earth, quite unconcerned. Tiny purple harebells, dwarfed by the wind, struggled to show their sweetness through the grassy terrain. She turned into the wind again and continued on.

Up ahead, the sky was alive with a great jumble of flapping feathers, birds circling, diving, screeching and squawking. The great dome of the rock appeared above the cliff. As Nora came closer to the edge she saw that the dome extended and widened, the massive walls reaching down hundreds of feet in a great cone, to the ocean far below. Every nook and cranny of this vast roost was occupied, every square inch staked out by a dense mass of birds clinging perilously to the rock face. All around, the cliffs were similarly inhabited. It was magnificent.

Cautiously she stepped down over the edge of the cliff onto a little sheltered plateau where there was a large flat stone that over the years had obviously been used as a seat. It was smooth and glossy and, strangely enough, unlike the surrounds, totally clear of bird droppings: Visitors are welcome and encouraged to stay! She took her seat, laughing with delight at the sheer miracle of it all.

A gannet with a soft golden head and dark velvety wing tips swooped right by. Nora followed its flight. Gliding and soaring, it flew in a perfect figure-eight pattern and then disappeared from view. Another gannet flew in close, this one trailing a strip of tattered cloth. It reminded Nora of those cards that show a plump dove trailing a ribbon that says
PEACE ON EARTH
or
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY
. She watched the bird swoop and dip, showing off its treasure before heading for home.

He had sent ribbons one time. Well, someone had sent ribbons all the way across the Atlantic. Years later Maureen and she, for want of a better solution, had decided it was the Da's da who had sent them, but at the time it was a mystery, at least to the children. The American Parcel. That's what they had called the big brown package with the strange stamps and the hard red globs of sealing wax that had arrived unexpectedly from America, just before St. Patrick's Day. Her mother had told them that it was from Daddy's cousin who lived in Boston. There was never any talk before of American cousins, but in the excitement of the moment nobody cared.

She had been the one who had answered the door and taken the big package from the postman. In a funny way she felt it gave her ownership or certainly a special claim to the treasure within. Her mother whipped the package from her hands, turned it over several times, and headed for her bedroom, closing the door behind her. Believing there was strength in numbers, Nora went immediately to break the news to her brother and sister, and they gathered outside the closed door, ears cocked, until finally they found the courage to edge their way into the room to a vantage point by the bedside. All eyes were fixed earnestly on this wonder from America.

“Who's it for, Mammy?”

“It says: The Molloy Family.”

“That's us.”

“Yes, that's true, so maybe we should wait 'til Daddy gets home.”

“He'll make us put it away 'til Lent is over.”

“Sure, by then we might forget all about it. Mightn't we?”

“Go on, Mammy, open it up.”

“Well, maybe that would be all right.” Their mother began to unwrap the big package.

It was a wonder: a book for her father. She couldn't recall the title but it was brown and shiny and she had never seen it again after that day. There were comics, ten or more, bright and colourful: the Lone Ranger, Roy Rogers, Buster Brown, three copies, crisp and new,
Buster Brown Goes to Mars, Inter Planetary Police vs. The Space Siren,
Time Masters
. Nora remembered clearly the smiling face of Roy Rogers looking out from the front page of the comic book. He had on a soft white cowboy hat and a red shirt with long fringes dangling from the sleeves. He was leaning casually against the top rail of a white wooden fence, his hand resting on a striped blanket. She thought he was gorgeous.