Where Old Ghosts Meet (20 page)

“That's all set then. He'll come by for you tomorrow about eleven o'clock. I'm glad you're going to see the island. It was Matt's home. It was where he belonged and where he is laid to rest.”

“I wondered where he was buried. Will I be able to find his grave?”

“Yes, my dear, that's easy. It's well marked, I saw to that.”

Things were moving along very quickly and her time was getting short. She hadn't quite known what to expect when she decided to come to Newfoundland. Her plan had been to take her time, to contact her friend's family in St. John's, to get a feel for the place, look for information on Berry Island, maybe seek out Peg Barry's whereabouts and find out if Matt Molloy was still living. She wanted, if necessary, to be able to put things on hold for a while and maybe, when the time was right, make personal contact with a letter or a phone call. But encouraged by how simple it had been to track down Peg and buoyed by the great weather and a wonderful few days in St. John's with her friend's family, she had no trouble deciding to rent a car and head out into the unknown.

However, it was only when she was outside of St. John's and well on her way that she began to think that maybe she should have made a phone call first. What if Peg Barry was a crotchety old woman who was bitter and truculent and difficult to deal with? She might even cut her off right there and then, and that would be the end of it. She resolved to go carefully and to leave room for a quiet exit if necessary, but of course, on coming face to face with a real living Peg Barry, she had immediately thrown caution to the wind, forgotten all her resolutions and jumped right in.

“You've been very kind to me, Peg,” Nora said on impulse. “Thank you.”

“It's not easy what you're doin', girl,” she said. “News of you is on everyone's lips now, but you don't want to worry about that. Your grandfather gave more to this place than he ever took away and he never hurt no one. Now, you go sit down and I'll take up your supper.”

“What do you think Father O'Reilly wants with me?” She reached for the plate held out to her.

“Maybe he's thought more about it all and has something he wants to tell you. When you've kept your distance all your life from the ordinary people, it's hard to change. That was part of the clergy's power years ago. People were afraid to come near them, never mind come straight out and ask a question.”

Nora remembered that feeling of being in awe of the men in black. But that was then, now she felt differently. She'd make a quick phone call after supper and see if he wanted to be more forthcoming. She turned her attention to the piece of crispy pan-fried cod on her plate and began to eat.

“This is delicious.” She realized that she hadn't eaten all day.

“Did Gerry have much to say about Matt?”

“Gerry had plenty to say about Matt but he seems to think he let him down. I suppose you knew all about that?”

“Yes, I knew about all that. Who didn't? Things were bad enough during the thirties but the teacher leavin' was the last straw. There was some racket about that, people layin' blame with this one and that one. The school was doin' good. The youngsters were there every day, and not only that, they wanted to go and that was something in itself. Gerry and a few more were making great strides. We were some proud of our school then.” She looked out the window, browsing the landscape of her memory. After a little while she laid her fork down and stared at her plate, holding the rim lightly with both hands.

“You're disappointed, I know, to hear Matt took off like that again. It's hard to understand but I believe he was afraid for Gerry. He thought he'd done wrong by him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He blamed himself for filling Gerry's head with all that actin' stuff. He never meant to do that. Gerry was smart but more important, he had no fear in him. He had the guts for anything. He's still the same, goes for the big haul. When he gets something in his mind, there's no holdin' him back. He'd have done as he pleased no matter what. That's what Matt didn't understand.”

Peg touched each side of her mouth with her index finger in her usual way, checking for stray scraps of food. “Gerry was in some state that night. He came by the house about eight o'clock. It was January month, bitter cold with a gale of wind comin' in off the water. He stood back from the door a ways, his two feet planted on the ground like he was anchored right to the spot.”

“Come in, Gerry.” Peg opened the door wider. “Come in, for the love of God, before the wind makes away with you.”

“Is it true?” he bawled out. “Is he gone?”

“Yes, Gerry, it's true,” she said. “He's gone.”

“And what about me and my exams? I don't suppose he happened to mention before he left, what I was supposed to do.”

“No, Gerry, he didn't. You're on your own now.” Peg had to shout to make herself heard above the wind. “You got to look out for yourself and keep on with what you're doing. Any time you wants a quiet place to study, you're welcome here. You've just got to go do it yourself.”

“To give him his due, Nora, Gerry did just that. I believe myself, it was the makin' of Gerry Quinlan. He had a new determination about him, like he was cut free. He was the first youngster on the island to get his CHE exams and he passed with wonderful marks. That was some achievement in those days, coming from a one-room school. He came to the door with the letter to say he'd passed. ‘Aunt Peg,' he said, ‘I've done it.' Then if he didn't pick me right up off the floor and swing me round and round. Pure delighted, he was.”

Her smile broadened and the straight line of perfect teeth pressed down onto her lower lip as if holding back an unbearable delight. “I was some proud of him that day. It was like he was my own.” She picked up her fork and continued with her dinner. “It was another year or so before he managed to get away to the college in St. John's, but by then it was the politics was drivin' him. There was no more talk about acting.”

Nora's eyes widened but Peg continued on, “He finished his education and was apprenticed to a lawyer in St. John's when he first met up with Joey. His timing was perfect. All he wanted then was the politics. Funny how things turn out, isn't it?” She gathered the last remnants of her dinner together on the plate and piled it onto her fork.

“I didn't know he was into politics.”

“He didn't tell you?”

“No.”

“My dear, Gerry's been tucked in there, right next to Mr. Smallwood on the top floor of the Confederation Building since the beginning. He's all set now to run for the Liberals in this district come election time. He's a born politician, can work the crowd like no one else I know. He's smart, see, and understands the game.” She looked out at the fading sunset. “He'll go far, will Gerry. He knows how to get the crowd on his side.” Her finger tapped at the table top. “He'll go to Ottawa one day, right to the House of Parliament.” Her hand came down firmly on the table.

“Who is Mr. Smallwood?”

“My dear, the premier of the province, Joe Smallwood. Brought us into Canada.”

There was a new vigour about Peg and Nora had spotted it. “You like politics, Peg?”

“Yes, girl, I just wish I was younger. I'd run myself! But imagine now, he didn't tell you all that?”

“Well, we talked mostly about Matt, but I did wonder what he did for a living.”

“Well, girl, you're lucky you got to meet him. The garden party brought him this way today. It's a good way to see and be seen.”

“So that's what he was at today, canvassing.” She smiled. “His boyhood dream wasn't too far off the mark. I wonder what Matt would think of his star pupil now?”

Peg leaned forward, her chin tucked into her shoulder. “He knew what Gerry was doing but he didn't have much time for politicians,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “That crowd, he'd call them.” She giggled girlishly.

“Did Matt know that you liked politics?”

Peg drew herself upright. “And that he did, but that was my business. Politics is part of life here. I've always been into it, picked it up from my father.” She began to clear off the table. “You haven't phoned Father O'Reilly yet, it's getting late.”

“I'll do that.” Nora got up from the table and went to make the phone call.

A few minutes later, she hung up the phone. “He'd like me to come by tomorrow morning sometime,” Nora said. “There are, he says, a few details about Matt's life he's aware of that I might be interested in. Now, can you believe that? I said I'd drop by in the morning, before we head out to the island. I wish he'd said what he had to say when I was there this morning.”

“Maybe he forgot, girl, the memory isn't so sharp when you get older.” Her eyes were soft. “It's not easy, you know.” She passed Nora a mug of hot tea and poured one for herself. “I wish you could stay on for a while, girl. I love the company and it's grand to talk and not worry about gossip and the like.” She brought the mug to her mouth, her lips hovering nervously as she tested the temperature. She decided to wait a while and set the mug back down. “It changes a person, you know, having to be cautious around others, always careful with what you say and do. I was always one for company and a bit of fun. I liked to talk and have people about but …” She hesitated. “It just changes you, that's all. You learn to live with it.”

“Did you resent that?”

“From time to time, yes, I suppose I did. Especially when he wasn't about. People weren't so quick to come forward then. I suppose they didn't know where they stood or what to be sayin', and neither did I, tell truth.”

“Was he fond of Sheila?” Nora asked, thinking of the little girl caught in this strange triangle. She wasn't sure if fond was the right word but that was what had come out.

“I believe he was. Well, I know he was, maybe not in the same way as you or I might be fond of a youngster.” She pondered the situation, searching for words to explain. “When she was little and he'd come through the door of an evening after school, she'd go right to him, slip her little hand in his and guide him in. He never did get past his awkward way with her. But now just the same, if she wasn't there, the first thing from his mouth would be, ‘Where's Sheila?' He bought her a doll one time. Ordered it from the catalogue, the best there was. There wasn't another on the island the like of it. She loved that doll. There was nothing could take the place of it.” Peg drew in a deep breath. “Once she started school and he was the teacher, there was a distance come between them that wasn't there before. It just grew more noticeable as the years went by. But she thought a lot of him just the same. When he died, she came all the way from California to bury him. That was good now, wasn't it?”

17

The
cat had found a spot in the sunshine, and with impassive eyes watched as Nora washed the supper dishes. It was a relief to have something practical to do. On the shiny surface of a plate she caught a passing glimpse of her reflection. She shut her eyes and abruptly dunked the plate back into the suds. She suddenly realized that she wanted to get away from the Molloys, to talk about something else, anything other than the Molloys.

She hit on an idea. “Tell me about Sheila, Peg. What did she do with herself? Did she finish school?” Nora spoke over her shoulder as she lifted the plate out of the water and set it on the dish rack.

“Indeed she did. Sheila's a nurse. It was all she ever wanted growin' up, to go to one of them big hospitals in St. John's to be trained.”

“Really! You must have been delighted. Was Matt pleased?” Too late she realized her mistake.

“Pleased? Of course he was pleased.” A sharp note like the ping from a tuning fork sounded above the clatter of dish washing. Nora stopped what she was doing and looked over her shoulder. Peg was sitting in the same spot, her hands clenched tightly in front of her mouth. She refused to look across at Nora.

“It's always the same,” she said finally, sounding peeved. “People always quick to think the worst of him, always seein' him as ‘the selfish ole bugger who only looks out for hisself.'”

There was a loud clatter as a dish was placed randomly on the rack.

“I heard those very words spoken,” Peg said indignantly. “But I knew better. I knew it wasn't hisself he was thinkin' of then. He was thinkin' of me. He wanted what was best for me.”

Nora moved quickly. Wiping her hands against the cloth of her dress, she hurried across the floor and eased herself onto the chair alongside of Peg. She rubbed her damp hand once more along her thigh and then gently placed it on Peg's rigid arm. She felt a long quiver, like the fluttering of a frightened bird. It was followed by another. Nora stroked the wrinkled arm, momentarily surprised by the warmth and life that still ran in the slack aging flesh.

“It was a comfort to think that someone was lookin' out for me.” The cat silently got to its feet and in an effortless leap was on Peg's lap. Peg began to stroke its soft fur lovingly. “I was frightened, that's all, afraid for the first time in my life of being alone.”

Nora was at a loss; her glib comment had obviously touched a nerve, but there was something else going on and she had no idea what it was. She was about to say she was sorry once again but changed her mind at the last moment and instead asked, “Why were you frightened?”

The hand stroking the cat became still for a moment and Peg's mouth began to work furiously in that funny little way she had when having difficulty voicing her thoughts. She began to pet the cat again. “Matt wasn't hisself when he come back that last time. He'd been gone quite the while and had gone away to nothin'. He wasn't altogether right in the head either. Tell truth, I don't know how he found his way back to the island and he never did say, but he was dyin', inside and out, by the time he got to my door. I took him in of course and cared for him. By and by, he come around and things were like they'd been before but it was a struggle just the same.” She took another deep breath. “By then, Sheila had finished school and was makin' ready to go off to St. John's. Everything was the finest kind, until I was taken sick with consumption. TB they call it now.” The stroking stopped again momentarily.