Where Old Ghosts Meet (21 page)

“I was only fifty-five years old the first time the TB boat came to the island. Those days it used to come in the bays and coves all around the coast, to test the people.” She turned to stare out of the window. “It was a grand sight first time she come around the headland, the bull horn blastin' away, the coloured banners snappin' in the breeze. Once she was tied up to the wharf the music started up and ‘Mocking Bird Hill' came singin' out over the microphone. It was like a garden party. I remember everyone runnin' down to the water to see what all the excitement was about. We were all invited on board to be tested. Nothin' to it, we were told, just a little scratch on your arm and that was it. ‘The scratches,' we used call it after that. All true, but here ten days later, I gets a slip saying the test on me was positive and that the boat would be by again in two weeks to do a chest x-ray.

“I wasn't so happy next time the boat came about. Turned out the rotten part was lodged there in my right lung this while and I was to go to the hospital in St. John's for treatment. I told the doctor I felt just fine but he said that was the way sometimes. If I didn't get treated, in a few months' time, I'd be in hard shape. Worse still, I could pass it on to Sheila and others. Well that was it.” She pushed back a wisp of hair from her forehead. “One day I was best kind, next I was sick and lookin' at going to the hospital for a spell. What was I to do? Up until then, I don't believe Matt had ever interfered in my life, but what he had in mind for me and Sheila that time got me right upset.”

Furious with what Sheila had told her, Peg came barrelling down over the stairs calling out Matt's name. Sheila passed her in the hallway in tears as she ran out the door. She found him at the table reading the newspaper.

“I hear you've been tellin' Sheila what she must do and what she mustn't do.”

“Yes, that's right. I pointed out to her that she'll need to be around to take care of you when you get back from the hospital. It's her duty. She can't be going off and leaving you now. You don't know what that disease can do to you. You–”

“I don't know, don't I? I suppose you think I just rolled up on the beach with the last lot of caplin. Well, I'll have you know something, Matt Molloy. I've been livin' about these parts all my life and I've seen life come and go, watched strong men hackin' and coughin' their way to the grave, seen little children come to nothin' but skin and bones, their faces blue from tryin' to catch a mouthful of air, and you tell me I don't know. Oh yes, I knows all right. I knows lots of things, Matt Molloy, things you'll never know nothin' about. And there's something else I knows for certain. Sheila will have her chance to do as she pleases with her life and there's nothin' or nobody's goin' gettin' in her way. You may think that child owes me somethin' for raisin' her up, but that's not how I sees it. What I did back then was out of love for her mother, my own sister, and now it's for love of Sheila herself, but then again I don't expect you to understand the like of that. So don't you go tellin' me what I must do? I knows what to do.”

He had begun to move away from her fury, folding the newspaper and carefully placing it under his arm. “You'll learn,” he said from the doorway before climbing the stairs to his room.

“My dear, after that spat, I was that upset I didn't know what I was doin' or sayin' no more, but one thing I was certain of, Sheila would have her chance in life. I was goin' to see to that, no matter what. On that day, Nora, at that moment, I valued my independence more than I'd ever done in my whole life.”

A shadow fell across the kitchen and made them both look up. The sun had slipped behind a cloud. Dark murky fingers reached silently across the grey expanse of water, while on the far headland, dramatic tonal patterns merged on the sculptured blackness of the trees. A momentary stillness hung on the air and then abruptly, as if giving a signal to continue, the sun reappeared from behind the clouds and the evening continued its silent progress.

Peg cleared her throat as she tried to reclaim her story. “Anyway, when the dust settled I was glad I spoke up. It lifted my spirits, made me feel stronger and in control again. It had cleared the air, and after that I knew in my heart that somehow everything would work out.”

“Sheila was happy to go along with your decision?”

“It took a bit of time. She had come to believe Matt was right and that she should stay home, but I told her it would be a comfort to me to have her close by when I was to the hospital in St. John's, and being a nurse in trainin', she'd be able to deal with the doctors and all. Anyways she finally agreed. Little did I know that before I ever saw the island again, Sheila would have her trainin' done and have met her young man and be gone for good.”

“You were gone for a long time then?”

“Yes, girl, several years. I never expected that. Anyway, me insistin' Sheila go away for her trainin' put Matt in a difficult spot. After our words he kept to hisself a bit more. I could see he was doin' a lot of thinkin'. It was comin' up time for us to leave and I was busy with preparations.”

The folded laundry lay in neat piles on the table. Matt came in from the yard, hung his hat on the nail behind the door, and stood for a moment to take in the scene.

“Sheila and me, you know, Matt, we're off in a couple of days. What are you plannin' on doin' with yourself?”

“I don't know but I'll see you safely to St. John's to begin with. If you wish, that is.”

She looked up from what she was doing, surprised and delighted. “That's kind of you, Matt, to think of that, being as neither one of us has ever been off the island. That would be a wonderful help.”

He sat to the table, resting his arms between the piles of laundry, his hands tightly clasped, and began twirling his thumbs round and round in maddening circles. From the corner of her eye Peg watched the action, recalling how, on his first night in the house, she had watched, fascinated, as his long thin fingers had worked the same crazy rhythm. Time and again since then, she had observed the same action, circling, circling, forwards, backwards, going nowhere. Sometimes it would drive her crazy and other times it would bring out a certain fondness, a desire to soothe and comfort. Now she wanted him to stop. She decided to try again.

“Matt, there's something I've been meanin' to say to you.” She wanted him to look at her. “Matt,” she began again, edging forward in her chair. She could hear the faint rush of his breath between his teeth. A pulse throbbed at his temple. “I'd like for you to bide in the house while I'm gone.”

“That won't be necessary.” The reply was there, ready on the tip of his tongue. “I'll be on my way as soon as I get you settled in St John's.” He made a move to get up.

She placed a hand on his arm. “Matt, sit down a minute and listen to what I have to say. I'm asking you to help me.” Her words set up a barrier blocking his way. “When I'm lyin' in that hospital bed in St. John's,” she persisted, “I want to be able to think of this house as being warm and lived in, with the smell of food cookin' on the stove and a light in the window. I want to come back to a home, not a house. It would be a great comfort if you could stay on and do that for me.”

“I don't know anything about things like that, Peg. I–”

“Maybe it's time you learned about things like that,” she said with a firm but gentle air of finality.

“There's always Pat,” he began.

“I'm asking you,Matt.” With that she rose from the chair and left him to make his decision.

“It was the end of the line for me, Nora. I had to look out for myself and if he wasn't prepared to help me, then that was it. He could take off if he wanted. I didn't care no more.”

A loud knock on the door made them both jump. A voice called out, “Anybody home?” Gerry Quinlan stood in the doorway of the kitchen. It was then Nora realized that the sun had disappeared altogether and that they were sitting in the semi-darkness, oblivious to the world outside.

“Not a stir in the house,” he said, “and the two of you sittin' in the dark.” He took the chair at the other end of the table. “Is this Irish woman leading you astray by any chance?”

“More like me leadin' her astray. My Lord, what time is it at all? It's almost dark.”

He glanced at his watch. “Going for nine o'clock.”

“Imagine, the day slipped away and we never noticed. Sit down, Gerry. Fetch yourself a glass and we'll have a drink.”

“I thought you'd both be above to the supper and dance tonight.”

“My blessed Lord, I forgot all about it and I'm supposed to take a plate tart for the supper. You go on, Nora girl, you'll enjoy the dance. Gerry will take you along. Won't you, Gerry?”

“Not without you. We don't want tongues waggin' now, do we?” He winked at Nora.

“Go on with you now, you knows I'm too old for that racket.” She scratched her head aggressively as if to shake it clear of such nonsense.

“Maybe you are, but now Aunt Josie Nash from St. Brides is above and is askin' about you, and Treese is about too.”

Peg thought for a moment. “Well, all right. Maybe I'll stir myself. This time next year I might be pushin' up clover to the churchyard and then I'll be right poisoned with myself.”

18

The
doors to the church hall were wide open and held in place by a couple of chairs wedged tightly beneath the handles. Outside, the night air was cool and inviting, but inside, it was suffocating with the smell of overheated bodies and leftover food. Everyone seemed to be on the move, the women hurrying to and fro, carrying stacks of dishes, laughing and calling out to each other as they went. The men, their stomachs full, were heading outdoors, some lighting up as they went.

To Nora, it looked like total chaos but nobody seemed bothered. The crowd was in high spirits, all dolled up and ready for a good time. There were a few familiar faces around, people she vaguely recognized from earlier on in the day, but no one spoke to her nor could she see anyone she knew by name, but the odd nod from a friendly face made her feel better. A young girl standing off to one side looked her over carefully but a smile from Nora sent her fleeing for the door. Nora looked around for Gerry. The last she had seen of him, he was making his way across the hall with Peg by the arm to where Treese sat by an open window with another woman. Along the far wall there were long tables spread with white paper cloths and strewn with the messy scraps from a meal. Chairs had been pushed aside or tipped over. A vigorous clean-up was underway. She decided to move closer to the small stage at the front of the hall where an elderly fiddler sat knee to knee with a young woman who had just slipped the straps of an accordion over her shoulders. Oblivious to the racket all around them, they began to play softly, dipping and swaying into the music, coaxing their instruments to find the tunes that would see them through the night.

“You had your supper, m'love?” A large woman with a frizz of mousey hair and kindly eyes stopped as she went by with a stack of plates. “There's all kinds out back.”

“Thank you, I've eaten.”

“Okay, m'love.” A nod and she was gone.

Over the tops of heads Nora could see Peg settled in her spot. She was in deep conversation with the women. There was no sign of Gerry. A long loud drone from the accordion gave the signal they were ready and sent an immediate buzz of excitement through the crowd. Dancers elbowed their way forward, their necks straining, eyes peeled for possible partners.

“Hello, missus.” The voice came from behind her. She turned, not sure if she was the “missus.” A slight man stood by her elbow. He was about her height, no more; she was looking him straight in the eye. “I hears you're one of the Molloys from Ireland,” he said without preamble.

“Yes, that's right.” She smiled, pleased with the distraction.

“Well, missus, I'm pleased t'meet ya,” he said, extending his hand. Small fidgety eyes regarded her intently. A quiff of dark hair rose in a stiff wave above his forehead and fell off into a tail over his left eye. He wore a brightly coloured shirt patterned all over with red and blue and yellow circles, gaudy by any standard. He put her in mind of an exotic bird that had been in a racket of some kind and had emerged looking slightly battered. All the while he spoke he shook her hand.

“I come to speak with ya, missus, seein' how Mr. Molloy done me a great service. I wants to acknowledge that now. I'm Joe Coady, missus. I'll call ya missus now, if ya don't mind, that is.” His grip, bony and urgent, tightened as he continued to shake her hand.

In the background, the accordion player swung into a waltz and the crowd pressed forward. Still gripping her hand he pulled her to one side. “Watch out there, missus.”

“Sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“Joe Coady, missus.”

The name and then the image came to her in a flash: a small boy, white numbers on a blackboard. Nora felt her throat contract and heat begin to rise at the back of her neck. She tried to avoid his gaze but his eyes followed hers until she was compelled to face him again.

“He teached me to read and write, missus, is what I'm sayin'.”

She waited for the harsh words that must come, looked for the twist of bitterness about his mouth. There was none, just a funny little cockatoo of a man who shifted from foot to foot in a restless dance. He still gripped her hand, giving it the odd shake from time to time as if to ensure her attention.

“By the Jesus, he had some hard time gettin' that stuff in me head, but he done it.” His head twitched a couple of times, dislodging the quiff and causing it to fall forward onto his forehead. She stared, unable to utter a single word, unable to accept the fact that this was the poor little scrap that her grandfather had walloped with a cane because he couldn't do his sums.