Where Old Ghosts Meet - Kate Evans [13]
He straightened up and leaned back in his chair. All the while he spoke, her eyes never left his face. Every word she took in like a clean breath of fresh air.
“Go on,” she urged him.
“I was feeling a bit light-hearted and relieved at the thought of going to America and as I walked back along the embankment, I heard noise and laughter coming from a pub and I wandered in. The lads in there were mostly in uniform. I thought they were Irish fellows who had joined up. They sounded Irish, but they were Newfoundlanders:The Newfoundland Regiment. They were back in London for a refit before returning to France. It was your Johnny who spoke to me. We talked for a while. That day he’d been ‘down to No. 58,’ he said, to pick up his wages and letters, and now they were celebrating. He looked fit and well, no injuries that I could see.”
He looked right at her then and she knew that he spoke the truth. She waited, not wishing to hurry him but eager for more.
“Johnny talked about Newfoundland and Berry Island,” he continued, comfortable in his role as storyteller. “He was full of stories about fishin’ and what he called swilin’, that was, ‘going to the ice,’ he told me, ‘after the seals.’ He was a great man to talk. In fact, when he got going he sounded as if he came straight from Waterford in Ireland. When I told him that, he was delighted, said his great-grandfather came from there way back.”
She could hardly believe what she was hearing: her Johnny, young, healthy, enjoying himself, and gettin’ ready to march off to his death. “Yes,” she said, “he was a great talker.” Then, suddenly, frightened that their time that evening might pass with chit-chat and be gone forever, she summoned up the courage to ask the one question that had been in her mind all along. “Did he … well, did he mention me?” The words sounded silly and girlish and were no sooner out of her mouth than she wished them back.
Without a second thought he answered. “Johnny told me that he had married the brightest star in the whole of Newfoundland.”
The very idea of him saying such a thing to a stranger shocked her but deep down she was delighted. That was the Johnny she loved: he made her laugh and that made up for a lot of his faults. “You wouldn’t want to pay no attention to him,” she said, pushing aside her feelings. “He could charm the leg off an iron pot with his old palaver.”
Matt began to rummage inside his pocket and produced a small package wrapped in brown paper. “He gave me this for you,” he said, holding out the package. “I was to tell you that it was what all the girls in London were wearing.”
Peg touched Nora’s arm and got to her feet. “I’ve got something I want to show you.” She shuffled off in the direction of her bedroom. A minute later she was back and placed a small package on the table. She sat down and slowly undid the string. The pale sheen of silk stockings, new and never worn, caught the light from the afternoon sun. Peg reached out to touch the silky folds. “I’ve never told that story to a living soul before today,” she whispered.
4
When the dishes were done Peg removed her apron, hung it on a nail behind the back door and with a touch of apology said, “I need to take a little spell now. Come afternoon, I get tired. While I’m at that you could take a look at Matt’s books; you’ll want to see them.”
“Books?” Nora had forgotten about the possessions. “Yes, of course. I’d like that.”
“They’re below in the back bedroom.” Peg pointed to the end of the hallway before entering her own bedroom and closing the door behind her. She had in her quiet