Where Old Ghosts Meet - Kate Evans [19]
Nora watched a large ant creep across the toe of her shoe. She followed his journey for a little while until it disappeared into the grass. “Where is Pat now?” She reached for Peg’s hand, anxious to reassure herself that Pat was still around to take care of her wish.
“Oh, he’s here in Shoal Cove,” she said, brightening up. “That was his little girl you saw this morning, brought me the flowers. Little darling she is. You’ll meet Pat by and by. He’ll be down later with a bit of fish for supper, especially now he knows I have a visitor. He’ll be happy to meet you. Right from when he was a boy on the island, he and Matt were best kind, although they did have their differences later on. But he’ll be glad you’ve come.”
There was so much that Nora wanted to know, so many questions to ask. Up until today she had thought her grandfather had made his home in Newfoundland but now she was no longer sure. Silently she reminded herself to be patient.
“This morning’s catch is nearly squared away and they’ve gone again for another load by the looks of it.” Peg pointed up the beach where a small boat had pulled in earlier and a couple of women were working steadily at the fish.
“That must be hard work.”
“My dear, that’s nothing to what it used to be. The men would be gone to the fishing grounds long before daybreak. It was a day’s work just gettin’ there. The lines had to be baited, lowered in the water, hauled in, then baited again, and that went on all day long. Then they had the journey back and the weather most often wasn’t like today. There’d be rain and wind and fog enough to scare the livin’ daylights out of you. What you see there is just a small haul. The big stuff goes to the fish plant to Arnold’s Cove now.”
The smell of fish and the clatter of work drifted up from the beach and again Nora wondered about Matt Molloy with his books and his pencilled annotations.
“It must have been difficult for you. As a widow, I mean. Did you work?”
“Well, yes, it was difficult at times. When Johnny was alive, he wasn’t much of a worker, but before he had the bad turn, my father was a great man to work and I was like him in that way. I could do all the women’s kind of jobs and most of the men’s as well but I was also a good hand to sew. When Johnny was lost, he had some wages coming to him that had never been collected and that was sent to me altogether. I had the idea to buy myself a sewing machine. So I ordered one from St. John’s. When it arrived at the door I was full of nerves at the sight of it. Here I’d spent nearly all my bit of money on a machine that I didn’t even know how to use. ‘Never mind, girl,’ my father said. ‘It’s like havin’ your own boat, you’ll always be able to make a livin’. You’ll learn how to use it by and by.’ Later on when Father couldn’t work no more, I had the house and Father’s boat, which I sold, and I had my small pension from the government for Johnny and my sewing machine. Well, girl, I made dresses and skirts and the like for different people. The money wasn’t much but it bought seed and plants enough for the garden and a bit of flour and molasses and the like. Havin’ a bit of cash was important for the likes of me because I couldn’t get credit from the merchant against my catch because I didn’t have such a thing.”
She paused, looking out again over the water.
“I remember the day a woman brought me a length of beautiful corduroy. She wanted two pairs of pants made, one for her husband and one for her boy. Well, I was frightened to death the way I was going to spoil it. I could see how to do the legs and the front, but how to get around the backside, you know.” She made a curving motion with her hand. “Well, it came to me to get my father’s old overalls and rip them open to see how it was done. I lay it all on the floor and I could see