Where Old Ghosts Meet - Kate Evans [23]
She was by his side in an instant, adjusting his cushions, smoothing his straggly hair, stroking the stubbled cheek, whispering how sorry she was to have upset him and of course she understood and yes, she would think about what he said. She lifted the withered hand, kissed it gently and placed it on the arm of the chair. He closed his eyes then and slept.
6
“Do all fish have tongues?” Nora asked, looking on wide-eyed, as the plump greyish-white morsels were rolled in flour and then popped one by one into hot fat.
“I never thought about that before, but I suppose they do. Around here, we only have the cod tongues. They’re some good, especially when they’re done up in a bit of fat-back pork with a few scruncheons like this. We also have the cheeks. They’re some good, too.”
Nora winced. She’d rather not think about the cod’s cheeks and tongue, but the crispy brown tidbits of salty pork skin that had been rendered down and set aside looked good. “You call these scruncheons?”
“Yes, it’s just a bit of fat-back pork.” Peg held up a thick lardy slab to demonstrate.
Nora reached for a scruncheon and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm.” She licked the fat off her fingertips. “In Ireland we call this crackling. We have it with roast pork but it’s fresh, not salty.”
The fat bubbled as Peg continued to pat and turn the cod tongues. “The small ones is best. They got to be fried right out until they’re golden and a little crisp.”
I bet they do, Nora thought, trying to suppress the queasy feeling in her stomach. The smell of cooking had whetted her appetite but the very thought of cod tongues made her shudder. Texture was what was bothering her: soft, slithery, pockets of flesh that need to be “fried right out.”
“Just a few for me. I’m not very hungry.”
Peg was picking them off the pan and dividing them equally between two plates. “Not everyone likes the tongues, or the cheeks for that matter. But it’s nice to have a taste of Newfoundland food now you’re here. But no matter, if you don’t like them, you can lay them to one side.” She then heaped a spoonful of mashed potatoes and a sprinkling of scruncheons on the plates and dinner was ready. “Now sit over to the table.” She handed Nora a plate.
Nora contemplated the food. There were six tongues to be eaten. She nibbled on a few scruncheons, swallowed several forkfuls of mashed potatoes, and then told herself that the scruncheons should be saved to help get the tongues down. She had to admit they looked tasty enough and smelled good. If only she didn’t know what they were, hadn’t seen them. She cut one in half. Something soft and jellylike appeared in the middle. She put a scruncheon on top and swallowed it whole, washing it down with a mouthful of water.
“So now tell me, Nora, you say you work in Montreal?” Peg was busy with her food now.
“I’m a teacher. High school English. I’m hoping to save some money while I’m in Canada and then go back to study for a master’s degree in England. There’s some interesting work being done there on teaching methods and the different ways people learn.”
Peg swallowed and looked at Nora. “Is that right?” It was not a question, just a registering of interest. She turned back to her food. “And do you have a young man, Nora?”
“No.”
The clipped nature of the reply was not lost on Peg.
“No, no, I don’t,” Nora repeated in a softer voice, regretting her abruptness. “Not at the moment.”
Peg laid down her knife and fork and was about to say something else when Nora cut her off.
“I was engaged to be married but we broke it off in the spring. Well, he broke it off. He found someone else. I suppose it wasn’t to be.” She threw a weak smile in Peg’s direction.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Nora.”
“It’s okay now.” She touched her ring finger, remembering