Where Old Ghosts Meet - Kate Evans [77]
“No, girl, I don’t.” Peg took a deep breath. “Matt was some upset by that letter. I don’t know if it was because of the way it was written or because he just felt cast aside or both, but after that it was like he didn’t care no more. He just balled that letter up and pitched it in the fire. He watched until it was nothin’ but ash and then walked out the door. This time I knew he’d be back, but I didn’t want him off roamin’ about by hisself in that state. I called out to him that if he was about to go for a walk, I wouldn’t mind a bit of air myself. Before he had a chance to reply, I had my coat on and was to the door. I could see there was a bit of weather on the way so I grabbed his coat off the nail too.”
He was well ahead of her, setting a fierce pace, not bothering to look left or right. Neighbours, busy with cutting wood and mending nets in preparation for winter, paid no attention as Matt Molloy scurried by, but when Peg appeared shortly thereafter, carrying his coat and in just as big a hurry, they turned from their work and followed her progress until she disappeared over the hill.
She held her tongue until she was out of earshot of the neighbours and then she shouted out to him. “Blessed God, Matt, will you hold on? I was lookin’ for a walk, not a gallop. I’m havin’ a hard time catchin’ up.”
He slowed down then, and waited for her.
“That’s a lazy wind, Matt. Here, put your coat on or it’ll go right through you.” She held out his coat and helped him with the sleeves. Low dark clouds overhead promised rain. She pulled the collar snugly around his neck and began to do up the buttons. “I’ll have to see to that before winter sets in,” she said, noticing the top button was missing. She held the lapels for amoment in an effort to get him to face her, but he was focused on a different horizon and completely unaware of her gentle maneuvering. She tucked one lapel inside the other to make up for the lost button.
He hasn’t changed much over the years, she thought, looking him over. He still wore the same kind of dark suit with a shirt and tie and wool pullover. Over time, the pullover had changed in colour but not style. In the old days it was grey, now it was brown. Cautiously, she looked over the thin, clean-shaven man in front of her. He still had a full head of hair, but the spring was gone from the curls and they were now a lovely silvery grey. He was still handsome, she thought, but today, he looked pitiful.
“Sadie Dolan,” he said suddenly. There was an acute bitterness in his voice. “I should never have had anything to do with her.”
Peg stepped back. “What’s that you said?”
“Mistake after mistake. The curse of my life,” he muttered. Then, stepping to the side, he went around her and set off again over the path.
Peg hurried after him, half running to keep up.
“She came into Dowd’s one day. I served her.” He halted abruptly on the path, causing Peg to bump into him and stumble. He reached out, steadied her. “I was a shop assistant there at the time, men’s drapery.” A fleeting look of wonder crossed his face and his voice momentarily lost its edge. “I can remember seeing strands of red-gold in the dark of her hair. They were glinting in the light as she turned her head. On the spur of the moment I asked her if she’d like to go for a walk, after the shop closed.”
He set off again, picking up the pace, taking long angry strides. “There was no baby there when we got married. I’d been fooled and everyone knew but me.” Then he began blathering to himself in a kind of singsong whine. “Spoiled priest, foolish daddy, hangin’ round waitin’ for the babby. Sniggering little snot-nosed brats,” he muttered angrily under his breath.
“Matt.” Peg had to shout again to be heard. “I don’t know what you’re goin’ on about,