Where Old Ghosts Meet by Kate Evans Page A

easy.’
    â€œThe laughin’ and carryin’ on seemed like nothing to begin with, just a bit of silly old foolishness, but by and by, I come to think they were all having a laugh at me and my situation. That was hard to swallow.” She began to rub her knee again. After a moment she continued, “I put the hat away that night and never took it out again, not for the longest while. It just didn’t feel so good no more. Tell truth, I hated it then. But you know, Nora, age brings its own rewards. What others say and think doesn’t bother me no more. I’ve told Pat, my nephew, that this hat is to go to the grave with me. When I roll up, I don’t want it kicked about at some church sale.”
    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.
    â€œOh, 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.
    â€œThis 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.
    â€œThat must be hard work.”
    â€œMy 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.
    â€œIt must have been difficult for you. As a widow, I mean. Did you work?”
    â€œWell, 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