Where Old Ghosts Meet (6 page)

She turned the page.

Epistola : In Carcere et Vinculis

H.M. Prison,

Reading

Dear Bosie,

After long and fruitless waiting I have determined to write to you
myself …

There were pages and pages to this letter written by Wilde from prison to Bosie. She knew little of Oscar Wilde and his writings but was aware that he had gone to jail for his homosexual activities. She began to read, skipping ahead, not very interested in the piece until she came to a small section near the end that had a pencilled line in the margin. She read slowly now, feeling no need for haste:
Society, as
we have constituted it, will have no place for me, has none to offer; but
Nature, whose sweet rains fall on unjust and just alike, will have clefts
in the rocks where I hide, and secret valleys in whose silence I may weep
undisturbed. She will hang the night with stars so I may walk abroad in
the darkness without stumbling, and send the wind over my footprints so
that none may track me to my hurt: she will cleanse me in great waters,
and with bitter herbs make me whole.

Had he, she wondered, simply highlighted a beautiful passage with his pencil or did he too have his own private hurt? She closed the book and laid it on top of the boxes.

When she opened the slim copy of
The Playboy of the Western
World
, the first thing she saw was the heavy black signature of J.M. Synge scrawled across the page. She could hardly believe it, a first edition with the signature of the man himself. This couldn't be right. She turned to the first page and began reading the opening lines of the play as if somehow that would convince her that what she was seeing was true. She read on and on as if in denial, taking in nothing of the text, just riding from page to page on a great wave of excitement.

There was a soft tap on the door and Peg stepped into the room. “You're enjoying yourself, by the look of it.”

“Yes. Peg, this is quite an incredible collection of books. This one …” She held it up. “It's–

“Oh yes.” Peg came forward. “I know that one. I've read it a few times in my day.” She sat on the end of the bed. “We used read it together, from time to time: we both loved that play. He'd read the men's parts and I'd do the women. It was something to do on the long winter nights. We'd just read it over and over. I knew it by heart in the end, every bit of it:
And myself, a girl was tempted often to
go sailing the seas 'till I'd marry a Jew-Man, with ten kegs of gold, and
I not knowing at all there was the like of you drawing nearer, like the
stars of God.
”

She laughed as she ran off the lines. “See, I haven't forgotten it. I still know it all. I liked that girl Pegeen; she was some bit of stuff. Same name as me.” For a while she sounded as if she might go on but then stopped herself and said, “They are all yours, Nora, that's what he wanted. ‘If anyone comes,' he said, ‘they are to have them. It's a fine collection so be sure they go into the right hands and that they appreciate them.'”

She pointed to the boxes. “There's more there and more under the bed. I had nowhere else to put them all when I moved. There's stamps too, in one of them drawers I believe. Stamps he collected for years, special ones. Sinn Fein stamps, he called some of them from back in 1908. They were put on letters for propaganda not for real postage, so he said. There was another stamp for that. Beautiful they are with the lovely Celtic cross and the shamrock and the harp and the big Irish dog.”

“The wolfhound,” Nora prompted.

“Yes, that's it. My dear, there's all kinds there, real special ones from after the revolution and on up. I suppose they are worth something now. He's written down why they are special. There's pages of them: the ones he really liked, that is. There's ones too with pictures of some of those famous writers. It's all yours, Nora. He'd be some pleased, for I can see you'll appreciate them. But girl, you can come back to the books by and by. I thought we'd go outside for a spell, while the sun is there. It's lovely out back.”

5

Nora
stood on the edge of the bluff and followed the sweep of the ocean to the horizon. She thought about the dark secrecy of Matt Molloy. How could he have fitted in with this place? She searched the landscape, the endless stretches of rocky cliff face, the grey scrubby soil, the dense growth on the hillsides. Her eyes settled on the community of Shoal Cove with its haphazard scattering of houses built solidly into the dips and hollows of the land: simple homes, some that looked boldly outward to face the sea, others that turned their backs on the rigours of their environment. A dark wooded headland circled the cove on one side and reached out into the water like a long crocodile snout, flat and impassive. From the north side of the road, Peg's house overlooked the community.

Nora's eyes came around to where Peg sat on her bench. On the way outdoors Peg had taken a dilapidated straw hat from a nail behind the back door and, making a half-hearted attempt at adjusting the drooping flower on the brim, had popped it onto her head, slipping a narrow elastic under her chin. Set against the sharp white edges of the house and with the coloured cloth of her dress flapping gently against her knees, she looked a picture.

“I like your hat,” Nora called out as she made her way back towards Peg.

Peg patted the bench, coaxing Nora to take a seat beside her. She touched the brim of the hat.

“Your grandfather gave me that; he ordered it one time from New York. It arrived on the steamer all done up in a fancy box. I remember taking off the lid and seeing it lying there so beautiful. I'd never seen the like in my life. You can imagine now, I was afraid to even touch the box, let alone the hat.” She glanced at Nora to see if she understood.

In the bright sunlight she looked fragile: the skin around her eyes and on her cheekbones seemed blue, almost transparent, like thin rice paper.

“‘It's for you,' he said to me, ‘put it on.' I felt some foolish in my old working dress, my hair all over the place, my hands just out of the dishpan. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I took a look at him and he seemed right delighted. Well, I had to put it on now, didn't I? So, I wiped my hands on my apron and put the hat on my head. I was afraid to look at him, afraid he'd laugh right out at the sight of me.” Her voice became quieter. “But he didn't. He just told me I was to look straight ahead and then he caught hold of the brim and shifted it a little to one side so it felt right comfortable, like it was a part of me. He was some pleased, I could tell. ‘Have a look,' he said.”

She paused, tapping her lips with the knuckle of her index finger as if to stop what she was about to say but a second later took it away. “Looking in my father's old shaving mirror above the wash basin… well, girl, all I can say is, I was transformed. I thought, Is that you, Peg Barry, widow, from Berry Island, Newfoundland? I was like a lady, all elegant and mysterious looking. In a foolish moment, I imagined I was like those fancy women he knew in New York.” She turned to Nora, momentarily looking embarrassed but then the twinkle appeared and lit up her face.

“‘Now what am I supposed to do with the like of that?' I said to him. He just shrugged his shoulders. ‘Wear it, I suppose.' Where? That is what I wanted to say but I held my tongue. Well, I never did wear it.” She inclined her head towards Nora. “Not in public anyways, not for the longest while. But there was many a night afterwards when I'd be on my own, feeling a bit lonesome or maybe even a bit foolish, then I'd take out the hat and fool around with it. I'd pretend I was walking the streets of New York all swanky like or I'd be having tea at Government House in St. John's or fancy I was parading on the deck of some ocean liner. I could be anyone I liked then, anyone I pleased, and be far from Berry Island.” There was a hint of defiance in her voice but she was chuckling softly to herself.

“So nobody knew about the hat except you and Matt?” Nora asked.

Peg shifted, straightened her back and folded her arms at her waist. “No, girl, not for the longest while, until one night I had the hat out and in walked my sister Ellen and that was the end of it. ‘How can you hide such a beautiful thing? If you don't wear it then I will,' she said and wouldn't give up on it. Well, shortly after that it was Lady Day on the island. That was a day in July month when all hands took a holiday from work for a bit of sport and fun. Back then it was a big day. There were games for the children and for the adults who wanted to be children and then a soup supper and dance at night. Well, nothing would do Ellen but that I wear the hat to the festivities. I took it along in my hand just to keep her quiet. That day, I believe every woman on the island tried on the hat and some of the men too! Soon I was wearing the hat, setting it off to one side like Matt had shown me and feeling right proud of myself.”

“Was Matt there to see you?”

The look on Peg's face made Nora realize her error. Peg's mouth had clamped shut tightly and her chin was now thrust forward, giving her a stubborn determined look.

When the silence became too much between them, it was Peg who broke the tension. “No, he was not. He was gone then. I was alone.” Her head dropped and she began to stroke the thin cloth of her dress, making circular motions on her knee as if to soothe an ache.

From where she sat beside her, Nora could see only the top of the bowed head. In one spot the straw was worn right through. The flower on the brim had fallen forward and hung limp by a thread. She wished with all her heart that she hadn't been so thoughtless. She was trying to form an apology, to say she had meant no harm, when Peg lifted her head and took a deep breath. Her mouth was set in a determined line.

“It was all just a bit of fun to begin with and I paid no attention but about mid-afternoon a stiff breeze suddenly comes in off the water and took the hat right off my head. It took off across the meadow, jumpin' and kickin' about, pitchin' down for a spell here and there.” She looked down at her hands again and began her little rubbing motion. “The children was all lined up to the side of the field for a race but when they saw the hat, they took off after it like a pack of dogs. It was the race of the day, many said after, with the mothers and fathers all riled up, shoutin' and bawlin', cheerin' the youngsters on:

“‘After her, b'ys! That hat's got a mind all its own, I'll allow!'

“‘Look at her go! She's caught a fair breeze; there'll be no stoppin' her now.'

“‘I believe she's bound for New York!'

“‘Be the lard jumpins, I wouldn't mind a spell there meself.'

“‘Hang on to yer drawers, Jimmy Slade, you're not gettin' clear of yer missus that easy.'

“The 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.

“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.”