Read Online Where Old Ghosts Meet by Kate Evans - Free Book Online Page B

Only the hard yellow fingernails reflected the power that had once been in those hands.
    â€œIt isn’t right, and you knows it. People is talkin’, sayin’ how Peg Barry’s gone and found herself another no good wanderer who’s never done a day’s work in his life. I warned you before you got hitched up with that Johnny fella, how he was good for nothin’ but enjoyin’ hisself. Well, I’m not goin’ supportin’ another one the like of that in my house.”
    â€œSupportin’? You haven’t done no supportin’ around here lately, not to my knowledge. It’s Matt an’ me is doin’ the supportin’ these days, Father. We been managin’ the best we can. And don’t go tormentin’ me no more about Johnny. We’ve been through all that before. Johnny’s dead and gone, Father. He won’t be back no more, so leave him be.”
    Milky white liquid seeped from the raw potato flesh and dripped steadily into the water.
    â€œWell, girl, Johnny may not be back no more but be the looks of things he’s sent you a fine replacement. If you don’t watch out, Peggy Barry, you’ll be left again, out on the bawn!”
    â€œAnd what’s that supposed to mean?”
    â€œHe’s not our kind and you knows it. He’s got plenty of oul’ yap out of him and has the grand manners but he has no thought for you, Peg, and it’s time you got clear of him. God damn it, he’s just a no good oul’… angishore! Get clear of him, girl, before tis too late.”
    â€œGet clear of him? Father, if I didn’t have that oul’ angishore around here, I couldn’t manage.”
    â€œAre ye blind, Peg girl? There’s others only too happy to step up and be glad to marry you. There’s Paddy Murray, used to come by regular before Buddy arrived. He’s a good man to work.”
    The knife came down hard on the table, making the potatoes jump in the pan!
    â€œFather, will you stop callin’ him Buddy, talkin’ about him like he’s nothin’. His name is Matt Molloy, an’ as for that Murray fella, I wouldn’t have that oul’ maumeen, supposin’ he was the last man on the island or up and down the shore for that matter.”
    â€œYou’re not gettin’ younger, girl.” His good hand began tapping fretfully on the arm of the chair. “One of these days you’ll wake up and you’ll be all alone … out on the bawn … alone, girl.” The agitation had caused him to slide forward in his chair. Unable to hold on, he slumped to the side, his lifeless arm hanging over the side like a silent pendulum.
    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
    â€œ 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.
    â€œI 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?”
    â€œYes, 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