Why everyone thinks life is so complicated, she’ll never understand. Life is incredibly simple. Only people make it complicated.
Chapter 9
Northern Newfoundland Coast – 12 September 2001
Sam takes off his helmet and looks over his shoulder at Sophie. ‘There’s a payphone around the back by the toilet. Didn’t know they’d closed the library today. You hungry? I’m getting myself a Coke.’
‘I’m fine.’ Sophie winches the helmet off and runs her fingers through her brown fringe. She squirms off the motorbike seat and straightens her velvet skirt. What was she thinking, accepting the ride to Tippy’s Tickle on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle to see an aunt who might not even know she existed? She probably should have stayed in Gander with the others. This was quite likely a huge mistake.
She tugs at her jacket and readjusts her shoulder pads. ‘So much for my interview suit.’
Sam swings his leg over the bike and kicks the stand into place. He points at her scuffed patent leather shoes, the shine obscured by a thick film of dirt. ‘Looks like your shoes are done for, too.’
Sophie glares at him as she rubs a dusty shoe against her leg. ‘I didn’t exactly plan to be in the bloody middle of nowhere today.’
A short, burly man wearing grease-stained blue overalls and a Boston Bruins baseball hat ambles over to them from the garage, the stub of a yellow pencil tucked behind his left ear.
Sam slaps the man on his shoulder. ‘Life’s like that sometimes, isn’t it, Wince?’
‘Sure is, b’y. How’s she cuttin’, there?’ Wince grabs the handle of the petrol pump and unscrews the cap on the bike’s petrol tank.
‘Best kind, b’y.’
Sophie runs her hands over the wrinkles in her skirt. ‘I have no idea what you’re saying. I expect there’s toilet paper?’
Wince peers at Sophie with eyes that pierce her with their blueness, and raises a thick brown eyebrow. ‘Sure thing, maid. You hasn’t fallen off the end of the world yet. You gotta go up to Brimstone Head on Fogo to do that. We’ve gots plenty of toilet paper in Newfoundland.’
‘Sam said you have a phone?’
Wince jabs his thumb towards the weather-beaten clapboard garage. ‘On the wall behind the garage. The dial sticks. You gotta press hard. Make sure you got some loonies.’
‘Loonies?’
‘A Canadian dollar.’ Sam reaches into the back pocket of his leather trousers and fishes out a handful of coins. He flips a coin to Sophie.
She turns the brass coin over in her hand. The Queen’s head on one side, a swimming bird on the other. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’ll need two if you’re calling your aunt and New York.’
‘I don’t have Ellie’s number.’
‘Give us your pencil, Wince.’ Sam takes a wrinkled receipt out of his jacket pocket and scribbles on the back. He hands the receipt to Sophie with another loonie. ‘Tell her I’ll get you there in half an hour.’
‘You know her number? And you didn’t tell me?’
‘How was I to know you didn’t have her number?’
***
Wince shakes his head as he and Sam watch Sophie stumble over the gravel in her high heels to the toilet. ‘That’s some maid, Sam, b’y. Fancy askin’ ’bout toilet paper.’
‘I’d say she’s what you call “high maintenance”. Don’t let her get to you, b’y. She’ll be gone before you know it. Back to the big city doing whatever it is she does.’
‘Suppose you’re right, b’y. Can’t let these Come From Aways get up my nose.’ He looks up at the blue sky, a solitary cloud hanging overhead. ‘You seen the news, Sam? Terrible, terrible thing. I was shitbaked when I saw the TV last night. I felt like I was watching some kind of disaster film.’
Sam shakes his head. ‘Just awful. There were thousands at the airport. Mayor Elliott over in Gander told me he figures there’s almost ten thousand people who’ve just landed from all over the place.’
‘Jaysus God. That’s a lots of people.’
‘They’re bussing some out to Gambo and Lewisporte. Putting them up in schools and churches and legion halls. The bus drivers cancelled their strike to help out. I was down there with the Warriors helping out. We jumped on our bikes as soon as we heard the call out on the radio.’
‘Well, you gots to, don’t you?’ Wince squats down to check the pressure on the bike’s tyres. ‘I hears some of the locals are puttin’ the plane people up in their own houses. Government told them not to, but you know you can’t tell Newfoundlanders not to be hospitable. We all gots to stick together at a time like this.’ Wince nods towards the garage. ‘What’s she doin’ up all this way?’
‘She’s got relatives in Tippy’s Tickle. Ellie Parsons is her aunt.’
‘Ellie’s her aunt?’ Wince grunts as he rises. ‘What’s that make you, then? Her cousin?’
‘No relation. Ellie’s my mother-in-law.’
‘How’d you get roped into drivin’ her up all this way?’
‘Mavis Hennessy insisted, and you know you can’t say no to Mavis.’
‘Oh, God, yes. I knows Mavis. I plays cards at theirs when I’m in Gander visiting Uncle Garland at the home. There’s no sayin’ no to Mavis.’
Sam nods towards the garage. ‘Your TV in the garage working? She doesn’t know what happened in New York. They didn’t want to tell them at the airport. There was only one payphone working and they had Joyce Fudge on the other line down at BT answering the calls, telling everyone they couldn’t redirect. They didn’t want people panicking. She had to get back home when her kids got home from school, so they put an “Out of Service” sign on the phone.’
‘Sure, b’y. It’s on every channel. Saddest thing. Still can’t believe it.’
***
‘Hello? Ellie speaking.’
Sophie bites her lip at the sound of the woman’s voice, the English accent lightly tinged with the local lilt.
‘Aunt Ellie? It’s Sophie Parry. Dottie and George’s daughter.’
The line goes silent for
