‘These are amazing, Florie. I’ve never tasted anything like them. And those blueberries—’ she licks a drop of maple syrup off her lip ‘—I never knew blueberries tasted like purple heaven until I came here. If I stay much longer, I’ll be as fat as a house.’
‘Newfoundland blueberries is the best in the world, duck. We gots chefs all the way from Toronto sendin’ folks up here for blueberries for their fancy restaurants. They gots to buy them from middlemen in St John’s. No one’ll tell them where to find them. Everyone here’s got their secret places.’
‘Quite right,’ Ellie says as she fills in another word in the Telegram’s crossword puzzle. ‘Sometimes secrets are necessary.’
Outside, a dog barks as the whine of a motorcycle’s engine grows louder. It shuts off abruptly.
‘That’ll be Sam,’ Florie says.
On cue, Sam pushes through the screen door in his motorcycle leathers, Rupert bumping past his legs.
‘Get that dog out of here, Sam,’ Florie protests. ‘He’ll have the pancakes down him as sure as today’s Saturday.’ The huge black dog pushes past Florie and settles beside Becca, resting its immense head on Becca’s lap.
‘He’s just had Emmett’s salmon sandwich down at the store,’ Sam says as he tosses his leather jacket onto a chair. He accepts a mug of coffee from Ellie. ‘He’s full.’
‘That dog can eat for Britain,’ Ellie says. ‘I swear he gets bigger every day. Where are you off to?’
‘Wesleyville to pick up some supplies. Going to meet up with Ace and Thor and have a ride up along the coast up to Musgrave Harbour. We’ll grab some lunch at the Rocky Ridge. Got to take advantage of this weather.’ He looks over at Sophie. ‘So, Princess Grace, do you want to come?’
Sophie swallows down the pancake she’s been chewing. ‘What? Me?’
‘You’re not going anywhere else today, are you?’
‘I haven’t got a jacket.’
‘Well, I thought of that. I brought you Winny’s old jacket. Should fit.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I’m not much of a biker chick.’
‘Oh, go on with you, duckie,’ Florie says as she scrapes Becca’s leftover pancake into a bowl and sets it on the floor by the fridge. ‘We’ll be over in the shop all day today. Ellie’s doing art with the Brownies.’
‘We’re making a banner protesting the closure of the Heart’s Wish fish processing plant,’ Ellie says. ‘Florie and I’ve organised a protest down there next week when Grimes is in town for the public inquiry.’
‘Not that the government’ll do a thing,’ Florie grumbles.
‘That may be so, Florie, but we have to try.’
Sophie watches the great dog lumber over to the bowl and wolf down the pancake. She looks over at Sam. Why does he have to look so bloody … male? It’s like he’s stepped out of Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior. But then, Mel Gibson was pretty hot in that. Must be the leathers.
‘I guess it won’t hurt to see something of this place. Who are Ace and Thor?’
***
Sophie leans into the curve of the road as Miss Julie shoots along the road to Wesleyville. Sam’s warmth filters though their leather jackets and she’s conscious of her thighs pressing against his as she clings to his waist. She closes her eyes to the wind, and a lightness fills her as she feels the layers of the old Sophie peel away and fly into the September sky.
Who is this person? This isn’t me. Riding on the back of a strange man’s motorbike in the back of beyond in borrowed clothes? Mum would be appalled. But Mum’s not here. It’s me. Sophie. It feels good. Better than good. It feels amazing.
Sam veers the bike into the parking lot of the long, squat Home Hardware store in Wesleyville and pulls up beside two large motorcycles parked near the goods-in door. Two bearded men in sunglasses and Chrome Warriors leather jackets straddle the bikes, dismounting as Sam parks.
One of the men, with shoulders as wide as a door and a body hefty enough to support them, embraces Sam in a bear hug. ‘Sam, b’y. Thought ol’ Mavis had swallowed you up down in Gander the other day. Where you been?’ He turns his sun-glassed eyes towards Sophie and extends a hand the size of a small plate. ‘We hasn’t had the pleasure,’ he says, pumping her hand vigorously. ‘I’m Ace Dunphy. This here’s my brother, Thor.’
Thor, only slightly smaller than his brother, and sporting a neat ginger goatee, shakes her hand. ‘Nice to meet ya. Where ’bouts ya from, b’y?’
‘Uh, London,’ Sophie says, wiggling her fingers. ‘I was on my way to New York. My plane got diverted.’
Thor turns to his brother. ‘That’s odd, isn’t it, b’y? Why’d they send a plane from Ontario all the way up here when they’d just have to turn right back round again to gets to New York?’
Ace shakes his head. ‘Doesn’t make any sense, b’y.’
Sophie raises her eyebrows. ‘Ontario? No, I came from England. London, England.’
‘Oh, well, then,’ Thor says. ‘We thought ya were comin’ from London, Ontario.’
‘That’s not so far,’ Ace says.
‘No, not far at all,’ his brother agrees, nodding. ‘Not when ya compares it to London, England. Didn’t Uncle Lance’s wife’s sister Eunice marry someone from London?’
‘London, England?’
‘No, b’y. London, Ontario.’
‘No, b’y. That was Regina. Married a fellow in Waterloo.’
Sam slaps Thor on his shoulder. ‘You’ve got us all confused there now, b’ys. I’ve got to go pick up some stuff in the hardware.’ He glances at Sophie. ‘Do you want to come in, or stay here with the boys?’
‘Oh, I’ll come in. Definitely. Hardware is absolutely my thing.’
‘That’s fine, b’y,’ Ace says. ‘We’ll stay where we’re at till ya comes where we’re to.’
***
Sophie steers the trolley along a wide aisle lined with vats of nails and screws, and sheets of MDF.
‘What exactly are the Chrome Warriors, anyway? Are you outlaws or something?’
Sam laughs as he examines a package of 4mm flathead screws. ‘No, we’re
