‘… The effects of confederation have already been felt widely in Newfoundland. Prices for many commodities have dropped drastically, such as clothing and food—’
‘That’s a good thing, Mam. Food and clothes’ll be cheaper now.’
‘… Railway passenger and freight rates also were slashed—’
‘Does you hears that?’ Ephraim says. ‘We might be able to get to the Regatta in St John’s this year if the train’s cheaper.’
Agnes dabs at a drop of gravy on her black wool dress. ‘I’m not takin’ that train anywhere. Tippy’s Tickle’s all I needs. Can’t be doin’ with all those Catholics prancin’ about St John’s.’
Ellie sets down her teacup. ‘The Catholics mostly voted for independence, Agnes. Just like you.’
Agnes shoots a glare at her daughter-in-law. ‘That’s as may be. Doesn’t mean I’d shake the hand of the Pope on a cold day.’
‘… Perhaps the predominant feeling was expressed by a seal hunter who returned from the northern ice flows last night on the Terra Nova. This man, who voted anti-confederation—’
‘There’s a Catholic for you, Mam.’
‘… said, “We’re in this now and we’re going to be good Canadians, but whatever they want to call me, I’ll still be a Newfoundlander at heart.”’
‘Man after my own heart,’ Agnes says as she pours another cup of tea.
Ellie collects the supper plates. ‘Maybe they’ll find the money to build a school here now.’
‘Don’t hold your breath it’ll be any time soon, Ellie Mae.’ Thomas takes a swig of beer. ‘Towns’ll be lined up for Canadian money all the way to Cape Spear.’
‘Well, we need to do something, Thomas,’ Ellie says. ‘Emmy will be five this summer. He needs to start his schooling and there’s no way to get him to the school all the way down in Wesleyville.’
‘We could set him to board with my cousin Edna in Badger’s Quay,’ Ephraim says, stuffing his pipe with tobacco. ‘The school’s only a couple of miles from her place. A good walk for a young lad.’
‘That’s very nice, Ephraim, but I’m not having Emmy board at his age. And two miles is too far for him to be walking to school on his own.’
Agnes places a plate of molasses cookies on the table. ‘Ellie’s right.’
Ellie’s head snaps around to face her mother-in-law.
‘Slap me in the face with a cod, Mam,’ Thomas says, laughing. ‘Did you just agree with Ellie Mae?
Agnes picks out three of the cookies and puts them on her dessert plate. ‘Pains me, for sure, but Emmy’s too young for that lot out there. No tellin’ who’ll get his hands on him.’
‘You gotta stop dressin’ him likes a girl, Mam. He’s a boy. He’ll start gettin’ ribbed for it.’
Ellie reaches over for a cookie. ‘Maybe we can find someone to teach the children over in the church basement. I can speak to the vicar. He might know where we can find a teacher.’
‘You’re gettin’ awfully tight with Father Gill, there, maid,’ Thomas says. ‘You thinkin’ of becomin’ a Protestant?’
‘No, of course not, Thomas. It’s just I don’t have much choice if I want to worship. The closest Catholic church is in Gambo.’
Agnes crunches on a cookie with her new set of dentures. ‘I imagines your God’s gonna put a black mark against your immortal soul for steppin’ into a Protestant church.’
Ellie dunks her cookie into her tea. ‘We actually have the same God, Agnes. I think He understands. It’s not ideal, but “Needs must” as a friend of mine used to say.’
Chapter 57
Tippy’s Tickle – 13 September 2011
Sophie taps HOTMAIL into the search bar on her laptop, but the screen goes blank except for the message: No Internet Connection.
She groans and flops back against the wooden spindles of the desk chair. Bloody hell. No Wi-Fi connection again! She has to get these pictures and a report on the site to Richard today, or she’ll never hear the end of it. She can’t use the connection over in Florie’s shop. There just isn’t enough privacy. She glances out at the view from her bedroom window at the top of Kittiwake. Her eyes travel over the horizon, with its base of deep blue abutting the bright blue sky. Tufts of clouds hover high in the sky above the ocean, blowing in from the east. She looks towards the right, where the triangular tops of firs and spruce trees obscure the view of Sam’s cottage and the sandy cove beyond.
Sam. He has a computer. She’s seen his furniture website. He must have a decent connection. She could ask to use his Wi-Fi. Pushing the chair away from the desk, she switches off the laptop and slides it into her computer bag.
***
Sam pokes the kindling in the wood burner with an iron poker, stirring up the flames. ‘Do you have everything you need?’
‘Thanks again, Sam. You’re a lifesaver.’
‘Tell your boss I charge a hundred dollars a half-hour.’
Sophie laughs. ‘Sure.’
Sam raises an eyebrow. ‘You don’t believe me?’ He points to the router. ‘This is an ultra-deluxe range-extending router brought all the way from St John’s on the back of Thor’s bike.’
‘How is Thor, anyway? And his brother … Ace, wasn’t it?’
‘They’re good. Ace’s remarried. A Brazilian physiotherapist from St John’s. Thor’s had twins since you were here. Ruby and Pearl.’
‘You still go biking with them?’
‘Sure.’
‘How about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Are you … involved with anybody?’
Sam snorts. ‘Would it matter if I was?’
‘Well, uh, she might not like me being here … using your Wi-Fi.’
Sam hangs the poker on a hook and joins Sophie at the table where she’s set up her laptop. He shifts aside a pile of drawings. ‘Anything else you need?’
‘No, no, I’m good.’
‘You’re sure? More coffee, tea?’
‘She doesn’t live with you, does she?’
Sam grins.
