‘I wrote you, Ellie Mae. I swears it. But the mail boats got hit a lot on the run up to England. Maybe that’s why you didn’t get my letters. I didn’t get many of yours, and you said you wrote every week.’
‘You have no idea what it was like, Thomas. The pressure, the worry … It’s no surprise the baby came early.’ Ellie reaches for Thomas’s face and brushes her hand along his cheek, tracing the thin scar with her thumb. ‘Don’t ever doubt that, Thomas. Emmy’s our son. Our lovely son. And, God willing, we’ll have more children. A little girl next time, maybe.’
‘It’s been over six years, Ellie Mae. Maybe there’s somethin’ wrong with me. Maybe I can’t father a child.’
‘But it was only your leg that was injured.’
Thomas takes hold of Ellie’s hand and looks at her intensely. ‘Maybe I’ve never been able to father a child.’
Ellie looks deep into Thomas’s agitated grey eyes. ‘You have a son, Thomas. A fine son. And one day he’ll grow up into a fine man, just like his father.’
Chapter 61
Tippy’s Tickle – 13 September 2011
Sophie leans over the white porcelain pedestal sink and blinks into the mirror. She wipes at the sweat beading on her forehead and pulls at the skin on her cheeks, tugging it towards her ears. Releasing her fingers, she watches her skin settle back into its softening contours.
When did that happen? Forty-eight. She was still thirty-five in her head. The mirror was a liar. Or maybe she just hadn’t looked at herself closely for a long time. And the sweating. She wasn’t even fifty yet.
She opens the door into Sam’s living room and spies Sam in the kitchen.
‘Sam! I didn’t hear you come in.’ She glances at the laptop, the email to Richard open on the screen.
Sam smiles at her as he unloads two Foodland bags. Bear sits on the floor beside him, his black head poised in expectation. ‘Hope you like eggplant. I do a great eggplant pasta.’
‘Sure, I like eggplant.’ She quickly saves the emails and shuts off the laptop. ‘It sounds a lot nicer when you call it aubergine pasta, though. Eggplant makes it sound like it’s made of eggs.’
He begins singing ‘Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off’ and Sophie joins in, singing the other part.
‘Well, you can carry a tune, Sam. Another one of your hidden talents.’
‘Newfoundlander, you see. We’re a musical bunch.’ He unscrews the top of a bottle of red wine and pours out two glasses. ‘I hope you like Valpolicella. It’s the best Italian Wesleyville can offer.’
‘Valpolicella’s perfect.’ She accepts the glass from Sam, relieved that the awkwardness before he left appears to have been forgotten. ‘I designed a winery in Verona a few years ago.’
‘Well, I can’t trump that.’ He clinks her class. ‘Chin-chin.’
‘Chin-chin.’
He sets down his glass and hands Sophie a fat purple eggplant. ‘Right, so, Princess Grace. Slice this up, will you? I’ll get the pasta on.’
‘Is Becca joining us for supper?’
‘No, she’s out with Toby again. Just bumped into them in Florie’s store. Said they were going to a time over in Badger’s Quay.’ He frowns as he pours water into a cooking pot. ‘That boy’s a real distraction. Becca needs to study for her exams. She promised me she’d get down to it next week if I let her go.’
‘A time?’
‘A party. I think I need to get you a Newfoundland dictionary.’
***
Sophie dabs the napkin against her lips. ‘That was delicious, Sam.’
He picks up the wine bottle. ‘More wine?’
‘Sure. I’m not driving.’
Sam takes a sip of wine. ‘When were you going to tell me?’
‘Tell you what?’
‘Becca told me about your phone call yesterday.’
‘What phone call?’
‘You got a phone call at the picnic. She reads lips, remember?’
Sophie stares at Sam. ‘Oh, Sam.’
He sets down his wine glass and shakes his head. ‘I didn’t want to believe her. I mean, she doesn’t always get it right. You’ve got an accent. It makes it harder for her.’
‘Sam, I—’
‘Then, I read your email, and I knew she hadn’t misunderstood anything. Let me see if I remember the subject line right. Luxury Eco Golf Hotel in Tippy’s Tickle. Is that right?’
Sophie folds her napkin and sets it on the table. ‘What do you want me to say?’
‘A golf course? Seriously? The wind will hurl their golf balls all the way to Greenland!’
‘I’ve told them the golf course is a bad idea—’
‘It’s Ellie’s home.’ He thumps his chest. ‘My home.’
Sophie presses her fingers against her eyes. ‘I know. I know.’ She reaches for her glass and takes a large gulp of wine, willing the alcohol to steady her nerves. ‘Look, Sam, the biggest thing Tippy’s Tickle has going for it right now is the dole. This is a great opportunity for the town. The hotel will bring in employment. The economy here will boom. You can get involved on the build, make the built-in units, the furniture. You said yourself all the kids are moving to the cities because there’s no work.’
‘These kinds of places aren’t interested in spreading the wealth. The investors want a good return on their investment. It’s all about money. Their money.’
‘That’s not it at all, Sam. They want to make this an eco-friendly hotel.’
Sam’s huffs. ‘With a golf course? Where are the superyachts going to berth? Have you seen how narrow the tickle is? Or are they going to dredge that and blast away the rocks to make room?’ He points out towards the ocean. ‘We have harp seals just off shore. Whales. Puffins just down the coast. What’s going to happen to them? Where’s the helicopter going to land, because they’ll want that for all their VIPs flying into St John’s. They’ll have to blast rock away for that too. So much for our ecosystem. Open your eyes, Sophie. They’re taking you for a ride.’
‘I think you’re
