New Girl in Little Cove by Damhnait Monaghan (fun books to read for adults .TXT) 📕

“I could read you a chapter,” I offered.

Biddy smiled. “That would be grand, Rachel.”

I dragged the rocking chair in from the kitchen, wrapped myself in a quilt and began to read.

31

I woke in the middle of the night, still in the rocking chair. My watch told me it was two o’clock. Some nurse I’d turned out to be. I gently roused Biddy, who grumbled that she was fine and told me to leave her be. So I went to the kitchen, put some wood in the stove and curled up on the daybed under a quilt.

Biddy’s voice woke me in the morning. She wanted help getting out of bed. I asked her if she wanted me to take her to the bathroom.

“My God, girl, I’m not that far gone,” she said. She climbed slowly up the stairs and I tried not to fret. But twenty minutes later, she was back, hair brushed and a smell of minty toothpaste about her. She needed help to get dressed, but that was all.

I was desperate for my Saturday morning coffee fix, but settled for tea. I set to work on breakfast, after turning on the radio. Soon enough I was singing along with the folk music they played.

“Nice to hear a young one singing in this house,” said Biddy. “I miss Geraldine. She don’t come home much these days.”

I kept my attention fixed on the stove while I digested this information. “Maybe she’s really busy at work.”

“Yes girl, I allows. But I think she also got the taste for life in town now. I never sees her with Doug anymore. He’s a bayman through and through. I don’t think that was ever a love match.”

I joined Biddy at the table, dishing up eggs and cutting up the bacon for her. She ate left-handed and seemed to manage well enough. After breakfast, she asked me to phone Phonse, but again there was no reply, and she began to fret.

“Maybe he’s at the school,” I said. “I could drive down and see. Will you be all right on your own for ten minutes?”

She batted her hand at me, which I interpreted as a yes.

Phonse was not at the school, but Doug was. He said Little Cove was abuzz with news about the accident and asked me how Biddy was doing.

“I’m driving Phonse into St. John’s this afternoon so we can get Eddie.”

“So he’s okay?”

“Broken arm and pretty banged up, but he’ll live. His truck is totalled, though.”

“From hitting an animal?”

“Have you ever seen a moose? They’re huge.” He gestured with his arms.

“It’s good of you to pick up Eddie.”

“He’d do the same for me. Eddie Churchill is our unofficial taxi service. He’s driven Mudder around for years when I’m not able.”

I thought about all the times I’d seen Eddie driving Lucille and others around. A good man.

“I guess Elsie will be back tomorrow to take over,” said Doug.

“Who’s Elsie?”

“Biddy’s sister.” He paused, then added, “Geri’s mom.”

Ah.

“Doug, why wasn’t Biddy invited to this wedding that half the ladies in Little Cove seem to be attending?”

“Not a clue.”

“You’re no good for gossip.”

Doug gave me a funny look. “When your own mudder is a constant source of gossip,” he said, “you learns right quick it’s a hateful beast. Besides, who says she wasn’t invited? Maybe she was and she didn’t want to go.”

Thinking about what Biddy had said about closing the door and having time to herself, that possibility seemed more likely. But Doug was right, it really was none of my business. And nor, I realized ruefully, was the torrid history of Flossie and Annie. Chastened, I said goodbye and told him to drive carefully.

“I always do.”

“And give my best to Eddie.”

When I returned to Biddy’s house, she was delighted to hear that Eddie was coming home so soon. After lunch I asked if she’d mind if I went for a walk.

“I’m so much better today,” she said. “You could go home, sure.”

“Nope,” I said. “I’m staying until the reinforcements arrive.”

It was a bright warm day, so I walked down the path to the wharf and leaned on the side for a while, staring out at the sea. Heading back up to Biddy’s something glinted in the sunshine. I stooped down and picked up a silver whistle on a thin, red string. It was too dirty to put in my mouth to see if it worked, but I shoved it in the pocket of my jeans.

Back at Biddy’s I caught her doing the dishes one-handed. I scolded her and took over.

“I’m getting right jittery sitting here doing nothing,” she said.

“It’s called recuperation,” I said. “And since I’m apparently a nurse,” I winked at her, “you’d better follow my orders.”

She sat down at the table, and I quickly washed the few dishes and left them to dry in the rack. Then I fished the whistle out of my pocket and gave it a quick wash too.

“Look what I found coming up the path,” I said, putting it on the table in front of her.

She picked it up and examined it closely. “Oh, that’ll do nicely for my treasure box if you don’t want it.”

Intrigued, I asked her to explain.

“Go on out to that cupboard in the front hall,” she directed. “Have a rummage ’til you finds a wooden box. Bring it here to me ’til we goes through it. That’ll keep us occupied.”

I did as instructed and found the box under a bag stuffed full of wool. Back at the table, Biddy told me that as a young girl, she’d always been fascinated by found treasure, bringing old bits of coloured glass or seashells home from the beach.

“I never stopped collecting things,” she said. “Of course, if I knows who it belongs to, I gives it back. I once found Judy’s engagement ring. She’d been beside herself, lying to Bill that she’d taken it into Clayville to get the diamond polished and wondering what she’d do if it never turned up.”

Biddy reached into the