The Loss of the Marion

by Linda Abbott

  Sheila’s hands tightened on the chair’s armrests.

  “Item two. The St. John’s house situated on Lemarchant Road goes to Nellie Myles to do with as she pleases. Also, she is allotted five hundred dollars a year for the next ten years.”

  Sheila’s eyes looked ready to pop out of her head. “There must be some mistake,” she said.

  Nellie gulped and stared at Mr. Fleming. “I . . . are you sure?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, then turned unblinking eyes to Sheila. “I assure you, Miss Jones, this will is quite legal and binding. Item three. A thousand dollars goes to Mrs. Annie Cluett for being the grandmother Marie never had.”

  Sheila’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “This is absurd,” she muttered.

  “Item four. Two thousand dollars goes to Miss Sheila Jones.

  “Item—”

  Sheila laughed, a low throaty croak that resembled a frog’s cry. “Now I know this has to be a joke.”

  “Item five. Forty thousand dollars is left to Marie. Her guardian will oversee the necessary funds for her living expenses and education.”

  Sheila’s eyes shimmered. “That’s quite a large sum of money,” she said, her voice almost musical. “I’ll do my utmost to look after Marie’s welfare.”

  “The last and most important item. Ike appointed Harry and Nellie Myles as his daughter’s guardians in the case of his untimely death.”

  “This is outrageous!” Sheila yelled, her breathing rapid. “As Marie’s only living relative, I insist—no, I demand!—that she be given over to me.”

  Mr. Fleming replaced the document in the file folder. “Miss Jones,” he said in his level lawyer’s voice once again, “Ike’s main concern was his daughter’s happiness.”

  “Happiness!” Sheila shrieked. “In a backward settlement with uneducated people who distort the King’s English!” She leaned forward in the chair. “Mr. Fleming, surely you understand.”

  The lawyer leaned forward as well. “More than you know,” he said quietly. “I was born in Joe Batt’s Arm, which, by the way, is even more of a ‘backward’ community than St. Jacques. My daughter spends every summer there and hates to return to ‘civilization.’” He pulled a piece of paper from the folder. “I’ve arranged everything with the bank. Present this and you’ll receive your inheritance without delay.”

  Sheila grabbed the paper out of his hand. “I’m not giving up this easily.”

  Mr. Fleming stood up. “Our business is concluded, Miss Jones. Good day.”

  “Sacred Heart of Mary,” Nellie said after Sheila stomped out of the office. “I thought she was gonna explode.”

  The lawyer chuckled. “What a pleasant thought.”

  “Is it really true?” Nellie hesitated, afraid the question spoken out loud might somehow change the answer. “Marie can live with me?”

  “Absolutely true. Sheila Jones was a stranger to Ike. He’d invited her to Newfoundland on many occasions to meet Marie, which she always declined with one excuse or another.”

  Nellie shook her head. “I pity her. She doesn’t know how to love.”

  “Shortly after the Marion’s disappearance, I wrote requesting her presence at the reading of Ike’s will. She showed up anxious for information about her niece.”

  “She wanted Marie so she could get her hands on Ike’s money.”

  “If Sheila had made an effort with Marie over the years, Ike would have rewarded her,” Mr. Fleming said.

  “Why did you ask Marie questions?”

  “Simple curiosity, Mrs. Myles.”

  “I blame Ike for what happened to the Marion,” Nellie said.

  “I admire your honesty,” he replied. “However, it changes nothing.”

  Miss Murphy poked her head into the office. “Marie wants to see Mrs. Myles,” she said.

  “Send her right in.”

  Marie crept around the receptionist into the office. Her face was grey, her eyes heavy. “Aunt Sheila looked awful mad,” she said.

  Nellie held out her arms. “That’s because you’re going home with me.”

  Even Miss Murphy in the outer office covered her ears against Marie’s shrieks of joy.

  “The house on Lemarchant Road is fully stocked with food,” Mr. Fleming said. “I’ll take you there, if you like. It’s only a ten-minute walk.”

  Nellie felt like she’d been transported to another world when she stepped inside the regal home. The walls were painted a soft yellow, reminding her of sunshine. White lace curtains hung from every window. Light-toned furniture highlighted the dark hardwood floors.

  “A woman comes in once a week to clean,” Mr. Fleming said.

  Nellie looked around the living room. “Has it been empty all these years?”

  “Ike stayed here whenever he had business in St. John’s.”

  Marie galloped down the stairs into the living room. “Mrs. Myles, can we sleep here tonight? It’s so beautiful!”

  “No problem,” the lawyer said. “I’ll have your luggage sent over.” He hauled a chain watch out of his top suit pocket. “Time to get back to work. We’ll discuss the finer points of Ike’s will tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” Nellie said. “I still can’t believe all this is happening.”

  “Alice won’t know where to find us tomorrow,” Marie realized.

  “I’ll tell the hotel you’re here,” Mr. Fleming said. “Good day.”

  “Let’s see what we can find to eat.” Nellie opened the door to a spotless kitchen that was as big as the first floor of her house in St. Jacques. Oak cupboards with glass doors lined three walls, and a square oak table graced the centre of the tiled floor. The sink captivated her attention. She turned the faucet, and clear water spilled out. “What a luxury,” Nellie said. “Annie would love this.”

  She checked a cupboard and found bread and cheese. “I’ll make us a sandwich.”

  “Who owns this house?” Marie asked, her mouth crammed with food.

  “Goodness me,” Nellie said. “I forgot to tell you. Your pa gave it to me in his will.”

  Marie’s green eyes sparkled. “That was some nice of him.”

  “And he left me and Annie lots of money.”

  “Did he give Bessie, Joe, and Sam some money, too?”

  “No, but that’s all right,” Nellie continued when Marie frowned. “They won’t mind.”

  Marie looked as if she was considering something. “Did he give me any money?”

  “Yes. Heaps.”

  Marie gave a sigh of relief. “Good. Now Joe and Sam won’t ever have to leave us.”

  “What do you mean, angel?”

  “I’ll give them my money so they don’t need to fish on the Banks.”

  “That’s a lovely thought,” Nellie said, her voice shaky, her eyes glistening with pride. “But you don’t have to worry about the boys. Your pa gave me enough money to keep them safe.”

  They finished their sandwiches and explored the rest of the house. The sun was just setting when their luggage arrived. Marie ran from bedroom to bedroom before deciding on the one she wanted.

  Nellie chose the room next to hers. As the night closed in, she snuggled under the covers. A cool breeze fluttered the lace curtains and the sound of passersby amazed her. St. Jacques was quieter than a graveyard after dark. Nellie hugged the pillow. Exhausted from the boat trip and from worrying about Marie, she fell into a deep sleep.

  Annie shot up in bed and stared around the dark room. Her eyes roamed over unfamiliar objects. “Where am I?” she said to the empty night. The reason for her being in Nellie’s old bedroom flooded back. “Poor, darling Marie,” she murmured, and lay back down. She shot back up again and listened. The only sound was her own breathing. “Must’ve dreamt it.”

  A
muffled cry, like a hand held over a mouth, fractured the silence. Annie whipped off the blankets and hurried to Bessie’s room. Sam stood over the bed. Joe sat on the edge and gently shook his sister. “Bessie, wake up.”

  She moaned. Her head tossed from side to side.

  Joe shook her harder. “Bessie, wake up.” His voice sounded panicked. “You’re having the Old Hag. Wake up.”

  Sam turned to Annie. “We can’t wake her.” His hands were clenched at his sides. “She’ll die if we can’t wake her.”

  “That’s an old wives’ tale,” Annie said. “Not a word of truth in it.”

  Bessie’s eyes opened and she gasped for air. “The hooded man,” she cried. “The hooded man took Marie.”

  “The hooded man isn’t real,” Annie said. She cradled Bessie against her chest. “Marie’s safe with your ma.”

  “He is real,” Bessie bawled. “I saw him in St. Pierre.” Her small fingers dug into Annie’s back.

  “Shhh,” Annie said, and smoothed Bessie’s hair. “Marie’s all right. I promise ya.” She looked at Joe and Sam. “Go back to bed. I’ll stay with her.”

  “She’s missing Marie,” Sam said. “I don’t understand why she had to leave us.”

  “Neither do I,” Annie said. “Neither do I.”

  Bessie’s sobs slowly diminished into the occasional hiccup as a restless sleep overtook her. Annie lay beside her and shed a tear or two herself. She was awake when the sun rose on the horizon.

  Chapter 15

  Mr. Fleming arrived at the house on Lemarchant Road at nine in the morning. He declined Nellie’s offer of pancakes and toast.

  “I never eat before noon. Which annoys my wife, because our daughter is beginning to develop the same habit. I’ll have a cup of tea, though,” he said. “Little Marie still in bed?”

  “I let her sleep in. She’s had a couple of awful days.”

  “Quite so.” He opened his briefcase. “I have the deeds to this house and the one in St. Jacques. Also, there are a few papers you need to sign concerning guardianship of Marie and the release of money.”

  “I’d rather you kept hold of the deeds.”

  “That’s not a problem.” Mr. Fleming took out the papers for Nellie’s signature. “You’ll receive your allotment of money by post at regular intervals. Let me know whenever you require money for Marie.”

  “Marie needs very little,” Nellie said. “She can save the money for when she’s older.”

  “Mrs. Myles,” the lawyer continued when Nellie had signed the last paper. “Will you move your family here?”

  Nellie poured more tea. “I was pondering that very thing before you arrived. My youngsters and Marie have had enough . . .” She hesitated, searching for the word Mother Patrick had used. “. . . upheavals for a lifetime. We’ll move here when they finish school at the convent.” Nellie glanced around the huge kitchen. “There’ll be more opportunities in St. John’s when they’re older.” She stared at a spot on the wall over the lawyer’s shoulder. “I loves St. Jacques. It’s just that . . .”

  “I do understand,” Mr. Fleming said. “Fishing is extremely hard work, and dangerous, as you well know.”

  “Harry’s father drowned on the Banks when Harry was Marie’s age.”

  “A good mother doesn’t want her children to suffer the same fate. My father was a fisherman and swore his only son would have an easier, safer life.”

  “If Harry was buried in St. Jacques, I could never leave him. Most fishermen’s wives lose their men to the sea and never get their bodies back.” Her throat hurt from the effort not to cry. “That’s what tears me up the worst. I can never visit his grave and chat with him.”

  “The young woman who got off the boat with you is a Marion widow as well?”

  “Married four days when Simon shipped out. She didn’t know at the time that she was in the family way. We’re going to see Dottie McEvoy today, another widow. She had twins a little while after the Marion left.” Nellie explained why the two women had moved to St. John’s. Mr. Fleming listened quietly while she talked about the Marion crew and the effect of their loss on the community.

  The lawyer passed his empty cup from hand to hand, a reflective look on his face. “Even though I represented Ike, to hear first-hand about the crew and their families makes their deaths feel more real.”

  Marie skipped into the kitchen. “Mr. Fleming, can I have some money to buy five presents?” She counted the names off on her fingers. “Annie, Mother Patrick, Bessie, Joe, and Sam.”

  “Don’t go throwing your money away,” Nellie said.

  “What a lovely idea,” Mr. Fleming said. “Drop by my office.” He poked his hat on his head. “I have an appointment at ten. By the way, I thought you’d both be pleased to hear that Miss Jones left for Montreal this morning with her inheritance.” He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “She was madder than a rabid wolf.”

  Nellie saw him to the door and lingered as she watched him walk down the road. People rushed along the sidewalks. She wondered where they were going in such a hurry. A horse and buggy passed by; the clip, clop of the hooves was the only similarity with St. Jacques. She closed the door as a horse and milk wagon turned onto the street. Marie helped herself to pancakes and toast.

  Nellie had the dishes washed and put back in the cupboard when Alice and her sister-in-law, Mrs. Coombs, showed up.

  “I was some surprised when they told us at the hotel that you were here,” Alice said. “Where’s Miss Jones?”

  Nellie described what was in the will. “Sheila carried on like a greedy youngster,” she said.

  “That’s some good news,” Alice said. “Dottie’ll be some glad, too. She lives on the street around the corner.” Alice smiled. The dark circles under her eyes seemed to lighten. “You’re neighbours.”

  Dr. and Mrs. Williams welcomed the women into their home, especially Mrs. Coombs, who had been a long-time patient. Nellie couldn’t get over how much the twins had grown in two weeks. The doctor suggested a visit to Signal Hill as it was a warm, sunny day. Mrs. Williams insisted on watching over the twins.

  “She’s spoiling my youngsters rotten,” Dottie said with a smile, as everyone climbed the steep, long path up Signal Hill. They’d taken the streetcar and walked from there. “Always looking for an excuse to have them to herself.”

  “Annie’s missing them something shocking,” Nellie said.

  “Tell her not to fret,” Dottie said. “She’ll get to see them again.”

  They marvelled at Cabot Tower, then stopped off at Mr. Fleming’s office, followed by a trip to the shops on Water Street. Marie bought a soccer ball for Joe, a skipping rope with red wooden handles for Bessie, a box of linen handkerchiefs for Annie, and a book full of pictures of Ireland for Mother Patrick. Sam was more difficult to buy for, but she finally settled on Dottie’s suggestion of a book of arithmetic puzzles.

  For the next week and a half, Mrs. Coombs played the role of tour guide, showcasing the city’s highlights, such as the Basilica, the courthouse, and the public library. Nellie noticed that each day Alice looked paler and thinner, but Nellie kept these thoughts to herself. Just before midnight, the night before the boat was due to leave for St. Jacques and the coastal communities, Dottie came to see Nellie. Tears coursed down her face. “Mr. Coombs came for us. Alice took bad after supper.”

  Nellie noticed Dr. Williams for the first time, standing to the left of Dottie. “I’ll keep an eye on young Marie while you’re gone,” he said.

  As they made their way to Torbay, Nellie couldn’t enjoy the beautiful maple and juniper trees lording over luscious grass and flowers. The Coombs house was centred on a flat hill overlooking the ocean. A line of clothes behind the house had been left out.

  A grey-haired man of about sixty with a medical bag came out when Mr. Coombs reined in t
he horse to a stop. Nellie didn’t need to hear the words. The expression on his face shouted out the sad truth. Alice had lost her baby.

  “Physically, she’ll recover,” the doctor said. He looked up at Dottie and Nellie. “Go in. The poor girl needs comforting.”

  Alice was reclining against a stack of feather pillows, her eyes vacant as she stared straight ahead. She didn’t acknowledge Dottie or Nellie.

  Nellie gently reached for Alice’s hand. It felt cold and lifeless, like a dead fish. “I don’t know what to say,” she said.

  “Nothing’s left,” Alice whispered, her eyes transfixed on the wall in front of her. Nellie shuddered at the naked bleakness in her voice. “The baby gave me the strength to keep going. I wants to be with Simon and our baby.”

  Dottie whispered, “You don’t mean that.”

  Alice remained still, her eyes devoid of all emotion.

  Nellie moved closer to her. “Stop gaping at the air and look at me.”

  No response. No movement.

  Nellie turned Alice’s face toward her. “You listen to me good, Alice Whelan. No more foolish nonsense about being with Simon and the baby. He must have the shivers up there in Heaven hearing that.” Nellie pushed down the pity she felt for the young woman. “Tell me what Simon would say if he was here.”

  Tears moistened Alice’s unblinking eyes. None fell. “He . . .”

  “He what?” Nellie said gently. She strained to keep her voice steady.

  “He’d be mad with me.”

  Silence.

  “Why?”

  “He said I was to go on if anything happened to him.” Tears gushed over grey, sunken cheeks to form a puddle that tumbled from her chin.

  Nellie kissed Alice’s forehead. “Love, you have to muster the courage to do what Simon wanted.”

  Mr. Fleming carried Marie’s bags from the house and started down the street. Nellie and Marie preferred to walk the short distance to the wharf. Dottie, unable to bear the sight of the boat taking them away, said her goodbyes at the house.