Part 21 (1/2)

THE ASHLEY BOOK OF KNOTS.

THE SINGLE advantage of the green house was clear at once. Quoyle, yawning and unshaven in a corner of Beety's kitchen, was combing the snarls out of Suns.h.i.+ne's hair and surrounded by affairs of toast, cocoa, searches for misplaced clothing and homework when Tert Card walked in, poured himself a cup of coffee. Dennis away and gone an hour before. Card looked at Beety, let her see him licking his mouth and winking like a turkey with pinkeye. advantage of the green house was clear at once. Quoyle, yawning and unshaven in a corner of Beety's kitchen, was combing the snarls out of Suns.h.i.+ne's hair and surrounded by affairs of toast, cocoa, searches for misplaced clothing and homework when Tert Card walked in, poured himself a cup of coffee. Dennis away and gone an hour before. Card looked at Beety, let her see him licking his mouth and winking like a turkey with pinkeye.

He stood then in front of Suns.h.i.+ne and Quoyle, clawing at his groin as though scorched by red-hot underwear. ”Quoyle. Just wanted to let you know you should call Diddy Shovel. Something about a s.h.i.+p fire. You'll probably want to go straight along. I put [232] the camera in your car. See if there's a chance for some pix. I'll tell you, Jack Buggit is some smart. People would rather read about a clogged head on a s.h.i.+p than all the car wrecks in Newfoundland.” Took his time drinking his coffee. Chucked Suns.h.i.+ne under the chin and scratched again before he ambled out.

”I don't like that yukky man,” said Suns.h.i.+ne. Feeling Quoyle's anger through the comb.

”In love with himself,” said Beety. ”Always has been. And no compet.i.tion.”

”Like this,” said Murchie Buggit, hands blurred in demented scratching.

”That's enough,” said Beety. ”You look like a dog with bad fleas.”

”So did he.”' And Suns.h.i.+ne and Murchie screamed with laughter until Murchie choked on toast crumbs and Quoyle had to slap his back.

But before he called the harbormaster the phone rang.

”For you,” said Beety.

”h.e.l.lo?” He expected Diddy Shovel's voice.

”Quoyle,” said Billy Pretty, ”you stopped by Alvin Yark's to talk about a boat?”

”No, Billy. I haven't even been thinking about it to tell you the truth. Kind of busy the last few weeks. And I guess I'm leery of boats after what happened.”

”That's why you must go right back to 'em. Now you been christened. Winter is the finest time to build a boat. Alvin build you something and come ice-out I'll show you the tricks. Since you've been brought up away from the boats and are a danger to yourself.”

Quoyle knew he should feel grateful. But felt stupid. ”That's kind of you, Billy. I know I ought to do it.”

”You just go out there to Alvin's place. You know where his shop is? Get Wavey to show you. Alvin's her uncle. Her poor dead mother's oldest brother.”

”Alvin Yark is Wavey's uncle?” He seemed to be treading a spiral, circling in tighter and tighter.

[233] ”Oh yes.”

While his hand was on the phone Quoyle dialed Diddy Shovel. What was the fire, was there a story in it? Bunny slouched into the kitchen with her sweater on backwards. Quoyle tried to pantomime a command to reverse the sweater, aroused the Beethoven scowl.

”Young man,” the great voice boomed, ”while you're fiddling around the Rome Rome b.u.ms. Cargo s.h.i.+p, b.u.ms. Cargo s.h.i.+p, Rome Rome, six-hundred-foot vessel, Panamanian registered, carrying a load of zinc and lead powder is, let's see, about twenty miles out and on fire at thirteen hundred hours. Two casualties. The captain and an unidentified. Rest of the crew taken off by helicopter. Twenty-one chaps from Myanmar. Do you know where Myanmar is?”

”No.”

”Right where Burma used to be. Helicopter took most of the crew to Misky Bay Hospital to be treated for smoke inhalation. s.h.i.+p is in tow, destination Killick-Claw. More than that I do not know.”

”Do you know how I can get out to her?”

”Why bother? Wait until they bring her in. Shouldn't be too long.”

Yet by three-thirty the s.h.i.+p still had not entered the narrows. Quoyle called Diddy Shovel again.

”Should be here by five. Understand they've had some trouble. Towing cable parted and they had to rig another.”

Wavey came down the steps pulling at the sleeves of her homemade coat, the color of slushy snow. She got in, glanced at him. A slight smile. Looked away.

Their silence comfortable. Something unfolding. But what? Not love, which wrenched and wounded. Not love, which came only once.

”I've got to go down to the harbor. So we can pick up the kids and I'll bring you and young Herold straight back. I can drop Bunny off at Beety's for an hour or take her with me. They're [234] towing in a s.h.i.+p that had a fire. Two men dead, including the captain. The others in the hospital. Diddy Shovel says.”

”I tremble to hear it.” And did, in fact, shudder.

The school came in sight. Bunny stood at the bottom of the steps holding a sheet of paper. Quoyle dreaded the things she brought from school, that she showed him with her lip stuck out: bits of pasta glued on construction paper to form a face, pipe cleaners twisted into flowers, crayoned houses with quadrate windows, brown trees with broccoli heads never seen in Newfoundland. School iconography, he thought.

”That's how Miss Grandy says to do it.”

”But Bunny, did you ever see a brown tree?”

”Marty makes her trees brown. And I'm gonna.”

Quoyle to Wavey. ”Billy says I must get a boat built over the winter. He says I should go to Alvin Yark.”

A nod at hearing her uncle's name.

”He's a good boat builder,” she said in her low voice. ”He'd make you a good one.”

”I thought I would go over on Sat.u.r.day,” said Quoyle. ”And ask. Take the girls. Will you and Herry come with us? Is that a good day?”

”The best,” she said. ”And I've got things I've been wanting to bring to Aunt Evvie. We'll have supper with them. Aunt Evvie's some cook.”

Then Quoyle and Bunny were off to the harbor, but the Rome Rome had been towed to St. John's by company orders. had been towed to St. John's by company orders.

”Usually they tell me,” said Diddy Shovel. ”A few years back I'd have twisted 'em like a watch spring, but why bother now?”

On Sat.u.r.day the fog was as dense as cotton waste, carried a coldness that ate into the bones. The children like a row of hens in the backseat. Wavey a little dressed up, black shoes glittering on the floor mat. Quoyle's eyes burned trying to penetrate the mist. Corduroy trousers painfully tight. He made a thousandth vow to lose weight. Houses at the side of the road were lost, the sea invisible. An hour to go ten miles to the Nunny Bag Cove [235] turnoff. Cars creeping the other way, fog lights as dull as dirty saucers.

Nunny Bag Cove was a loop of road crammed with new ranch houses. They could scarcely see them in the mist.

”They had a fire about six years ago,” said Wavey. ”The town burned down. Everybody built a new house with the insurance. There was some families didn't have insurance, five or six I guess, the others shared along with them so it all came out to a new house for everybody. Uncle Al and Auntie Evvie didn't need such a big house as the old one, so they chipped in.”

”Wait,” said Quoyle. ”They built a smaller house than their insurance claim paid for?”

”Umm,” said Wavey. ”He had separate insurance on his boat house. Had it insured for the amount as if there was a new long-liner just finished in it.”