It was my turn to be shocked. I don’t know what I’d expected, but there was no doubt that this time she was speaking the truth.
“That’s not what you said before.” A lame remark, I must admit.
She actually gave me a little grin, almost mischievous. “I said I didn’t like him. You made an assumption.”
“Oh cut it out, Joan. You were deliberately misleading me.”
She flashed me a contrite look. “You’re right, I was. I was too upset. I just didn’t want you to know how I felt.”
I realized how much she had learned to protect herself from me. That was not a good feeling.
“So what do you mean when you say he was the love of your life? I thought that role was ascribed to Duncan.”
She didn’t miss the edge in my voice that I’m ashamed to say slipped through. Hey, old grievances don’t disappear overnight. We’d gone through at least three major enthusiasms in my lifetime.
“Duncan and I were teenagers. You always think you’re Romeo and Juliet at that age.”
Nic came back from stick-fetching and drenched me again. Joan was about to throw another stick and I caught her hand.
“Will you stop that for a minute. I’m getting soaked, she looks like she’s limping again, and I want to talk seriously to you.”
She actually looked afraid, and I tried to temper my irritation.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get snippy with you, but it’s maddening when you give me half-answers like this.”
“All right, but let me tell it in my own way, will you? Don’t correct my grammar every five minutes.”
An exaggeration, but I winced.
“Okay. Go ahead. I’ll listen. But I don’t understand. You just said Tormod was the love of your life, but you had a child by him when you were, what? Fourteen?”
“Sarah was born two weeks before my fifteenth birthday.” She sighed. “I never really knew her the way a mother knows a child, but I am so very sad that she is dead. I was hoping that we could at least become friends.”
Nic had been waiting patiently, and she jumped up, came over to Joan, and started to nuzzle her hand. Joan buried her face in the dog’s fur for a moment.
“I was one of those girls who blossom early into adolescence. Not like you. You were late. You might not think so now, but I was considered a pretty girl. Suddenly, it seemed to me, when I was hardly thirteen, all sorts of boys — and men for that matter — were looking at me differently.” Joan smoothed the baggy raincoat over her knees. “Annie watched me like a hawk as soon as I started to bud and the lads were coming around. She soon twigged that I’d got preggies. ‘Who did this to you? Who’s the father?’ I’ll never forget that afternoon. She’d come into my room and she was quiet, almost sympathetic. I was scared to death. I knew what was happening to me and I was just a kid. So I told her... and did she sing a different tune. ‘You wicked, wicked girl.’ Slap, slap. ‘How could you try to drag this good man into your own disgrace.’ She was related to Tormod by marriage, you see, and she couldn’t bear to think of the shame this would bring on her family. I never mentioned his name again. I lied and said it was really some German lad who was working on the trawlers. Then she told my Pappy — not about Tormod, though — and he beat me with his belt until I was screaming so loud Annie had to stop him. I prayed I would miscarry after that, but no such luck. Remember, the attitude towards abortions was different from what it is nowadays. No local doctor would have performed one. So... I was locked in my room for two days —I’ll tell you about that another time.
“They came up with a scheme. I was to be sent off to the mainland to one of the church-run homes for unwed mothers.... Oh Lord, defend me forever again against the righteous.... Annie would put it out that she was pregnant and then claim the child was hers. She’d been desperate for a bairn ever since they married. So that’s what happened.” Joan stuffed her fists under her raincoat, making it swell out. “She even took to padding her clothes so she would look pregnant... The baby was born and she came and got her, making up some story about going into labour while she was visiting me. The islanders aren’t stupid. I don’t know how many people she really fooled. Anyway, surprise, surprise, she took to Sarah as if she really was her own child, and I was pushed out even more.
“I came home one more time only. Nobody would talk to me — not my brothers, not my Pappy. And I couldn’t stand watching that mean cow make such a fuss over the baby. My baby that I wasn’t allowed to have anything to do with. I never went back, and when I could legally leave school, I did. I got a job in a hair-dressing salon, sweeping the floor. Then I met the Cohens, accepted the position of a nanny, and the rest, as they say, is history.
“Did Tormod know you’d had his child?”
She hesitated. “I didn’t tell him and he didn’t ask.”
“Naturally, then he wouldn’t have to take responsibility.”
I could feel myself getting all judgemental again, so I picked up the stick and threw it for Nic
“I didn’t really want to tell him, anyway,” she continued. “If the truth had come out, it would have ruined his life. He wouldn’t have been able to stay on the island. Especially in those days, people wouldn’t have tolerated him.” She stroked the scarf so tenderly, I guessed it must have belonged to Tormod. Lisa had missed that one.
“So I was your second pregnancy without benefit of clergy. That must have really sent them off the deep end. I assume they did know, which was why you got disinherited and declared missing in Canada.”
“That’s right. You see, my Pappy hadn’t wanted me in the first place. He was almost forty when I was born, and he was hard as nails and colder than the cod. He could just about tolerate the boys but, for whatever reason, he couldn’t stand having a daughter. He thought all women were original Eves, ready to lead the pure man astray.”
“He’s right about that.”
She grinned and we shared a bit of misanthropy together. “As far as Pappy was concerned, I was going to end up populating an entire island with bastard children.”
“So you told him you had run off with a Red Indian?”
“I was dating a fellow who was part Cree, and he lived in Timmins — let’s just say I elaborated.” She cast another anxious glance at me to see if I was judging her. I kept my face neutral, although the question had popped into my mind. I let it ride for now. Joan took my hand in hers.
“You’re cold. Do you want my gloves? I’m warm as toast.”
“Thanks. I wouldn’t mind.”
She handed over her sheepskin gloves and they were indeed welcome. Even in this sheltered cove, I was beginning to get really cold. I needed my winter jacket and fur-lined boots. To heck with it being May.
“Back to Tormod. We seem to be avoiding the subject.”
“It hurts,” she said, but after a moment she continued. “Oh, Chris, he was so handsome and he could charm the pants off a parson, as we’d say. But most of all he was so kind to me. I must have been one of the most miserable kids you’d ever meet. By the time I was fourteen, I didn’t know if I was going to survive. In spite of all the lads who were hanging around, I thought the loneliness would kill me, like the tuberculosis, which carried off so many young ones. Then that summer, Tormod’s wife had to go and take care of her mother down in Benecula. They asked me if I would help mind his children for a few weeks. I’d done that before — you saw the snap of us together — so I went over. I hadn’t seen him all winter, and I’d developed. I wasn’t a skinny kid any more. He’d always been good to me, but this was different. He talked to me like an equal, made me laugh, made me think I was an attractive girl. I fell crazy in love with him. I was like somebody who’d been on a starvation diet and, all of a sudden, there’s this banquet in front of me. He wasn’t happy either. He’d never loved Margaret, and he certainly enjoyed female charms. How could he resist?”
No matter what she said, in my opinion, it was statutory rape, and my disapproval must have shown on my face.
“Chris, you have to understand, kids grew up faster on the island. He did fend me off a couple of times, but I was too determined. He was a human being. So we did the deed. Only three times, but that was enough. I got pregnant. And the rest I’ve just told you.” She looked into my eyes. “Do you think I was such a bad girl?”
I smoothed away a strand of hair from her cheek. “Oh, Joan, I don’t think that at all.”
And I didn’t. I was seeing something I’d never seen before. We both got a bit awkward with this dramatic shift in our relationship, and I got to my feet.
“Do you feel like walking a bit?” I asked her. “I’m getting stiff.”
“Sure. As a matter of fact, I was going to suggest we go along to the village. That’s where I was born and lived for a while, till we moved into Carloway. You want ancestors, I’ll show you ancestors.”
I helped her up and Nic came over, eager to go on a walk. Patches of blue sky were showing through the grey and an uncertain sun came out briefly. As we climbed back to the top of the cliff, a strong wind grabbed at us, and I was reminded of Coral-Lyn. I didn’t know when I was going to tell Joan about Tormod’s murder, but I had to trust there would be an appropriate time.
The path was narrow and we had to walk single file. Joan went on ahead of me which meant she was talking over her shoulder.
“I thought I owed it to Sarah to tell her the truth, but I’m not so sure now it was the right thing to do. When I told her Tormod was her natural father, she was livid. He had to put the kibosh on her relationship with his son because he suspected the truth, but she’d always thought it was because he didn’t consider her good enough. Isn’t it ironic that she’d fall for a MacAulay like I did. So they had a big barney. She was more than a little pie-eyed by this time. The rest of it you know.” Joan faced me so she could talk more easily. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this before, Chris.” She turned away and pointed. “There used to be a ruined house just over this hill. It’ll be sheltered and private. Let’s go there.” She left the path and crossed the cropped grass. “Good, it’s still here.”
In the lea of the hill were the remains of an old stone house. The roof was broken but the walls were intact. She pushed open the door and we went inside. The floor was carpeted with sheep droppings mostly, but there was a bench built into the wall along one side and there was a tartan shawl lying there.
“I thought so,” Joan cried. “That’s the shawl that Tormod gave me. He was working on it when we arrived, and I said I was cold. Nerves probably, but he gave it to me to keep warm. He hadn’t finished it yet.” I could see that the strands were unfinished at the ends. “After you did that sleeping thing with me, I started to have more bits of memories. I could remember walking away from the accident towards the cliffs. God knows how I did it really, but I must have ended up in here for a few hours.” She put the shawl against her cheek. “There were some sheep in here as well, and they all kept me warm. It was a vile night, pissing rain and black as the peat.” She shuddered. “I feel so bad about what happened, Chris. I was so dead set on telling the truth. Well you know, I’m wondering if sometimes it isn’t better to leave things be. It was my truth after all that I was sticking their noses in. Maybe Sarah wouldn’t have died the way she did if I hadn’t got all that shit stirred up. And poor Tormod. He was so upset. It probably brought on the hemorrhage.”
She looked so abysmally miserable that I decided it was time to tell her what had likely happened. I told it as gently as I could, but there is no way to blunt the brutality of a murder that involves people you know. She burst into tears, crying over and over, “Poor Tormod, poor Tormod.” She was sitting on the bench at this point, and I held out my arms and she slid over to me and cried so desperately I thought she might not be able to stop. After a long time, we let go. She blew her nose into a tissue I’d found in my pocket, but she didn’t move away from me.
“There’s one more thing, Chris.” She glanced over at me timidly. “It’s about Duncan. He’s a good man. I like him even more than I did when we were kids.” Another blow into the tissue, so that her voice was muffled. “We did have what you’d call a fling when I was on the mainland, just before I left for Canada with the Cohens.”
I stared at her in horror. “Oh God, Joan, don’t tell me he’s my natural father?”
She wiped her nose. “Well actually, Chris, he is.”