The house had settled into a quiet slumber but sleep would not come to Nora. The room was hot and stuffy and the pressures of the day had sapped her energy, leaving her restless and depleted. She wondered about Peg. Was she by some miracle feeling the opposite, unburdened and content, fast asleep in her bed?
Nora’s earlier attempt at opening the window had failed, but this time, driven by heat and frustration, she threw back the covers and hit the floor at a trot. The small slider window was set a little too high on the wall for easy access, so she had to struggle hard, pushing against the glass with her palms, finally managing to inch it open just enough to get her fingers around the edge and pull. The night air rushed in. She closed her eyes and pushed back the tangle of her hair, relieved to feel the cool breeze on her face and neck. She was about to climb back into bed when she remembered the night sky. She moved back to the window. It was a golden night, thick with stars, bright with moonlight. Suddenly she wanted to be outside, to stand again on the little rise at the back of the house where she had stood earlier in the day. She whipped the coloured blanket off the bed, threw it around her shoulders and quietly crept to the bedroom door and eased it open. The whiskey bottle, ominously lit by a streak of moonlight, stood on the kitchen table, solitary, like an actor at centre stage, his moment done. She tiptoed to the back door, her bare feet making no sound. The cat! She looked around, but remembered then that she had seen it follow Peg into her bedroom. The back door was unlocked. She opened it cautiously and stepped outside onto the cool grass. Except for the gentle heaving of the ocean below, the night was eerily quiet. It felt strangely romantic, standing there in the moonlight, a lone figure on the mound, her nightdress flapping around her bare legs. What if anyone should see her? She looked about but there was not a soul to be seen. On the far headland a single light pierced the darkness. In the community of Shoal Cove several houses were still awake. She pictured the people inside, clustered around the TV or drinking mugs of hot tea at the kitchen table, possibly discussing the young woman from away, who, that morning, had shown up on Peg Barry’s doorstep looking for some relative or other. The night, clear, sweet and uncluttered, brushed aside such thoughts.
She searched the sky, picking out the Plough and the North Star and the Great Bear, but that was the limit of her ability. If her grandfather were alive today, she mused, he might have walked her to the edge of the bluff and stood there beside her, guiding her through the maze of the constellations. He would surely have known about things like that. Her mind drifted to a sheltered hollow long ago, the moon climbing up over Larry’s Hill and a figure fleeing down the side of the hill. Was he shy, or scared? Unable, or unwilling, to give it any more thought, she pulled the blanket tightly about her shoulders and walked back to the house, closing the door softly behind her.
Back in the little bedroom she sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the first book on the pile by the bed. It was a collection of poetry. She made herself comfortable against the soft pillows and began to read. Gradually she drifted into a kind of easy contentment and when she finally turned out the light, sleep came easily.
She was awaken by shuffling noises in the room. Instantly alert, she lay rigid in the bed, her face to the wall. For a moment she was confused, unable to recall where she was. Her heart thumped painfully, loud and insistent. The window … immediately she remembered where she was. She had left the window open. There was someone in the room. She could hear little crooning noises now, more shuffling. She raised her head slowly, terrified. Across the room she could see the outline of a white figure by the bookshelf. In an instant she realized it was Peg, her pale wisps of hair loose and hanging down the back of her nightdress. A thin hand, feverish and agitated, searched the shelves of books and finally eased one from its place. Nora watched the white figure, now quiet and content, turn the pages. After a little while Peg closed the book quietly and put it back in its place. Then slowly she turned and began to make her way across the room to where Nora lay petrified. Peg paused for a moment and then leaned forward, her eyes hovering just above Nora’s. The faint smell of stale whiskey was on her breath. Nora pulled back against the pillow but the eyes, glittering like two polished marbles, came closer, pinning Nora to the spot. Suddenly, as if sensing she was unwelcome, the white figure turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Nora, rigid with fright, listened for the sound of Peg’s bedroom door closing. The house fell silent again.
Nora awoke feeling sluggish, her eyes still heavy with sleep. She rolled over, dragging the bedclothes over her head. Something was not right in this befuddled world of bedclothes. She sniffed, sniffed again, pushed back the bedclothes and slowly raised herself on one elbow. Only her eyes moved as she scanned the room: the stack of boxes, the books neatly arranged on the wooden dresser, the open window. She sat bolt upright as it began to dawn on her. Someone had been in her room during the night, over by the window. She remembered the little whimpering noises, the pale shadowy figure coming towards her, the staring eyes. A loud clatter coming from beyond the bedroom door made her jump. She could smell baking. Peg, of course, she had been in her room last night, rummaging about in the dark. In an instant Nora was out of bed, across the floor and standing in the kitchen.
Peg was by the stove, her back to Nora.
“You’re all right?”The words rushed out and immediately seemed misplaced.
“Oh, good morning, my dear,” Peg called over her shoulder. “Yes, of course I’m all right. Once the sun’s up, I’m up. Did you sleep well? It was hot last night, too hot for my liking.”
“I was fine. I left the window open all night.”
Peg turned and smiled at her young guest. “That’s fine. I never lock the house.” Her hand brushed against her apron, sending a poof of white particles into the air.
“Good.” Nora could think of nothing else to say. A night had passed and things had shifted, but she was relieved to see the same Peg looking back at her. She realized suddenly that she felt very protective of this woman.
“I’ll just have a quick wash and get dressed then and I’ll be with you in a minute.”
“No hurry, my dear. You just take your time.”
In the bathroom Nora splashed her face with cold water. When she raised her head and looked in the mirror, she saw uncertainty. What in the world had been going on last night? Peg obviously had no recollection of her wanderings but she must have had a very troubled sleep. Nora told herself to be careful, to pay more attention to how things were progressing. The whole thing had to be emotionally very trying. With that resolve she went to dress.
There were freshly baked blueberry muffins and mugs of hot tea on the table when she returned to the kitchen.
“You’ve been busy.”
“I promised a plate tart for the garden party today, so I had to get that on the go. It was no trouble to do up a few muffins at the same time. Eat up now. I’m nearly done here.” Unsteady hands lifted a tart from the oven and set it on top of the stove. Nora watched as Peg lightly touched the golden crust with her fingertips.
How could everything seem so normal? Nora began to doubt her memory. Had she been dreaming? But the thought of the luminous, vacant eyes coming towards her in the darkness sent a shiver right through her and made her realize that it had been no dream.
She heard Peg give a little grunt as she reached over and turned off the oven. Systematically, Peg did a quick check, touching knobs. Finally, nodding her head, she made her way to the table.
“Did you sleep well, Peg?” Nora put the question casually.
“Oh, best kind, but I was some tired. It was a bit late when we shut her down.” There was no sign of unease or embarrassment, no indication that anything was other than normal.
“I’ve been thinking, Nora, maybe you’d like to take a run down to visit Bird Rock today.” Peg poured more tea, using both hands to steady the pot. “It’s a wonderful sight to see this time of year with the thousands of birds feedin’ and busy with their young and it’s not too far from here. I used to go there with my father the odd time, when I was a girl, but I haven’t been there in the longest while. I wouldn’t mind seeing the place again and it would be nice for you too.”
“I’d love that. It’s not too far, you say?”
“No, just a few miles down the road, a nice little run in the car. Years ago, the fishermen used to row down there and then across as far as Golden Bay to the fishing grounds. Those days it took nine and a half hours of solid rowing just to get to Golden Bay. They’d set out on a Monday, fish all the week and come back again Saturday.” She reached for a muffin. “My father had an engine on his boat so it was an easier run for him, but on the way back, if I were with him, he’d pull in for a spell near the rock to watch the birds. It was just a bit of fun.”
“We’ll do that then.”
Peg’s face lit up. “Right, soon as we get clear of the dishes, we’ll be off.”