The Hush Sisters by Gerard Collins

Author:Gerard Collins [Collins, Gerard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781550818413
Publisher: Breakwater Books Ltd
Published: 2020-10-02T00:00:00+00:00

ANGUS AT THE GATE

SISSY WAS STILL IN BED WHEN ANGUS CALLED HER THE next morning. With hardly any sleep her head pounded, thanks in part to the telephone, which she allowed to ring as she slowly made her way downstairs. He started to leave a message, and she picked up at the sound of his brogue.

“What’s your favourite place in St. John’s?” he asked. “And are you free for the day?”

“Why?”

“You promised me a date,” he said. “Wherever you say, I can meet you in an hour, if that’s okay with you.”

She hesitated, rubbed her aching head, and said, “Okay.”

“Your favourite spot?”

“I have three: the lake, the cemetery, and Harbourside Park,” she answered, with an odd tingle of excitement.

“Pick one,” he said, so Sissy chose the graveyard. “Oh, and I hope you like picnics.”

The late morning clouds looked like a grey patchwork quilt with not much variation, except for multiple shades of dullness ranging from gauzy dun to a charcoal grey that reminded Sissy of Angus’s greatcoat.

Angus was waiting at the entrance of the cemetery, though without his greatcoat. Instead, he wore an earth-brown pullover in response to the cooler, late summer air. He smiled when he saw her, put his arm around her shoulders, and drew her close as they entered through the black iron gate. He kissed her cheek and smiled. A neon green sportscar honked as it drove past. Angus waved.

“Who was that?” Sissy asked.

He shrugged. “Not a clue. Just being friendly.”

“It’s just strange to wave at someone you don’t even know.”

“Where I come from, you nod or wave to just about everyone, especially if they blow their horn at ya.”

“That’s true here, too, for some people.”

“But not for you.”

“A woman alone needs to be careful.”

He paused a moment, then told her to pick a spot to sit.

“Way over there.” She pointed. “That’s where I like to go, though I don’t come here as often as I should.”

“Lead on,” he urged cheerfully.

He’d mentioned something about a picnic, so she thought it strange that he’d shown up empty-handed. She’d assumed a basket, a blanket, some food, and maybe a bottle of wine. But he carried nothing of the sort.

They ambled in awkward silence, weaving around graves, careful not to step on them. Suddenly, Angus began to whistle “The Gypsy Rover,” a song she’d heard him sing at Finnegan’s.

“Whistling past the graveyard?” she remarked.

He laughed. “I s’pose you could say that.”

“It’s a sign of fear, isn’t it?”

“I s’pose so.” He shrugged. “Or a sign of joy, since it’s musical.”

“What would you possibly have to be afraid of?”

“Lots of things,” he said. “Poverty, death, dying alone. They’re always hovering. It’s wise to have a healthy respect for them.” He cleared his throat, and she could have sworn he was nervous. And, just like that, she became hyper-aware of being alone with a stranger in the middle of a graveyard. Angus didn’t inspire fear, but she was wary of how much she enjoyed his company. He broke the silence by asking, “What are you afraid of? More than anything, I mean.

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