season ended.”
Everyone laughed.
“So how many cod did you actually end up catching last year?” laughed Dad.
“Seeings as I still can’t count, I also can’t say,” Simpson grinned, winking at Roger. “However, my box freezer seems awfully full this winter. And a year later my memory ain’t quite as good as it was, if you get my meaning.”
Every once in a while Emily would drop her fork and listen in on the adults. She was a major busybody at the best of times and insisted on knowing what was up. A perfect fit with the islanders, thought Hannah morosely. It was hard to get away with a burp without the next door neighbour knowing about it. In record time it would spread throughout the island and people as far away as Souris or North Cape knew about the indigestion. And dear little Emily was like the telephone in the whole deal.
“Shhh! Listen to Wayne,” she warned, suddenly sitting bolt upright and completely ignoring the half eaten pie.
“That’s right, I got a visit from this Malone guy,” continued Simpson. “Ever since I heard about his attempt at a citizen’s arrest, he perked my interest. Strange old coot. Said he’s one of them there historians. High falutin’ word for a plain old gossip gatherer. He wanted to know about everything and everyone in this area. Badgered me for over an hour. Wanted to know about the bygone days, and who lived where.”
“He asked us some questions about the house and its history too,” said Roger. “He seemed a bit too eager but was nice enough about it.”
“Heard he grilled them Hatterly sisters too,” nodded Simpson, as if that said it all.
“Try to chew more quietly,” Emily warned Jack. “And close your mouth. I can see your toes.”
“I’m eating seafood,” mumbled Jack, moving the bread around in his mouth. Opening even wider, he pointed to his mouth and said “See, food!”
“Very funny. That joke’s real old.” Lucy rolled her eyes in frustration. “Where are your table manners? Now be quiet!”
After another gulp of wine, Simpson continued. “Funny thing was, after spending all that blasted time just spewing out the most god-awful boring questions he could think of, Malone finally said something that perked my ears. Turns out that his dear old granny Hilda lived in the area. She and my mum were great friends towards the end of Hilda’s life. Mum would go over and clean her house every so often. Hilda was a great old grump, but they kind of grew on each other. Mum would always bring her some home cooking. She knew how to handle the old bat.”
“Why was Hilda such a grump?” asked Alice.
“According to Mum, Hilda had some family secrets. Always put on airs, all hoity-toity like, if you know what I mean. Said she was descended from royalty, can you believe that? Well, that put many off her, I can tell you. Sure thought she was real superior that one. Always dressed like she was waiting for the Queen, bless her royal arse. Oops, excuse my language! Anyways, as the years went by, she grew more and more grumpy. Looked like she was sore that her prince charming never showed.
“Hilda died when she was 87. She left Mum a very old wooden jewelry box. Beautiful carvings of a castle set high in the mountains. The box had a clasp lock, but no key. Mum never had the heart to break it open and so it stayed untouched for years. When Mum passed, I got the box. First thing I did was open the darned thing. Curiosity had been killing me for years!”
Wide-eyed Emily couldn’t help herself and blurted out, “Did you find a treasure map?”
Simpson turned around in his chair to face the kids. “You mean what didn’t I find! No jewels. No money. Noooo treasure map. Just a bunch of ratty old letters written by members of Hilda’s family. And all that fancy writing was so hard to read that I gave up after the first headache. It was just an account of some sheep farm somewhere. Big whoopee. When I found out that Malone was related to this
Everyone laughed.
“So how many cod did you actually end up catching last year?” laughed Dad.
“Seeings as I still can’t count, I also can’t say,” Simpson grinned, winking at Roger. “However, my box freezer seems awfully full this winter. And a year later my memory ain’t quite as good as it was, if you get my meaning.”
Every once in a while Emily would drop her fork and listen in on the adults. She was a major busybody at the best of times and insisted on knowing what was up. A perfect fit with the islanders, thought Hannah morosely. It was hard to get away with a burp without the next door neighbour knowing about it. In record time it would spread throughout the island and people as far away as Souris or North Cape knew about the indigestion. And dear little Emily was like the telephone in the whole deal.
“Shhh! Listen to Wayne,” she warned, suddenly sitting bolt upright and completely ignoring the half eaten pie.
“That’s right, I got a visit from this Malone guy,” continued Simpson. “Ever since I heard about his attempt at a citizen’s arrest, he perked my interest. Strange old coot. Said he’s one of them there historians. High falutin’ word for a plain old gossip gatherer. He wanted to know about everything and everyone in this area. Badgered me for over an hour. Wanted to know about the bygone days, and who lived where.”
“He asked us some questions about the house and its history too,” said Roger. “He seemed a bit too eager but was nice enough about it.”
“Heard he grilled them Hatterly sisters too,” nodded Simpson, as if that said it all.
“Try to chew more quietly,” Emily warned Jack. “And close your mouth. I can see your toes.”
“I’m eating seafood,” mumbled Jack, moving the bread around in his mouth. Opening even wider, he pointed to his mouth and said “See, food!”
“Very funny. That joke’s real old.” Lucy rolled her eyes in frustration. “Where are your table manners? Now be quiet!”
After another gulp of wine, Simpson continued. “Funny thing was, after spending all that blasted time just spewing out the most god-awful boring questions he could think of, Malone finally said something that perked my ears. Turns out that his dear old granny Hilda lived in the area. She and my mum were great friends towards the end of Hilda’s life. Mum would go over and clean her house every so often. Hilda was a great old grump, but they kind of grew on each other. Mum would always bring her some home cooking. She knew how to handle the old bat.”
“Why was Hilda such a grump?” asked Alice.
“According to Mum, Hilda had some family secrets. Always put on airs, all hoity-toity like, if you know what I mean. Said she was descended from royalty, can you believe that? Well, that put many off her, I can tell you. Sure thought she was real superior that one. Always dressed like she was waiting for the Queen, bless her royal arse. Oops, excuse my language! Anyways, as the years went by, she grew more and more grumpy. Looked like she was sore that her prince charming never showed.
“Hilda died when she was 87. She left Mum a very old wooden jewelry box. Beautiful carvings of a castle set high in the mountains. The box had a clasp lock, but no key. Mum never had the heart to break it open and so it stayed untouched for years. When Mum passed, I got the box. First thing I did was open the darned thing. Curiosity had been killing me for years!”
Wide-eyed Emily couldn’t help herself and blurted out, “Did you find a treasure map?”
Simpson turned around in his chair to face the kids. “You mean what didn’t I find! No jewels. No money. Noooo treasure map. Just a bunch of ratty old letters written by members of Hilda’s family. And all that fancy writing was so hard to read that I gave up after the first headache. It was just an account of some sheep farm somewhere. Big whoopee. When I found out that Malone was related to this
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