Matty looked at Bill and sat back in her armchair.
"And what do you think, Frank?"
"Well, I did think that I was going crazy and, well, we all know Freddy is a bit crazy, but it was the way he said it to me."
"The way he said what, Frank?"
"The nonchalant way that he said it was probably just a ghost. Like it was a common thing."
"Do you believe in Spirits, Frank?" Bill inquired.
Frank drew heavily on his cigarette.
"Please don't tell me that there are ghosts in Tuckamore Bay."
"They prefer to be called Spirits," Matty informed him.
"Ghosts give the image of horrible beings that terrify little children."
Again, Frank laughed nervously.
"Are you trying to tell me that what I saw was the ghost, I mean, Spirit, of some young teenage boy?"
"From what you described," Matty thought, "it was probably an unfortunate child that died sometime back in the 1800s."
She looked at Bill.
"We don't see them very often."
"Okay. Okay," Frank cut in.
"Look. I will concede that there are things that we don't understand and there have been enough sightings of ghosts to offer some validity to the possibility that they may exist on some plain, but seriously ...
I am a scientist. I look at facts as they are presented to me and make decisions and recommendations based on my findings.
That young boy that I thought I saw, might have just been indigestion or a brain fart."
Bill laughed.
"Brain fart? Is that a scientific term?"
Frank finished his scotch and got up from the couch.
"There is no way that you can convince me that there are ghosts that roam around Tuckamore Bay."
He turned away from Bill and Matty to pour another scotch.
"Well, Frank, me son. Den youse bes in fer one shock."
"Please tell me that is Matty disguising her voice," Frank pleaded, without turning.
"Frank, me son. Matty 'as lost most of 'er accent. Ise figures it 'cause of 'er 'angin' 'round with Willam. 'es bes puttin' more mainlander in 'er voice."
Matty got up from her chair and walked to Frank.
"You okay?"
"What am I going to see, if I turn around?"
YOU ARE READING
Tuckamore Bay
General FictionMatty Dove had 18 months to try and find a buyer for her late grandmother's lighthouse. A buyer who, she hoped, would not only buy the lighthouse, but love the village so much that they would invest time and money into saving the community. In 18 mo...
