Free Once We Had a Country by Robert McGill Page B

little way from here, at the Beaudoin farm.”
    “Nice to make your acquaintance,” says George Ray. His voice has a Caribbean lilt and a slightly ironic edge.
    “We’re going to steal him away from his employer at the end of the month,” says Fletcher. Turning to George Ray, he adds, “Then you’ll stay with us for the rest of the summer, right?”
    George Ray nods his assent. From the studied ease with which Fletcher speaks, she can tell that George Ray has made a good impression on him, and that Fletcher is eager in turn to seem knowledgeable and self-possessed. Of George Ray’s opinion about Fletcher, though, she gains little sense. When she asks him what he thinks about the place, he looks toward the orchard for a long time.
    “Needs plenty of work,” he declares. “Three, maybe four seasons before you turn a profit.”
    “That’s a conservative estimate,” Fletcher adds quickly. “If we get more people, there’s a lot we can do even before next season.” George Ray says nothing to contradict him, only taps the ground with the heel of his boot as though to dislodge something from the sole.
    When she leaves them and re-enters the house, she finds Brid standing in the mud room by the window.
    “Handsome devil,” says Brid. “You find out if he’s single?”
    That afternoon, Maggie goes for a walk along the gravel road, thinking she might glance next door to see what’s going on there. She has decided the thin girl’s father must own the wrecking yard, and she imagines seeing him outon the lawn with his daughter. She imagines introducing herself, making the girl squirm a bit. It’s a silly fantasy, and Maggie doubts she could pull it off without embarrassing herself. When she reaches the gate for the wrecking yard, she turns toward the mobile home only for a second, trying to be surreptitious.
    There’s no one on the lawn, but in the driveway sits a truck that bears a striking resemblance to the one driven by Frank, the gas repairman. Then a man in an undershirt, jeans, and a baseball cap steps out from the building. It takes Maggie a moment to recognize it’s him. From his clothes, and from the unselfconscious way he lets the door slam behind him, she realizes this is his home. Frank is their next-door neighbour. He must be the girl’s father, too. Maggie returns her eyes to the road and hurries back toward the farmhouse.
    Once she’s out of view and can relax again, her bewilderment turns to irritation. If the man lives next door, why did it take him over a week to come and fix the gas? Why wouldn’t he introduce himself as their neighbour? Then she remembers: he thinks they’re hippies. He must want nothing to do with them.
    Just as she’s about to re-enter the farmhouse, the camper comes up the driveway behind her and Fletcher steps out, back from his trip to the St. Catharines mall. She descends the porch stairs to greet him.
    “You’ll never guess who we have for a neighbour,” she says.
    “Frank the repairman,” he replies. She can’t believe it. “How did you know?”
    “I just saw him pulling out of the lane next door.”
    Then Maggie tells him about her encounter with the girls. He nods as if none of it surprises him.
    “The daughter must have inherited her manners from the old man,” he says. “I bet he doesn’t know she and her friends are smoking dope, though.”
    “You think I should have done something about them?”
    “Nah, you did plenty.” She doesn’t know how he can have such certainty, but it’s a comfort. “Let’s get inside,” he says, kissing her on the forehead. He unloads a large cardboard box from the camper. “I want to show you what I bought.”
    Fletcher opens it in the living room to reveal a silver television set, the shape of an egg and mounted on a stubby tripod. He says it’s one of the newest models from Japan. Juxtaposed with the room’s worn-out furniture, the television looks like an alien invader. Maggie thinks about asking how he