who looked about thirteen. There were so many blonds on this island! All those Swedes from the granite industry. Pastor Wishnell had mentioned the granite industry, as if anyone still gave a shit about it. So what if the granite industry was finished? Who cared anymore? Nobody on Fort Niles was starving because the granite industry was gone. It was all gloom and doom from that guy. Fucking asshole. Poor Owney. Ruth tried to imagine a childhood spent with that uncle. Grim, mean, hard.
“Where you been?” Mrs. Pommeroy called over to Ruth.
“Bathroom.”
“You OK?”
“Fine,” Ruth said.
“Come over here, then.”
Ruth went over and sat on the low brick wall. She felt battered and slugged, and probably looked it. But nobody, not even Mrs. Pommeroy, took any notice. The group was too busy chatting. Ruth could see that she’d walked into the middle of a completely inane conversation.
“It’s gross,” said the teenage girl being tended to by Kitty. “He steps on all the urchins, and his whole boat gets covered with, like, guts.”
“There’s no need for that,” Mrs. Pommeroy said. “My husband always threw urchins back in the water. Urchins don’t harm anyone.”
“Urchins eat bait!” said one of the Courne Haven men in the rose garden. “They get up on your bait bag, they eat the bait and the bag, too.”
“I got spikes in my fingers my whole life from goddamn urchins,” said another man.
“But why does Tuck have to step on them?” asked the pretty teenager. “It’s gross. And it takes time away from fishing. He gets all worked up about it; he has a really bad temper. He calls them whore’s eggs.” She giggled.
“Everyone calls them whore’s eggs,” said the fisherman with the spikes in his fingers.
“That’s right,” said Mrs. Pommeroy. “Having a bad temper takes time away from work. People should settle down.”
“I hate those bottom feeders you pull up sometimes, and they’re all bloated from coming up so fast,” the girl said. “Those fish? With the big eyes? Every time I go out to haul with my brother, we get a ton of those.”
“I haven’t been out on a lobster boat in years,” Mrs. Pommeroy said.
“They look like toads,” said the girl. “Tuck steps on them, too.”
“There’s no reason to be cruel to animals,” Mrs. Pommeroy said. “No reason at all.”
“Tuck caught a shark once. He beat it up.”
“Who’s Tuck?” Mrs. Pommeroy asked.
“He’s my brother,” the teenage girl said. She looked at Ruth. “Who are you?”
“Ruth Thomas. Who are you?”
“Mandy Addams.”
“Are you related to Simon and Angus Addams? The brothers?”
“Probably. I don’t know. Do they live on Fort Niles?”
“Yeah.”
“Are they cute?”
Kitty Pommeroy laughed so hard, she fell to her knees.
“Yeah,” said Ruth. “They’re adorable.”
“They’re in their seventies, dear,” Mrs. Pommeroy said. “And, actually, they are adorable.”
“What’s the matter with her?” Mandy asked, looking at Kitty, who was wiping her eyes and being helped to her feet by Mrs. Pommeroy.
“She’s drunk,” Ruth said. “She falls down all the time.”
“I am drunk!” Kitty shouted. “I am drunk, Ruth! But you don’t have to tell everyone.” Kitty got control of herself and went back to combing the teenager’s hair.
“Jeez, I think my hair is combed enough,” Mandy said, but Kitty kept combing, hard.
“Christ, Ruth,” Kitty said. “You’re such a blabbermouth. And I do not fall down all the time.”
“How old are you?” Mandy Addams asked Ruth. Her eyes were on Ruth, but her head was pulling against the tug of Kitty Pommeroy’s comb.
“Eighteen.”
“Are you from Fort Niles?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never seen you around.”
Ruth sighed. She didn’t feel like explaining her life to this dimwit. “I know. I went away to high school.”
“I’m going away to high school next year. Where’d you go? Rockland?”
“Delaware.”
“Is that in Rockland?”
“Not really,” Ruth said, and as Kitty started to shake with laughter again, she added, “Take it easy, Kitty. It’s going to be a long day. It’s too early to start falling down every two minutes.”
“Is that in Rockland?” Kitty wailed, and wiped her eyes. The Courne Haven fishermen and their wives, gathered in the Wishnell gardens around the Pommeroy sisters, all laughed, too. Well, that’s good, Ruth thought. At least they know the little blond girl is an idiot. Or maybe they were laughing at Kitty Pommeroy.
Ruth remembered what Pastor Wishnell had said about Fort Niles disappearing in twenty years. He was out of his mind. There’d be lobsters enough forever. Lobsters were prehistoric animals, survivors. The rest of the ocean might be exterminated, but the lobsters wouldn’t care. Lobsters can dig down into the mud and live