Carrig Of Dromara Read online

  He shook Mary’s hand and wished her well and she slowly walked back to sit with Robert, kissing him gently on the cheek. He opened his eyes and took her hand in his.

  “I have loved you all these years.” He spoke in a husky voice.

  “I have loved you too, Robert.”

  “We haven’t much time left together,” he went on. “I haven’t been the best of husbands, I know, but I did try.”

  “Did you ever hear me complain?”

  “Never,” he said. “Never have I had a complaint from you – and it can’t have been easy, especially over the past two or three years.”

  “I counted my blessings – I had everything I ever needed. We never went hungry, did we?”

  With a hint of a smile he let go of her hand and reminded her of what they used to say: “When there’s a spud in the house we’ll never go hungry.”

  Peter and Annie’s engagement party was a quiet wee affair held in the afternoon between the milking times. Mary and Martha had baked all afternoon the day before, and with the clinking of Mary’s finest china everyone was seated around the table. John and Michael had walked across the field and now Dr Martin sat at the end of the table, so pleased to have been invited. They were all sure he would make a speech, as he usually did on such occasions.

  Peter and Annie sat at the top of the table in their special place, with Mary and Martha on either side. Martha’s two wee boys’ eyes shone with delight at all the goodies before them. The ham-and-chicken lunch went down well, and, as the afternoon progressed, the cakes disappeared until everyone had had sufficient. Everybody clapped when Peter and Annie cut the cake and passed a piece to everyone. The speeches began and Peter thanked everybody for coming. Dr Martin reminded them that he had delivered Peter into the world some twenty-odd years before.

  “And of course these two young ones,” he added, pointing to James and Ross.

  After raising their glasses to toast the happiness of the young couple, there was nothing left but to finish up the afternoon. Michael McNeill raised a glass to the happiness of Annie and Peter and the party wound up to give everyone time to change into working clothes again.

  Mary called Peter into the sitting room when everyone had gone and told him about the letter she had received from the solicitor.

  “What are we to do, Mum?”

  “Well, there’s nothin’ else but to go and hear what he has to say.”

  “Right, then, that’s settled. We’ll go in the morning. We’ll take the ten-o’clock bus.”

  “Mr Agnew will see you now. If you would like to follow me, please.”

  The middle-aged woman sat down again behind her desk. A large robust gentleman rose and, holding out his hand to Mary, said how sorry he was to have to give them the bad news.

  Mary, until now, had remained reasonably calm, but she could see that Peter was going to say something and she touched him gently on the hand.

  He rose to his feet and spoke in an angry tone: “Just how long were you going to let it continue before telling us what was going on?”

  “My hands were tied, Peter. Your father asked me not to disclose any information regarding the farm, and, of course, now that he is so ill, and in hospital, I took it upon myself to write the letter knowing that the consequences could be disastrous for you all.”

  Mary treated Peter to afternoon tea in the Café Royal, where they always went when they were in Edenderry.

  “It’s maybe not such a bad thing that this has all come about, Mum.”

  “Oh, why do you say that?”

  “Well, Annie and I have been talking about emigrating to New Zealand – I don’t mean straight away, but sometime in the next year or two.”

  Mary’s face saddened. She reached over and touched him on the cheek.

  “Oh, Mum, we’d take you with us, of course. We can’t go all that way and not have you with us.”

  Mary always wondered why Peter chose not to include his father in any such arrangements. She could understand why he was so embittered about his father’s behaviour throughout all the years when she had to battle on, never knowing whether he was going to be there to help. Mary never felt any bitterness towards her husband, yet could understand a younger person feeling that way.

  The following six months were difficult and Mary decided to gather everyone together so that perhaps between them they would come up with a solution to the problem. Martha put the kettle on and everyone sat around the wooden kitchen table.

  “Martha, you’re the only one who doesn’t know what this is all about; and now that we all consider you part of the family, well, we are in a spot of bother. Peter and I visited the solicitor in town and the news was not good. To put it bluntly, we’re in financial difficulties. I am so sorry to have to tell you that Robert has been selling the cattle to pay his bills.”

  Martha spoke candidly: “I have a bit put away from when my John was killed, and ye have all done so much for me over the past years, it’s the least I can do to help to save the farm.”

  “Thanks, Martha.” Peter put his arms around her. “But it hasn’t come to that yet. We’ll sell the farm if we have to – it’s only a bit of dirt, after all, on loan to us while we are alive on this earth. Annie and I are getting married in a couple of months, and who knows after that what might happen? We are thinking seriously of emigrating to New Zealand. One of the boys at college lived there for a couple of years, and said it was the best country in the world to live in.”

  Martha began to cry. “I would miss you all so much. What would I do without you?”

  “Well, you’d just have to come and visit us, that’s all there is to it. People do it all the time – travel to the other side of the earth. And anyway, if things don’t work out there we may turn up again looking for a job.”

  Martha burst out laughing. “That would be a turn-up for the books – me giving you a job, Peter.”

  The wee church had been packed when Peter and Annie took their vows of marriage. The reception in the hall was a roaring success and they left for a short honeymoon in Bangor.

  Things began to take on a lighter note when they returned home again. The Wilson boys, with their mother, were indispensable during the past week. Even wee Ross helped with the yard work and his older brother did all the work in the dairy, with the odd gulp of fresh milk to sustain him through the morning. The family were all together again and well, and they were happy to be alive.

  The year that followed was a more peaceful one. Troubles were few and there was an air of lightness over the family. Robert still remained in care, but had now been moved to a different part of the hospital, where the care was more intensive. They were doing a marvellous job of looking after him, and each day, if Mary couldn’t get in to visit him, the Nurse would ring her in the evening with a report of his condition. Mary was content to leave it and see how he progressed. Peter asked his mother occasionally how he was, and always she would answer by telling him his father loved him.

  “I know, Mum. I just find it hard to forget what he has done.”

  “If you never do anything else in your life, learn to forgive him, and let him go to his grave peacefully.”

  Peter visited his father the following week, and returned with a lighter heart.

  The McNeill brothers sat in silence, staring into the flickering fire.

  “I’m glad of your company again.” John spoke in a soft voice to his younger brother.

  “I’m sorry, John. It won’t happen again.”

  John smiled to himself. If only he could believe that, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Michael would be off again. Sadly, that was the way of it – as soon as he felt right again, he’d be off like a flash.

  The boys ate the remainder of Mary’s soup, and after a couple of rounds of bread Michael sat back in his chair and John tossed another l
og on the fire.

  “I just couldn’t face it any longer – I had to get away.”

  John spoke kindly to his younger brother: “But the farm won’t run itself. Somebody has to carry on. It’s at times like this that Robert Anderson would have come up with an answer. But he’s no here,” John went on, “so we are just going to have to sort it out one way or another. Old Patrick, over the back, would take a lot of the milkers – I know he was building his herd up a while back. What d’ye think?”

  “We’ll talk to him tomorrow – that would lighten the load.”

  John slept heavily that night. He heard not a sound as his brother marched out through the door, over the fields and away. Placing his hand in the hollow where Michael had lain, the blanket felt cold. He was long gone. A great sadness came over him – he really thought this was the time he would have stayed, and both would have been company for each other in their middle age.

  “Thank you, Patrick.” John spoke to his good neighbour as they steered the cows through the gate in the far corner of the field.

  “Sure it’s good condition that they’re in.”

  The elderly farmer gripped his pipe between his teeth.

  “Oh, aye, we take good care of the stock, Patrick. It pays in the long run.”

  After closing the gate, the old man pulled an envelope from his pocket and passed it to John.

  “Thank you, Patrick. That will be useful.”

  John would just go and put it in his mother’s jug on the mantelpiece until next time he went to the post office.

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, John. I know how hard it has been since your father and mother died.”

  Mary called out to John as she approached the cottage.

  “I’m glad to see ye, Mrs Anderson. I’ve got news for ye.”

  Mary wondered what had happened since she was there last.

  “The boy’s took off again.”

  “Well I never! I really thought this time he would stay a while anyway.”

  “Oh well, he’s gone and that’s that. The good news is that old Patrick has taken ten of the milkers, and that will lighten the burden for me.”

  “Good news, I’m sure, and, ye know, if ever things change ye can always buy more milkers to add to your stock.”

  “Ye’re a wise woman, Mrs Anderson. I’m glad to have ye for a friend, especially at this time.”

  “Get away on wi’ ye! I’m going into the house to boil the kettle.”

  John moved away towards the byre. “I’ll be in soon – there’s something else I need to talk to ye about.”

  Mary buttered the scones and passed them across the table to John.

  “Well, what is this ye have to talk to me about?”

  “Well, about six weeks ago I felt a bit lonesome and I thought I’d take a wee run down into Roshane. It was a Saturday night and there was a dance on in the hall, so I went on in and sat down among the other fellows. The music was great – you know, all that lovely old-time dance music. It seems to get yer feet tapping. Anyway, there was this girl sitting over a bit from me, and she kept looking over at me – at least I hope it was me she was looking at. Anyway, I plucked up the courage to walk over to her. It was Agnes O’Connel. I told her I couldn’t dance a step, but if she wanted to I’d chat for a while. Well, ye wouldn’t believe it, but she remembered me from the time I used to run around with her elder brother. Sometimes I’d call for him and she would answer the door – just a slip of a girl, you know. Fancy meeting up with her again!”

  “What happened to her elder brother?”

  “Oh, he married and emigrated to Canada, I think. I never heard from him again. Well, we laughed and talked for ages. I tell ye, I haven’t laughed or talked to someone like that for such a long time. I’m sorry I haven’t told you before, but to tell you the truth I didn’t think she would want anything more to do with me on account of the difference in our ages. I mean, I could give her ten years, ye know. And then two weeks ago I bumped into her again at the chemist’s shop and we had a cup of tea in the wee café – you know, the one on the corner. When I was leaving she asked me to go to the dance again on Saturday night. Anyhow, one thing led to another and we’re going out together now.”

  “Oh, John, that’s great news! I hope we can all meet her soon.”

  “Oh, and there’s something else: Dr Martin has managed to get Michael into a home, where he will be treated for his drinkin’. I am to let Michael know when he comes back home again. It’s a lovely place and I can visit him whenever I like.”

  “John, I’m thinkin’ of taking things a bit easier now, and I wondered how you would feel about Martha coming in to give me a bit of a rest. I’ll be around for a while yet – it’s not just yet.”

  “That sounds all right, I suppose. I don’t know the girl well, but I have met her a few times. She seems like a good sort of a girl and I’m sure that would be fine. Just let me know the week before.”

  Dr Martin came across the yard to the house.

  “Well, how are you two good folks now?”

  Mary answered first. She bid the good doctor good day and invited him in for a cup of tea.

  “Just what the doctor ordered!”

  “Sit yerself down at the fire, Doctor. Sure I’ll have the kettle boiled in a couple of minutes.”

  The Doctor enjoyed his mug of tea and pulled his pipe from his inner pocket. He proceeded to rub the slice of plug tobacco on the palm of his hand. He then curled his forefingers into the small front pockets of his waistcoat to find a match, but not one could he find. John rose to his feet and, reaching up to the row of antique jugs on the mantelpiece, he drew out a piece of paper, screwed it up tightly and pushed it into the hot embers to light it. He then offered it to the good doctor.

  “Oh, thank you, John.”

  The Doctor no sooner tried to ignite the tobacco than he began to flail the lighted paper against his trouser leg.

  “John! That’s a £5 note.”

  “Sure I know, Doctor, and there’s plenty more where that came from. Well, as soon as the milk money came in the post, my mother put the notes into the jugs and the change into her purse. We dinna hae much call for money. You know, we only went to town once a year, usually before Christmas. We’d buy a few pairs of long johns, or the like, maybe a couple of bars of chocolate. Indeed, if we didny go, there wouldna be much odds.”

  The old man sat back in his chair and puffed on his pipe. “Well, when ye live off the land with no thought for the niceties of life, there’s no much call, like ye say.”

  “It wouldna do any harm to iron the notes out and hand them in to the post office. There may come a time in the future when you might need a shillin’ or two for one thing or another.”

  Mary turned the farls on the griddle and stood back from the stove.

  “What d’ye think, Mrs Anderson?” The Doctor was hoping she would second his opinion.

  “Well, it’s no for me to say, one way or the other, but I think, John, I’d be puttin’ it in the post office like the Doctor says. It would be safe there, and, you never know, it might come in handy one day.”

  “Well, good folks, it’s time I was on my way. I have one call to make passing Dromara. Would ye like a lift, Mrs Anderson?”

  “Thanks, Doctor – I’ll get my coat. John, I’ll see you at the end of the week. Thanks for everything – to both of you.”

  On taking his leave, the old man put his hand on John’s shoulder. “The less be known, John! They’ll no be hearing it from me.”

  “Oh, don’t worry yerself, Dr Martin. I know by now who I can trust.”

  It was two days later when John and Mary began the slow process of ironing the notes and John counted them.

  “One thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand. . . . I canna belie
ve there was so much just sittin’ there, when many a poor retch could have been doin’ with it.”

  Mary hid her tears from him as she turned away towards the scullery, thinking of how Peter could have used such a sum of money in the past months.

  On the walk home Mary couldn’t stop thinking about how casually John spoke about the money, but then immediately she thought of the simple lives they lived. The routine of their work brought them a contentment and serenity which most people in the outside world know little about. She had never known any of them to be sick – until Lizzie, of course, who was just worn out and her time had come to move on. Once, she remembered, the old man had caught his leg in a barbed-wire fence, but fortunately he had the good sense to tie his belt around his leg until help arrived. It was Michael who went on his bicycle to fetch the Doctor.

  “A contented soul is a healthy body – of that I’m sure.”

  Mary felt tired as she walked down the hill towards home. She thought to herself that she would mention the job to Martha when she had the chance.

  “John and Agnes are planning to marry soon, and they wondered, Martha, if you could give them some advice about catering, etc.”

  Martha’s eyes lit up.

  “They want me to advise them? Good grief, I don’t know if I’d be any good at that sort of thing, but I suppose I could give it a try anyway. There’s always the church hall. I remember someone saying they could fit 200 people in there no problem.”

  “Well, there you are, then – that’s a good start. I knew they had picked the right person for the job.”

  John had made a start on the new renovations at the cottage.

  “The builders are coming on Monday, Mrs Anderson, and then it’s all hands on deck. They are starting with the bathroom, then the new kitchen and lastly the sunroom at the front of the cottage. I am getting excited now that things are moving. The wedding will be on November the 26th, and all the building should be completed by then. They have assured me that they will be out of here long before that.”