Carrig Of Dromara Page 20

  “Yes – so I did. Well, that’s what you are to me now – my Gran. I love you, Gran.”

  “Are you coming home at the weekend?”

  “Oh yes, wild horses wouldn’t keep me away. I can’t wait to see the house again.”

  “You won’t believe how much they have done, and with John keeping them on their toes. We’ll see you on Friday night.”

  “Yes, keep me some dinner, please. Bye, Gran.”

  “Has the roofing arrived yet?” Carrig called to John as he walked towards the old man.

  “Oh yes, all in place already and the windows as well. These boys don’t mess about. I’ve never seen such a team – they work so well together you’d think each of them knew what the others were thinking. Come down and have a look.”

  The two marched down towards the side field, and Carrig couldn’t believe his eyes. There was a dream come true! Touching his left shoulder and looking heavenward, he spoke a quiet thank you.

  The day was fine, and it was a special day for the whole family. Well, they were all family. They may have had different names, but they were all one big family, and there was enough love between them to warm their hearts and keep them close: Dennis and Elenor Russel, with Louise and Andrew; Freddie and Victoria with their mother, Margaret Purcell; wee Willie, although not so wee now, at high school and bright, they said (you never can tell!) and his mother and wee sister; the Reverend Orr and his good wife; old Wally and Mrs Watson; Elsie and her police sergeant boyfriend; big Henry with Maria, his girlfriend from teachers’ college; Carrig’s beloved gran and grandad, Sarah and John McMaster; and not forgetting his own girlfriend, Rosie, a teacher from Glenwhistle School, a short distance from his home.

  Old Wally, the blacksmith, rose to his feet and slowly began to unfold the story of how he first met Carrig as a young nipper passing the smithy on his way to school. “He made me laugh each day and was always asking questions. ‘Oh,’ he said one day, ‘that’s how steam is made.’ I’m not at all surprised he turned out to want to be a lawyer, and if I have any say in the matter he’ll be a good ’un.”

  Next the Russels took their turn at speaking, and then John and Sarah.

  “Nobody had smiled at me like that in fifty years. It wasn’t until Sarah and me had heard his story that we took a liking to the boy who was going to change our lives forever.” He lifted his glass. “To Carrig, on this your special birthday. May you have all the blessings you deserve in your life ahead. Thank you.”

  Sarah then spoke and everyone cried when she told of how he had called her Gran for the first time.

  Carrig thanked everyone for coming along and spoke about his parents, telling them of all the happiness they had as a family both in Ireland and in New Zealand. Tears flowed down his face when he spoke of their deaths and the legacy they had left him. Then, on a more cheerful note, he turned to the girl sitting at his side.

  “And this beautiful girl and I have been seeing each other for a while now. Her name is Rosie and she will be teaching at the local school, Glenwhistle.”

  And here ends twenty-one years of Carrig’s life. I wonder what the next twenty-one years will be like!

  The year was moving on now and was already into February.

  “I’d advise you to put a coat of tar on that roof,” said John, “before the weather changes.”

  The two stood and gazed up at the roof of the barn.

  “It’s an old building and it’s well worth keeping it waterproof, to store the hay.”

  It must have been twenty-five degrees at six o’clock the following morning when Carrig extended the long ladder towards the rooftop. He had filled his backpack with a drink bottle, something to eat at mid morning, suncream and a big-brimmed hat to shade his shoulders.

  With a bucket of tar and brush in one hand and holding on to the ladder with the other he slowly made his way up towards the roof. He thought to himself that he’d try and get as much of the job done as possible before it became too hot to continue.

  His wife, Rosie, and the twins were still in bed. It would be several hours until they stirred.

  It must have been a couple of hours later when he eased off a little. The morning haze across the mountains had begun to disperse, the sky was clearer now and the astonishing view before him made him gasp in awe. It seemed like he could see half of Canterbury from up there, spread out in front of him.

  The Southern Alps swept around in a semicircle from the west. The old lady was lying on her back, asleep, and the curve of the willow trees marked where the Waimakariri river curled round, making its way towards the coast. If it hadn’t been that he had to finish the job on hand, he felt as though he could quite easily spend the remainder of the day taking in the view in front of him. He remembered as a young boy riding over the Waimakariri Bridge at five o’clock in the morning, not knowing what lay ahead of him, splashing his face in the icy water to keep himself awake while wondering what lay ahead. And yet here he was, years later, happily married to a beautiful girl – Rosie Elizabeth McKay.

  Their darling three-year-old twins were named after his beloved mother and father – Peter and Annie. Annie had a bunch of blond curls and the bluest of eyes. She was always curious and followed her brother closely wherever he chose to go. Peter was just a double of his grandfather – dark hair, swarthy skin and large black eyes, like deep pools of water.

  “Try not to give them too many scones,” Rosie would say to Sarah and John, Carrig’s adoptive grandparents, but kindness was their middle name, and they loved the children as their own.

  Carrig came down for lunch as Rosie walked back towards Dromara.

  “Daddy, Daddy,” called the wee ones and ran to him to have their morning cuddle enveloped in his strong arms.

  “I had a call from the school this morning asking me to go back part-time, so I told them that when the twins go to school I will definitely consider it. I want to spend the next two years with them, and then I will be teaching them anyhow when they come to school with me.”

  “Have I told you lately that I love you?” Carrig asked, sweeping her to him in a loving hug. “You take everything in your stride,” he said to her, “and always seem to be in control of things – not like me. Sometimes I don’t know from one day to the next what I’m doing, so I’ve got myself a notebook and write the jobs I need to do the following day.”

  As they sat eating their lunch together, Carrig described the view from the top of the hay barn.

  “It is astonishing how far you can see, right across the country.”

  “Well, you won’t catch me up there no matter how good the view is. I have no head for heights, and never had. I used to envy children who could climb into the tallest trees on the farm, but I kept my feet firmly planted on the ground.”

  The twins were now tucked up for their after-lunch nap in the sunroom, which gave Mum time for a rest, and Carrig once again proceeded to climb to his high perch and finish the job.

  Dipping the brush once again into the thick black tar, he carried on whistling his way through the afternoon. An hour passed and then another, and he was beginning to see the end of the job coming.

  All of a sudden, in the stillness of the afternoon, he heard a small voice calling to him: “Daddy, Daddy, can you see me?”

  Carrig’s heart leapt in his chest. He froze to the spot, but quickly pulled himself together. The horror of what could happen made him calm.

  He answered his son: “Yes, Peter, I can see you. I’m coming over, so hold on tight.”

  The boy kept still and waited for his father as Carrig reached the top of the ladder, and to Carrig’s dismay there was wee Annie, just a step behind him, her knuckles white from gripping the rung of the ladder. Slowly, and with great deliberation, he reached down, and holding a shoulder of each child pulled them up to him. He clung to them and a flood of tears ran down his face. He t
hanked God that they were safe. That’s all that mattered now – that they were safe.

  “Rosie, Rosie,” Carrig called as loudly as he could. “Come here!”

  Just as he was about to yell her name again, she emerged from the house. He could see the look of disbelief on her face, and approaching the foot of the ladder she began to cry.

  “Thank God they are both safe.”

  “Put three hay bales together and come up for the first one.”

  Rosie wasted no time in doing as Carrig instructed and proceeded to climb up the ladder.

  “I know you have a fear of heights, but this is something you must do. Keep talking to me all the time.”

  And she began the ascent to the top.

  Carrig kept up a conversation with all of them: “Now Mummy is coming up to get one of you, and then she will go down the ladder again and come up for the other. Won’t that be good – to all be on the ground again together?”

  Rosie bravely carried on with the mission and brought Peter safely to the ground, where she planted him firmly in his hay-bale triangle.

  “Now stay there until Mummy comes down again. I’m going up to the top again to bring Annie down. Stay there like a good boy.”

  The boy spoke gently to his mother: “I won’t move, Mummy, till you bring Annie down again.” The boy spoke as if he knew he had done something wrong.

  When Rosie reached the top of the ladder for the second time, she and Carrig looked hard into each other’s eyes, and each in their wisdom knew this was not the place for a heated debate. They would speak later.

  In the summer of 1980 the home of Dromara was completed, with gardens and an orchard all laid out in a splendid array. Carrig had announced that for now he was coming back to work on the farm full-time, much to everyone’s excitement.

  “There’s just too much to do, John,” Carrig had said that morning. “I can’t expect you to carry on much longer – it’s too much for you.”

  “I love the work, you know I do. But yes, there are times when I feel I could do with a rest.”

  “You should have said something – I would have understood, you know that.”

  Old John wandered on towards the cottage to tell Sarah the news.

  “Well, it’s time you took things a bit easier now.” Sarah spoke as she rolled out the dough to cut into triangles before placing them on the hot griddle.

  “I can still do a job or two around the place, don’t you fret, my girl. There’s plenty of young ’uns I could give a run for their money.”

  The twins started school on the first Monday of February, and lovely they both looked as they hopped into the back seat of Mum’s car. Little Annie wore her hair tied back in a ponytail, and her brother had parted hair and shiny black shoes.

  “We’ll have to listen to a lot of stories now after school, ’bout one thing and another, you mark my words.”

  “We’ll have to arrange another weekend get-together soon.” Carrig spoke to Rosie as he seated himself at the end of the table that evening. “What do you think of the following weekend? I have nothing much on then, and it should be before the weather changes. It’s beginning to feel autumnal already. I’ll give Elsie a ring and see if she can pick up Wally and Mrs Watson. He maybe could clip the piglets’ teeth for me – I hate doing that job.”

  Elsie and her husband, Jock, the local policeman, and their son Carrig had travelled over from North Canterbury, calling to pick up their old friends Wally and Mrs Watson. Elsie locked the door and helped them both to the car. Jock helped them settle in and Carrig sat between them in the back seat.

  Most of the others had arrived when they got to Dromara.

  “Oh, look at the garden! I can’t wait to see it all up close.”

  Wally’s chest swelled up a little when Jock remarked about the gates into the property.

  “Oh, Wally made those gates, Jock, when he was a smith.”

  “Really? What talent you’ve got. Are those shamrocks along the top?”

  “Oh yes – the young fellow wouldn’t have anything but shamrocks on top, to remind him where he comes from.”

  Carrig was the first to welcome them back to Dromara again, and there was much chatter as they all became reacquainted. Rosie fussed about, getting a comfortable chair for Mrs Watson.

  “I know you two like to sit together,” he said, placing her chair beside Sarah, and John sat beside Wally.

  “How have you been keepin’, Wally?” John spoke to his old friend.

  “Och, ye know – up and down. Some days are better than others, and some no good at all.”

  “We’re all getting on now,” John answered his old friend. “It’s time to take things a bit easier.”

  “The place is looking grand, Carrig. I can’t believe how the garden has grown. The trees are looking splendid.”

  “We’ll take a walk round later,” Carrig told his old friend, “and have a closer look. I need your help with a couple of things anyway.”

  While the wee ones all played and frolicked on the lawn, much to the adults’ amusement, Rosie with the help of Elsie and Sarah put the lunch on the table on the patio. Everyone gathered around and held hands while John said grace.

  Everyone tucked in to a sumptuous meal, and it made Carrig’s heart swell with joy at all before him.

  ‘Could anyone be more happy?’ he thought to himself.

  The home was a healthy construction of mud brick. The walls, eighteen inches thick, made for a warm and cosy home in winter and a cool one in summer. Each brick was sixty kilos in weight and the builders had to have a small hydraulic machine to lift them on to the walls, where they placed the mortar by hand; and slowly block by block the walls went up. With no framing it made it an easier job for the builders to just go ahead and finish the house quickly. They took it to the roof in ten days and it was all ready for the wall plate and roofing timbers, so all in all it was a speedy job.

  “We were fortunate to find two builders who had previous experience in earth buildings.”

  Everyone showed a great interest in all that Carrig had said.

  “It does make you wonder though,” said Wally, “why people don’t build more of these alternative homes, especially as they last so much longer and cost so much less to construct.”

  “Frightened to try something new!” Jock piped in to the conversation.

  “That’s what it’s all about. The building inspector agreed and said, ‘This house will be standing hundreds of years from now, as long as the roof is maintained.’ Apparently if the roof begins to leak and deteriorate, then the walls will weaken, which is understandable.”

  Carrig was interesting to all who listened, and they would leave Dromara better educated and well fed.

  Rosie and Carrig saddled up and cantered off down into the valley, which they often did on a Saturday afternoon. Both had ridden now for several years, and Rosie had competed in several shows and equestrian events and was building up a reputation for being a top eventer. With the twins at school now and Rosie back into teaching, things became very relaxed at Dromara.

  The afternoon wouldn’t be complete without tea and Sarah’s scones and cream, and with the return of the riders the afternoon concluded. Then everyone slowly left in a happy and fulfilled state.

  “Come again soon,” Rosie called after them. “We love having you all and I hope we can continue these lovely get-togethers while the weather is fine, and when it gets colder we can eat inside and still enjoy the camaraderie.”

  A very contented Wally dozed off in the back seat on the drive home.

  “Thank you both for taking us to Dromara. We really enjoyed the afternoon – seeing everyone so happy.” Mrs Watson touched Jock on the shoulder and thanked him for driving them over.

  Young Carrig put his head on Mrs Watson’s knee and f
ell asleep. Elsie wiped a tear away as she thought how all this came about.

  It was a month later when Wally fell in the yard, tripping up on a fallen branch, down from a heavy wind the night before. His leg had been badly damaged and the Doctor thought it best that he be admitted to the local hospital, where unfortunately days later he developed a severe case of pneumonia. Sarah had kept in touch with Mrs Watson each day, keeping up to date on his progress.

  “He’s now on oxygen as his breathing is laboured, and it’s so hard to watch him struggling to take in air.”

  “John and I will go in tomorrow to visit him,” Sarah said.

  “Elsie has been so good and driven me each day to Rangiora Hospital. She goes shopping and picks me up later.”

  “Well,” said Sarah, “If you’d like to have a day at home, sure we’ll stand in for ye; and I’m sure Elsie can have a wee rest too.”

  Mrs Watson continued: “He’s in ward ten. And thank you again – I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “He’s not lookin’ all that good,” John remarked to Sarah as they walked towards the car.

  “Oh well, we’ll give him a bit of time and see what it brings.”

  The days passed and all of them took turns to visit the old man. He seemed to improve somewhat, and then a couple of weeks passed and the phone call came to Elsie from the hospital asking her to come as soon as possible as Wally’s condition was deteriorating to the point where they were talking in terms of hours now.

  Carrig and Elsie were with him when he slipped away. Mrs Watson had gone with one of the nurses to have a rest and a cup of tea. Carrig found her and wrapped his arms around her.

  “He’s gone now, Carrig.”

  “He has indeed,” said Carrig, “gone to sleep for the last time.”

  They all left the hospital together and agreed on a time to meet and discuss funeral arrangements. They agreed to be at Elsie’s place the following day, and so everything was sorted out and Carrig was pleased when he heard that Mrs Watson wished Wally to be buried beside Annie and Peter Anderson.