Carrig Of Dromara Page 3

  “I’m so glad to see you putting the money to good use, John,” Martha said as she came in with the washing basket from the yard.

  “Oh, that’s another thing – I’ve decided to have a washing machine as well.”

  Over the following months plans were settled to sell the farm. First to go would be the rest of the beef cattle, and then they would keep on with the milking for another three weeks until a buyer could be found for the cows.

  “Already the bank have said they are happy with the money we have given them, and when the farm goes we will settle up the remainder,” said John.

  “It’s a sad time for us all.” Mary looked across at her friend Martha, knowing that she relied on her income from the work at Dromara.

  “Now, ye’re not to concern yerself about me. Sure, there’s so much to be thinking about, we should all be thankful to God we have the strength to carry on.”

  “Indeed, indeed, it’s fortunate that I have such a wise friend in my life.”

  Everyone showed their delight at the wonderful news of Annie’s pregnancy.

  “What a wonderful Christmas we’ll all have with a baby in the house! I can’t wait to be called ‘Grandma’.”

  “There’s only one important thing now to consider: where we’ll all live when the farm is sold.”

  “Well, of course you have some months before the takeover date. Martha was thinking now might be a good time to bring up the subject of the cottage at the back of her property.”

  “Cottage? What cottage?” Peter exclaimed.

  “The one down the back of my place, run over with blackberry and ivy until you can hardly see the building at all. It’s in a terrible state and hasn’t been lived in for many a year. My grandmother used to live there. I remember visiting her as a young child. And then Mum and Dad let it to a young farm worker for a while – he left it in a bit of a state. I remember Mum and Dad cleaning it up before they died about six years ago. No one has lived there since.”

  After dinner Annie lay down for a rest, and Mary walked up to Martha’s place to have a look at the cottage.

  She called back to Peter, “We’ll be back in time for the milkin’ – don’t worry.”

  Peter waved as she kept walking on.

  Cobwebs were strung so low the women became entangled in them.

  “What’s this?” Mary’s excited voice called out to Martha, who had gone through to another room.

  “It’s the stove! I remember cleaning it once and it came up like new.”

  Martha began to lift pots and pans from the top to reveal three rings.

  “Oh, look, Martha!” Mary’s voice sounded excited as she discovered there was a water heater on the side with its own brass tap. “Well I never!” exclaimed Mary as an old brown sofa sent up a cloud of dust when she touched an embroidered cushion, admiring someone’s handiwork.

  An old oak dresser stood against the back wall, with blue and white china, now covered in years of dust and dirt, still sitting upright on the top shelves.

  “What d’ye think, Mary? Is there any hope of making it liveable at all? It’s beautiful – I love it already. It would be a challenge, I’m sure,” said Martha, “and one we might enjoy together.”

  The women agreed, and the very next day made a start on the cottage.

  It was Saturday morning and Martha’s two boys were helping Annie and Peter with the milking while the women began the task of carrying all the contents of the cottage on to the front lawn. That is until they came to the dresser – both decided it would stay where it was, and another day, when they had help, they would move it out and clean behind it.

  By lunchtime Mary looked exhausted, and Martha decided that they had done enough for one day.

  “We’ll have tomorrow off and then next week we’ll have another go. What do you think?”

  “Well, I’ll be glad of a rest.”

  The two women stood back and admired their handiwork. Their hair was matted with cobwebs and dust.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Mary.”

  “Well, sure, it’s for us we’re doin’ it. Anyway, I haven’t enjoyed a morning like that for some time,” Mary said as she left for home.

  “Send the boys home for lunch, Mary.”

  “I will, I will,” Mary replied as she waved goodbye.

  The following week the two women continued with their job at the cottage. They polished and scraped and scrubbed until the windows sparkled and the paintwork shone like new. Tiles appeared where no one had remembered them before, with a beautiful pattern of blue and white. The cottage seemed much bigger now, and a dear wee bedroom, just off the kitchen, seemed just right for Mary.

  The sky clouded over and it began to look as though it might rain, so they hurried to get all the things in before that.

  “I’m so glad we got it finished before Peter saw it. You know what men are like – they haven’t got imaginations like we have.”

  Over a cup of tea the pair had a chance to have a good chat.

  “Martha, what will you do when Dromara sells?”

  “Oh well, I’ll have to get myself together and find another job of some kind – that’s all there is to it, Mary. There’s always work around if you look for it.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that, Martha. The job at the cottage is getting a bit much for me lately, and I wondered if you would consider taking it on.”

  “I’d be glad to give it a go, of course.” Martha gave a wee laugh. “I’ve always thought they were a wee bit odd, them two.”

  Mary’s face broke into a broad smile. “Well, you know I love them like my own, and of course I’m used to their different ways, but, Martha, ye know ye’d just be there to do their washing and cleaning, and a bit of baking if you have time.”

  “The house renovations will soon be finished and who knows what the new Mrs McNeill will want! She may want to continue as it is now or do the work herself. Wait and see.”

  “I will still call up and see them now and again. I know John will miss me. I could go on the days you’re not working to be a bit of company for him.”

  “Thanks for all your kindness to me over the past years. I will be glad to look after the boys. I know Michael will be home again someday soon.”

  During the following weeks there were a number of enquiries about the farm. People were making plans to come and see the property. The milking herd was sold off and the bank was now happy to wait for the final payment, which Peter would have for them in a couple of weeks.

  The heavy machinery brought in a fair penny and everyone at the house was more contented and happy.

  “You know,” Peter said over breakfast, “you wonder why people put themselves in such a position where they have to really struggle to pay their bills. There has to be an easier way to make a living.”

  “Well, Peter, you know when your father and I used to do the milking during the first four years of our marriage, we were very glad to see the milk money coming in and of course we sold several dozen eggs each week, and the culled hens went to the butcher in Roshane at Christmas, with the turkeys of course.”

  “I know all that, Mum, and Dad was all right then. He didn’t mind a bit of hard work, and he was sober – well, most of the time anyway.”

  The family visited Robert more often now that they had the time. He was difficult at times, according to the nurses, and because they were having difficulty getting him into the bath they had begun to give him bed baths, which were much easier, on both him and the nurses.

  The doctors had given him a few weeks to live and so the family prepared for the worst. He was being well cared for, and they couldn’t do enough for him, and he had several visitors. The Nurse told them that some of the farmers he had known came in and sat with him on occasion.

  There were many enquiries now about the
farm, and more and more people were coming each week to have a look.

  Mary had been aware for some time that her memory was failing, but she was not overly concerned about it, and had made a decision not to mention it to Peter and the others. She was determined nothing would stand in the way of their plans to travel to New Zealand. She had always loved sketching and would often be seen drawing the mountain and old homesteads in the area. Annie was especially delighted when she came up with a true likeness of Dromara.

  Mary asked Martha to accompany her to the Fair Hill one Saturday morning to choose the curtains and floor coverings.

  “He has given me the money and we’re to choose whatever we like together.”

  “Oh, I’m so excited! Now, shall we go by bus or car?”

  “I think the weather isn’t all that great, Martha. What about the car?”

  “Och aye, it’ll be more comfortable and warm.”

  “I would love you all to come to tea on Friday evening, if that’s suitable.”

  “Well, you’ll hear no complaints from me,” Annie said. “I’m eating for two, Martha, don’t forget.”

  “Oh, I’ll remember that, Annie – don’t you worry.”

  The week flew past and a great meal was enjoyed by everyone at Martha’s table, fit for a queen. Roast chicken and ham-and-egg pie with mixed salad, which included beetroot, and Martha knew someone who would be happy with that: Annie had disclosed that beetroot was the thing she had a passion for during her pregnancy.

  “Right then, let’s have a look at this wee cottage. I can’t wait to see it.”

  Annie’s eyes widened as Martha led the way down the path. The cottage glistened in the evening light.

  “Mum, I can’t believe what ye’ve both done to the place. I’ve never seen it before, but from what ye’ve told me about it, it was in a bit of a state. Oh, look at this, Peter! Look at the lovely wee stove and that dresser! Isn’t it gorgeous? I love the whole place – I could live here myself.” Annie’s excited voice filled the room with joy.

  “We both hope you will be very happy living here with Martha close by. We shall go away knowing that you will be well cared for by Martha.”

  “Oh, I think you may have got that wrong, Peter. Martha will be looking out for me, more like.”

  “Well, I’m sure ye’ll look out for each other. I know we’ll go away with a lighter heart knowing that ye’ll both look after each other.”

  The ludo and snakes-and-ladders games kept them all amused until James and Ross started to yawn.

  “Right, you two, up the stairs to bed! Ye’ve had a great day, and I’m sure these good folks could do with some sleep as well.”

  Mary followed Annie and Peter down the road home and it wasn’t too long until they were in bed.

  A week later the weather turned really cold and dry.

  “Looks like it won’t be long until the snow comes,” Peter said at breakfast.

  “Do you know, I think you might be right.” Annie spoke as she bit into another slice of toast.

  “Well, we’ve weathered enough winters – I’m sure we can handle another one.” Mary spoke as she entered the kitchen.

  The shrill ring of the phone took Peter into the hall. It wasn’t long until he was back, with a grim expression on his face.

  “Mum, that was the hospital. They think we should go as soon as possible. Dad’s taken a turn for the worse and it might be better if we want to see him alive to go now.”

  Mary clasped her hands together and went to get her coat. She had been trying to put it out of her mind, but all the time thinking, each time the phone rang, ‘This will be the hospital.’

  Robert lay still on the bed, his face now a shade of grey, his eyes sunken in his head. Mary reached out to him, hoping for some reaction, but there was nothing. The Nurse explained that he was drifting in and out of consciousness, and that would be the pattern for a while. They decided that Peter would stay with him for a couple of hours and Mary would come back after that.

  Mary drove herself back home, stopping on the way to get a couple of things for tea. She felt unusually calm about the whole thing and thought it would be a good thing if he just fell asleep and that would be the end of all the struggle and pain.

  “How is he?” Annie asked as Mary entered the kitchen.

  “Oh well, Annie, he won’t be with us for too much longer. He is unconscious most of the time, just sometimes showing some response and then drifting off again. I just have to ring Martha – she knows nothing of this at all. Martha asked if we would like her to give us a rest by going in for a while.”

  It snowed heavily all day – the day of the funeral – but so many folk braved the weather to see their friend buried. The men carried Robert the last quarter-mile to the graveyard: Peter and John, James Wilson and three neighbours who had known him all their lives.

  After the funeral the women all went to the graveyard to see the flowers and say their farewells. There was tea and sandwiches put on by the Women’s Institute, who had already been given a substantial donation, which they were very grateful for.

  There was a dark gloom over the household, but everyone carried on as best they could. Mary had the job of answering all the cards and letters of condolence from all over the country.

  Slowly over the following weeks things became more relaxed, and now everyone was waiting for the arrival of the little one. There was still so much to do before the farm was sold. The byre had to be scrubbed out in preparation for the takeover and all the sheds cleared out. Peter wanted to leave everything as he would have liked to find it had he been the buyer. The yard was swept and hosed down twice and it still didn’t please him.

  “Just one more time.” He spoke to young James, who was holding the hose at the top of the yard. “This will be the last time, James, you’ll be glad to know.”

  “I don’t mind really. I’m just glad the snow has all gone again – it makes the job a lot easier.”

  “We can begin the sheds next week when John McNeill picks up the remainder of the hay bales.”

  “I’m sorry about Mr Anderson, Peter.” The young man spoke with a sincerity about him.

  “Yes, it’s always sad when a life comes to an end. Thank you, James.” And he shook the young man’s hand. “Without him none of us would be here today – we have to remember that.”

  The two of them walked towards the house, hoping the kettle would be boiled – as indeed it was and Annie and Martha were already seated at the table.

  “Where’s Mum?” Peter spoke to Annie.

  “She’s just gone to visit her friend at the Women’s Institute. She’ll be back before teatime.”

  “You can finish up now, James, for the day, if you like.”

  “Do you need me tomorrow?”

  “Aye, I could be doin’ with another day if you can, thank you, James.”

  Annie was plucking a chicken in an outhouse across the yard when the first pangs of labour struck. Tossing the half-plucked bird on the bench, and gripping her belly, she slowly rose to her feet and shuffled her way into the yard beyond. Martha dropped the yard brush and hurried towards the girl.

  “It’s not yer time yet, surely?”

  “No, no, it’s just a wee pain. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “Come on into the warm kitchen anyway,” Martha replied, putting her arm around the girl’s waist.

  They reached the kitchen, where Mary was finishing off the day’s baking on the griddle.

  “Oh my, what’s this? Surely it’s too soon for the real thing yet.”

  Annie lay down on the sofa and Martha pushed the large black kettle towards the centre of the stove, where it began to sing almost immediately. Mary had three cups on the table in a flash with scones and jam.

  “Shall I ring Nurse Kane and ask her what to do?” />
  “Thank you,” Annie nodded.

  The two women listened to Mary’s voice from the hallway.

  “It’s Mary Anderson here. I’m just calling about Annie – yes, she had a pain about . . .” Covering the mouthpiece of the phone she called to Annie, “How long ago was it, Annie?”

  “About fifteen minutes, I think.”

  “Right, then . . . yes, yes. Right, then. Thank you.”

  Mary replaced the receiver.

  “She’ll call in before lunchtime. She said ye’re to rest, and no more plucking chickens for you, my girl!”

  The ticking of the grandfather clock, which sat in the corner of the large kitchen, was a comforting sound for Annie as she walked across the flagstone floor in her stockinged feet to turn the bread and push the griddle back from the heat.

  Annie called from the kitchen door, “Mary, I forgot about the chicken.”

  “Oh, that’s all taken care of, thanks, Annie. Now you should be resting.”

  “Yes, I’m going now to lie down for a while.”

  Mary came in with the plucked chicken, now ready for the pot, and she put it in with a selection of vegetables and put the tight-fitting lid in place.

  “That’s tea all taken care of, and I’m just going up to see wee John to see what’s going on there. Nurse Kane shouldn’t be long and Martha is within earshot if you need her. Bye now. We’ll see ye in a while.”

  Nurse Kane sat down beside Annie to have a wee chat.

  “No more pains, Mrs Anderson?”

  “No, thank goodness – no more.”

  “I’ll just check your blood pressure and have a wee look at your ankles. You’re a nurse too, I hear.”

  “Yes, I was a children’s nurse in England, and when I finished I returned home. Then I got a job in Musgrave Park in Belfast.”