Carrig Of Dromara Page 4

  “Well, your blood pressure is good and there’s no swelling in your ankles. I’m sure you’re aware of what to do and what not to do. There’s no need for you to go back to the clinic again anyhow. Just take it easy, and never be too far away from help – you know the drill.” As the Nurse was leaving she called back, “When the pains are about twenty minutes apart, get the old man to drive you in.”

  Carrig Peter Robert Anderson decided to make his entrance to the world at five o’clock on the eighth morning of November. Annie and Peter managed to slip out quite quietly, and Mary was not even aware that they had gone. Annie had slept downstairs for the past week to make it easier when the time came, and they were glad to go without disturbance to anyone.

  They had left home at 11 p.m. and so it was a short labour. Everyone was very happy and they had their wee son, with his dark hair sticking straight up, and all they had to do now was thank the Good Lord that he was perfect in every way. Peter couldn’t stop smiling and Annie slept soundly. The little fellow, having had his first feed, was soundly asleep beside his mother.

  “I’m just going to have a cup of tea,” Peter told the wee nurse who was keeping an eye on things. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Take your time, now. There’s no need to rush back,” she replied, glancing over towards the sleeping pair. “These two are in no hurry to wake up. Believe me, they both need as much sleep as they can get.”

  Peter took his time and enjoyed a small breakfast in the dining room, relaxing with the daily paper for a while. He then gave way to his emotions, and walked really quickly towards the ward where his wee family were gathered together.

  “I love you so much.” He gently hugged his wife and held the tiny hand of his son. “D’ye think Mum will be up yet?” Peter couldn’t wait to tell her the good news.

  “If I know your mother, she’ll have been up and dressed long ago.”

  Peter found a phone in the corridor and dialled the number.

  “Mary Anderson speaking.”

  “Good morning, Grandma.”

  Mary broke down and cried for joy. “Oh, Peter, is all well?”

  “Couldn’t be better, Mum. Annie had a wee boy at five o’clock this morning. We are both so happy.”

  “Thanks for letting me know. I didn’t even hear you leaving.”

  “Oh, well, we left last night late on. The contractions were getting closer so we thought we’d go on in. And I’m glad we did, for it didn’t take too long at all.”

  “How is Annie?”

  “Well, she’s resting now and they’ve moved her into another room. The baby was seven pounds eight ounces, and he’s got black hair, sticking straight up. He looks like my father, Mum. Wait till ye see him – honestly, ye’d think it was my da. I’ll be home in a while, Mum. And would you please let Martha and John know about the baby?”

  “I certainly will. It’ll be a pleasure to spread the good news. I’ll run on now, and will see you later, I’m sure.”

  Mary went through the house, walking on wings and thinking how the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, thinking how Robert would have loved to see his grandchild, and how proud he would have been.

  It was another eight days before the baby was brought home to Dromara. Martha had been busy piling up the firewood close to the back door, to fill the range. Martha had baked cakes and an apple pie, to fill the tins up, to last for a few days. Dr Martin called in with a wee present for the child, and John called in when he came to pick up the bales of hay.

  “Thank you, John,” said Peter when John handed him the money.

  “Now can I have a wee look at the new baby?”

  Peter showed John the crib in which the boy lay, sleeping so soundly and looking for all the world like his grandfather.

  “It’s the dark hair, I think, and the nose. Yes, definitely – I can see the old man there.”

  They all laughed together when John made his observation.

  December came in with a vengeance. A strong northerly wind blew across the yard at Dromara. In the week which followed, Mary had moved into the cottage, which she named Dromara. Martha thought that was appropriate, as the new folks would rename the farm when they moved in.

  “That’s settled, then,” Annie said when Peter asked what she thought about having their final Christmas at the farm. “We can have one of those turkeys and a couple of hens, and that should be adequate for everyone. What about asking John and Agnes, and maybe Dr Martin? That would be ten in all – counting this wee man, of course. Well, I think it might be another year or two before he can handle a chicken leg, but he is definitely one of the family.”

  “I’m not sure, but I think Agnes’s parents might want John and Agnes to spend Christmas Day with them.”

  “Well, we’ll talk about it next time your mother and Martha call in.”

  The remainder of Mary’s furniture was taken to the cottage, and the farm looked rather bare without her favourite chair and her art boxes and easel, leaving a hollow sound in the kitchen. Agnes’s idea of Peter and Annie renting the house beyond the school, next to where her parents lived, was terrific. It was so close to everyone. Mary and Martha were only a stone’s throw away and they could spend as much time as possible together before Peter and Annie went away.

  The new people weren’t moving into the farm until the end of January, giving them lots of time to sort everything out. People kept on coming to ask if the tools and machinery had all gone yet. All that remained was for Peter to arrange for the second-hand dealer to call and make an offer on the remaining furniture, etc.

  Old Paddy McShane called next day, and made a respectable offer on the remaining things in the house. Peter and Annie were delighted, and when Paddy called in to pay Peter a deposit, and agreed the remainder would be paid when they left the farm the next month, he also crossed the baby’s hand with silver by dropping two Victorian crowns into the cot.

  Over the following months Peter and Annie had moved into their new but temporary home. Martha loved her job at John and Agnes’s place, especially with the new building extension.

  “Oh, Mary,” she said when she caught up with her friend, “it’s so easy to clean and I can do the job in no time at all.”

  “I’m happy for you, dear – you deserve it, and it gives me peace of mind to know that John is looked after.”

  “Agnes asked me to go down to Roshane some Saturday night, to the dance there, but I don’t know, Mary. I’d be on my own, so I might feel like a bit of a wallflower.”

  “Nonsense! You a wallflower, you that can talk ninety to the dozen? Never!”

  Martha came over to the cottage to say goodbye before she left, the following Saturday evening.

  “Why, Martha, you look absolutely beautiful, and if you are determined to be a wallflower, well, at least you’ll be the most beautiful one. Go on, girl – enjoy yourself. You can tell me all about it in the morning.”

  Mary walked up towards the house; Ross opened the door to Mary.

  “Now, what are we going to do this evening, boys?”

  Mary took off her coat and put another log on the fire. James opened a box and explained that his mother had bought them another game the previous week and they both loved it. The three enjoyed the game so much. The boys spent a lot of time laughing at Mary’s expression as she tried to learn the ins and outs of the complex rules.

  The boys went to bed at nine o’clock and Mary dozed until about eleven o’clock, when she heard the car door close at the gate. She then began to tidy herself up and put on her coat.

  Judging by the happy smile on Martha’s face, Mary guessed that she had enjoyed herself.

  “I’ve never had so much fun in my life.” Martha hugged Mary.

  “I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself. If anybody needed a break, it was you. I’ll be off now, Martha. It’s getting on
.”

  The friends said goodnight and Mary made her way over to the cottage.

  It was spring when Peter and Annie received the first letter from the immigration people telling them of their first appointment regarding their impending trip to New Zealand.

  The appointment went well at the immigration office in Belfast in the following month, and they were told if their X-rays and medical reports were cleared, and if their references (plus payment of £20) were all acceptable, then they would be given a date for sailing.

  “There is just one thing you must know: we have a large number of people like yourselves wishing to immigrate and, because of the backlog, it may be some time before you are given a date.”

  Peter asked, “Can you tell us roughly when that might be?”

  “I would say early in the New Year, unless people drop out – and they do, believe it or not. And of course there are always a number who are not acceptable, for one reason or another. So yes, that could change things for you and bring your date back. Thank you both for coming. We will be in touch when we have all the relevant information.”

  The old church bell rang loud and clear as the family marched down the road and entered the quietness of the wee church to give thanks and sing their hearts out.

  The minister took the baby in his arms and touched his head with the water from the font.

  “Such a big name for a little fellow! Carrig Peter Robert Anderson, I baptise you, in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, amen.”

  One elderly lady spoke as they came out: “That wee man never made a sound, bless him. You’d think he knew he had to be quiet.”

  “Thank you,” Peter said, to which she nodded and moved on.

  The hedgerows were humming with wildlife as they walked slowly home again to a special lunch shared with Martha and the boys.

  Dr Martin, Mary and Peter sat on wicker chairs under an old cherry tree in the corner of the garden after lunch, and it was so lovely to hear the friendly chatter of everyone. Peter thought of how soon it would be until they had to say goodbye to all of this.

  “Lovely home, Peter. I’ve been a few times in the past, on home visits. Lovely garden too, for this wee man to crawl about in. Didn’t he do well this morning?”

  “Before you go, Doctor,” Peter asked, “would it be possible for you to give Annie and me a health clearance for travelling to New Zealand – and the baby too, of course?”

  “Why, certainly, Peter. It’ll be a pleasure. Do you want to make a time this coming week?” Pulling a notebook from his inside pocket the old man made a note of their names. “Now, would Wednesday coming be all right, at ten in the morning?”

  “That’s great, Doctor. We’ll be there. And thank you.”

  “Well, that’s all clear for all of you.” He spoke professionally. “You’re all in a state of good health. I could find nothing wrong, and I will send the results off as soon as possible to the Belfast office.” The Doctor reminded them that they would need vaccinations before leaving and asked Annie had they been given a date yet?

  “No, not yet, Doctor, but we’re hoping it won’t be too long until we hear back.”

  “In the meantime enjoy what time you have left with Mary and the others. She was just telling me that her memory is not as sharp as it has been. Well, you know as we get older our memories fade a bit, and sometimes it’s good that we don’t remember some things. Speaking for myself, I enjoy a good book and the odd wee walk along the road, my favourite music and the odd chat with a friend or neighbour. What more does anyone need? Contentment is a great thing, Peter. I know you didn’t have it easy with your father when he was alive, but you carried on bravely through it all. You all have to be commended for the way you handled the situation. Rest assured, your mother will be well cared for here in the time she has left, close to her Robert.”

  “Thanks, Doctor, for everything. We’ll catch up before we leave, anyhow. We’ll let you know as soon as we hear any news.”

  A sparrow flew into the window as Annie and Peter ate their lunch. Peter was the first outside to find the stunned bird and bring it back into the house, where he perched it on the edge of the fruit bowl in the middle of the table. And there it sat with closed eyes until three o’clock, when it opened its eyes again. Annie carried the wee bird to the door and released it to fly away. It landed on the roof of the shed and looked back as if to say thank you before flying off.

  The subtle perfume from the wild roses and honeysuckle lingered on as summer slowly came to an end. The humming of the bees, still gathering nectar and pollen as if in a last effort to feed their queen. A rabbit ran across her path as Mary pushed her precious little man in his pram along towards her cottage. Just as she turned into the driveway Martha came back from visiting the McNeills.

  “That was good timing,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Mary.”

  “Come on in and we’ll have a wee chat. Och, look at that wee man. Wouldn’t those eyes melt anyone’s heart!”

  The child sat staring at Martha, his black eyes like pools of ink. The black curls and swarthy skin reminded her so much of Peter when he was that age.

  “He was so soft. I worried so much when he started school, but, do you know, he was so busy keeping everybody laughing the other children seemed to love him, and they’d scrap over who was going to play with him. Do you remember the day the teacher decided to teach the primers how to build a playhouse using a plastic hammer? Peter looked up at her and asked if he could have a proper hammer and nails, not that silly plastic thing. He made me a small bookcase when he was five. It was a little higher on one side and would only stand up if it was against the wall, but that bookcase stood in the living room for some time. People used to ask what it was, to which I would answer, ‘That’s my bookcase, which my son made for me.’ I’ll miss them terribly when they go, Martha, but I’m not standing in their way. It is their life and they have a right to live it wherever and however they please.”

  “I meant to ask, how are John and Agnes getting on?”

  “Oh, great. They are always kissing and canoodling – you know how it is. They’re still in the honeymoon stage. Actually, between you, me and the deep blue sea, I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t another pram to push along the road in the very near future. Peter’s worried about me of course, going so far away to the other side of the world. He had a friend at college who had spent two years in New Zealand, and loved it. Apparently he found it hard to come back again and settle. This business with his father and the farm running down – sometimes when I think about it I realise how close we all were to being put out on the road. I have Peter to thank for taking the action he took, and for noticing the cattle missing. I can’t believe how gullible I was not to keep a check on the milk money when it came in.”

  “Oh, well, Mary, it’s all settled now, and I know everything works out for the best in the end. Sometimes it takes something like that to show us a better way.”

  “Thank you, my wise and wonderful friend. I love you like my own.”

  The women hugged and counted their blessings.

  “I’m happier here where I have spent my life, and to be near where Robert lies is important to me. Do you understand, Martha?”

  “Of course I do, of course I do.”

  The 26th of October arrived and everyone was all packed up and ready to go. John McNeill arrived on time to drive them to Belfast, where they would catch the ferry across to Liverpool, and then travel on by train to London. They would stop there overnight and the following day travel by train again to Southampton. Mary had decided not to travel with them to Belfast, so all the farewells were said at the cottage.

  “I love you, Mum, and I always will.”

  “I love you too, son. For as long as we have on this earth, may the Good Lord be with all three of you. Until we meet up again, please write and sen
d photographs when you can.”

  Mary held Carrig until Annie was seated in the car, when she placed him on her knee.

  “Thank you, Mary, for everything. I will never forget all you have done for all of us.”

  Waving at Martha, they drove off into the distance.

  “Oh well, Martha, there’s only thee and me now. We’d better make the best of it – there’s nothin’ else for us but that.”

  Part Two

  Winter came and went. It was several weeks since the family had left. Mary had wondered if she had made the right decision about not going with them, but just as quickly the negative thought was dispelled from her mind and she remembered the Doctor’s words from the day of the christening: “You’ll be well looked after here, surrounded by people who love you, and that means a lot more as you get older. Anyway, who says you won’t be able to take a trip to visit them, or they may come back one day for a holiday?”

  Mary could hardly contain her excitement at finding the first letter from New Zealand in the box.

  It’s a beautiful place, Mum [Peter wrote]. We’d decided to take the first job we saw in the paper, and when we drove out to the property and met the couple everything just seemed to fall into place. Their name is Russel. He’s a bit of a hard case; she’s a nice lady – seemed to hit it off with Annie straight away. The sun shines every day. We have a great house, completely made of wood and painted. Annie loves it and young Carrig will be able to play in the garden, which is completely fenced in. We are rent-free and have all the milk and vegetables we can eat. I have to work nine hours a day and have every other weekend off.

  Mrs Russel is having her second child and is delighted that Annie is a nurse. She has offered Annie a job looking after her hens, which, as she says, has become difficult since she got pregnant, and has morning sickness. They have a son of four and he goes to a playschool twice a week.