The Man in the Boat

Kathy was the only girl with two older brothers, Padraig and John. She had the dark features of her father, with long black hair often worn in a ponytail. After leaving the convent school, she went to Dublin for a while and did a secretarial course, but she missed the rolling hills and lakes which surrounded her home in Leitrim. The young people were leaving in droves. She didn’t want to be one of them. After getting her qualifications at the secretarial college, she returned home. It was early Spring.

After helping around the house in the mornings, she took her pony and cantered through the meadows. Sometimes she sat by the lake, her chestnut horse “Honey” grazing under the shade of an oak tree. She was an outward going person, but loved the solitude of the countryside and took photos of the changing seasons. She could hear the crickets in the grass, and birds singing their little songs in the branches.

Today the lake was flat and clear, with little bubbles appearing here and there. The sun cast shadows of silver ribbons in all directions. A small rowing boat came into view. Kathy took the camera from her rucksack. There was someone sitting in the boat, a hat covering his head. He was fishing, but her lens couldn’t distinguish who it was. She took a photograph of Honey as he moved to the lake for a drink, his silhouette perfect against the water and blue sky. She lay back on the grass, hands behind her head, and thought how lucky she was to be in this beautiful place.

Kathy knew change had to come. She had to make her way in the world. She couldn’t depend on her parents forever. Certainly no eligible farmer had caught her eye so far. If she went to England for a while, it was only a few hours flying time from home. Her friend Angela, whom she’d known from school, was home on holidays. Kathy arranged to meet her for coffee at “Snacks” in town, just over the bridge. “Hi Kathy” said the owner, Mary Lenihan, as she entered the café. “How’s all the family? Havn’t seen you for a while” prompting Kathy for some news. “All grand, thanks Mary” said Kathy, looking around for Angela. “She’s over by the window” said Mary, disappointed at Kathy’s short answer.

Angela stood up and gave Kathy a hug, as Mary approached to take their order. “I suppose you’ll be the next one to leave us” Mary said, addressing Kathy. They ordered coffee and a sandwich each, and Mary retreated. She wasn’t getting much news from those two. Their heads were bent close together, talking and laughing like old times. Angela gave a great account of how she was doing in London. When they left the café, Angela unlocked her bike, and they arranged to meet for a night out before Angela returned to London. Angela suggested Kathy might think of going back with her. “You could stay with us if you decided to come over. There’s plenty of room” she said with a grin. After Angela’s holiday was over, Kathy decided she would give London a try. Her parents wouldn’t stand in her way, though she knew it was a big wrench, especially for her mother. It didn’t have to be permanent. The few weeks flew in and it was time to leave.

When she reached the station, she was having second thoughts about going at all. She stood with her case, her mother and her brothers by her side. It had been an emotional farewell with her father. The whistle blew. She threw her arms around her mother. Her brothers squeezed the breath out of her. “Look after Honey for me” she said to Padraig, the eldest brother. She waved to them until they disappeared out of sight. The fields and towns rushed by. Finally the train journey was over, and she got the bus to the airport. As the plane took off, she watched the coastline disappear. Her heart was breaking.

When she arrived at Heathrow, she felt a chill as she crossed the tarmac. Kathy followed the crowd to the carousel to collect her case, and walked into the Arrivals. Angela and another girl were waving to her. She forced a smile and waved back as she walked towards them. The flat she shared with Angela and two sisters, Pat and Eileen, was in a Victorian house near Bayswater. The rooms were large with high ceilings and they shared the use of the garden with a married couple upstairs. Kathy moved into Angela’s room. It only took a few days to feel comfortable with them all.

The first day Angela took Kathy around to get her bearings, and then to an agency to register for a job. She couldn’t believe how quickly she got an interview and started the following week as assistant secretary in a trade association. She wrote home to say how well she was getting on at work and with the girls. She never mentioned the pangs of homesickness she felt. Her boss was from Cork and had been in England for over twenty years. He was very encouraging and sometimes they chatted about ‘home’ which she found comforting. “It takes a while to get used to the place”, her boss told her,” but there’s plenty of opportunities here if you work hard”. He had a wife and two children and lived in a semi in Romford, on the outskirts of London.

The first weekend, and almost every Saturday night after that, the girls got themselves dressed up and went dancing. Most week days after work, they shared cooking and talked about the kind of day they’d had. It was easy to be with them as they shared the chores and the shopping. They played records or listened to the radio. It was 1975. Rod Stewart’s “Sailing” was in the charts at the time and played constantly on the radio. On the outside she was ‘funny girl’ but her heart was still, as the song said, ‘home again, cross the sea’. It was December and the girls were making plans for Christmas. Angela was going to her sister’s in Scotland, along with her parents and brother. Patricia and Eileen were going home to Kerry. Kathy had already booked her flight, and bought presents for her family and the girls in the flat. They all had a big night out the Saturday before Kathy was going home. She took photographs in the restaurant and a waitress obliged them by taking one of the four girls together, happy smiles, their arms around each other.

Padraig was at the airport. She dropped her case and ran to meet him. Kathy relaxed into her seat, talking non-stop about all that had been going on in her life in London. “You’ve picked up a bit of an accent”, her brother said, joking. “No I havn’t” she said with a frown. As she was glancing in his direction, she thought she could detect something in his expression. “Is everything alright at home Padraig” she asked. “Ma’s in hospital. She had a stroke”. “What! Why didn’t someone tell me, you could have phoned me at work”. “There was no time, Kathy. There was so much going on. We’re told it will take time. Da’s in bits. We knew you’d be home soon and didn’t want to worry you”. For the last half hour of their journey, they fell into silence. The wipers swished back and forth and in the darkness the headlights cut through the lashing rain.

Her mother arrived home and took up most of Kathy’s time trying to nurse her. They were all praying that she would return to her old self, but it looked less likely as the days went by. One day, their mother was particularly bad and agitated. The doctor was called. Instead of Dr. O’Driscoll, a young doctor by the name of Kevin Delaney called. He was new to the district. As he took his hat and coat off, Kathy noticed his lean features. He was handsome in a boyish kind of way. She was making him a cup of tea after settling her mother, and they got talking. He told her he loved fishing when he got the time, and weather permitting. “I sometimes go out on the lake in an old boat Dr. O’Driscoll has at the end of his garden. It’s so peaceful out there.” He said. “Do you ever fish near Maxwells old house?” Kathy asked. “Yes, I think you can see their house through the trees. It’s a whitewashed two story, isn’t it? They keep horses I think“. “Do you ride?” Katy asked. He smiled at her and said “No, but there’s a first time for everything”.

Padraig and John had cut down a big fir tree and brought it into the house. Kathy decorated the tree. With its lights switched on, it shone like a beacon from the window, when darkness fell. She put the rest of the decorations around their big kitchen. A crib her father had made years ago was placed on the mantelpiece, surrounded by holly. She made a wreath from the left-over holly, and entwining it with red ribbon, attaching it to the front door. Presents for the family were placed beneath the tree. With the glow from the fireplace and a red Christmas candle on the table, the kitchen was as she always remembered as a child. This Christmas wouldn’t be the same though. Her mother wouldn’t be in a flurry shopping and cooking as she did in previous years. Kathy never imagined her mother getting old. As she sat by her bed the night before Christmas, she prayed to God that her mother would get better.

Her father and her brothers took it in turns to sit with her, even while she slept. Katy cooked the Christmas dinner. Anne, John’s girlfriend of four years joined them in the evening. In spite of the feast, the celebrations were very low key. Over the Christmas, friends and neighbours called in to see how Kathy’s mother was. She spent a lot of time in bed, but in the evenings Kathy’s father carried his wife up to a chair by the fire. One evening Kathy was showing her mother some photographs she had taken while she was in London, explaining who everyone was. There were a few taken before she left for London. The photos were passed to Padraig and her father, sitting on the other side of the fire-place. “For all the time he spends on that boat, I don’t think Kevin Delaney has caught a sprat” said Padraig with a grin. “Let me see!” said Kathy as she took the photograph from him. “Is that him, Padraig?” She was looking at the photograph she had taken of the boat on the lake before going to London. “Who’d sit for hours in a boat without catching anything” said Padraig. “He must be waiting for the fish to hop in beside him!”. “He often enquires after you Kathy” said their father, with a smile. “He was asking if you’ll be going back to London”. Her father was curious to see Kathy’s reaction. “There might be a job going at the surgery” he said. “I hear Mrs. O’Shae is retiring”. Kathy looked at her father. She knew he would love her to stay. She thought she saw a fleeting smile on her mother’s face. “He’s the only eligible bachelor around here Kathy. He’d be a good catch” said her father, with a grin. In spite of herself, Katy thought the idea not entirely disagreeable.

The weather turned bleak after Christmas. Kathy wrote to Angela and to her boss explaining the situation at home and told them she would be unable to return to London. Her mother, after another attack, deteriorated rapidly. On a cold February morning, the family attended her funeral. There was a mist hanging over the graveyard as people gathered from miles around to comfort and support the grieving family. Kathy shook hands as people came up to offer their sympathy. Her father seemed to have aged overnight as he stood, head bent, the drizzle and cold seeping into his bones. His sons, in their black suits, tried to shield him as best they could under umbrellas. Kathy took his arm and led him back to the car, her pale completion and hollow eyes hardly speaking as people approached them.

Although their mother had been sick and inactive for a good while, the house seemed desolate without her. Kathy took over cooking and cleaning. Her brothers did what needed to be done around the farm. Although her father wanted to do his share, he hardly had the energy. He sat near the fire a lot of the time, and every evening, deep in his thoughts. Spring turned to summer. With the bright mornings and longer evenings, some sort of vitality returned to the family. The hay had to be saved. Turf had to be cut. Katy took Honey out and lost herself riding through the fields. Sometimes she stopped and put her arm around his neck. She often talked to him, or cried into his golden mane. Her family were never very good at sharing their ‘feelings’, except her mother. Now there was no one. She crossed the fields and decided to take the road back to the house. She had just rode across the bridge where a slow moving stream flowed beneath. Suddenly, Honey reared as a car appeared in front of them. Katy came off her horse, but managed to regain her balance and hold on to the reins. “What the hell at you doing” she shouted at the driver. “Surely you could see us coming down the road”. It was a steep incline. She couldn’t see around the bridge, but an approaching vehicle would see what was up the hill ahead of them. The driver got out of his car and started to apologise. He took his hat off and she realised it was Kevin Delaney. “Are you alright Kathy” he said. “No thanks to you I am” she said with an edge to her voice. “Look where you’re going the next time” she said, as she mounted Honey and sped off, leaving a cloud of dust behind her.

“I think I’ve sprained my ankle” she said to her father the next day. She was limping while she was getting breakfast for everyone. “Sit down Kathy, we’re all big and ugly enough to get our own breakfast”. She tried to protest, but he pulled a chair out and made her sit at the table. Kathy hadn’t said anything about the run-in with Kevin Delaney the previous day. “It will be grand tomorrow” she said, “I must have twisted it somehow”. The next day it was the same. Her father took matters into his own hands, and got the doctor to come out to the house. Kathy was mortified when, on hearing the dog bark, she saw Kevin Delaney’s car coming through the open gate. “Dad, you haven’t called the doctor?” she said. “Sit quiet Kathy. He’ll take a look at the foot and make sure nothings broken”. When Kevin Delaney entered the kitchen, he blushed slightly when he saw Kathy. “How is our patient today” he said, trying to sound detached. He sat opposite her, and asked her to lift her foot. She couldn’t meet his eyes. His hands gently pressed down on her foot, then her toes. “Does that hurt” he said. “Of course it hurts” she snapped, looking up at her father. “You must have twisted your foot when you came off your horse the other day” Kevin Delaney said. “You fell off your horse?” her father said. “Why didn’t you tell us?”. “It was my fault Mr. Shanahan” said the doctor. Kathy had to explain as her father was totally bewildered, but this time she wasn’t entirely blaming the young doctor.

Kevin Delaney assured Kathy there was nothing broken. He bandaged her foot and told her to rest it. He said he would call out the next day to see how she was. He called out a few times that week. Kathy thought his visits were unnecessary. Kevin Delaney’s excuse was that he was passing the house anyway. The weeks went by and she was soon back on her feet and doing what she could around the house and farm. The good weather got her back on her horse, enjoying the meadows and valleys. The countryside was at its most beautiful, lush and abundant. The fields, every shade of green, stretched out in front of her. Cattle and sheep looked motionless and tranquil. Sometimes she stayed out long enough to take photographs of the sun setting over the hills, colours of blue, yellow, pink and crimson. This was why this place would always draw her back. Padraig was out in the fields most days working around the farm. John, the youngest brother, had decided to do an agricultural course and was away all week. Padraig had the running of the farm now, trying to spare their father the hard work. Never one to be idle, her father milked the cows and feed had to be brought in. Kathy and her father went to town once a week to get groceries, and whatever else was needed. They would stop for lunch at the Central Hotel, which was something he once shared with his wife. It was a day out for them. People stopped to talk, or came over enquiring how they were.

Kathy always lit a candle in the church and she knelt with her father for a while. They called into the surgery to get a prescription for her father’s blood pressure before heading home. Kevin Delaney was speaking to a patient in reception as they walked in. door. When he saw Kathy and her father, he waved them to a seat with a broad smile. “I’m just here for a prescription, when you have a moment” her father said, as they took a seat. “Come in and I’ll take your blood pressure” Kevin Delaney said, when his patient left. “Where’s Mrs. O’Shae?” asked her father? Kathy remained in the reception area. “She’s just out for coffee, but she will be retiring in a week or two. Hanging on, as I haven’t a replacement yet. What is Kathy doing these days? “Ah, just keeping things ticking over on the farm. She misses her mother terribly, as we all do” her father replied. Kevin Delaney looked down at his watch. “I’m due out on a call Mr. Shanahan. Would Kathy be interested in working for me? “Why don’t you ask her yourself doctor, no time like the present”. Kathy’s father rolled down his sleeve and put his jacket on. Kevin Delaney opened the door and seemed to take a deep breath. Kathy stood up and they

were about to leave. “Kathy” Kevin Delaney said. “I’ll be needing a receptionist in the next few weeks. Is there any chance you’d consider the position. You’d be doing me a huge favour. Think about it and give me a ring”. “There”, thought Kevin Delaney,” it’s up to Kathy now”. Kathy’s father left the surgery smiling to himself. It was coming towards the end of summer. There was a chill in the evenings. Soon the trees at the front of the house were shedding their leaves. Kathy had started work and looked forward to each day. She used her mother’s old car to get in and out of town. Once a week, Kathy’s father joined her and had lunch with his daughter. If he was free, Kevin Delaney joined them, or would have coffee with them.

Mrs. O’Shae had stayed on a week to show Kathy the ropes. Dr. O’Driscoll still had his own patients, though he was semi-retired now. Kathy was good at her job, and enjoyed hearing the latest gossip and meeting the characters who came through the door. Word was getting around about the new doctor and the practice was expanding. John, Kathy’s young brother, decided it was time to get married. He had been going out with Anne for about four years. They would build a house on his father’s land. In early Spring of the following year, when the apple blossom was in full bloom and the daffodils danced in the garden, John and Anne walked down the aisle. Friends and family gathered in the Central Hotel, and later sang and danced until the early hours. Kathy invited Kevin Delaney, but kept close to her father, knowing how much he missed his wife. It seemed cruel that she was not present to see her first child married. “Ah, she’s here alright” Kathy’s father said, taking Kathy for their first dance. The bride and groom spent their honeymoon in Malta and returned to see the foundations laid for their new home. Anne moved in with the family while the work was going on. Kathy was glad of her company, though she still missed her mother’s presence in the house. Towards the middle of May, the weather turned very severe. Hail and rain battered the car on her way home from the surgery. As she turned off the main road, she swerved to avoid a stray cow, ploughing into a ditch. She woke up in the local hospital, her father and brothers by her side. “We thought we’d lost you Kathy, her father said, kissing her hand. “Thank God it’s only a broken bone in your foot, and a few scrapes and bruises”. Kevin Delaney called in every day. After a week she was discharge, and he insisted on driving her home. Her leg was in plaster and she was on crutches. “Won’t be dancing for a while” she said, as he helped her into the house. “You’ll stay put for the next six weeks, and that’s an order” he said. Kathy was surprised at his authority. “Mrs. O’Shae will take over until you’re well again”.

“You don’t have to come out so often Kevin” Kathy said after a few weeks of Kevin Delaney’s visits. “You’ve enough to be doing with real patients”. “You can’t get rid of me that easily Kathy Shanahan” he replied. Kathy cast a look in her father’s direction, who was standing in front of the fire. He smiled over at his daughter, and gave her a knowing wink!

Something lost, something found

It all started off so well.  I’d always been a happy go lucky sort of person. Life had been easy and straightforward.  My parents had moved from Ireland to London when we were young.  I was the second eldest of six children.  I had a happy childhood, and hardworking parents.

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Meanwhile

Meanwhile, the sun was shining.  She stood by the grave.   Her dearest friend would be lowered into the earth.  Family and friends stood around, solemn.   A sprinkle of rain fell.  One or two umbrellas went up, but there was really no need.  It was a soft late summer’s morning. The sun had its way of appearing again.

Meanwhile, she was back in her own house after all the goodbyes and promises to keep in touch.  She stared at the few photographs she had taken out the night before.   Her friend was always making faces for the camera.   She could hear her voice – “now you have it!” her friend would say, when you ‘got’ what she was trying to describe.  With eyes stinging, she gave a deep sigh.  She rested back into the armchair.  Her mind flitted from one memory to another, recalling all the years they had been the best of friends.

Meanwhile, the world would go on without her.

The Camera

Everywhere I’ve travelled, since I was a young girl, I’ve always carried a camera.  There are photographs of teenage years at home with my family, Mum, Dad, Aunt Lilly, my three sisters younger brother and our dog.  We are all in the back garden, posing.  Dad looks very serious, but Mum and Aunt Lilly, are smiling as are my siblings.  Rory, our black and tan Manchester terrier which we got from Battersea Dogs Home a few years before, sits in the middle looking at me.  Perfect!

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A Special Christmas

It was the first white Christmas in years.  The children helped carry the Christmas tree

from the garden centre.  Angela, who was ten, unraveled the lights and the two other

children put the decorations on the tree.  Gwen was twelve, and had a better reach. Their

mother stood on a chair to finish the decorations, stretching to place the angel on top.

David, who was eight, put the little red bows and tinsel on the lower branches.  He

couldn’t wait for Santa. He was a true believer.  The excitement was contagious as

Christmas songs played from the radio in the background.

Margaret was separated from her husband.   Their father, Jim, had moved to England.

He had arranged for someone to bring presents home to Dublin for the children. With

all the shopping done by Christmas Eve, Margaret and her children braved the snow and

cold and headed for the train.  They skidded along the paths where the slush was turning

to ice. Not being familiar with the area, Margaret had to ask for directions. Eventually

they found the house.  Margaret took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. A light came

on in the hall.  A lady opened the door and frowned when she saw them.  “Can I help

you” she said.  Margaret explained why they had called.  “There’s no presents here!” she

said with a scowl, and promptly closed the door.  By the light of the street lamp,

Margaret looked again at her husband’s letter. Yes, they were at the right address. Her

heart sank.  The children looked at her, disappointed and downhearted.  “There’s

obviously some mix-up”, she said.  “‘I know what we’ll do.  We’ll get some chips and

warm ourselves up before getting the train home”.  David was happy with the thought of

a treat but the girls could not be so easily cheered up.

When they reached their destination, people poured from the station laden with

Christmas shopping.  The snow, now grey and slushy, was piled against the curb.  Buses

and taxis were lined up outside.  Breaths almost froze in the cold night air. The trees

along the street sparkled with white fairy lights.  Decorations on Main Street welcomed

the festive season.  An old man sat huddled in the doorstep of a shop, now closed. How

would he possibly keep warm on this cold night?

The children were now asleep and the house quiet.  Biscuits and a drink had been left by

the fireplace for Santa. Margaret prepared the last of the food for the Christmas dinner.

The trifle was placed in the fridge.  The Christmas pudding was left on the worktop,

ready to be heated once the dinner was served.  The vegetables had been prepared, and

the turkey stuffed, left in the fridge ready to be cooked on Christmas morning, before

they all went to church.   Margaret took the presents out from their hiding places and

wrapped them up, placing them under the tree.  The old Christmas stockings with the

children’s names on them, almost faded now, were placed by the fireplace.  It was well

past midnight.

The two girls were up with the lark and ran into their mother’s room on Christmas

morning. Margaret couldn’t believe it was morning already. “Happy Christmas mum”

they said in unison. “Happy Christmas girls” she replied, slipping out of bed and

throwing on her dressing gown. It only seemed like an hour since her head hit the

pillow. David was hot on their heels. The children headed straight for the front room,

while Margaret went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She put on a CD of Christmas

carols and joined them. Gwen was handing the presents out from beneath the tree.

Wrapping paper flittered the floor. “This is your’s mum, from all of us” Gwen said. “Ah,

thank you everyone. You really shouldn’t have” but couldn’t wait to see what was inside

the shiny red wrapping paper. She gave each one a big hug and kiss. To her surprise,

she found a beautiful marcasite watch. She had lost one years ago. It had been a 21st

birthday present. The children stared at her to see what her reaction would be. “I can’t

believe you remembered!” she said, full of emotion. “You deserve it mum” Gwen said.

As the children continued to open their presents, their smiles and screeches drowned

out the Christmas songs in the background. Their dog sat in the middle of the chaos,

looking from one to the other. The leggo lay on the floor, waiting to be opened. A train

set, Barbie dolls, jigsaw puzzles, some books and crayons, and a Walkman for Gwen. The

hats and scarves for the cold weather were left to one side! What a joy it was to see the

excitement, and how glad Margaret was that she had bought presents as she could

afford them, since November. She had also found a few extra presents hidden away in

the wardrobe on Christmas Eve.

She left the children to play in the front room and started to stuff the turkey. Her

parents were coming over to join them for dinner after church. Margaret was humming

to “White Christmas” by Bing Crosby, getting the potatoes ready for roasting. Gwen

arrived into the kitchen laden with wrapping paper for the bin. “Mum, can I help?” she

asked. “You can set the table Gwen, so all is ready when we come back from church”.

Margaret had all their best clothes laid out for them.

The grandparents arrived, with more presents for the children and hugs all round.

Finally they arrived to a packed church. They had to go up to the balcony. The crib had

been placed at the front of the alter this year. At the end of the service, the choir sang

“Oh Holy Night”. The congregation had joined in the other hymns, but for this one,

there was a hush. The beautiful voice of the Soprano filled Margaret with emotion. She

felt a wave of sadness, but checked herself. “This day is for my children” she though. As

they left the church, as if on cue, a fresh downfall of snow fell on the heads and

shoulders of families heading home. It was magical to watch the delight of the children.

When they opened their front door, they could smell the turkey roasting in the oven.

It was warm and snug inside as coats were discarded and they all finally sat around the

table. The red napkins and sprigs of holly that Gwen had placed around the Christmas

table made it all very special. How grateful Margaret was, as she looked at all the happy

faces, that they had survived to another Christmas.

Funny Moments with my Grandparents

Gran was a great reader.  She loved murder mysteries, especially Agatha Christie’s.  I was an only child, and had spent a lot of time with my Grandparents.  Dad was an archaeologist.  His work took him all over the world and mum sometimes accompanied him when I was older.  Being with my Grandparents was home from home. Later I trained as a teacher and worked with inner city kids.  Challenging to say the least, but I loved my job.  After my Grandparents passed away, I inherited their house.  It was a quaint single-storey cottage in a village near the coast.

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Silent Footsteps

Her soft blond hair had been sleeked back into a long plait that reached to her waist.  Her blue taffeta dress rustled as she quietly crept up the wooden stairs, creaking beneath her feet.  She held her breath.  She didn’t want to be seen tiptoeing into her grandmother’s room.

The blinds were drawn but the morning sunshine escaped through the bottom of the bay window, casting shadows around the room.  The big bed was covered with a colourful silk eiderdown.

She crossed the room to the dressing table, and touched the perfume bottle, and the soft yellow attachment.  It felt like sponge.  She couldn’t resist squeezing it and a soft spray of lavender evaporated into the air.  She picked up the gold mirror on the shiny surface to see her reflection and gently lifted the brush to her hair.  Opening the top drawer of the dressing table, she was disappointed it was empty, but a familiar smell met her nostrils, like mothballs, but something else.  She could smell her grandmother’s embrace again, and feel her tenderness.

Surviving the Flood

In 1986 Little Bray was hit by Hurricane Charlie.  Myself and my three children, two daughters aged nine and eleven, and my six year old son, were enjoying a normal day. Our house was one of a single storey terrace.  Towards evening, a neighbour’s son, Jimmy, called to the door.  “You’d better lift carpets and anything you can up off the floor.  The river is very high.  Block the door with whatever you have”.

 

I thanked him, and proceeded to jam the bottom of the front door with towels.  There wasn’t a lot I could lift except chairs and the television.  The children went to bed and I settled down for the evening. The river broke is banks at around ten pm. I went to the children’s bedroom.  Our first sign that something was happening, was when our cat high-tailed it to the back bedroom. Water started to seep through the house. “You’d better get dressed” I told them, “and put on your coats”.  The girls were in bunk beds, and my son was in his bed by the window.  They got their clothes on and we waited. We were all sitting on the top bunk, along with the cat. I thought we might have to climb onto the extension roof.  The window was jammed, and I might have to break it. It was dark.  The water outside could be higher.

 

Suddenly, there was a bang and the water was already in the back bedroom, rising fast. Outside we could hear the wind roaring.  As we waited, a small piece of paper floated across the water.  It was like something torn from a school book or one of the children’s books.  On it were the words “the lady from the underwater city will look after you”.  “Don’t worry kids, Our Lady will look after us” I said, “but we’d better move up to the front room”.  The ceiling in the front of the house was higher. I carried Dylan, as myself and the girls waded through the water, one carrying the cat. “Frisky is digging his claws into my arm” Andrea said.  By this time, the water was almost up to my waist. It had come in slowly to begin with, and then just gushed in pushing the towels out of its path.  We all sat on a cupboard by the front window. The cat sprang to a ledge higher up.  At some stage the lights went out and we sat in the darkness.

 

We waited through the night.  At one stage, as it got lighter, we laughed as a few cartons of yogurt floated from the kitchen and went straight up the chimney.  The force of the water had opened the fridge door.  I kept watching the bricks on the fireplace, gauging the height of the water. By daybreak, it had begun to recede. It was a very long night.  By around nine o’clock the next morning, all that was left was thick watery muck.

 

I was told the next day the Civil Defence had brought a boat down to evacuate residents. We didn’t hear them.  I bought Wellingtons for the children. The nuns at Ravenswell had set up mattresses for those evacuated.

 

Everything had been destroyed, electrical equipment, carpets, and all my photographs including wedding photos. My eldest daughter’s new school books for her first year in Loretto had been ruined.  In the weeks that followed, we stayed with the children’s grandparents who lived on the Vevay Road.  The girls went to school while friends helped me disinfect and sweep though the house several times, piling furniture outside for the Council to take away. Thankfully the sun shone on the muck and the destruction.

 

Josephine Nolan

Expectations

It was 1964, long before the Opera House adorned the landscape of Sydney.  The ferry from Manley was taking its passengers to the city harbour.   It was thronged with people heading to work or  tourists leaning out to photograph the spectacular views.  Many were just waiting patiently to get to their destinations, no longer overawed by the scenery.

She sat beside two other girls who had become her friends.  She was a striking girl with sallow skin and high cheekbones.  Her auburn hair, shaped neatly at the neck, was back-combed on top which added to her height.  She was tall, but her slimness and hairstyle made her look even taller.  She wore a blue suit with a short fitted jacket and three-quarter length sleeves. Her white handbag matched her pointed low heeled shoes.  She could have been dressed for a job interview.

The shadows under her eyes looked darker than usual.  The girls talked together as the ferry made its way towards the harbour.  Waves splashed up against the sides and the engine hummed gently as it neared its destination.  Other ferries from different parts of the suburbs of Sydney were already lined up against the quays, their passengers making their way in all directions.  It was going to be another scorcher.

She was more subdued than usual.  Her thoughts were on the boy she had come to Australia to marry.  He was to meet her off the plane a month earlier but hadn’t shown up.  Then she received a phone call asking her to meet him.  She was trying to be her usual cheerful self, but part of her was somewhere else, and her smile never quite reached her eyes.  She had a firm grip on her handbag, along with the piece of paper with the directions he had given her.  She glanced towards the quays as the ferry made its way to its moorings.

It wasn’t a journey she wanted to take on her own.  She must have had her reasons.

Josephine Nolan

Something New From Way Back

When home washing machines were first invented, they were just a tub on legs or wheels, with a hand-cranked mangle on top. Later there were the semi-automatics or twin tubs, and in the late 1940s and early 1950s some top loaders were manufactured. The top loaded automatics followed until the front loading automatics started to sell.  In the new housing estate where we lived in Roscommon in the early 1970, these were selling like hot-cakes.

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