The Hotel

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They arrived wearing their finery. The men in top hats and tails and ladies showing off their dazzling dresses, shoulders draped in furs or cloaks.  You had to be ‘someone’ to be ushered through the doors of the finest hotel in town.  Sometimes whole floors were booked in the name of a prominent family, or some well to do out of towner.  The lounge was filled with couples mostly, from big industry or professions.  Some movie stars from the West Coast stayed during their visits to New York. Stars of Broadway celebrated opening nights, and successful runs of plays and variety shows.

John Connor and Arthur Long were on the Reception.  It was a long day for them until old Mr. Ashley and Robert Naughton took over the night shift.  They could all tell you some stories but, like a priest, their lips were sealed.  Joe Broaden was on the door in his fine black uniform with gold braids, and sporting a top hat.  Apart from the suit he got married in, it was the only one he owned.  He had been sentinel for the hotel for more years than he cared to remember. Joe and his friend Bert Blacksmith had started work the same week.  They had even gone to the same school, on the other side of town. When they put on their uniforms, they felt like they belonged.  Bert brought the luggage in and despatched them to the relevant rooms.  Over the years, he had sent his kids to the best schools.  He was a very friendly and helpful sort.  Guests liked him and tipped him well.  Joe did alright with tips also.

Ed Phillips was the Manager.  He was the link between all the ground floor staff, and the problem solver.  He had his own office on the ground floor but spent a lot of his time hovering around between the lounge, the dining room, and the cocktail bar.  His job was to make sure everything ran smoothly.  He would stand by the tall marble pillars at night, observing the comings and goings.  Nothing got past Ed Phillips.  He was the eyes and the ears of the hotel.

That was until one night in early December.  The foyer had been decorated with silver lights and red and white decorations.  The chandeliers in the main lounge sparkled against the fairy lights criss-crossing the room.  A large Christmas tree stood between two bay windows, covered in red baubles and silver and red ribbons.  Almost every inch of the tree’s lights shone or flickered against the subdued lighting.  Red candles had been placed in crystal vases at the centre of each table which was covered in white linen.   A roaring fire, mantelpiece decorated in holly and red ribbons, drew guests to its warmth.  It had been snowing for a few days.  Sitting near the fireplace, but slightly in the shadows, sat a young girl, on her own.  She had come straight in from the street.  Instead of going to the reception area, she took a seat close to one of the large white pillars.  She wanted to observe, but not be noticed.  Waiters walked back and forth, carrying silver trays slightly above their shoulders, heading to the surrounding tables.  The dining room was already full.  Some people had brought their drinks from the dining room into the lounge. Christmas carols and festive music was being played by a gentleman on a grand piano in the far corner of the lounge.  The reception was busy with people still arriving.  John and Arthur were taking phone calls and handing out keys. Bert was rushed off his feet taking luggage to the various floors for the guests. Ed Phillips had noticed her coming in. His eyes had followed her as she took a seat near the fire.  He approached her, asking if he could be of assistance. She replied that she was waiting for her brother, and made no further effort to converse with him, hardly looking at him.  Edd asked what her brother’s name was and she replied, ”I want to surprise him” and turned away.  He was never rude, but Ed Phillips could be persistent.  This young lady stopped him in his tracks. She had no intention of getting into conversation with him. There was something about her demeanour that unsettled him.  She looked a very fashionable lady.  Her dark hair fell in curls down her back.  Her blue hat matched her coat which reached to her ankles.  As he walked away, he noticed that the black boots she wore looked scuffed and dusty. At that moment, he got distracted when a party of revellers came through the front door.

“That wasn’t a bad day” said John Connor to his colleague.  Arthur long was at the far end of the desk, making sure that everything was in order for the next shift.  He had noticed the young girl by the fire earlier. “Did you see the young lady in the blue coat leaving?” Arthur Long said.  “Did you see her meeting anyone?”  “Can’t say I noticed, Arthur”. The phone rang again.    “Our little one is giving the missus a hard time these nights” said Arthur when he finished the phone call.   “I hope we get some sleep tonight”.  “Ah, its early days.  She’ll settle down soon” said John Connor.  He was glad himself and his wife were long past those days with the kids.  When the shift was finished, they stood on the steps of the hotel.  Snow was falling and the track marks in the road where becoming slushy.  They said “goodnight” to each other, and putting their hats on and collars up, disappeared into the night.

Mr. Ashley and Robert Norton took over reception, and were hoping for a quiet night.  Mr. Ashley was not far off retirement age, and young Norton was learning all he could from the old timer.  They got on well in spite of the age difference, and Robert enjoyed hearing all the stories of times gone by.  A lot of famous people had come through the doors.  Robert wouldn’t have been too familiar with most of the names.  They were all from way back, but Mr. Ashley could tell a good story.  Most of the guests were going out for the evening, but some were still arriving.  People came to the reception area asking for taxi’s and sat in the comfort of the lounge until their taxi was announced.  Young Robert’s eyes were opened to the affluence and style that he saw coming and going.  Ladies in long dresses and furs, beautiful hairstyles, adorned with glittering hair clips.  The men were equally dapper, some in black evening suits, top hats, black cloaks with red or yellow lining swept across their shoulders.  He thought of his sisters and his mother and wished one day they too could be so stylish.

The lady in the blue coat, Dora, sat by the fire as the guests came and went.  She was waiting for one gentleman in particular.  It had been a while since she saw him, but she knew this was where he came before Christmas each year.  It took a long time to plan.  Up to tonight, she had been driven by past events.  Tonight she wasn’t so brave.  Her nerves were getting the better of her as she waited.  After the Manager approached her, she felt like heading for the door.  She talked herself out of making a quick departure.  She had to see this through, and it wasn’t just for her.  A crowd of people came through the front door.  They were all in high spirits.  She watched them walk up to reception and picked him out immediately.  “Let’s all meet down here for drinks in an hour” one voice was heard above the rest”.  Everyone answered together, and soon they were dispersing towards the elevators.  She slipped in behind the first group, facing out towards the closing doors.  It stopped on the 6rd floor.   Most of the men wanted to get out.  She took a few steps to the left, allowing them to go ahead.  Then she followed in the same direction, keeping her distance behind them. They were in such jovial spirits, talking and laughing, they didn’t notice her.  He stood in front of room 606.  He closed the door behind him and proceeded to take his jacket off.  He poured a drink and sat in the armchair, watching his reflection in the dressing table mirror.  He would have a long soak in a while and dress for the evening.  He closed his eyes and fell asleep.  He was awoken by a tap on the door.  “Who is it?” he asked in a gruff voice, annoyed at being disturbed. He heard “Room service” from the other side of the door.  It didn’t dawn on him that he hadn’t ordered room service, as he shuffled towards the door, still half asleep.  A beautiful girl in a white uniform was smiling at him. “Can I come in sir?” she said.  He felt a bit hung over from all the drinking that afternoon.  She turned as if to bring in a tray or trolley, but in a second, turned again towards him, and he put his hand up to his chest.  He was stunned.  His hand was covered in blood.  As he staggered back into the room, some flicker of recognition crossed his mind.  Was it the smile? The door and the woman were disappearing into the distance as he fell to the floor.

The tables looked exquisite as guests took their places in the dining room.  A group of men stood at the bar in the lounge.  “Where’s he got to? He’s usually the first down to the bar” said one of the men.  He was the oldest of the group.  They were all middle aged men, having a weekend away from their wives.  They were business men from a small town out West, well connected and prosperous. They loved to let their hair down once a year in the big smoke.  After a while, one of the group went to reception, and asked Arthur Long to ring their friend’s room.  The phone rang for a while, but there was no reply. Arthur tried again.  Still no response.  He told the guest he would go up to the room himself.  “It’s no trouble” Arthur Long said.  Arthur knocked for a few minutes, put his ear to the door, and when he heard no movement inside, decided to use his security key.  When he opened the door, he was horrified to see a man lying on the cream carpet, in a pool of blood.

Arthur told John what he had seen, and the Manager was called.  They did their best to keep it contained, but when the ambulance and police arrived at the hotel, reporters were hot on their heels.  Chaos ensued amongst the victim’s friends.  Questions were asked, phone calls were made.  Two of the group went in the ambulance with the injured party.  The rest skipped dinner and stayed at the bar.  It was in the early hours of the morning that the two friends returned to the hotel.  They joined their friends around the fire in disbelief. He was in a critical condition.  “Touch and go”, the doctors said. They decided to go to their rooms and try and get some sleep before daybreak.

They were told by the police not to leave town. It could go either way in the next forty-eight hours.  The police tried to be discreet.  They took a room in the hotel and called the friends of the victim in one by one.  They were all totally dismayed.  No one knew of anyone with a grudge against their friend.  They weren’t even from New York.  They were all just ordinary guys with ordinary lives.  Yes, they knew each other since they were kids, went to the same college.  No, they couldn’t think of anyone who would want to harm their friend.  They were stunned with disbelief.  The victim’s wife had to be told.  She flew to New York with her brother and arrived early the next morning.  The few days that started out so well were a shambles.  There were more questions than answers, and the police were at a loss themselves.  The knife hadn’t been found, and they had very little to go on.  The enquiry hit a brick wall.  Their friend was stable but still in a bad way. The knife hadn’t damaged any vital organs, but it would take time before he could be interviewed, or leave the hospital and return home.  The police were reluctant to let the friends leave New York, but after a few days, the police had no reason to keep them there.   It would be several weeks before the victim, his wife and her brother flew home.

Mr. Ashley and Robert Naughton came off the night shift, distraught as they told John and Arthur what had happened.  They were all in shock.  Ed Phillips instructed everyone to go on like any other day.  He was trying his best to do likewise.  It was a bit too much to ask with members of the police going back and forth.  Within a week, things were getting back to normal, at least for the hotel staff.  Speculation had been rife.  Theories had been thrown around like confetti.  It dampened the otherwise joyful season somewhat, but as new guests arrived, mostly oblivious of what had happened, the decorations and chandelier’s started to cast their magic, along with the trays of beverages and hot toddies.  It had made front page news in the New York papers for a few days, but other important issues soon took over.

One afternoon Ed Phillips noticed three couples coming into the hotel.  There was a lot of banter going on between them.  One young lady stood out from the rest. She wore a long blue coat with a white full length fluffy dress underneath.  She had short black hair with a round blue hat perched to one side, and black feathers sticking out.   Ed Phillips thought he saw a ghost.  He held the back of a chair as they walked past him heading for the reception.  The lady in the blue coat reminded him of the young girl sitting by the fire, the night the guest had been stabbed.  He had meant to go back to check on her that night, but other things took over.  He beckoned Arthur Long at reception.  “Are you alright Ed?  You look like you’ve seen a ghost.  Would you like some water?”  After a few minutes, Ed said “do you remember the girl who was sitting by the fire, the night of the stabbing?” “I noticed her alright” said Arthur, “ but there were a lot of guests arriving that night.  I didn’t think of her afterwards”. 

A couples who had just arrived, got their keys and left the reception area. Ed asked John Connor about that night.  John couldn’t recall anything.  Ed turned to Bert.  “Can you remember her leaving?” Bert was usually very observant but he couldn’t help either.  Joe Broaden, the doorman, was asked and just shrugged his shoulders.

Everyone went back to their stations.  Ed decided he would give his old pal Bill Reynolds a ring at the Precinct.  He would find out if any progress had been made.  He was itching to mention the woman in the blue coat, by the fire that night. Why didn’t he think of it on the night, when the police were questioning everyone? It probably meant nothing. 

Speculation and gossip had died down.  They were all preparing for the onslaught of Christmas, knowing that there would be little time off for any of the employees.  At least it had stopped snowing, and the roads and highways were free flowing.  When the front door opened for guests, the roar and pandemonium of the traffic outside could be heard, along with sirens and Christmas carols.  It was beginning to feel like a normal Christmas in New York.

Christmas came and went, and New Year with all its madness.  The staff at the hotel were able to take a few days off here and there.  Ed Phillips still put in more hours than everyone else, but he couldn’t let go of what had happened on his watch.  The police were no nearer to finding the assailant, and weren’t giving too much away about their investigation.  Ed rang Bill Reynolds from time to time, but he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell him much.  Ed Phillips had no one to go home to.  His hours at the hotel had put a strain on his marriage to Ellen, and she had long ago jumped ship.  He didn’t do much with his free time except have a few drinks in local bars, and tend the plants on the ninth floor balcony of his apartment. For vacations, he travelled to Chicago to his brother and his family.   He loved the kids, but was glad to get back to the solitude of his own place, and work.  There was a jazz band playing in a bar a few blocks away. He loved the music and sometimes popular artists performed.  There was a regular crowd and they all greeted Ed as he came through the door.  One evening he dropped in for a beer before going home.  It had been a really busy day and he needed to relax.  As he sat at the bar, his eye was drawn to a new waitress on the other side of the room.  “That face is familiar” he thought, but couldn’t place where he had seen her. She was wearing a white uniform and her dark hair was caught up under a cap.  It had a band around it and her hair was tied in a bun at the back.  He sat rigid in his chair when he remembered the face.  The girl by the fire on the night of the stabbing!  He watched her as she took orders, walking back and forth to the bar.  After a while he decided to go to the men’s room, and get a better look at her. There was no recognition from her when he caught her eye.    He left the bar and waited in his car, near the back entrance where the staff came out after closing time. They said their ‘goodbye’s’ and separated.  She was one of them. He decided to follow her on foot.  They had walked for about fifteen minutes. She stopped in front of one of a row of large run down houses. She searched in her bag and walked up the steps, putting her key in the door, and closed it behind her.  He walked to the other side of the street, watching to see if any lights went on.  There was a window at the top of the house, four storeys up, and soon the light went on and a curtain was drawn.  He came out of the shadows and walked back to his car. His heart was beating faster.  

It was hard to sleep that night, and twice as hard to get up for work the following morning.  He went through the usual routine at the hotel, checking that everyone was at their station and that there were no problems facing into the day.  He spoke with John and Arthur at reception.  They went through the list of guests leaving that morning, and those arriving.  He went into the kitchen and had a look at the menu, having the usual conversation with the chef about numbers for lunch and dinner.  The floor staff were busy putting white cloths on tables, and setting up for breakfast.  Someone else was putting fresh flowers in vases. It was the usual hive of industry before the first guests appeared into the dining room.   There were a lot of ‘behind the scenes’ activities that he had to oversee, but for now, it was a good start to the day. He took a break, and had a strong cup of coffee in his office.

 It was well into the New Year and a year after the stabbing at the hotel. The police had drawn a blank and, as far as he knew, lost interest. Ed had thought long and hard about reporting the young girl he’d seen in the bar, to the police.  One evening, fate took a hand.  She was being hassled by a drunk and Ed went to her aid.  It was near closing time and her uniform was soaked in beer.  He offered to walk here home.  She said her name was Dora, and asked him in for a night cap, and he accepted.  Over the course of a few months, they seem to hit it off.  Their working hours didn’t make it easy to meet.  He worked days, and she worked nights.  Their weekends were spent walking around Central Park, or down by the river.  They enjoyed meals out and stopping off at coffee bars. Sometimes they spoke about their childhood. One Sunday afternoon they spent a few hours at the jazz club, near the river, and then stopped nearby for coffee.  She had been silent for a while, looking out onto the river, when she started her story. 

She was from a town in Arizona.  Her parents were farmers and they struggled, but were decent people, and hard workers.  Her father was a lot older than her mother.  They got into debt after her father passed away.  Her mother had to sell up and move into town.  Her mother was still young and eventually got work in a big store in the town. She was beautiful, with long dark hair, and a smile that would melt your heart. It was there that she met Bob Langdon, son of the proprietor.  The Langdon’s were prosperous and prominent in the town.  Bob and her mother saw each other for about a year, but she was never introduced to his family.  She didn’t think they would approve of her anyway. He was very charming, and they were having a lot of fun together. When she told him she was pregnant, he dropped her like a brick.  She was sick a lot and had to take time off work.  They sacked her.  She was desperate.  She tried to contact Bob, but found out he had been sent to manage a store in the Midwest, owned by his family. “My mother picked up work in bars. I was born and we lost our home.  Next thing she knew, Bob Langdon came back to town, with a wife.  The daughter of some big shot in the Midwest”.  She rarely saw him.  They mixed in different circles, but if by chance they passed each other on the street, he looked straight through her and his daughter.  When she was in High School, her mother got sick.  She was going downhill fast.  “I vowed if I ever got the chance to get even with that Bob Langdon, I’d make him pay.  He destroyed my mother”.  

It was well known that the guys went off to New York every year.  She needed a change from life in a small town. She found out all she could about New York before she packed up and left.  She knew where the guys stayed when they got to New York, and how long they would be there.  It was well planned out in her head.  “I was well settled in, a place to live and job, when I knew they would be arriving.  A friend lent me a coat and hat. I said I was going to a wedding.  I felt quite the lady dressed up.  I had my uniform underneath.  I only had one pair of boots.  They would have to do”.  Ed was staring at her.  “But you could have killed him Dora!  You could be in prison now!” he said.  “If I’d meant to kill him, I would have used a gun” she said.  She lifted her head and looked him straight in the eyes.  “Now you know the story, you might as well go to the cops.  I’m past caring really”.  She looked desolate.  She reminded him of a little bird trapped in a cage.  Ed Phillips took her hands in his.  “I think you deserve a break” he said.  “You’re young.  You should be having the time of your life”.  “He smiled and wiped a tear from her eye, and took her arm as they walked out into the cold January evening.

The Spirit of Christmas

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Monday 3pm

– Katie, give me your coat and I’ll make us some lunch

– I have to do my homework first

– Not till you’ve had something to eat

Katie sat down at the table, her school backpack at her feet.  Her mother joined her with a cup of tea, and a plate of sandwiches for them to share.

– That’s a good girl, eat a sandwich and I’ll get you some milk.

– We’re doing a Christmas play mum.

– That’s lovely Katie, who are you going to be

– I’m the star.  You have to make my outfit.

– A star!  That’s wonderful.  You’ll make a great star

Monica filled Katie’s glass with milk.

– Caroline’s going to be Mary.  It’s not fair!

– Probably because of her long hair Katie

– No its not.  She always wants to be teacher’s pet

– Your teacher loves you too Katie

– I’m only a star.  Standing at the back

– Do you have to sing anything, Katie

– We all sing

– When have you to practice

– We’ve already started.  I told you

– Oh, never mind, finish your milk

Tuesday 3pm

Katie’s mother went to the fridge.   She topped up the half empty glass. Then she settled back at the table.

– Caroline is out sick

– Ah, poor Caroline.  What’s the matter with her?

– Just sick.  I don’t care

– Now Katie, you shouldn’t say that

– Well I don’t care.  Now she can’t be Mary

– What’s the matter with Caroline anyway

– She’s just sick.  She took one of my sandwiches yesterday

– You didn’t have sandwiches Katie, you had crackers

– Well, I found one, in my bag.

– And she ate it?  Katie, it was probably stale.

-I don’t think so.  She said ‘thank you’

– Anyway, it means I can be Mary now.

 

 

Josephine Nolan

 

 

Thornton’s Place

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It was the big house, close to the beach. It was known for its lavish parties every summer. Its wooden front, once white, now dappled by the wind and debris thrown up by the waves in winter. In spite of its drabness, people remembered how it came to life in the summer, once upon a time.

They turned heads. He was tall and handsome with black curly hair and a moustache. Mrs. Thornton, some years younger than her husband, was blond and impish, and flitted between guests throughout the summer season. She loved the splendour of their house in New York, but summer and the old house on the beach at the Hampton’s brought a freedom that she thrived on. Their children, a son and two daughters, were now teenagers. They sailed with their father and played games on the beach. Their friends from New York often spent holidays in the big summer house.

The Thornton family had owned the house for generations. Every summer it opened its doors to family and friends. Mr. Thornton was a big shot in Wall Street. Little was known about his wife, but they were a devoted couple. “Why don’t you come down to the coast” was a frequent invitation from Mr. Thornton to friends and acquaintances.

The house was run like clockwork by Mrs. Bridges and a team of servants. Her word was law, but she was like a mother to Mrs. Thornton. The lawns at the back of the house went on for miles, interspersed by several species of trees, and an orchard. They had stables with four horses and three ponies. The paddock was to the right of the lawns, surrounded by a wooden fence. The horses too enjoyed the freedom of open spaces. It was easy to see that the family loved their animals, including dogs and cats.

The rose gardens were the pride and joy of old Johnny Carlton. He had been with the family since he was a boy, and nurtured the rose beds, just beneath the wide veranda that straddled the house. The fragrance of those old roses drifted upwards to the where the family sat in the late evening, watching the sun go down.

When they arrived at the beach house each summer, trunks of various sizes were brought around to the back of the house. Mrs. Thornton made sure that she had the latest fashion from New York when they entertained. She bought her children several outfits. The girls loved showing off their beautiful clothes and their mother was only too happy to take them to the big stores in the city. The Thornton’s knew how to

entertain, and being the best dressed was part and parcel to being a good host. The house was re-painted every summer before they arrived. Dust sheets were removed from the furniture. Drapes were cleaned, silver polished, windows sparkled. Every room was inspected by Mrs. Bridges down to an inch of its life.

Old Johnny spent days mowing the lawns and tending the plants. Everything had to be perfect and to his high standard. Leaves were taken out of the swimming pool and it was cleaned. The blue marble surround glistening in the sunshine. Large stone pots had been placed near each corner of the pool. They were filled with fresh summer flowers, blue and white lobelia, with petunia cascading down the sides. Honeysuckle weaved its way through the pergola, its sweet perfume wafting through the evening air. All the outdoor furniture were taken out of storage, placed on the veranda and around the pool.

The house lit up as soon as the family arrived. They brought a lust for life with them. The silent house opened its doors and windows to the happy voices of young and old, delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen once more. It was like going from black and white photography to technicolour. The children and their friends burst through the open doors, heading for the pool. After spending two hours in a car, they didn’t waste any time before diving into the clear cool water. Before long splashes and shrieks could be heard. Mr. Thornton looked from the balcony of their bedroom, his arm around his wife. He might have been thinking “how can one man be so lucky”.

That was until the night that Jimmy, after finishing a bottle of whiskey with his friends, argued with his father. The youngster wanted to take out one of the boats. In spite of his father’s warning, he wouldn’t back down in front of his friends. Jimmy left the party. The next morning, the boat was missing, and so was Jimmy. It was found wrecked a few miles up the coast. A dark cloud descended on Thornton’s place, and the laughter turned to silence.

First Entrance

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For Harper

She let out a cry and was whisked away by someone wearing white, from head to toe. Everyone smiled, and hugged or shook hands.

She lay in a basket, a soft shawl keeping her warm. The air was pure. The light was bright. There was no sound. She thought she would like it here. It was peaceful.

It didn’t take long before she was being handled again. Her arms and legs were being pushed into small spaces. Something was put into her mouth to make her breath easier. Voices got louder. Doors opened and closed.

Finally, she was put into someone’s arms. She could feel the warmth of breath on her face. The warmth of skin against her skin. It felt like she was finally where she was meant to be.

Bernie’s Intuition

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It was getting late.  Julie had said eight o’clock.  She was always so punctual.  I checked the phone but there was no text message. My feet were stuck to the spot with the cold.  A few more busses went past, and still no sign of her.  I tried her phone again, but it just went to voicemail.  I decided to get the bus home.  Maybe she couldn’t get a babysitter.  Maybe she ran out of credit.  I was starting to worry now.  Things at home had been turbulent for her these past months.  Sitting on the bus, my mind spun from one scenario to another.  It was too late and too far to call to her house.  I had a very bad feeling this time.

Julie had started work in the Superstore the same time as I did.  We both stocked shelves for a while, and walked to the bus stop together when the shift was finished.  It suited me as my daughter had started school, and my mother collected her each afternoon.  Derek, my husband, was a travelling salesman and spent a lot of time on the road, so it suited me to get out of the house.  It was a nice change to earn a few bob of my own. My daughter, Amy, loved her grandmother.  Julie didn’t talk about home much in the beginning.  She did show me a photo of her son Jake, with such a smile on her face I knew he was her pride and joy. Jake was not her husband’s child, but it had never been a problem when they started going out together.

As the months passed Julie opened up a bit.  Her whole face changed when she smiled, and had the heartiest laugh when she allowed herself to.  I often saw what I thought was a faraway look in her eyes.  I wouldn’t dream of prying into her business, but decided there was more to Julie than appeared on the surface.  I had my fill of nosey people in the past when Amy was born, and could sense people doing the sums when we eventually got married and Amy was born.  Derek and I were happy regardless of the small flat we lived in, and the fact that Amy was born a few months after our wedding.  The dress hid everything on the day.  I was in love and didn’t care what people thought anyway. We had a small reception of family and friends and went to the coast for the weekend.  Derek promised me a real holiday in the sun when we could afford it, to make up for the penny-pinching honeymoon.  We had a lot of expenses ahead with the coming baby and that was enough for me. Our baby was welcomed like a princess and we fell in love with her on sight. She was going to be fair, like Derek, and had the palest blue eyes, like the sky on a summer’s day. There was no spare cash to throw around, and my once-a-week visit to the hair salon fell by the wayside.  My mother was always careful about her appearance when I was a child, and sometimes gave out to me when my dark brown hair was pulled back with an elastic band, in need of a wash.  “No effort made to take care of your appearance” she would say.  She must have a short memory of how much time a baby takes.  If she cared that much, why didn’t she offer to babysit and treat me to a day of pampering?  It was only when Amy got to about two years old that she started to really take an interest, and Amy knew she had an audience.

I tried Julie’s phone when I got home, and checked to see if she had left a message.  Nothing.  It was so unlike her, but there was nothing further I could do until tomorrow.  Derek was going to be working down the country for a few days.  I spoke to him of my concern for Julie.  There was still no answer from her.  “It could be anything.  Probably not as bad as you think, Bernie”, he said as he grabbed a piece of toast and gulped down the last of his coffee. His tall frame bent down towards me, hand on my shoulder. “I’ll ring you tonight and you can tell me what’s going on”.  With that, briefcase in his hand and his overcoat over his arm, he kissed me, then Amy, and he was gone.  Amy wasn’t co-operating as I tried to persuade her away from the television.  Kids seem to sense when you have something on your mind.  “I’ll take you to the park after Grannies, Amy”.  It worked.  Soon she was dressed, lunch in her back-pack and some fruit.  Her smile had returned and it made my heart lighter.  It was a short walk to the school, and once she joined her little friends and saw her teacher ferrying them into class, Amy was in her element, with hardly a backward glance.

I didn’t have to wait long for a bus.  The shop was bustling when I arrived.  Before I took my place at the cash desk, I looked around for Julie.  Her coat wasn’t where she usually left it, near the door, and after scanning the area, there was no sign of her.  I looked around for the Manager.  Mr. McDonald was middle aged and a big bulk of a man, but fair in his dealings with staff.  I went straight to his office, knocking before he waved me in.  “What can I do for you Mrs. Baker? He asked.  I hesitated for a moment, then said “I can’t see Julie Barnes, Mr. McDonald.  Did she ring in this morning?”  “I shouldn’t discuss staff with you Mrs. Barnes, but I know you and her are friends.  She’s indisposed.  Had to bring her son to the doctor”.  “Oh!” I said,” thank you Mr. McDonald”.

The morning went by at a snail’s pace.  At break I tried to phone Julie again, but still got voicemail.  My mind was racing.  I’d ring my mother and tell her something had come up and I’d be a bit late collecting Amy. If I got a taxi to Julie’s house, I should be back to collect Amy by six thirty at the latest.  The taxi was slow getting through the build-up of rush hour traffic, but left me off by five thirty.  Julie lived in the third house down, by the lamp post.  After ringing the bell a few times, I got no response.  I’ll try her neighbour’s house.  A teenager came to the door.  “Ya” she said (no manners there!).  “Is your mother in? I’d like a word please”.  Miss Teenager disappeared down the hall.  The television was on and I could hear the jingle of ads.  A small, woman, probably in her late fifties, came to the door.  I was expecting a hostile reception like the daughter, but this woman looked more amenable.  “I was looking for Julie Barnes” I said.  Before I got another word in, I was told “ah, poor woman, her son fell down the stairs last night.  He was rushed to the local hospital.  Havn’t seen her since.  Lovely child too”.  “Was her husband around at the time?” I asked.  “That fella.  She could do better than him”.  She paused for a moment, then said “who’s asking anyway.  Can I take a message for Julie?”  I smiled at the woman with the gentle voice, and said “I’m sorry.  My name is Bernie Baker.  I work with Julie.  We’ve been friends for ages”.  I wasn’t sure what to say next.  “You could tell her I called, and to phone me when she can.  She has my number”.  With that, I thanked her and closed the gate behind me.

In the taxi back, my mind was in turmoil.  If Derek was here, he’d say “no point in projecting until you know what’s happened”.  Easy for him to say.  It was close to seven o’clock when I got to my mother’s house, and I could see by her expression that she was none too pleased at my delay.  I didn’t want to go into the whole thing with her, so made some excuse about an emergency at work.  Amy had her coat on, back pack by her side, ready to go.  “I hope you get paid for overtime” she said, as she waved us off.

When I got Amy to bed that evening, I phoned the hospital, asking about Jake Barnes.  “Are you a relative?”.  I wasn’t quick enough and started waffling.  “I’m sorry, we can’t give out any information about a patient” I was told.  “I’ll have to go to the house again tomorrow”, I thought.

When I arrived at Julie’s door the following day, Julie was edgy and it took a few minutes before she asked me into the house.  “Mrs. O’Shea told me you called”, Julie said, taking my coat and walking ahead of me into the kitchen.  “Sorry about not meeting you”.  At first there was no explanation offered. I watched Julie go to the sink and fill the kettle.  She put cups on the table in silence.  I thought I could see bruising on her neck, but it could be a shadow.  Her eyes were puffy and her skin the colour of chalk.  Her blond hair looked lank and unkept. The tea was poured and we sat opposite each other in silence.  “Sugar?” Julie offered.  After the awkwardness passed, Julie skirted around Jake being in hospital.  “I’m leaving him Bernie.  I have to” she finally said.

Julie and Andrew had been arguing the night of the accident.  Andrew, who was out of work for a while, was looking for money from her.  He already had a few drinks on him, having spent the afternoon in the pub.  At one stage, he had Julie pinned up against the wall, his hands around her neck.  Little Jake tried to get between them, and Julie yelled at him to go upstairs.  Suddenly, there was a thud, then another.  Julie screamed and Andrew let her go.  Jake was lying at the bottom of the stairs.  An ambulance came and before she knew it, Julie and Jake were in the back, sirens blaring, on their way to the hospital.  She was told it might be a fractured skull, and Jake would be kept in overnight.  The doctor said she could stay with him.  If she expected sympathy, it was guilt she experienced.  It had gone out of her head completely that she was to meet Bernie in town.  Even if she had, her mobile was at home.  As dawn appeared, she lifted her head to look at Jake.  He was sleeping and his breathing was even.  She prayed as hard as she ever prayed that he would be alright.  There was a resolve creeping into her thoughts.  “This will never happen again”.

With Derek away for a few days, Julie took Jake and whatever she could carry, and stayed with me.  Julie’s mother and father were coming to collect them and bring them back to their house.  Julie and Andrew rented a furnished house, so there wasn’t much of importance to leave behind.  When Amy and Jake were settled in that first night, Julie suddenly started to cry.  “You know I love him Bernie.  He’s wonderful when he’s not drinking and has always treated Jake like his own”.  I moved my chair closer and put my hand on Julie’s arm.  She sobbed for a while without saying anything.  “It’s my fault that Jake fell down the stairs” she said.  “No it’s not Julie” I said, “you were trying to protect your son”.

Andrew had been in and out of work for the last twelve months.  He was often in a bad mood when Julie came home from work, after collecting Jake from the babysitter.  He complained about her cooking, sometimes throwing his dinner into the sink untouched.  She kept quiet while Jake was around.  By the time Jake was in bed, Andrew was gone out of the house again.  When he returned later, there was a smell of booze that would knock you down.  It even lingered in the house the next morning.  She tried to play along with him, frightened of raising his temper.  He would provoke her, and grab her arm, telling her to sit down, when she tried to leave the room and go to bed.  She made all sorts of excuses for him.  He was different when he was working.  There’s never enough money to go around now.  Somewhere inside her though, she knew that there were lots of people in the same situation, living from week to week.  Their husbands didn’t behave like him.  Sometimes she would shout back at him, then think of the neighbours.  She felt so ashamed.  She didn’t want anyone to know what was going on, least of all her parents. They thought he was such a charming lad. Everyone did. They didn’t even know he was out of work.

I was glad I hadn’t left my telephone number with Julie’s neighbor.  Andrew couldn’t trace me. He wouldn’t get a good reception at her parent’s house, now that the truth was out.  Mind you, he thought he was the golden boy, so would get a surprise if he did turn up at their house.  Julie’s parents arrived the following day.  She ran out to them, and her small frame was almost invisible when they hugged her between them.  Jake ran out to the gate, and arms embraced him too.  They all had tea in the kitchen, and I made some sandwiches to keep them going on their return journey.  Amy was amusing Jake on the mat near the back door, warm where the sun was streaming through.  Their cat was pawing the glass on the outside, asking to be let in.  “My daddy hates cats, says they’re dirty” said Jake, looking up at his mother.  She smiled at him, but no one commented.  My heart sank for the little boy.  He was too young to understand what was going on.  Maybe it was as well.

By the time Derek came back from the country, things looked back to normal.  “Jake and his mum stayed with us” Amy said to her dad, after she gave him a big hug.  Derek looked over Amy’s head, his eyebrows knitting together.  “It’s a long story, love.  Dinner’s nearly ready. We’ll talk later.

Return Home

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For eighteen years they had lived a quiet, ordinary life, in a quiet ordinary street in Manchester. Gina’s mother was Italian and her father was Irish.  She took her dark looks from her mother.  Her Father only lasted five years after his wife passed away.  On his death-bed, she promised her father she would visit Ireland, and spread his ashes near the bridge in the town where he was born.

Gina packed her case with great care.  She preferred dark colours, but had a few blouses and cardigans to ring the changes.  Rainwear and good walking shoes would be useful.  When she closed her hall door, there was no one to ask to keep an eye on the house.  At work in the supermarket, only one girl knew she was going to Ireland, and why.  To the others, she was just taking a week’s holiday.

Her dark shoulder-length hair was windswept when she came out of Castlebar station.  The taxi driver thanked her for the tip, leaving her and her case on the path outside Forest Hotel.  It was dead quiet inside.  She hit the bell on the reception desk, looking around as she waited for someone to appear.  The busy floral carpet and old furniture were well worn.   When the proprietor, Mrs. Brown, made an appearance, her smile  took the edge off the creepy feeling Gina was experiencing.  She was shown to her room.   The pale carpet and blue bed cover gave it an unexpected brightness.  As she took her leave, Mrs. Brown said “breakfast is between 8 and 10 am.  If there’s anything you need, just let me know”.  With that, she was left on her own.

Gina fell on the bed exhausted.  It had been a long day.  After a shower next morning, she felt awake and fresh.  “I’ll have to find out where the bridge is” Gina thought.  “I’ll ask Mrs. Brown at breakfast”.  “You’re not related to the O’Connell’s who live just over the bridge, are you?” Mrs. Brown said, surprised. Gina’s face lit up.  “Yes, they’re my father’s people”.  Mrs. Brown looked at her with a strange expression.  “Your father, was his name James?”  “Well, Patrick James.  Everyone called him Patrick” replied Gina.

Mrs. Brown said she would make a fresh pot of tea and disappeared into the kitchen.  Gina couldn’t wait to hear all about her father’s people.  Mrs. Brown returned, this time, with her husband, who had a wizen face and a slight stoop.   He extended his hand to Gina, and she was struck by how cold it was.  It gave her a shiver.  “The James Patrick we knew crashed his car into that bridge. A freak accident in bad weather.  His car was pulled out of the river, but the remains were never found.  It must be some other O’Connell you’re looking for, dear” the old man said.  “Who is the family who live near the bridge then?” asked Gina. “She’s on her own now, his widow”, said Mr. Brown.  “She had four children.  They’re all scattered now.  It was a long time ago”.  They could see the confused look on Gina’s face, and left her alone.

Gina sat at the back of the local church.  It stood on a hill overlooking the fields and woodlands that stretched out for miles.  The hills and valleys were breathtaking.  Her mind returned to the present.  She had been stunned listening to the Browns.  “How did we not know?” she thought.  “Did my mother know, and kept it to herself?”  She was tortured with all the questions running around her head.  “What do I do now?”, she thought.  “Do I find this woman and tell her?  No I can’t do that, she wouldn’t believe me.  She’d say I was mad.  Maybe I’ll just scatter the ashes over the bridge and go home.  I loved him!  How could he have deceived us?  What was his reason for leaving?”

Gina suddenly felt very tired. She had to cross the bridge on her way back to the hotel.  It had rained all night. The current was strong.  White waves shot up and rushed past where she was standing.  As she stared, she could feel herself being drawn into the water.  A car passed and sprayed her.  She was now cold and wet.   She opened her bag and took out the box that held her father’s ashes.  Gina let the next wave engulf the box and take it on its journey down the river, and out to sea.  In her mind, it was symbolic.  The way it was meant to be.

The Pub

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It’s a quiet pub these days, especially during the week.  Picks up a bit at the weekend, but everyone seems to be feeling the pinch.  It’s a bit off the beaten track.  They could do with improving the décor if they wanted to attract punters.  The brown floral carpet must have been down since the 70’s.  Old Pat Burke could do with spending a bit of cash on the place.  The walls are yellow from smoke.  It could do with a lick of paint. I wouldn’t bring a girl to this place, even if I had one.

It’s all the same to me.  I get paid whether the bar is full or empty.  I have to listen to himself telling me how hard it is for him to keep the doors open.  He can still drive around in his BMW and have his holiday in the sun every year.  What he pays me barely keeps a roof over my head, never mind food on the table.  The student grant and a few quid from my folks keeps me afloat.  I’d never manage if I had mouths to feed, like poor old Michael, with a wife and a two kiddies.  He lost his job a few months back and practically begged to get this one.  Poor sod.

There’s a few oldies that come in regularly.  Sit over a pint like they’ve no home to go to.  You get a few couples at weekends.  Sit staring around or into their glass, hardly a word between them.  There’s a dart board in the other bar.  You’ll get a few lads there at the weekend.  Some watching the television, Match of the Day.  Others putting bets on who’ll win the darts. Mostly quiet until someone scores a bulls-eye, or near enough to it, or a roar when a goal is scored.

There’s a couple who come in every Friday, usually around six thirty from the nearby office block. They look like office types.  They always sit in the alcove just inside the door.  He looks a decent enough sort.  Navy coat over a dark suit. Always has a tartan scarf around his neck.  There’s nicotine stains on two fingers of his right hand.  Kathy, that’s her name.  I heard him ask her if she wanted crisps one time.  She drinks vodka and coke.  He has a beer, half one, every time.  She wears a wedding ring.  I’ve watched them while I’m drying the glasses.  I don’t stare, but there’s a clock just above where they sit.  Why it was put in that corner God only knows.  She has dark wavy hair to her shoulders.  The light above them gives it a shine.   The red lipstick makes her face look pale.  She always wears the same grey coat and white woollen scarf.  When she takes it off, her face seems to lift.  Maybe it’s the bright colours she wears under the coat, or coming in from the night air.  He walks straight to the bar and orders the drinks.  Then they draw closer and hold hands.  He seems to do most of the talking, and she most of the smiling.  They’ve been coming in for a good while now.

Weeks pass and the regulars come and go.  It seems to get quieter by the week.  Maybe the bad weather is keeping people away.  He came in last week, but no sign of the girl.  He’s early tonight. That’s unusual. I can hear the six o’clock bell strike from St. Martin’s.  The door opens just after six, and in she steps, wearing dark shades.  He stands up and tries to help her off with her coat, but she holds on to it tightly. Their faces are close together. His hand goes gently towards her dark glasses, but she pushes him away.  I go to their table to see if he wants to order.  Neither of them notice me, so I walk away.  “I can’t stay” I hear her say, her voice quivering.   “He knows.  I can’t meet you anymore.  I’m really sorry”.  With that, she kisses him on the cheek and she’s gone.  For a moment he sits there, stunned.  Then he puts one arm through the sleeve of his coat as he heads for the door, leaving his cigarettes behind him on the table.

In the few minutes it took him to follow her outside, she’s nowhere to be seen.  It’s as if she’s disappeared into the shadows.  She had become part of his life, his reason for getting up in the morning.  He can’t bear the thought of going back home.  His elderly mother watching the television, waiting for him.  She’d have twenty questions, and he’d have twenty lies ready.  Tonight he wasn’t in the mood to answer any of them.

The Photograph

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Kathy was the only daughter with two older brothers, Padraig and John.  She had the dark features of her father, and 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 the area 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.  Kathy helped around the house most mornings, then usually took her pony and cantered through the meadows for a few hours.  Sometimes she sat by the lake, her chestnut horse “Honey” grazing under the shade of the trees .  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 overhead. 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 also 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 was coming.  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?  Haven’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. Mary retreated as she wasn’t getting much news from these two.  Their heads were bent 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 pushed her bike along the path beside Kathy. They arranged to meet for a night out before Angela returned to London.  They had talked about Kathy going over later in the year.   “You could stay with us if you decided to come over.  “There’s plenty of room” she said with a grin.

After Angela went back, 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 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 Department.   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 garden with a young married couple from 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 still wanted to be ‘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.  Pat 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 on the last Saturday before Christmas.  She took photographs in the restaurant and a waitress obliged them by taking one of the four girls’ together, happy smiles, with arms around each other.

Padraig was at the airport to meet her.  She dropped her case and ran towards him.  In the car, 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 haven’t” she said with a frown.  She looked over at him.  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 and we knew you were coming home anyway”.  “How is she now?” asked Kathy.  “We’re told it will take time.  Da’s in bits.  Between visiting the hospital and working around the place, he’s worn out”.  For the last half hour of their journey, they fell into silence.  The wipers swished back and forth and in the darkness, the headlights cutting through the lashing rain.

The next few days were spent with hospital visits and helping out around the farm.  It began to dawn on Kathy that she would not be returning to London.  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 in the second week, their mother was particularly bad and agitated.  The doctor was called.  Instead of Doctor 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 Doctor O’Driscoll has at the bottom 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 a big fir tree and brought it into the house.  Kathy put the lights on the tree, and the decorations. 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, entwining red ribbon through it and attached 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 in its container 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.  Kathy cooked the Christmas dinner.  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.  Included were a few taken before she had left.  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 decent” 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’Shea 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, Kathy 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, looking pale in their black suits, shielded him as best they could with umbrellas.  Kathy took his arm and led him back to the car, her hollow eyes hardly noticing who approached her.

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.  Her father wanted to do his share, though 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.  Kathy 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 was just about to cross the bridge.  Suddenly, Honey reared as a car appeared in front of them.  Kathy 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.  When he saw Kathy and her father, he waved them to a seat, a broad smile on his face.  “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’Shea?” 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”.  After a pause he said “What is Kathy doing these day”?  “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 as 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”. He looked at Kathy’s father for a moment, uncertain, waiting for Kathy to respond.  “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 would be 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 for coffee.  Mrs. O’Shea had stayed on a week to show Kathy the ropes.  Doctor 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 youngest 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 daffodils and snowdrops 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 leg, and a few scrapes and bruises”.  Kevin Delaney called in every day. After a week she was discharged, 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’Shea 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!

Napoli

/ dylanvnolan / Leave a comment

My 70th birthday was one of the most memorable.  My two daughters, Natalia and Andrea, and son Dylan, paid for a four day trip to Naples.  After getting up really early, Natalia, her six year old daughter Beth, Andrea and myself crossed the skies from Dublin Airport at around 7 am on Saturday, 18th April 2015.

“Buongiorno Napoli”

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