Ann sat Robbo at the window and squeezed into the middle between Robbo and Mrs. Harewood, one of the veteran walkers.
“Glendalough here we come,” Father Cleary announced a few minutes later when the last expected walker arrived. Ann was glad that Robbo had not been the very last. Again introductions and Robbo nodded and smiled, as the bus got under way.
“I think we will go the military road,” Father Cleary explained as he headed up towards Walkinstown Cross and St.Peter’s road. “It’s nearly an hour to Glendalough, so settle down and save your energy for the walk.”
As the conversation was shared around the bus Ann initially took part in the banter but as the journey continued she fell into silence. Some conversation continued from time to time between the group, but all in all things were quiet as they settled into the journey.
Robbo was excited by the prospect of his first hill walk, looking out the window at the unaccustomed route, as he was rarely in a car and knew mainly the bus routes into town.
Ann relaxed into reverie, feeling warm, wedged between Robbo and the ample thighs of Mrs. Harewood. Mrs. Harewood was talking over her shoulder to another woman walker and Ann was half included in the conversation, not contributing, but smiling now and then.
The morning had been difficult. Her father George had been more relaxed of late but she had been tense as she looked forward to getting out for the walk. His job as bouncer seemed to provide some outlet for his aggression and he had not hit her this week.
He still hit her mother. Ann always awakened when he came in, usually just before five in the morning after his night on the door of the club where he was bouncer. He would always come and look into the children’s room. He always pulled the bedclothes off Ann. Saying “are you all right?”
Ann would curl up but always keep her eyes open. She was afraid that if she were asleep he would come in beside her. Sometimes he would pull her arms away from her breasts. She never resisted, knowing to do so would be to receive a good slapping. She just lay still and stared at him. Once he touched her and she said quietly, “let go or I’ll scream the house down.” And he had let her be.
“I’ll be your first,” he had said with a dirty grin.
Her mother Ellen would always be on the alert and not leave him more than a few minutes in the children’s room before she would appear naked on the landing and say “George, come on, don’t wake the children, come to bed.”
Ann would lie awake after he was gone. She would hear him slap her mother, sometimes hard, sometimes just loudly. Sometimes, later, she would hear their passion.
It fascinated her to hear her mother first cry in pain, trying to keep her voice down not to awaken the children, and then to hear her mother moan in passion as they rolled together. She could not understand how her mother could be both terrified by and attracted to the man who was her Father and who filled Ann with dread and fear.
“What’s that?” Robbo asked, cutting into her thoughts and pointing to a large Mast on the top of a mountain, off to the right of the military road.
“That’s the Kippure Mast.” Ann said, “It relays radio and television I think. You can walk up the path to it. It is very high and it can be very windy up there.”
“Its’ beautiful up here,” Robbo said.
“Its’ a garden, a wilderness,” Mrs. Harewood interjected, overhearing their conversation. “Most Dublin people don’t realize what a beautiful place Wicklow is and sitting on their doorstep. Hill walking is a great way to see it.”
“Right” Robbo agreed with enthusiasm.
However it began to rain and the mist began to obscure the view. However the Glenmacnass waterfall was clearly visible and the beautiful valley of the Glenmacnass River stretched out before them as they came down the steep pass into Laragh.
“We go down to the bottom through Laragh and up to the lower lake where we park. Then we walk to the upper lake to begin our walk,” Ann explained.
“There is a car park at the upper lake but you have to pay” Mrs. Harewood added, “so we park in the tourist centre where it is free to park and go on from there.”
“Right.” Robbo agreed, not really taking in the detail and resumed looking out the window at the beautiful scenery.
Ann knew her Father had checked up on her. He had rung Father Cleary to make sure there really was a walk. However Ann had not mentioned Robbo to Father Cleary until the morning of the walk. She knew if her father found out she would be certain of a good beating.
Ann looked at the back of Father Cleary’s head as he steered the bus down the steep narrow mountain road. Once she had had a crush on him. Then Father Cleary had taken her aside and said that for her to wear shirts with her cleavage on display was inappropriate and she would have to behave or he would talk to her Father.
Terrified and embarrassed Ann had suppressed any further behaviour designed to attract Father Cleary. She had desperately wanted to stay in the parish-walking group as it was one of the few ways she could get the freedom to leave the house with her father’s permission.
The crush was long gone now, but she still like Father Cleary who was always helpful and respectful. If he suspected anything was wrong in Ann’s home life he never gave an indication and she believed he had no idea of her father’s cruelty, but he was always kind nonetheless, calling her the ‘baby’ of the group.
Ann accepted that the group was fond of her and had adopted her. But she still felt guilty at stealing away with them. Her Father had always told her she was dirty and dishonest. She was ashamed of her previous crush for Father Cleary.
Ann tightened herself in self-disapproval and tried to banish her thoughts. She knew she was just tense because she had invited Robbo and somehow her Father might find out.
Robbo shifted beside her. “Look” he said drawing her attention back to the moment, “the horses.”
They were passing a riding stables and a group of young well turned out children of around ten to twelve years old were coming down towards the gate on beautiful tall horses, leather saddles and boots and stirrups glistening in the light rain fall.
Ann leaned over to the window and her hand touched the back of his hand. Immediately Robbo withdrew and tensed. Ann pulled back from him.
“We’ll be there soon, pity it is raining,” Ann remarked after a moment.
“It will be wetter up the hills, a day for the rain gear,” Mrs. Harewood added.
“Right,” Robbo said, wondering when he would have to explain that he had no rain gear.
Ann looked down at Robbo’s legs. He had football shorts on and his bare knees were wedged against the back of the seat in front of him. His legs looked long and strong and had a light gold downy hair.
For a moment Ann wondered what it would be like to be stripped and slapped by Robbo, but the thought made her hot and uncomfortable and she thrust it away. Robbo was younger than her and from her limited observation, totally naïve sexually, and gentle and kind and a good listener, and very intelligent. When Robbo chattered on to her at work about his actuarial studies she did not follow much other than the clear fact that he was very bright.
The minibus pulled into the car park and they all got out. Immediately the group began to put on their hill walking gear, including boots and rain gear. Robbo put on his football boots, which were to act as his walking shoes. It was clear that the wind was getting up and a heavy downpour was on the way.
“What have you got in your bag?” Ann asked Robbo as she put on her rain gear over her clothes.
“Just Sandwiches and a carton of milk.”
As Ann wondered what to do Father Cleary came over to Robbo. “Welcome to the group Robbo,” he said, “Have you got your rain gear?”
“No, just what I am wearing.”
“Ann” Father Cleary said, “this is not good enough. I can’t take him up the mountain in his training shorts. He’ll get soaked and freeze to death.”
“I’m sorry,” Ann began, “it’s his first walk. I
should have warned him to bring protective clothing. It’s my fault.”
“I have a spare pair of tracksuit bottoms,” one of the men offered, as the group became aware of the difficulty.
“I have a cap,” said another.
“You’ll have to do,” Father Cleary said as Robbo struggled into the borrowed clothing. “Lets’ go.”
He locked up the mini bus. And with that he took the lead and the group followed behind him.
It was raining steadily as they crossed the bridge over the river Glenedo, which ran through the lochs, joining the smaller Loch Na Peiste with the larger upper lake.
They climbed upwards on towards the Derrybawn Mountain. Their planned route was to walk to the top and then along to the higher Mullacor and then around the Prezen Rock and back down the Spink and then to make the steep decent back down to the upper loch. The walk would take about four hours, with a picnic lunch somewhere suitable about half way on route.
As they climbed they walked alongside a rushing tributary to the loch, the Lugduff brook, as it foamed and roared down through the narrow gorges it had cut into the fissures between the rocks.
The initial climb up the Derrybawn Mountain was brisk and pleasant in the fresh mountain air and they could ignore the driving rain as the trees along the pathway gave some cover.
However as they began to rise above the trees, nearing the exposed top part of the mountain the wind and rain began to bite and their legs began to feel the steepness of the climb.
As they cut off the track an over the first ridge the wind and rain nearly drove them back into the lee of the hill. For Robbo the cold coming in through his T-shirt and his now wet borrowed tracksuit bottoms began to make his teeth chatter and he set his jaw in grim determination as he bent his head into wind and rain and maintained a pace to keep up with his more experienced and fully equipped companions.
Ann looked at him anxiously but said nothing, keeping in step with him as they made their way upwards.
Robbo was grateful when they reached a rocky bank in the upward slope of the mountain that temporarily shielded the group from the wind and driving rain. They would have at least fifteen paces before they crossed the next ridge and into the rain again.
Father Cleary stopped at the front and waited as the group stopped for a breather.
“You should have waterproof gear. It gets very cold,” he explained, staying upwind so Robbo could hear him. “Wet clothes are deadly. If this keeps up you could get pneumonia or worse die of wind chill.”
“Sorry” was the best Robbo could manage. He was amazed how cold he had become and how quickly.
“Have you no mountain boots?” Father Cleary demanded further, noticing for the first time that Robbo was in Football boots. Although waterproof they were on no use in stopping the water from the boggy ground coming over the top and wetting his socks and feet.
Father Cleary produced a torn old pair of waterproof trousers from his bag and a woolly cap. The bottoms had had their previous existence as golf raingear and were very crumpled.
“Try these, and put the woolly hat on instead of that cap. The cap is soaked already and it won’t give much warmth.”
The party waited and watched while Robbo pulled on the waterproof trousers. They were made for a big man and were very loose around his middle. He stuck the woollen hat on his head.
With out a further word Father Cleary led them off again. Robbo was amazed at the effectiveness of the waterproof and the woollen hat and he felt himself warming up again.
As they proceeded Robbo was totally disorientated, dependent on staying in touch with the group in the poor visibility. He got into step behind Ann and followed where she led as she in turn followed the group. They were in open country, bog and grass underfoot and heather here and there in clumps where it could find protection from the elements.
The boggy ground was wet and not really soaking up the rain. They skirted carefully around wet black puddles. Each ridge seemed to be the top, but as they came over a ridge there was another in the mist and rain rising above them.
As they advanced the winds eased and the rain settled into a steady downpour. Today in this part of Ireland it had decided to rain and despite the fact that the weather forecast had promised a sunny afternoon following the rain, there was an equal likelihood that the rain could continue into late afternoon.
They came to a large growth of heather along a ridge with a hollow surrounded by some boulders, and filled with grass and granite shale.
“Five minutes break,” Father Cleary called, leading them into the sheltered area. “Sorry gang, it is very wet today, the forecast was for sun in the afternoon.”
They all shrugged it off. “This is what hill walking is about.” Mrs. Harewood said in her strong robust voice. “We are equipped for the challenge and it makes it all the more fun.”
“Fun indeed,” One of the men said disparagingly and pulled out a flask. “Hot tea anyone? Its’ got milk and sugar in.”
“Pass it around.”
There were groans off satisfaction as they all took turns in sipping the hot tea from the flask cup that was topped up until the flash was empty.
“You all right Robbo?” Father Cleary asked cheerfully, as his turn came for a sip of tea.
“Right,” Robbo said.
Ann looked at him. Robbo only had a t-shirt on top and it was soaked and under his ill-fitting rain bottoms his tracksuit was wet, and his feet were soaked.
“I’m going to take Robbo back down,” she said to Father Cleary and to the group in general. “We did not anticipate this weather. I am afraid Robbo will get blisters on his feet and he is soaked. You all go on and we will go back to the car park. We will meet you there when you return. We can wait in the tourist centre. They have a coffee shop. Its just too wet.”
The group laughed and agreed as Robbo was a sorry sight. If he became distressed they could have the embarrassment of having to call out the mountain rescue team.
“All right” Father Cleary agreed, thankful to be relieved of the responsibility. “We will see you both in about three hours. Be careful how you go.”
Father Cleary had a moments worry about leaving the two of them alone and wondered should he ask Mrs. Harewood to stay with them. But then he dismissed the thought. Ann had been through the girl guides and was also an experienced mountain walker, despite her youth. And Mrs. Harewood would be upset if she had to forego the pleasures of the full mountain walk.
“Onwards,” he said to the rest of the group and they followed his lead, heading up the mountain with words of ‘good luck’ and see you soon’
In moments they were out of sight.
“I hope you know the way back down,” Robbo said with a grin. He was glad he did not have to carry on, his heel had begun to chaff against his boot and wet sock and he was uncomfortable in the wet and cold.
“We can have our sandwiches here in the shelter and then set off down,” Ann suggested.
Ann opened her haversack and pulled out a large orange plastic bag.
“What’s’ that for?” Robbo asked.
“It is a Bevy Bag, it’s for accidents on the mountain. Every walker should have one. If there is an accident the walker climbs in and it keeps him warm until the mountain rescue get there. It can be very dangerous if you are disabled by an accident, Wind chill can kill very quickly on the mountains in the wet and exposure.”
“Lets’ hope we won’t need it.”
“It also makes a good picnic table,” Ann said, spreading the large plastic bag out on the wet ground. She looked around. There was a sheltered nook between two clumps of heather with a large boulder to keep off the wind. She decided that was the best spot for the picnic and moved the bag over and spread it out again.
“I’m wet and freezing,” Robbo said with an apologetic grin, sitting down on his hunkers beside the makeshift table and pulling his sandwiches out of his bag.
“Maybe you should climb into it for a minute and warm
up? “No point in freezing, we will be at least an hour getting back down to Glendalough.”
“Should I?” Robbo spoke doubtfully, holding his sandwiches, which were beginning to get wet by the rain.
“Come on.”
Ann moved decisively and separated the top of the bag. Robbo climbed in and wrapped himself up. Ann laughed at the sight of him, only his head and the hand holding his sandwiches sticking out of the large bag.
“Its not much warmer in here” he said.
“Give it a minute” Ann advised, “you need to warm the air inside.”
Robbo blushed and then said, “Come in with me Ann, we can warm each other.”
Ann knelt beside him, fully warm and comfortable in her rain gear and gaiters and walking shoes.
Their eyes met.
“Robbo,” she said, ‘in the bus, my hand brushed off yours and you curled up as if I had struck you. Now you want me in the Bevy bag?”
Robbo blushed and was very unsure of himself.
“Ann” he explained, “I am not used to touch. My mother, nobody, I am never touched. I just got a fright. I got a fright because you are so attractive and I could feel you leaning against me. I…” he stopped, embarrassed.
“What?” Ann asked, feeling she was beginning to understand.
“Sitting close beside you was wonderful. I’m sorry I pulled away. I just got startled. I would really love to hold your hand.”
“Maybe I don’t want to hold yours.”
“I can’t imagine you would, but I would still love to hold your hand,” Robbo said, putting his sandwich into his left hand and extending his right hand.
Ann laughed and took his hand. “Move over,” she said and climbed in beside him.
They sat and ate their sandwiches. Ann produced a flask of hot tea and shared it with Robbo. “A hot drink is better on the mountains,” she said, referring to Robbo’s carton of milk.
“I’ll drink it first and then the tea,” Robbo, first offered the milk to Ann and when she refused, lowering the pint in one long drink.
Love on the Dark Side of the City Page 14