Carrig Of Dromara

by Frances McCaughey

  “Carrig, I’ll show you my new tricycle.”

  The noise from the youngsters was quite intense as Annie made to leave.

  “Thanks, Annie, again for your help in getting things ready.”

  “Och, well, it’s her last birthday before starting school, so it has to be special. It’s hard to believe they’ll all be going to school together soon. How time flies!” Elenor Russel spoke with a sad look in her eyes. “Nothing we can do about that, Annie.”

  “You’re right – nothing at all.”

  “He’s not the easiest of men to live with, I’m sure.” Peter spoke across the table to Annie when they shared their supper that night. “I’m lucky to be in a position where he needs me, and he knows that well enough.”

  Peter Anderson was a young man who did not generally frequent such places, but after bumping into Wally in the village somehow they finished up in the bar of the local public house.

  “No, no, he’s not impudent, as you put it, Peter. The boy needs to know things. Most of the young ones I meet up with wouldn’t know to ask the questions that Carrig asks. He needs to be given answers so as not to spoil his inquisitive nature. I must say though,” the big man turned to Peter, “I often have great trouble stopping myself from laughing at the things he comes out with. One day he said, ‘Mum and Dad are always smooching in the kitchen. Do you smooch your wife, Wally? Mr Russel smooches with that girl. I saw them on Saturday morning when I was playing at the back of the byre.’”

  Peter smiled when he heard the disclosures of Wally. The blacksmith was a man he had a lot of time for, and he knew that anything he said would be true enough.

  “I can understand that, Wally. Things have not been so good of late over at the big house. Annie, as you know, and Mrs Russel are quite close friends now, and she has confided in her about her problems, so perhaps for now we’ll let things take their course. I’ve known him for some years now, and he’s always been known for having a short fuse, but apart from that he seems a reasonable sort of chap. But then, I’m not living with him. Well, I’d better be off now, Wally. Great talking to you. We’ll catch up later on.”

  “Aye, indeed, Peter.”

  Peter brought an armful of firewood in with him as the evening air had cooled.

  “Oh, Peter, where have you been? I’ve been worried sick. Elenor drove off at great speed, and I was worried about the wee ones.”

  “I’ll have a look over in a while,” Peter assured her, thinking all would be well.

  Mrs Russel had returned when Peter looked over an hour later.

  “The car’s in the drive and the old man’s asleep in his chair. With a belly full of Scotch, I’m sure he’ll be all right till morning. I could hear him snoring from the window. Mrs Russel seems to have gone to bed – I couldn’t see her anywhere. You can rest easy – for the night anyway. We’ll see what the morrow brings.”

  Victoria Purcell was only fifteen when she came to help with the milking to allow the regular man to have time off every other weekend. She was Freddie’s elder sister, and they lived with their mother down the long driveway opposite the farm entrance.

  Victoria had been expelled from school for bad behaviour when she was only thirteen. After having a break, and some counselling, the girl was taken back into school again on the understanding that should there be a recurrence of the bad behaviour she would be expelled from the school. For a time she seemed to be remorseful, and made a great effort to make up for her misbehaviour; but in recent months she had been in trouble again, to the point where the head of the school suggested she should leave and recommended some kind of social work and counselling.

  “She seems to do a good job helping Dennis out at the weekends, with the milking and yard work.”

  Margaret Purcell had approached the Russels about the job when they advertised for someone to work on alternate weekends. Victoria was taken on straight away, and seemed to love helping out – and of course the extra money came in handy, of which she was allowed to keep half.

  Freddie was the only member of her family who the Anderson family had much to do with. He was a close friend of Carrig, and the two seemed to spend a lot of time together. Louise joined them when she could; Andrew kept his distance and didn’t seem to fit in so well, mainly because he was a bit of a snob and considered himself above the common working boys. More’s the pity as he was the loser and didn’t know it.

  “Mrs Purcell’s on the phone for you, dear,” Peter called out to Annie, in the garden, one day.

  “Just coming! Hello, Margaret.” Annie answered the phone out of breath.

  “Have I rushed you?”

  “No, no, just a bit hectic in the mornings – you know how it is.”

  “I wondered if we could have a chat sometime soon.”

  “Certainly. Come over this afternoon – say between one and three. Would that be all right?”

  “Yes, thank you. I’ll see you then.”

  Annie rushed through her chores and helped Elenor move a heavy pot in her garden, then went on to pick up a few things in the supermarket, and to change her library books, then to rush home and hopefully have the lunch over and the washing-up finished before Margaret arrived.

  “Come on in, Margaret,” Annie called when she heard the doorbell ring.

  The women sat down in the living room, not quite knowing where to begin. Margaret broke down in a flood of tears. Annie moved over beside her and put her arms around her to comfort her.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing that I haven’t heard before.” Annie spoke softly.

  And then it all came tumbling out: “It’s that girl.”

  “You mean Victoria?”

  “Yes, Victoria. She’s been nothing but trouble since the day she was born, and now she tells me she’s ten weeks pregnant.” Annie let her carry on, now that she had begun to loosen up. “I can’t understand it! She’s only been to a couple of parties in the last two months, and they were school friends’ birthdays. I know the parents – all very nice people. Not the sort to allow bad behaviour in their homes.”

  Annie was thinking to herself about the times she had seen the girl with old man Russel. But surely he wouldn’t have been so foolish as to risk losing his reputation, such as it was.

  “What are you going to do, Margaret?”

  “Well, I think there is only one thing I can do, and I think you know what that is, Annie.”

  “Well, it’s not for me to say, but I’ll support you in whatever decision you make.”

  “Thank you, Annie. I knew you would. I feel so much better to have told you.”

  “Oh, you can’t keep something like that to yourself. A problem shared . . . you know what they say.”

  Annie was thankful to see the relief on the woman’s face.

  “Ring when you like, Margaret,” Annie called after her.

  It was after three again and the children could be heard at the end of the driveway saying goodbye to each other.

  “And who’s this?” She looked at the wee scruffy-looking fellow standing beside Carrig.

  “His name’s Willie.”

  “Well, hello, Willie. You’d better come on in and have a drink.”

  The two wee boys sat down at the table and Annie began to butter some scones.

  “Do you like jam, Willie?”

  “Yes” came the timid reply.

  As quick as Annie could butter them, the scones disappeared from the plate. She felt for Willie, and knew that he hadn’t had a scone and jam for a long time, if ever.

  “Where do you live, Willie?” Annie spoke kindly to the young urchin.

  “On down past Freddie’s place. I have four brothers and two sisters, and we live with our ma.”

  Annie packed the remainder of the scones into a bag and handed them to Willie to take home. Carrig lef
t him at the gate and waved until he disappeared into Freddie’s lane.

  Over the following weeks Annie learned that Carrig’s new friend came from a family who had recently moved to the area, and didn’t know anyone.

  “I’m so sorry, Annie – I completely forgot to mention them to you. They are the Millars – a scruffy lot – and the mother takes in men to pay for their food. They have been there for four weeks now, and most people are on tenterhooks, just waiting to see how they behave themselves. The first thing that drew our attention to them was the cars going down the lane late at night.”

  Well, that was precious, coming from Elenor, after the few weeks Anne had been listening to gossip about all her and Dennis’s shenanigans.

  Annie laughed. “It seems funny to hear people talking about other folks like that when there but for the grace of God go I. He’s such a dear wee chap – Willie, I mean. He’s very shy, and he would certainly benefit from having a good shower and delousing. Yes, he had lice in his hair – I could plainly see them. I pity the teachers at the school – they have a lot to put up with.”

  “Oh, Annie, keep him away from Andrew and Louise, please,” Elenor asked.

  “I don’t know if he’ll even come back again. His mother may not be happy that he’s been in the house. For all I know I may be in a whole lot of trouble for feeding him, but to see the joy on his wee face when he saw the scones! I couldn’t help myself. Nobody likes to see a child go hungry, I don’t care who they are. Time will tell.”

  It had rained heavily most of the night, and it was a day to spend indoors. Carrig helped his mother make pancakes and a lemon cake for Sunday. He loved stirring the mixture and licking the bowl when it was empty.

  Annie thought to herself, ‘Maybe I’ll make a lot of scones and freeze them. You never know when someone will come in, and they can be thawed out in the oven. Then they are like they would be if they’d just come out of the oven.’

  So Annie rolled out the scone mixture and Carrig loved using the cutter and putting them on the baking tray to cook.

  Peter came over for lunch, starving as usual. He had been forking manure all morning and was starving. Elenor rang to invite Carrig to play games with Andrew and Louise for a while.

  “They’re driving me up the wall because they can’t get outside,” Elenor said. “I know it’s hard for the wee ones when they are used to getting outdoors most days.”

  The noise must have been too much for Elenor, and she eventually chased them over to the cottage for a break, so it was hot pancakes and honey for the gang. Annie felt sorry for Andrew. He had gone on to high school in the city, and was coping well with the adjustment of having to make new friends, but home life was not the happiest of times for him.

  About three weeks later, Annie was in the post-office queue when she overheard the lady behind the counter addressing the woman in front of her.

  “Oh, Mrs Millar, don’t forget your stamps.”

  Annie left the queue and walked after her, feeling nervous, worried that perhaps she would be rebuffed by the older lady.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing your name being called out. Are you Willie’s mum?”

  “Yes, I’m his mum.”

  “Oh, well, I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Annie.” Annie held out her hand and the older woman gave her a warm handshake. “We just love your wee son, Willie. He and Carrig seem to have become good friends.”

  “I’m Bridget. Anyway, Annie, would you like to come for a cup of coffee or something?”

  “That would be nice, Bridget.”

  They headed for the wee café further along the main street, and sat down, ordered and began to chat about the children.

  “My older boys are all away from home. I hear from them sometimes, but I miss them. My husband died five years ago, just before Willie was born, and I didn’t know what to do.”

  “I am so sorry,” said Annie. “It must have been hard for you, surviving on your own.”

  Bridget began to cry, and once again Annie became the comforter.

  “If there is any way in which I can help, please let me know.”

  “We have a terrible problem with head lice.”

  She didn’t hold back from anything. This girl had had so much to deal with over the past years, I suppose she thought, ‘What the hell! I’m going to tell someone,’ and Annie Anderson was the next person who came along.

  “I’m so glad you told me, Bridget. I will help you all I can. Would it be all right if I came over tomorrow and we can talk more about things?”

  “Oh, thank you, Annie. You’ve no idea what that means to me.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow when the wee ones go to school.”

  Annie made a few enquiries about fumigation and the like. People were very helpful and told her it was possible to arrange to fumigate a house and contents, but the family would have to leave the home for twenty-four hours at least. Peter and Annie had a long chat and decided to enquire about lodgings for the family for twenty-four hours.

  It was a cold and wet day, and Annie spent the morning making phone calls, mainly to companies which dealt with louse problems. One person from the health department told Annie the family would have to be out of the house for at least forty-eight hours, during which time the home and contents would be treated for all parasites, including bedbugs and head lice.

  Peter was concerned that Annie had taken on too much, and that she had become too involved with the family.

  “For all we know, they might have a record of some sort. Please think about what you are taking on. I’ll go along with whatever you decide to do.”

  Annie went through all her drawers and sorted out clothing which she didn’t need and then found some of Carrig’s underwear and pyjamas and put them in a bag in the spare room. Then she drove down to the Salvation Army shop in the village and found some slippers and shoes. Then she drove over to the Millars’ place. Willie and Carrig had long gone to school, and it was easier to talk to Bridget and the little one.

  “Come on in, Annie.” The older woman spoke in a friendly manner.

  Annie followed her through to the back of the house and they both sat at the kitchen table.

  “Well, now, where do we begin? There is just one thing that I must tell you before we start.” Annie spoke in a kindly manner. “Don’t think for one moment that you are the only person in the world to have head lice. I consider myself to be a clean and tidy person, and, believe it or not, Carrig was only at preschool a few days before he began to scratch; and when I had a good look I found nits in his hair. I was fortunate that I discovered them early and was able to treat them immediately, so, hey, don’t think you’re the only one.”

  Bridget put on the kettle and the couple had a good chat over a cup of tea.

  “I rang a few people in the city and they can come and fumigate the entire home. There is just one problem: you will all have to be out of the home for at least twenty-four hours. You can come over and stay at our place if you like. We have a spare bedroom, which is never used, and we can make up a wee bed for the baby. I’ve forgotten her name.”

  “It’s Daisy. I called her after my mother, who died a month before she was born. She’s nearly ready for playschool, but I couldn’t send her the way things are at the moment.”

  “No, of course not – that’s understandable.”

  “Anyway, I will have to go along with her, and I decided to wait until I got rid of this problem.”

  Annie made to leave and turned to the older woman. “What do you think, Bridget?”

  “Oh, well, there’s nothing else for it – it has to be done. I agree with everything you’ve said, Annie – the sooner the better.”

  Annie drove home, elated that Mrs Millar had agreed with all she’d said.

  “What about this weekend?” Annie spoke on the ph
one.

  “Yes, that would be great,” Bridget agreed.

  The day was dry and windy – exactly what they needed. The pair got busy on Saturday morning. Annie cut Bridget’s hair in the garden, putting all the hair clippings in a large sack she had prepared. Then she began to cut Willie’s hair, and then Daisy’s. All their clothes were stripped off and put in a bag for a special wash. Annie showed them where they would be sleeping – in the spare room – and after their showers they looked strange in their new clothes and slippers. Annie had taken care to apply the treatment to the heads of the two wee ones in the bath while their mother had a shower.

  “How will I ever be able to pay you back for all you have done?”

  “Don’t even think of that just now. We have to fix the situation at hand first; then we’ll talk about payment. It shouldn’t be any more than a thousand or two, so don’t give it a second thought.” Annie tried to keep as straight a face as she could, and they both burst out laughing at the same time.

  “Oh, Annie, I’ll always remember this time with you.”

  “Yes, and in years to come we’ll laugh about it, I’m sure.”

  Carrig came bursting into the kitchen. “They’ve come, Mum. The big truck has come and the man asked for you. He wants to speak to you.”

  “We’ll be straight over. Carrig, I want you to be in charge. Now get some biscuits from the jar and milk from the fridge and you can play games until we come back over. Don’t go outside, please.”

  One of the men had already been in the house for ten minutes or so when he emerged, just when the women arrived.

  He turned to Bridget and asked, “How long have you lived here?”

  “Oh, we only came a few weeks ago – four weeks, I think.”

  “Four weeks?” The two men looked at each other and the one who had been in the house said, “This house has been infested for a long time. I would say it must have taken at least a couple of years to get to the stage where it is now. Can I please have your landlord’s telephone number?”