Carrig Of Dromara

by Frances McCaughey

  The women laughed so much. In the end they had to run for the car or they would have broken the bank.

  “Well, it must be nice not having to worry about money like that. Never mind, dear – it won’t be long until we are in the same position, I hope.”

  Carrig found old Wally working up in the pig house at the top of the yard the next day.

  “Oh, sure it’s you, young fella. Now, I am going to need somebody to help me tomorrow to snip these wee ones’ teeth.”

  “Yes, I can do that. Will it hurt them much?”

  “Och, not really, Carrig – just a bit when we do the cutting, but as soon as it’s over they’ll be all right. Come over after school and we’ll make a start on them. There’s eighteen piglets, so that will keep us busy for a wee while. See you then. Call in at the house – the missus will have something for you.”

  Off Carrig marched, munching on his slice of fruit cake and thinking about his job tomorrow.

  It was early spring when Peter and Annie talked at length about Peter having a trip to Ireland to visit his mother.

  “I have been thinking about Martha’s last letter, and reading between the lines I feel that things are not as good as she makes out. I really believe I should go now, as soon as possible. Even if I only go for a few weeks, it will satisfy me to see for myself how she really is.”

  “I would be happy if you went now and took Carrig with you.”

  “Carrig? Yes, why not? It would be a great experience for him. The holidays are coming up soon and we can incorporate the trip to Ireland in the time away from his studies. Can you ask the boss how he feels about me helping out with the milking while you’re away?”

  “What would ye think if I went to visit my mother in Ireland?” Peter asked Dennis the next morning.

  “Well, if Annie can help with the milking, I’m sure we can manage for a few weeks. How long do you think ye’ll be away, Peter?”

  “Maybe three weeks – four at the most.”

  “Well, get yerself sorted and we’ll talk about it later.”

  After the milking Peter told Annie everything would be all right as long as she could help with the work and see to the hens as well.

  “Oh, we’ll manage. Everything will be all right – you’ll see.”

  Young Carrig was overjoyed when he heard the news of the trip with his dad.

  “Pity you can’t come too, Mum.”

  “I’ll be just fine, young man. Bring me back a present and all will be well.”

  Annie and Elenor walked as usual to their class in the village and chatted most of the way about the pending trip to Ireland for Peter and Carrig.

  “When do you think it will be, Annie?”

  “Well, I made a few phone calls this morning and it seems that they have a flight to London on the 21st of September, via Singapore. And there’s one coming back on the 17th of October. I haven’t been able to talk with Peter yet to see how he feels about those dates. I’ll give you a shout when it’s sorted out.”

  The following weeks were taken up with sorting out tickets and packing cases. Everyone had agreed that Annie should help with the milking, and Annie was delighted when Elenor agreed that Bridget Millar could feed the hens and pick up the eggs. And yes, she was allowed to bring Daisy with her for company. Bridget divulged that she had lived and worked on a farm for a number of years when she was young, before she married. When her husband died five years ago she took another job on a farm, and that included poultry work. So yes, she was more than qualified to help out for a few weeks while Peter was away.

  “Anyway, Annie, it’s the least I can do to repay you for all you have done for us.”

  “I’m so happy about the way things have turned out for everyone. I just hope Peter finds things are all right at home in Ireland. He was very close to his mother and wanted to bring her with us, but she really wished to be near where her beloved Robert lay, and so we left without her. Martha, her close friend, really looked upon her as a sister and they had great times together.” Annie told Elenor of the cottage and how much they enjoyed getting it ready for Mary to live in.

  “Where is the cottage?” Bridget asked when she joined the others.

  “Oh, it is just at the back of Martha’s place, so they are so close together they can call out to each other easily.”

  Now the three women became closer than ever, all of them sharing stories of the hardships and fun times they had in their earlier life. Yet all respected each other’s privacy, which made the situation very special indeed.

  Singapore was so big, Carrig’s eyes were like saucers. They walked for miles and miles, and then collapsed into two large chairs in the waiting area at the airport. Peter brought them drinks and they both settled down for a long sleep. They had a four-hour wait for the connecting flight to London. One lovely lady spoke to them and assured them she would wake them near the time as she too was on that flight and had an alarm to rouse her.

  It seemed like five minutes later they were walking towards the waiting plane for London.

  “Got your passport and ticket, Carrig, and your boarding pass?”

  “Yes, Dad, got them all ready.”

  Martha picked them up at the airport in Ireland and drove them back to her place.

  “It’s kind of you to have us stay with you, Martha. I don’t know how we’ll ever repay you for your kindness.”

  “Carrig, you’ve grown a bit since I last saw you. How are you getting on at high school?”

  “I love it – plenty of good mates. We have a lot of fun, fishing and swimming in the summertime. I don’t do sport at school – I have library instead – but Dad and I play tennis at the local club near the primary school in the village where we live.”

  “Is that wee James?” Peter looked at the tall young man who met them at the front door. “Well, I can’t believe how you have grown!”

  “Ross isn’t here at the minute; he’s at a friend’s house, but you’ll see him at teatime, when he comes in looking for something to eat. Alex will be round sometime this evening. He is working long hours at present, and calls around most nights. I’ve cooked a chicken, specially for you coming, but if you’d rather have a sleep first we can easily have it later.”

  “Oh, no, Martha, that’s fine. It’ll be good to taste a bit of good home cooking again after all that strange food on the flights.”

  Young Ross came in shortly, and once again Peter was amazed by his height.

  “Now, which one was it that Mum caught drinking the milk in the dairy?”

  “Oh, that was me.” James spoke up from the other end of the room. “I remember it well. I’ll never forget – in fact, every time I take a drink of milk I think of that day.”

  “What about you, Carrig? What are your ambitions for when you leave school?”

  Carrig took his time about answering: “Oh, well, probably farming, like Dad. I’d like to have a farm of my own one day – not dairy though. I wouldn’t want to get into dairy farming. I like to think when the weekend comes I can do what I like and have a good break before starting work again on Monday morning. Crops and beef cattle, and definitely pigs – there’s nothin’ like pigs. I love them. I would like to prove to myself that I could create an existence where I don’t have to rely on outside help – you know, a mud house, that sort of thing, and collect my own rainwater from the roof into tanks.”

  Turning to Peter, James said, “Well, there’s a young man who knows where he’s going in life. He seems very confident in his own ability.”

  “We’re very proud of him. Working on the farm has helped him in many ways. Yes, I think he will be able to look out for himself in the future. We’re very fortunate, in New Zealand, to have many good friends and neighbours too.”

  Just then a car pulled into the drive and Martha spoke to the group: “That will be Alex. I th
ought he would be in soon.”

  The tall, dark man entered the room and greeted Martha with a kiss as she introduced Peter and Carrig to him.

  “Oh, I’ve heard all about you, Carrig. I believe you keep the teachers at school laughing, and have a lot of mates.”

  Peter explained to Alex that the Russels were the family he worked for and their cottage was not far from the main house, so it was handy, especially in the mornings.

  “It’s a country I would love to visit, but they say it costs thousands of pounds to travel there.”

  “Oh, you’re right there, Alex, but it’s worth it when you get there, believe me. I have to say, in all honesty, I couldn’t live in Ireland again.”

  Seated at the table, Martha said, “I thought we’d eat something first and then, if you like, we can go and see your mother, Peter. How does that sound?”

  “How is Mum now, Martha?”

  “Well, she’s up and down. She has good days and bad ones. I try and get in as often as I can. John McNeill lets me know when he’s going in and he drives me. Her memory has almost gone, so don’t be surprised if she doesn’t know you, Peter.”

  Peter held his mother’s hand gently, thinking how frail she had become since he left home. He suddenly felt so bad about not having kept in closer touch with her.

  “Don’t worry, Peter – I know no one could have done more for your mother than yourself.”

  Martha tucked the blanket around Mary.

  “She always knew you were there for her, and how much you cared, and that goes for Annie as well.”

  “Thank you, Martha. I really needed to hear that.”

  The nurses came into the room and asked if they might be excused for a few minutes.

  “Certainly.” Martha spoke to them quietly while the others backed away.

  One of the staff nurses spoke to Peter: “You’ve come a long way to see your mother. I’m sure you would like to speak to the doctor who is looking after her, and he will fill you in with what the situation is. Just follow me and I’ll show you the room.”

  Carrig and Martha sat with Mary until Peter returned. Carrig told Martha of all the presents Mary had sent him.

  Martha smiled at the young boy. “I remember the day she came up to the house to show me your first tooth. She was so pleased that she had discovered it herself.”

  “It’s not good news.” Peter spoke now with tear-filled eyes. “Mother only has a short time left to live, Martha. What am I going to do?”

  “Maybe she was waiting to see you,” Martha said.

  “We will never know now, will we? It’s a lovely thought, though, that now she can rest in peace.”

  It was several days later when Mary took her final breath, and Martha, Peter and young Carrig talked at great length about sorting out her affairs. There were moments of sorrow and tears shed, and perhaps it was a good thing that there were a lot of details to sort out, as it kept Peter busy. He began by organising the funeral. It was arranged for the following Wednesday morning. John McNeill called in with Michael, and they both offered their services to do whatever Peter asked.

  “Yes, John, we’ll be needing some help next Wednesday.”

  Peter was glad of the support, and Martha was priceless when it came to organising the food afterwards, and the church service, newspaper notices, etc. She took to organising everything, and there was no pressure on Peter at all.

  “I’m so glad we came, Carrig, when we did,” Peter said, putting his arms around his son’s shoulders, comforting him.

  “So am I, Dad – really glad. Thanks for letting me come with you. I needed to see Grandma. I just wish I had known her better.”

  “Well, we have a lot of good memories of her to last us a lifetime.”

  The contents of the cottage were sorted, and Peter was very happy for Martha to have everything, provided she could cope with all the work of sorting through Mary’s belongings.

  “Oh, I might take a couple of Mum’s drawings. We’ll sort that out tomorrow. I might turn in, Martha, if you don’t mind. Thank you once again for all you have done. It was all dealt with so calmly. I wonder if we ever showed you how appreciative we all are for your care of mum, and getting her to hospital and everything.”

  “She was my best friend, and all those years she was the one who looked out for everyone. That was the least I could do in return. God rest her soul – a better person never walked the earth. She was like a mother to me, and I’ll never forget all she’s done for me and my boys.”

  The solicitor rose to his feet and shook Peter’s hand, saying how sorry he was to hear she had died. “Because of your mother’s deteriorating health, and on my advice, she took the wise precaution of making her will in the spring of last year, before her memory began to fade. You are, of course, her sole benefactor, and the remaining money will be deposited into your account.”

  Peter looked the elderly gentleman square in the face. “I have given Martha Wilson, the lady who was so kind to my mother, the contents of the cottage. I felt it was the least we could do after all her loving care of Mum over the past years. Also I will give Mum’s car to the sons of Martha. I know they will appreciate that.”

  “I will have that written into the will, if you so wish, then all will be official, as it should be.”

  “Thank you.” Peter nodded. “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes. I will require your bank account number in which to deposit the money. Just give it to my secretary on the way out.”

  The two shook hands and Peter thanked the solicitor again.

  Everything was taken care of now, and all they had to do was pack up their belongings and get ready for the return flight home to New Zealand again.

  Carrig needed to pick up his photographs at the chemist in Roshane.

  “I’ll drive you down, Carrig,” James said.

  “I’ll come too,” Ross chipped in.

  “Come on, then – off we go.”

  Peter thought of the three of them together in Mary’s car. ‘I suppose it is the right thing to use the car. I mean, it is just sitting there. Why not?’ Peter thought to himself.

  Tomorrow was another day.

  On the following Sunday, John McNeill rang to see if Peter and Carrig would like to go for a drive around the north coast.

  “And yerself too, Martha, of course.”

  “Oh, John, that’s kind of you. I’ll ask the others. Just hold on.”

  “That would be great!”

  “Carrig, how do you feel about that?”

  “Oh yes, I’ll come.”

  “Well, the sun is shining, and that’s not something we see very much of in winter.”

  Martha packed the sandwiches and flasks of tea, and off they set. Peter sat in the front beside John, and Carrig and Martha were in the back. Peter pointed out all the famous landmarks.

  “Look, Carrig, there’s Dunluce Castle, there on the right. It’s a bit of a ruin now, but it has a lot of history behind it.”

  “Can I take photographs, John?”

  “Certainly, Carrig. I’ll pull in just along a bit and you can walk down into the castle if you like.”

  Peter and Martha went too and John put his head back in the car and had a snooze while they were away.

  “Did you get the photographs, Carrig?”

  “I did – lots, thanks.”

  “That’s my man! Your mother will be happy.”

  They drove on around to Portrush and the White Rocks, then on to Portstewart.

  “Anybody hungry?” Martha asked.

  “Oh, yes, I could eat a horse” came the cry from the back seat.

  “Oh, you’re always hungry! You’ve got hollow legs, young man,” his father laughed.

  The sadness would be slow to leave them, but every now an
d then there was time to smile. Martha knew that when they all returned to the cottage they would return to thinking about their loss.

  That evening there was a lovely time between them all when each told stories about Mary and what she had done for others in her lifetime.

  “She will have no trouble passing St Peter at the gates of heaven. He will march her on through,” Martha said. “If it hadn’t been for her, I don’t know where I’d be today. She saw us all through times of great sorrow and yet we could always find something to laugh about.”

  “Oh, yes, it was not all doom and gloom. It was surely a wonderful life that she led, and she taught us all so much.”

  “I can still see her ironing out the money my mother had put into jugs on the mantelpiece,” said John. “Mary laughed and laughed when she told my mother about the old police sergeant checking for illegal bacon.”

  The following week Peter and Carrig boarded the plane after many sad farewells to all the folks who were so kind to them, and set forth on the first leg of the long journey home.

  Elenor and Annie had worked hard all morning to finish up before driving to the airport to pick up the weary travellers. The city was bustling with Christmas shoppers, and the airport was even busier than usual. Suddenly there they were.

  “Mum,” Carrig yelled, “over here!”

  Hugs and kisses followed.

  “I’m so sorry about your mother, Peter. I am glad, however, that you were there to help with all the arrangements. I’m sure Martha appreciated your help.”

  A weary Peter spoke to Annie: “Oh, it was all so sudden. I still can’t believe Mum has gone. The only consolation I have is that she really enjoyed her last few years with Martha and her lovely sons. I hope you don’t mind, but I gave Martha the contents of the cottage. I thought it was the least we could do.”

  “Great idea! I’m glad you did that.”

  Annie jumped into the driver’s seat and they all headed for home.