Carrig Of Dromara

by Frances McCaughey

  It had rained heavily all night. Water trickled down either side of the road. John had started up the engine of the Morris to warm it up. He always liked Sarah to be comfortable in the car if they were going out. Carrig helped her carry out the tins of baking for Elsie and Mrs Watson.

  Off they set, with young Carrig at the wheel.

  “This wee motor is going so well,” he said. “It’s so easy to drive. I’ll swap it, John, for my car.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that, young fella. Life just wouldn’t be the same without our wee Morris sittin’ there in the garage. I’m really enjoying this wee run out, Carrig.”

  “Thank you for taking us to meet your friends – especially Mrs Watson. I’m really going to enjoy having a chat with someone my own age,” said Sarah. “Well, you know what I mean – another woman.”

  “Yes I understand,” Carrig said as he drove on over the Waimakariri Bridge and on up towards Oxford, and through to Kaiapoi, where Wally and his wife lived, not far from the smithy.

  Wally greeted them all warmly as he approached the car.

  “What a lovely wee motor you have there!” He spoke to John through the window.

  Carrig helped Sarah from the car and introduced them both to Wally.

  “I’m very pleased to meet you after all I’ve heard about you,” he said, shaking their hands warmly.

  Mrs Watson came slowly towards them, and Carrig introduced them all to her.

  “I can’t tell you how happy we are to know this young man is being cared for by folks like yourselves.”

  “Well, it’s all been quite an experience for us to find we now have an addition to our family.”

  “Come on in.” Old Wally spoke in his deep voice. “Sure, we have a bit of talking to do.”

  The three followed Wally and Mrs Watson into the wee cottage.

  “Now, Carrig, tell me: will you finish your schooling or are you set on some other track?”

  “Oh, I will go back and finish off my final year, anyway, and then I’ll see after that. By that time I will have made up my mind what I’m going to do. I have always been interested in the law and all that entails, so it will be university for a few years if I decide to pursue that.”

  It was five o’clock in the late afternoon when they drove home again. John had had a wonderful time chatting to old Wally, and the two wee women just didn’t seem to be able to stop chinwagging. They had so much in common, including a love of gardening, baking and craftwork. Carrig just had to show them the pigs, which he had talked so much about; so before they left, old Wally showed them the pigs and Carrig’s sow, which had the big litter, now gone for bacon.

  “Oh, before you go, Carrig, I must tell you I’m selling the smithy and going into retirement.”

  “What will you do with the pigs?” Carrig asked.

  “Well, if you know anyone who would take them, Carrig, I’d be grateful.”

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear of anyone.”

  With that, they all climbed aboard and slowly turned out through the gate.

  On the way back they called at the post office, and John came back to the car with a letter for Carrig. He would read it on his return to the cottage.

  “Well, it looks as if I have to go with wee Jimmy tomorrow to see the counsellor. You remember – I told you about him having counselling about the abuse he went through.”

  “Oh yes, Carrig. I’m glad he’s going to see someone about that. Poor little mite, I can’t bear to think what he must have gone through – and for years too! Does that mean, Carrig, you want us to come with you again?”

  “Yes, if you will. I have to drive to the hospital this time, and I couldn’t risk going on my own.”

  Sarah spoke up with a gleam in her eye: “A body could get used to this sort of life, ye know.”

  Smiling, John said, “Before ye came, we hadn’t been out the door for nigh on three years, and now look at us – runnin’ here, there and everywhere, and enjoying it so much. So don’t worry, Carrig – it’s all an experience for us country bumpkins, going into the big city. Just you keep yer mind on yer drivin’, lad, and we’ll sit back and enjoy it.”

  “I do need a bag of flour, Carrig, on the way home, if you please,” said Sarah. “Stop off at the shops and we’ll get it there.”

  Jimmy was asked to stay in the waiting room while Carrig was taken through to talk to the special counsellor who dealt with abused children.

  “Now, Carrig, I would like you to tell me of your friendship with Jimmy, and when you first noticed anything strange in his behaviour.”

  “Well, I first met him at high school, just in the playground. I shared my lunch with him a couple of times, and we got talking, but he was very quiet and hard to talk to. I sort of knew there was something wrong as he put his head down if anyone spoke to him.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Well, he kind of dropped his head as if he was scared to let anything slip. I suppose it was easier to not say anything at all, and then it probably became a habit, not speaking.”

  “Now, I believe you had another friend at the home, who shared this with you?”

  “Yes, Elsie and I always had a great understanding of each other’s lives. She knew almost everything about wee Jimmy, but she never thought he was being abused. Then Elsie told me when she changed the sheets on the beds she noticed that Jimmy’s sheets had bloodstains on them, but, as she told me, she was used to finding that on the boys’ beds. They were always getting hurt on the football field or at cricket, or something like that, so I suppose she didn’t think very much of it until I told her that when he came back to the dorm, about nine o’clock, he would be sobbing. I waited for a while, and then I’d put my arm across to touch him, and he’d pull away and say, ‘Leave me alone.’ I told Elsie and we came to the conclusion that he was being punished for not doing his maths right. You see, Mr Wright was a maths teacher before coming to the home, and he used to give some of the boys extra lessons, especially before an exam.”

  “Where did these lessons take place, Carrig?”

  “Oh, in Mr Wright’s bedroom, upstairs.”

  “Was that every night, Carrig?”

  “No, about three or four nights a week, I think. I used to wear earplugs because one of the boys was a snorer and I couldn’t get to sleep. Elsie gave them to me, but one night I forgot to put them in my ears and when Jimmy came into the dorm, about nine o’clock, I heard him sobbing and sobbing, again. Elsie asked me to look for any signs of bruising on Jimmy’s body.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  “Oh, well, the showers at Erindale are open – it’s just a long wall with the showers coming out along the wall – so I was able to see most of his body. We usually played a soap game – you know, seeing how far we could make the soap go from between our fingers – and he was always happy when we played it, so it was easy to get him to play the game. I could see no marks at all on his body, so then when I told Elsie we put our heads together and decided Mr Wright was ill-treating him in some other way. We had to be careful, of course, in case we got it wrong, but then the police officers got him to talk all about it, and you wouldn’t believe how wee Jimmy has changed. He is able to chat to us all now – and when I think of how stupid we all were not to see that there was something serious wrong with him! We should have noticed sooner, instead of accusing him of being quiet and odd.” Carrig cried as he spoke to the counsellor.

  “I think you have been very brave, Carrig, and your friend, Elsie, also. Between the two of you, you managed to solve the problem and found a solution. Just imagine – this could have continued for some time before it was discovered. I will talk to Jimmy now, if you would ask him to come in, please. Thank you for coming to support your friend.”

  Jimmy entered the room and sat down. The counsellor began by
asking him his full name and how long he had lived at the home.

  “Now, Jimmy, I would like you to tell me what you’re feeling right now. Are you happy?”

  “Yes.” The boy spoke quietly. “Yes, I am.”

  “Carrig is a good friend of yours, I believe.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “I need you to believe that you are completely safe now in your home at Erindale. This bad treatment, which you have bravely put up with for so long, will never happen again, because I believe that you will never be afraid to ask for help if anything like that ever happened again.”

  “No, I wouldn’t be afraid again. Thank you.”

  Carrig was in his first year at law school when he met up with his good friend Louise. They were always close, like brother and sister, ever since primary schooldays on the farm. They were never meant to be anything other than close friends. They laughed and talked all through their lunch break.

  “What are you doing here?” Carrig spoke first.

  “Oh, right – I began a course in history in February for three years, and then I might go on to teachers’ college. I really want to teach – that is my ultimate goal. What about you, Carrig? Ah, let me guess: the law. I remember that’s all you ever wanted to do.”

  “Yes, I went back to school for an extra year to get university entrance, and then here.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “Oh, well, I’m boarding with Henry – you might remember him from Erindale.”

  “The name sounds familiar.”

  “Big Henry – he’s two years older then me. We went to high school together. He’s a good sort – teachers’ college trainee.”

  “Well,” Louise said, “I’d better be getting on. My next lecture is at two o’clock.”

  Carrig hugged his friend and spoke kindly to her: “We’ll meet up again soon, I hope.”

  “Sure – I usually come over this way at lunchtime. Bye.” She waved as she slowly made her way towards the classrooms.

  It would be Friday tomorrow, and he would be driving towards home again. He couldn’t wait to see how things were progressing. He had asked two builders to erect a pig house for him in the back field. John had spent the week overseeing the whole operation, and keeping them on their toes.

  The building was well on when Carrig got home, and John and he went to inspect their work.

  After hugging Sarah and telling her how much he missed her home cooking, he realised that he should have arranged for someone to come in and help her with the housework.

  “Well, we could give it a try, Carrig, and see how it goes, but you know, some of these young ones haven’t a clue how to work. But as long as she does what I ask, maybe it would be quite nice to have a bit of help around the place. I’m worried more about John – he finds it hard to see what he’s doin’ and his hearing, well, it’s got worse since ye went away.”

  “I’ll tell you what I’ll do – I’ll get somebody to give him a hand and we’ll see what happens.”

  On Saturday morning Carrig rode along towards the wee shop for a Morning Press. He asked if they knew of anyone looking for a job.

  “Have a look at the noticeboard outside. Maybe there is something there.”

  Sure enough, a young woman had an advert on a neatly printed square of card: ‘Job wanted part-time, home work or yard work. Anything considered.’

  Carrig quickly noted the phone number and returned home.

  “Hello. Are you the person who put up the advert in the local shop, looking for a job?”

  “Good afternoon. My name is Rosemary Ellis and I live with my husband and two high-school children about a mile beyond the shop.”

  “I’m Carrig Anderson, and I’m looking for someone to come in five mornings per week to cook and do the housework for an elderly couple – my grandparents. Can you come over and see us tomorrow at 9 a.m.? Is that possible?”

  “Why, yes, I can come. Now, what is the address, please?”

  “Number 83 Main Road, Glenwhistle.”

  “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll be there at 9 a.m.”

  Sarah put the kettle on and placed cake and biscuits on a plate with her best china and tea cosy. Sure enough Rosemary arrived at precisely 9 a.m.

  ‘Well, at least she’s punctual,’ Sarah thought as she opened the door.

  “Come on in, dear, and have a seat over there,” she said, pointing to the dining-room chair at the table. “Will you have a cup of tea?”

  “Oh, I never say no to a cuppa. Milk and no sugar, please.”

  “I’ll let you help yourself, then.”

  Rosemary poured out the two cups and they sat down for a good chat.

  “Carrig tells me you have two children.”

  “Yes, Jason and Margaret, both at high school, and my husband works on a farm further up the valley.”

  “Well, there’s just my husband and me; our boy, Carrig, he’s at university and comes home at weekends. My name is Sarah and my husband is John. We are getting on a bit now and need a bit of help, me with my arthritis and him with his bad sight, but we are still able to get around and Carrig is so good to us. We think the world of him.”

  Just then Carrig came in again.

  “Well now, how are you two getting on?”

  “Well, indeed, you’ve found us a lovely young woman, Carrig. And sure, why don’t we give it a try for a week or two and see how things go?”

  “I’ll just ask you to sign a wee form to say that if things don’t work out well, there’s no harm done. Personally I can’t see any problems.”

  Rosemary signed the form and Carrig also, and so she left to return on Monday morning at nine o’clock.

  John and Carrig had a long talk about where he would build his new home. They walked around the farm and both came to the conclusion that the side field would be a good choice, with the possibility of a straight entrance from the main road. The weekend passed all too quickly, as usual, and it was back to town again for Carrig.

  Rosemary came on the dot of nine o’clock and Sarah enjoyed showing her around the cottage, where she had to clean and dust. The washing was blowing on the line by ten o’clock, by which time they were all gathered around the table for morning tea. The two workmen brought their own lunch boxes, and only required a drink of tea. One of the men explained to Sarah that they had their own lunches with them and wouldn’t come into the house for lunch; then they would be working on until four thirty.

  The building materials arrived the following week and the two men measured out for the foundations, which were laid in the days following. John was very happy with the way things were going and the council inspections went well, although one inspector had never seen a house being built of clay blocks before.

  “There’s always a first time,” John had assured him.

  The foundations were laid and the first row of blocks went down a week later.

  It seemed like no time at all before the walls began to go up and up to the rooftop. Trusses were laid and spaced and then yet another truck with the roofing iron arrived. Once again John directed them to the right spot at the side of the building.

  There was a noisy two days when the roof tiles were being nailed on, and fortunately the weather was kind to them. The two men worked past their usual quitting time to finish because the weather was forecast to change and then they could continue to work underneath until it improved again.

  Wally and Mrs Watson were driving over to the farm one Sunday afternoon, and Elsie was coming with them. What a time they had together! There was so much to talk about since they’d last met up. Wally was overjoyed to inspect the new building.

  Mrs Watson was getting frail now and finding it hard to get about. She used a stick to get around. Sarah and she had a lot to laugh and talk about in the kitchen of the cottage.


  “Have you made your Christmas cake yet?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes, I made it last week, and mince pies. I hope you’ll come over like last year and help us celebrate Christmas.”

  “We’ll have to discuss that with His Lordship.”

  She smiled, knowing full well that they would both be there – of course they would. With no family of their own, Carrig was their only family.

  “How are the pigs settling in?”

  “Oh, well, so far they’re loving their new home. John enjoys looking after them and I have a wee girl coming each morning, Monday to Friday, to help me with cleaning. She’s a good one – turn her hand to anything she would.”

  “That’s what you need when you get to our age.”

  John and Sarah were loving their new roles of manager and manageress on the building site of the new Dromara – especially John, who spent most of his days down there.

  “This goes here,” he would say, “and this goes there.”

  Sarah, on the other hand, was also enjoying her new role of directing Rosemary in the art of housekeeping, which included carrying lots of firewood to the shed for easy access to the kitchen. Sarah discovered, on one occasion, that she was actually chopping the wood as well.

  “Sure, she’s a darlin’ girl, that Rosemary. Turn her hand to anything, she would.”

  Carrig hadn’t come home for a couple of weekends. He was studying with the other students, and, mind you, there was a certain young lady who had caught his eye – a trainee teacher who had been a friend of big Henry, who used to be at Erindale Boys’ Home with him. Henry had introduced them at a party a couple of weekends ago. When she mentioned that she had been offered a trial period of three months at a country school at Glenwhistle, Carrig was overjoyed and explained that it was only a short distance from his home.

  “Gran, is that you?” Carrig spoke to Sarah on the phone.

  There was a brief silence and when she spoke to him, in a tearful voice, she said, “Carrig, you called me Gran.”