his father.’
She paused, and signalled with her hand to a middle-aged man hovering nearby, clearly the next occupant of the low chair.
‘Will you be married in the parish church?’
‘Yes. As soon as we can arrange our passages.’
‘You will be welcome to use Drumsollen afterwards, whether I’m fit to come downstairs or not. Is that clear?’
‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’
To her surprise, the Missus offered her a bony hand and smiled warmly when she took it gently.
‘Make sure you come and see me before you leave for Canada. That little gift I spoke of last year is now with my solicitors. I shall send for it tomorrow.’
At last, the large rooms were empty. The Missus had retired to bed, Barney had taken Helen and Ginny back to Caledon. Andrew and John Wiley were working together, packing up the trestle tables used for serving tea and restoring the rooms to their normal state. They replaced the heavy dustcovers over the furniture, the light fabric that covered the portraits and paintings, the plastic sheeting that protected the carpets. When all was as it should be, they pulled across the heavy wooden shutters and slotted in the iron bars which held them firmly in place, a defence against insurgents, as potent in troubled times as the iron grilles on the windows of the basement rooms.
Down there, in the friendly company of June Wiley and Elsie Clark, Clare had changed into flat shoes, donned a large apron and was helping with the washing up. They talked as they worked, three women so practised, they could proceed with only a fraction of their minds upon it.
‘The Missus is powerful failed since last I saw her,’ said Elsie Clark, as she stacked dirty cups on the draining board within June’s reach.
‘It’s a brave while since ye saw her now, isn’t it?’ replied June. ‘Shure it’s six years come October since Mr Edward died.’
‘Ach, I suppose it is. The time goes that quick. Sure, here’s Clare was only a schoolgirl when we came the day of his funeral. D’ye mind you hurt your ankle? D’ye have any bother with it?’
‘No, not a bit, thank goodness, but then I got a charm from an’ oul fella over Cabragh way. Did ye know Johnsie George, Clare?’ asked June, looking sideways at her.
‘Is he the one that ran away to sea when he was a boy?’
‘The very one. Fancy you mindin’ that.’
Clare smiled and took a tray of clean cups to the cupboard. ‘The forge was a great place for hearing life stories,’ she said, as she put the cups back in their places.
As June washed and Elsie dried, Clare smiled to herself. With this team at work, feeding the five thousand might still be a problem, but washing up afterwards would be no trouble at all.
‘Have ye been past the forge recently, Clare?’ askedJune cautiously.
‘I have, indeed,’ she replied sadly. ‘Andrew and I were up in April. I could hardly believe it.’
‘Why, what’s happened?’ asked Elsie.
‘Ach, it’s this new landlord, Elsie,’ June began. ‘Hutchinson, his name is. He’s a great man for makin’ money. He has the forge knocked down that was there fer generations. All the good trees down an’ away too. They say he plans to build a house where the forge was an’ a couple more forby. Ach, it’s a disgrace an’ a shame.’
‘Ah, dear a dear, isn’t that desperate,’ said Elsie sympathetically. ‘An’ sure aren’t your plans all upset again with poor Master Edward dying,’ she said, looking mournfully at Clare, as she brought another trayful of dirty cups from table to sink.
‘How do you mean, Elsie?’
‘Well, yer weddin’ and goin’ off to Canada an’ so on.’
‘Oh, we’re not delaying the wedding,’ said Clare, relieved. ‘Mrs Moore and Virginia want us to go ahead. It’ll be a very quiet wedding anyway.’
‘Aye, I’m sure they wouden stan’ in yer way, nor woud young Edward either, God rest him,’ Elsie replied agreeably. ‘But I’m thinkin’ there’ll be no
She paused, and signalled with her hand to a middle-aged man hovering nearby, clearly the next occupant of the low chair.
‘Will you be married in the parish church?’
‘Yes. As soon as we can arrange our passages.’
‘You will be welcome to use Drumsollen afterwards, whether I’m fit to come downstairs or not. Is that clear?’
‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’
To her surprise, the Missus offered her a bony hand and smiled warmly when she took it gently.
‘Make sure you come and see me before you leave for Canada. That little gift I spoke of last year is now with my solicitors. I shall send for it tomorrow.’
At last, the large rooms were empty. The Missus had retired to bed, Barney had taken Helen and Ginny back to Caledon. Andrew and John Wiley were working together, packing up the trestle tables used for serving tea and restoring the rooms to their normal state. They replaced the heavy dustcovers over the furniture, the light fabric that covered the portraits and paintings, the plastic sheeting that protected the carpets. When all was as it should be, they pulled across the heavy wooden shutters and slotted in the iron bars which held them firmly in place, a defence against insurgents, as potent in troubled times as the iron grilles on the windows of the basement rooms.
Down there, in the friendly company of June Wiley and Elsie Clark, Clare had changed into flat shoes, donned a large apron and was helping with the washing up. They talked as they worked, three women so practised, they could proceed with only a fraction of their minds upon it.
‘The Missus is powerful failed since last I saw her,’ said Elsie Clark, as she stacked dirty cups on the draining board within June’s reach.
‘It’s a brave while since ye saw her now, isn’t it?’ replied June. ‘Shure it’s six years come October since Mr Edward died.’
‘Ach, I suppose it is. The time goes that quick. Sure, here’s Clare was only a schoolgirl when we came the day of his funeral. D’ye mind you hurt your ankle? D’ye have any bother with it?’
‘No, not a bit, thank goodness, but then I got a charm from an’ oul fella over Cabragh way. Did ye know Johnsie George, Clare?’ asked June, looking sideways at her.
‘Is he the one that ran away to sea when he was a boy?’
‘The very one. Fancy you mindin’ that.’
Clare smiled and took a tray of clean cups to the cupboard. ‘The forge was a great place for hearing life stories,’ she said, as she put the cups back in their places.
As June washed and Elsie dried, Clare smiled to herself. With this team at work, feeding the five thousand might still be a problem, but washing up afterwards would be no trouble at all.
‘Have ye been past the forge recently, Clare?’ askedJune cautiously.
‘I have, indeed,’ she replied sadly. ‘Andrew and I were up in April. I could hardly believe it.’
‘Why, what’s happened?’ asked Elsie.
‘Ach, it’s this new landlord, Elsie,’ June began. ‘Hutchinson, his name is. He’s a great man for makin’ money. He has the forge knocked down that was there fer generations. All the good trees down an’ away too. They say he plans to build a house where the forge was an’ a couple more forby. Ach, it’s a disgrace an’ a shame.’
‘Ah, dear a dear, isn’t that desperate,’ said Elsie sympathetically. ‘An’ sure aren’t your plans all upset again with poor Master Edward dying,’ she said, looking mournfully at Clare, as she brought another trayful of dirty cups from table to sink.
‘How do you mean, Elsie?’
‘Well, yer weddin’ and goin’ off to Canada an’ so on.’
‘Oh, we’re not delaying the wedding,’ said Clare, relieved. ‘Mrs Moore and Virginia want us to go ahead. It’ll be a very quiet wedding anyway.’
‘Aye, I’m sure they wouden stan’ in yer way, nor woud young Edward either, God rest him,’ Elsie replied agreeably. ‘But I’m thinkin’ there’ll be no
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