An Irish Country Cottage Page 33

  Barry glanced away to see Alice Moloney and Ronald Fitzpatrick on their feet, capering, waving their arms, and clearly yelling their heads off.

  “Three points if their man drop-kicks the ball between the uprights,” Jack said.

  The frantic Campbell backs, knowing what the Bangor player was intending, tore across the turf. To Barry it all seemed to be happening in slow motion. The Bangor player, as if he had all of eternity instead of a few seconds, dropped the ball so its lower narrow end struck the ground. As it rebounded, the out-half’s right boot thumped it squarely. A perfect drop kick.

  The crowd held its communal breath as the ball soared up and over the crossbar exactly in the middle. Regardless of their affiliation, the entire crowd, Barry included, roared its approval of a fine piece of rugby football, and for a moment, Barry thought of Jack’s concern for Ulster. All these Ulsterfolk, regardless of which side they supported, could agree. Why couldn’t the rest of the benighted province? Why? Barry reckoned time was too short now for there to be any comeback from Campbell College, and moments after the kickoff to restart the game the referee blew his whistle for full-time. And, to Barry’s pleasure, the game ended in a six-to-three victory for Bangor Grammar School.

  He looked at Sue. Sometimes, even when the outlook did not look good, matters still turned out all for the best for some people. He could only hope with all his heart that they would for his brave Sue and the pregnancy they both desired so much.

  35

  Take All of My Comfort

  O’Reilly ran the Rover down the rutted lane to Dun Bwee with Barry and Sue following in Barry’s Imp. This morning, Saturday, March 22, had dawned fair, and as the day progressed the air had warmed. Yellow coltsfoot bloomed by the sides of the lane. Spring was on the way. O’Reilly parked in front of the cottage and hoped it was a good omen. “Out we get,” he said to Kitty and Emer.

  Barry and Sue parked and joined them. “Look at that,” said Barry. “The rebuilding’s coming on a treat.”

  And it was. The re-plastered outside walls were pristine white. The new thatch roof shone yellow in the sunlight, the fresh red trim on doors and window frames sparkled. The glaziers had done a fine job too of installing the panes. The remaining work must all be inside now.

  Donal appeared from round the gable end. He grinned. “Thank youse all very much for coming. I was just fixing up something round the back, and I’m all set now.”

  “Our pleasure,” Kitty said. “Fingal’s explained what you’re trying to do for Tori, and all of us will do whatever we can to help.”

  “That’s dead decent, so it is. Our wee Tori’s still having them nightmares. Still thinks it was her fault the fire started. Six weeks ago, we brung her out to see how her old home was coming on.” He sighed. “Doctor O’Reilly and Doctor Emer was here.”

  O’Reilly said, “Poor wee Tori was in floods.”

  “Dun Bwee is near finished. We hope now the place looks more like its old self, Tori will see all’s well, and mebbe this time all of us can help persuade her she’s not a bad girl.”

  “I’m sure we can, Donal,” Sue said.

  O’Reilly, who had seen Sue work with children, reckoned if anyone could, it would be Sue Laverty.

  “Here they come,” O’Reilly said, watching Dapper Frew’s car approach.

  Dapper parked beside O’Reilly’s Rover, got out, and helped Julie and Tori out. Julie picked up Tori, who waved as her father came over to them.

  “How’s about ye, Dapper? Thanks a million for bringing them.”

  “Never worry your head, ould hand,” Dapper said.

  Donal stood beside Julie. “Hello, love,” he said, “and how’s my wee girl?”

  “Hello, Daddy.”

  “See all the nice people come to see you?”

  Tori looked around. “Yes, Daddy,” she said, and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

  “Here’s Doctor O’Reilly and Mrs. O’Reilly and Doctor Emer—”

  Tori, eyes wide, nodded at them.

  “And Doctor and Mrs. Laverty. All your grown-up friends come til help you see how nice Dun Bwee is now.”

  Tori looked over Sue’s head at the cottage. The little girl’s blue eyes began to fill. She opened her mouth and drew in a hiccuppy breath.

  Donal said, “Look, Tori. Our home. Near as good as new, and it’ll be finished very soon.”

  Tori began to make a mewling noise.

  “See the lovely new thatch?” Donal was working hard to keep his voice enthusiastic. He glanced to Julie. “See the pretty red paint?”

  Tori was openly crying now.

  O’Reilly only just made out a whispered, “It was all my fault. Tori’s a bad girl.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Donal said. “Haven’t me and Mammy been telling you all along we think the stove caught fire by itself?”

  Tori started to cry.

  O’Reilly exchanged looks with Kitty, who had her hand on her heart. “Oh, Fingal,” Kitty said under her breath. “The poor wee girl. My heart bleeds for her.” O’Reilly noticed Sue, hanky out, dabbing at her own eyes.

  Kitty and Sue instinctively closed round mother and daughter.

  Donal looked at the women and shook his head. “Doctor Emer, would you come with me, please?” He led her to the gable end and they disappeared round it.

  O’Reilly wondered what the hell was going on.

  Donal reappeared moments later with Emer holding a lead rope in one hand. “Tori,” he called. “Tori. Look. Look what Doctor Emer’s found.”

  Emer took a few more paces, and as she advanced, a white head with a bright white spiral horn in the middle of its forehead appeared. Julie said, “Look, Tori.”

  Emer kept walking and soon the whole white animal was in full view, long tail swishing, ears twitching.

  “Holy thundering mother of—” O’Reilly cut off his blasphemy. “It’s a flaming unicorn. I’ll be—”

  “What the hell?” Barry said, laughing and reaching out to take Sue’s hand.

  Dapper said, “Well, I’ll be damned,” and shook his head.

  Kitty and Sue stepped back when Emer stopped in front of Julie and Tori. “Hello, Tori. Remember me?”

  Tori slowly nodded. Once. “Yes, Doctor Emer.”

  “And do you remember what we talked about?”

  “Yes, Doctor Emer.” Tori stared at the animal before her. The little girl’s eyes were round with wonder. She reached out a hand, then snatched it back when the animal lifted its head. “Is that—? Is that a—a unicorn?”

  “Yes,” Emer said. “She’s come from the Lilac Wood.”

  “Ooooh,” said Tori. “Just like the one you told me about.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And is she—” Tori moved a hand slowly to the animal again. “Is she fierce?”

  O’Reilly glanced round. Every eye was fixed on the drama.

  A loud “crack” came from the direction of the main road.

  The unicorn whinnied, tossed her head and mane, pulled the halter from Emer’s hand, and pranced several steps away before standing stock-still, but shivering.

  Tori thrust herself back in her mother’s arms. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Mammy, I’m scared. I—I made the unicorn run away. I’m scared,” she said. The tears flowed.

  “No, you didn’t, darling. It was just a car making a loud noise on the road.”

  Sue walked slowly up to the beast, talking softly, softly. She stood by its side and gently, gently, stretched out her right arm, making sure the animal could see it all the time. Her fist was closed until she was practically touching its muzzle. “Steady. Steady. Steady.” She uncurled her fingers and with a fully open hand began to stroke the unicorn’s muzzle. O’Reilly knew Sue was a keen horsewoman, a member of the Pony Club.

  The creature stopped shivering.

  O’Reilly watched as the animal used its muzzle to nudge Sue, who murmured, “Good girl. Good girl.”

  Barry, presumably feeling protective, had mov
ed beside Sue. He bent and retrieved the halter’s lead rope. “Well done, love,” he said. “Do you think we can take the animal back to Tori now? I know what Emer’s trying to do. I think it might just help that little girl be happy again, and right now, I can’t think of anything better.”

  Sue smiled at Barry. “It’s important, isn’t it?”

  He nodded and said quietly, “It is.”

  And her smile broadened. Together they led the animal back to Tori and Emer.

  Emer took the lead rope from Barry. “That bang frightened the poor unicorn, Tori, but I think she’s settling down. Should you and I try to tame her completely?”

  Tori nodded, but said, “I forget how.”

  “Remember what I told you? Only good little girls can get a unicorn to eat from their hand.”

  Tori sniffed. “But I’m not a good little girl.”

  “I think you are, darling,” Julie said.

  “Am not.”

  “I know you are, Tori,” Emer said. “And I want you to try, but you’ll have to stand up on your own feet to do it. Can you put her down, Mammy?”

  Julie bent and set Tori on the ground.

  Emer squatted in front of her. “May I see your hand?” Emer said.

  Slowly Tori extended her right one.

  O’Reilly watched Emer take it, examine it, and then smile.

  “Can you hold it flat?” Emer asked.

  “Yes.”

  Emer put a sugar cube Donal must have given her onto Tori’s palm. “Give it to the unicorn.”

  Tori sniffed, swallowed, took one pace past Emer, who turned to watch, and held out her outstretched hand. The unicorn lowered its head and a communal “Oooooh” went up with even O’Reilly joining in as the big rubbery lips caressed Tori’s palm and the cube vanished.

  “Here,” said Emer, giving Tori a second cube, “do it again.”

  The applause that greeted the second feeding was muted so as not to scare the animal.

  O’Reilly noticed Barry himself was not quite dry-eyed. Although not eavesdropping, O’Reilly couldn’t help overhearing Barry saying to Sue, “Once we get our family started I hope we don’t need a unicorn,” and Sue’s reply as she squeezed Barry’s hand, “Well, if we do, we know who’ll get one for us.”

  Tori stood beside the animal, gently but firmly petting its mane and talking softly. “Tori’s a good girl, Mummy. The unicorn ate out of my hand.” Julie bent and kissed the top of Tori’s head. “It did, Tori, darling. You’re a brave, good wee girl.”

  “I hope, Miss Tori Donnelly, that now you believe us,” Emer said. “You are a good girl. You are.”

  And you, thought O’Reilly, are a damn fine doctor, Emer McCarthy, and I hope this has helped you recognise it.

  Tori’s laugh was bubbly and infectious and O’Reilly saw Donal grinning from ear to ear.

  Kitty said, “Fingal and I would like to invite this brave wee girl, who tamed the fierce unicorn, and her mummy and daddy and everyone else back to Number One for a cup of tea.”

  Or something a bit stronger, O’Reilly thought.

  “The unicorn says it’s time to go back to the Lilac Wood,” Emer said.

  “Bye-bye, unicorn,” said Tori as the little animal nuzzled the girl. Emer tugged gently on the rope and began to lead the animal toward the side of the cottage, with O’Reilly in tow.

  Donal gave his daughter a big kiss. “Now, who’s Daddy’s good girl?”

  “Me,” said Tori, and kissed him back. She looked at the cottage. “Bye-bye, Dun Bwee. We’ll come home to you soon.”

  Julie kissed Donal, turned, and followed Dapper to his car.

  “Kitty, why don’t you go back to Number One Main with Barry and Sue and get the kettle on. I’m going to help Donal and Emer, then give them a lift back to our place.” O’Reilly, chuckling to himself, went to the back of the cottage, where a horsebox was hitched to a Land Rover, both concealed from the view of anyone at the front. He had seen Donal Donnelly fix two greyhound races through ingenious methods, sell items, from puppies to souvenirs, for many times their value to unsuspecting clientele, but this, this totally beat Bannagher.

  “Now, Donal Donnelley,” O’Reilly said, “tell me. Where the hell did you get a unicorn?”

  Donal’s left eye closed in a wink. “By magic,” he said. “I waved my magic wand made from the wood of Brian Boru’s war club, and ‘poof.’” He was clearly enjoying the moment.

  So was Emer, who was laughing.

  “Donal Donnelly,” O’Reilly said, “stop acting the lig. Tell.”

  Donal puffed up his skinny chest. “When Doctor Emer here told Tori the story the first time we brung her til Dun Bwee I remembered his lordship’s cousin’s sabino-white Shetland. Sure, didn’t I see it in the stables on my way til work every day. I explained til him what I wanted til do and the marquis said, bless him, of course I could borrow the wee pony, Bán Beag.”

  “Bawn Beg. Little White,” said O’Reilly, remembering noticing the pony in the stables. “The scales,” he said, “have fallen from my eyes.” Brilliantly simple.

  “I wanted til surprise everybody so I asked his lordship til keep it to himself. He promised and he let us have the transport. I’ve til tell him how things went with Tori. I think he’ll be dead chuffed. I certainly am,” Donal said. “Here, wee girl. You done very good today.” Donal took off the pony’s headgear and handed the contraption to O’Reilly, then handed the horse a carrot, which she began to crunch. “Alice Moloney made this here white hat,” he said.

  Donal showed O’Reilly and Emer two wide side straps, and a shorter back strap. “Them’s for fixing it til the bridle,” Donal said. “There’s a central reinforced hole.” Donal removed the white horn, spiralling, grooved, and gradually tapering. To O’Reilly it looked like the horn of a narwhal. “Turned this here on my lathe from a piece of pine and painted it,” he said. “I kept the top end blunt so it would be safe.”

  “Ingenious,” said O’Reilly.

  “Donal,” Emer said, “it looks like your daughter’s going to be her old self.”

  “That’s dead on, isn’t it?” Donal said. “And when the work’s all done, we’ll be able til move back home. To think three months ago we was nearly out on the street and old Dun Bwee gone up in smoke.

  “And now,” he said, stroking the pony’s mane, “we near have our cottage back. I’ve not been as happy for months. I couldn’t be happier.” He began to coax the pony into the horse box.

  Emer said, “Fingal, they warned me before I started that your practice was unorthodox, but I never dreamt I’d be using a mythical creature as therapy for a little girl.”

  “Actually,” said O’Reilly, “today you’ve seen two mythical creatures: a unicorn, and I’d like to think the Donnelly family, who lost everything in a fire, are the second.”

  Emer frowned. “Which is?”

  “The phoenix rising from the ashes. The Donnellys have been given a brand-new start, and it was the people of Ballybucklebo who gave it to them.” He sighed. “That’s the Ulster I have known and loved. That’s the Ulster I want to live in, but,” he said, opening the passenger’s door for Emer, “we’ll have to wait and see about that. Right now, you two get the pony back to the marquis, give him the good news about Tori, and then I’ll meet you there and drive you back home to see our friends at Number One. I’m off.”

  Then Doctor Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly turned and walked past an almost completely rebuilt Dun Bwee. As for the future that lay ahead for him, his friends, and the province of Ulster? That would be a bridge to be crossed when he came to it. But, for the present, he was content.

  AFTERWORD

  by

  Mrs. Maureen “Kinky” Auchinleck

  You’d think that with my having gone and written a whole Irish Country Cookbook with help from Dorothy Tinman and Doctor Laverty, Doctor O’Reilly would be satisfied, but not him. “Kinky,” says he to me the other day, “your man Patrick Taylor has just gone and finished anoth
er of his Irish Country Doctor novels. This one’s all about the usual folks, but it asks a few serious questions about women’s reproductive rights in 1969 in Ireland, and, as well you know, that was also the year the whole Orange and Green thing broke out in Ulster again, so he’s had to write about that too.”

  “So,” says I, “it’s not all sweetness and light in the book?”

  “There a good deal of craic in it,” he says, “but, yes, there is serious stuff too. Now, Patrick gets lots of letters telling him how some people like to go to the peace of Ballybucklebo to get away from the modern world.”

  “Aye. I can understand why, bye.”

  “So, I thought it might be a comfort if this book included some of your—”

  “Recipes?” says I.

  “That’s right.” He was grinning from ear to ear.

  So here I am in my cosy kitchen at Number One. I’ve just made a batch of kipper pâté and two loaves of wheaten bread, so my kitchen has a lovely fresh-baked aroma. I’ll give you the recipes, and last week I got a couple of bottles of Guinness from the Duck and made beef and Guinness stew and mussels in Guinness. They’ll both be in here. To round things off I did a roast chicken yesterday and I’m sure you all know how to do that, but the carcass let me make a fine stock and then creamy chicken soup. I hope you’ll like it too.

  So, I’ll quit my blethering and get down to the writing and hope you all enjoy the results when you try these dishes.

  BEEF AND GUINNESS STEW

  Serves 4

  500 g / 1 lb. 2 oz. stewing steak

  2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

  Salt and freshly ground black pepper

  2 tablespoons Canola or rapeseed oil

  2 large onions, chopped

  2 large carrots, peeled and chopped

  1 parsnip, peeled and chopped

  235 mL / 8 oz. Guinness

  1 L / 34 fluid oz. beef stock

  Small bunch of thyme

  Cut the steak into 2-inch chunks and coat in the flour which you have seasoned well with salt and pepper.

  Heat the oil in a Dutch oven or pan with a lid over a medium to hot heat. Gradually add the meat to the hot oil and brown on all sides. Don’t add too much at a time. When all the meat has been browned, remove it from the pan to a plate. Now add the prepared vegetables and a little more oil if necessary. Don’t worry about the brown caramelised remains of the meat, as this all adds to the flavour. Stir the vegetables around for a few minutes and then return the meat to the dish.