not? Why shouldn’t that change like everything else?
If there was one thing she had come to accept in these last years, so full of the distress and anxieties of the long years of the war and all the heartachethat had come after for their own land, it was the way things could change, at any moment, for good or ill. Nor could you tell to begin with which way it was going to go.
‘I don’t know, Rose. I leave these things to you,’ he said steadily. ‘But you tell me what you think’s best an’ I’ll go along with it. It’s a long time since I saw our Sam so anxious. He’d break his heart if anything hurt that wee lassie.’
‘Well, we’ll not let that happen,’ she said softly, knowing that there was someone other than their son who had lost his heart to a slip of a girl called Rosie.
‘Here y’ar, miss. A nice boiled egg and toast. Yer granny says to eat it all up an’ she’ll be up to see you after the doctor comes. She said she could do the stairs once in a morning but not twice. Though she’s better, mind you. I see an improvement since Friday …’
Rosie had been awake for some time, but she’d felt so easy and been so comfortable she’d gone on lying with her eyes closed just listening to the familiar sounds of the house and the rapturous song of a blackbird in the garden.
She sat up in bed and watched Mrs Love, the housekeeper, fuss around the room, putting down her breakfast tray, drawing back the curtains, straightening the cushion on the big armchair by the window.
Mrs Love talked all the time and once she gotgoing she was very hard to stop. She always reminded Rosie of the Ancient Mariner in Coleridge’s poem. But Mrs Love was such a kind-hearted soul that even when Rosie longed for quiet, like this morning, she did her best to pay attention.
‘Yer granda went out early and drove over to Dromore so ye’ll maybe have young Dr Stewart here before too long. Would you like another pot of tea?’ she demanded, as Rosie poured a second cup and drank thirstily.
Rosie reassured her that she never had more than two cups at breakfast. What she didn’t say was that she’d be lucky to get a second cup if one of the boys hadn’t emptied the pot before she got to it.
‘I suppose yer sister’s working away. She must be nearly saved up by now.’
Rosie nodded, her mouth full of toast.
She was intrigued by Mrs Love. She talked all the time and appeared never to hear anything you said in reply, yet weeks or months after you mentioned something it would come up in conversation as if you’d been talking about it only the previous day. It was almost a year since Emily had said she planned to go to America as soon as she had the money for her fare and enough in her pocket to satisfy the immigration authorities.
‘Maybe you’ll go too now yer finished the wee school?’
Mrs Love always referred to Miss Wilson’s school in Richhill as if it were not quite proper. Having learnt to read and write and do sums, which she was willing to admit came in handy for getting a job when you were young, she could see no point in reading novels, reciting poetry or speaking French.
‘But I have no money saved up, Mrs Love.’
‘Sure if you went to America you’d have your grandmother’s people to go to,’ Mrs Love replied. ‘Her brother Sam’s family. God rest him. The McGinleys. I know they’re Catholic, but I’m sure any relative of your granny would be a decent sort and good to you. There’s good and bad in all sorts as my dear husband used to say. He had a great friend who was a theosophist. I wouldn’t know one of those from a horse and cart on a dark night, but he was so kind to me when Billy passed on. Ye have to keep an open mind about these things,’ she added, as Rosie despatched the last of the toast and emptied her teacup.
Richard Stewart arrived shortly before noon, parked his motor outside John’s workshop and came in by the back door.
‘Richard, how lovely to see you,’
If there was one thing she had come to accept in these last years, so full of the distress and anxieties of the long years of the war and all the heartachethat had come after for their own land, it was the way things could change, at any moment, for good or ill. Nor could you tell to begin with which way it was going to go.
‘I don’t know, Rose. I leave these things to you,’ he said steadily. ‘But you tell me what you think’s best an’ I’ll go along with it. It’s a long time since I saw our Sam so anxious. He’d break his heart if anything hurt that wee lassie.’
‘Well, we’ll not let that happen,’ she said softly, knowing that there was someone other than their son who had lost his heart to a slip of a girl called Rosie.
‘Here y’ar, miss. A nice boiled egg and toast. Yer granny says to eat it all up an’ she’ll be up to see you after the doctor comes. She said she could do the stairs once in a morning but not twice. Though she’s better, mind you. I see an improvement since Friday …’
Rosie had been awake for some time, but she’d felt so easy and been so comfortable she’d gone on lying with her eyes closed just listening to the familiar sounds of the house and the rapturous song of a blackbird in the garden.
She sat up in bed and watched Mrs Love, the housekeeper, fuss around the room, putting down her breakfast tray, drawing back the curtains, straightening the cushion on the big armchair by the window.
Mrs Love talked all the time and once she gotgoing she was very hard to stop. She always reminded Rosie of the Ancient Mariner in Coleridge’s poem. But Mrs Love was such a kind-hearted soul that even when Rosie longed for quiet, like this morning, she did her best to pay attention.
‘Yer granda went out early and drove over to Dromore so ye’ll maybe have young Dr Stewart here before too long. Would you like another pot of tea?’ she demanded, as Rosie poured a second cup and drank thirstily.
Rosie reassured her that she never had more than two cups at breakfast. What she didn’t say was that she’d be lucky to get a second cup if one of the boys hadn’t emptied the pot before she got to it.
‘I suppose yer sister’s working away. She must be nearly saved up by now.’
Rosie nodded, her mouth full of toast.
She was intrigued by Mrs Love. She talked all the time and appeared never to hear anything you said in reply, yet weeks or months after you mentioned something it would come up in conversation as if you’d been talking about it only the previous day. It was almost a year since Emily had said she planned to go to America as soon as she had the money for her fare and enough in her pocket to satisfy the immigration authorities.
‘Maybe you’ll go too now yer finished the wee school?’
Mrs Love always referred to Miss Wilson’s school in Richhill as if it were not quite proper. Having learnt to read and write and do sums, which she was willing to admit came in handy for getting a job when you were young, she could see no point in reading novels, reciting poetry or speaking French.
‘But I have no money saved up, Mrs Love.’
‘Sure if you went to America you’d have your grandmother’s people to go to,’ Mrs Love replied. ‘Her brother Sam’s family. God rest him. The McGinleys. I know they’re Catholic, but I’m sure any relative of your granny would be a decent sort and good to you. There’s good and bad in all sorts as my dear husband used to say. He had a great friend who was a theosophist. I wouldn’t know one of those from a horse and cart on a dark night, but he was so kind to me when Billy passed on. Ye have to keep an open mind about these things,’ she added, as Rosie despatched the last of the toast and emptied her teacup.
Richard Stewart arrived shortly before noon, parked his motor outside John’s workshop and came in by the back door.
‘Richard, how lovely to see you,’
Similar Books
