Bridie's Fire Read Online Free PDF

squatted down and sifted through them with his fingers, sighing wistfully.
    Mam wanted to seek shelter in the shadow of Rath Fhionnain, the fort that lay above the town, but Bridie encouraged her to walk a little further to the other side of the village, so that Dingle would be in sight. They stopped in the shade of the Giant’s Bed, a huge dolmen like a table made of three slabs of limestone. The space beneath the dolmen was black and still. Some said it was an ancient grave and others thought it the entrance to a fairy world. Brandon climbed onto the biggest flat stone, but Bridie called for him to come down.
    â€˜That’s the Munsterman’s Grave, boyo. You don’t want to go waking him now,’ she said. ‘Come sit beside me, here, and I’ll tell you a story about the great giant that lives under these stones.’
    Brandon climbed down slowly and snuggled close to their mother.
    â€˜I want Mam to tell me the story,’ he said.
    Bridie put her hands on her hips and glared at Brandon. ‘Don’t you go bothering our mam. She should be saving her strength for the morrow.’ She took out the sticks and turf she’d pilfered along the coast road and set about lighting a small fire to warm her family. The harbour looked blue and inviting in the summer afternoon, yet it was cool in the shelter of the Munsterman’s Grave.
    â€˜What’s that mountain, over there to the north, Mam?’ asked Brandon, pointing.
    â€˜Why that’s Mount Brandon,’ she answered, smiling. ‘After his blessed self, our own St Brennain .’
    â€˜Am I like St Brandon, Mam?’ asked Brandon, staring up at the mountain.
    â€˜Well, he was a great adventurer, like you, my darling. And he sailed to the Promised Land with his brothers and they found the Paradise of Birds and other wonders and that’s how the Irish discovered America.’
    Bridie sat on the far side of the fire, feeding it with twigs and watching Brandon gazing at Mam’s face, and Paddy, like a kitten curled against her side. She longed to crawl over and lay her head in her mother’s lap, to shut her eyes and listen to a story. She willed herself to be strong, strong enough to make sure her family reached Aunt Mairead.
    Bridie woke early the next morning. There was a mist across the landscape and the Munsterman’s Grave looked silver-grey in the half-light. Bridie looked into the face of her sleeping mother. Every line seemed to have grown deeper, her features more careworn than ever. She lay with one thin arm around each of the boys and her hand resting on her swollen, hungry belly. Bridie felt a pang of fear that her mother would be too weak to travel any further.
    As her family slept, she hurried across the green fields towards a cluster of houses. Even if she could only beg a crust of bread to start the day, at least that might give her mother enough energy to walk on. She knocked on the first door of the village but no one answered. The quiet chilled her. She hugged her arms around her and walked to the next door. At the end of the lane, the top half of a doorway stood open. She peered into the dark room. A sickly, sour smell wafted out and there was no glow from the fire. In the corner lay a heaped pile of rags. Bridie pushed the door open and stepped into the gloom. She put her fist in her mouth to stifle the scream that swelled inside her. The pile of rags was a group of bodies, huddled together in their last moments, a whole family, their stick-like limbs entwined. Bridie turned and ran, the slap of her feet on the ground echoing through the empty houses.
    Dingle was teeming with homeless folk, many of them as ragged and desperate as the O’Connors. People pushed past each other without greeting as if they weren’t even there. Bridie tried not to look into their haunted faces. A man stepped out of his shop and waved away the crowds, shouting at them in a language she couldn’t