moment is my stomach. If you don’t slow down you might meet its contents.”
He reached over and rubbed my tummy. “Oh, my delicate little flower. Not to worry, we’ll be there soon. I’m sure my mother will have something to settle your stomach.”
My mother’s warning echoed in my head. “A cup of tea will probably do the trick.”
We drove another ten minutes through the tunnel of brambles. Although it was still early, the afternoon sun couldn’t make it through the thicket overhanging the lane. Bobby switched on the headlights. A large pothole almost engulfed the poor Opel. Bobby ground the gears and drove on. The lane eventually widened, the hedges thinned and carefully tended fields soon surrounded us. I sighed in relief. Based on my mother’s stories and the forbidding lane we’d just driven through, I half expected “the Mountain” to be the stuff of fairy tales, all dark and dreary woods, but these green fields were soft and inviting, and thankfully, ordinary. In the distance was a white cottage trimmed in dark blue.
Bobby pulled into a gravel driveway next to the white fence surrounding the cottage; the poor car seemed to groan with relief. A small sheep ambled up to my car door, as if to greet us.
Bobby turned to me and smiled. “This is it. Ready?”
I tried to smile back but I was suddenly gripped with a massive headache. “Oh,” I moaned as I pressed my fingers into my forehead.
“Caroline, sweetheart, are you okay?”
It was as if a fire engulfed my brain. I had never felt such pain. Bobby touched my face, but his fingers scalded me. I couldn’t bear it and turned away, leaned my forehead against the Opel’s cool glass window and stared out. The sheep’s eyes, two black pools, met mine. I stared and felt like I was being drawn into a dark abyss, yet couldn’t look away. The sheep seemed to be laughing at me, mocking my pain. Just when I thought my head would explode, the sheep turned its head and walked away. The pain left me.
“Caro, sweetheart, talk to me. Are you okay?”
Poor Bobby, his green eyes were filled with concern. He’d spent months worrying about me, and he needed this break as much as I did, maybe even more so. I forced myself to smile.
“These bumpy roads. It was nothing. I’m fine now.” I squeezed his hand.
He leaned over and kissed me.
Chapter 4
Mary
“Cup of tea, love?” I called out the window.
My Bobby sat in his usual spot beneath the window, long legs stretched out, soaking up the summer sun. “Yes, please,” he said.
I put on the kettle to boil and cut two generous slices of the brown bread Bridget Griffin, Seamus’s wife, had brought up this morning. Bobby had looked tired when he’d first come home. These three days on the Mountain had done him good. Spending his life behind a desk had to be a strain on him. It was fine for Paul and for Orla--they were Dubs through and through. But Bobby was more like my people. The Mountain was in our blood.
And that of Caroline as well. The poor thing had looked wrecked when she got here. Car sick, she’d said. She seemed to have perked up since, though. She and Bobby roamed the Mountain for hours, hand-in-hand. It seemed to agree with her: her skin was clearer and even her hair appeared thicker and less mousy, if that were possible. Sure, anything’s possible here.
Caroline had offered to pick up my shopping at Dot Collins’s shop. She’d said she wanted to spend time with her auntie. I think she wanted me and Bobby to have an afternoon together. She’s considerate, I’ll say that for her.
I carried my Granny’s tray to the garden. Something soft rubbed against my leg and stopped me cold. He couldn’t get past the ring of protective flowers, sure He couldn’t? I looked down and saw it was only Seamus’s cat. Oh, thank God. He’d been scarce since Bobby had arrived. I’d pay for it later I supposed, but the last thing I wanted was for Him to make an appearance and ruin Bobby’s holidays.
He reached over and rubbed my tummy. “Oh, my delicate little flower. Not to worry, we’ll be there soon. I’m sure my mother will have something to settle your stomach.”
My mother’s warning echoed in my head. “A cup of tea will probably do the trick.”
We drove another ten minutes through the tunnel of brambles. Although it was still early, the afternoon sun couldn’t make it through the thicket overhanging the lane. Bobby switched on the headlights. A large pothole almost engulfed the poor Opel. Bobby ground the gears and drove on. The lane eventually widened, the hedges thinned and carefully tended fields soon surrounded us. I sighed in relief. Based on my mother’s stories and the forbidding lane we’d just driven through, I half expected “the Mountain” to be the stuff of fairy tales, all dark and dreary woods, but these green fields were soft and inviting, and thankfully, ordinary. In the distance was a white cottage trimmed in dark blue.
Bobby pulled into a gravel driveway next to the white fence surrounding the cottage; the poor car seemed to groan with relief. A small sheep ambled up to my car door, as if to greet us.
Bobby turned to me and smiled. “This is it. Ready?”
I tried to smile back but I was suddenly gripped with a massive headache. “Oh,” I moaned as I pressed my fingers into my forehead.
“Caroline, sweetheart, are you okay?”
It was as if a fire engulfed my brain. I had never felt such pain. Bobby touched my face, but his fingers scalded me. I couldn’t bear it and turned away, leaned my forehead against the Opel’s cool glass window and stared out. The sheep’s eyes, two black pools, met mine. I stared and felt like I was being drawn into a dark abyss, yet couldn’t look away. The sheep seemed to be laughing at me, mocking my pain. Just when I thought my head would explode, the sheep turned its head and walked away. The pain left me.
“Caro, sweetheart, talk to me. Are you okay?”
Poor Bobby, his green eyes were filled with concern. He’d spent months worrying about me, and he needed this break as much as I did, maybe even more so. I forced myself to smile.
“These bumpy roads. It was nothing. I’m fine now.” I squeezed his hand.
He leaned over and kissed me.
Chapter 4
Mary
“Cup of tea, love?” I called out the window.
My Bobby sat in his usual spot beneath the window, long legs stretched out, soaking up the summer sun. “Yes, please,” he said.
I put on the kettle to boil and cut two generous slices of the brown bread Bridget Griffin, Seamus’s wife, had brought up this morning. Bobby had looked tired when he’d first come home. These three days on the Mountain had done him good. Spending his life behind a desk had to be a strain on him. It was fine for Paul and for Orla--they were Dubs through and through. But Bobby was more like my people. The Mountain was in our blood.
And that of Caroline as well. The poor thing had looked wrecked when she got here. Car sick, she’d said. She seemed to have perked up since, though. She and Bobby roamed the Mountain for hours, hand-in-hand. It seemed to agree with her: her skin was clearer and even her hair appeared thicker and less mousy, if that were possible. Sure, anything’s possible here.
Caroline had offered to pick up my shopping at Dot Collins’s shop. She’d said she wanted to spend time with her auntie. I think she wanted me and Bobby to have an afternoon together. She’s considerate, I’ll say that for her.
I carried my Granny’s tray to the garden. Something soft rubbed against my leg and stopped me cold. He couldn’t get past the ring of protective flowers, sure He couldn’t? I looked down and saw it was only Seamus’s cat. Oh, thank God. He’d been scarce since Bobby had arrived. I’d pay for it later I supposed, but the last thing I wanted was for Him to make an appearance and ruin Bobby’s holidays.
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