The Good People Read Online Free PDF Page B

the horizon.
    A curtain of rain was slowly moving across the mountains on the far side of the valley, beyond the low land where the river ran, and the crouch of woods to the east. Other than a few ash trees around the white cabins scattered about the dale on untilled ground, and the tangle of oak and alder beyond Nance Roche’s greening bothán in the distance, the valley was a broad expanse of fields ribboned with low stone walls and ditches, flanked with bog ground and rough hillside where little else but furze and heather grew amongst the slabs of rock.
    Even under the low rainclouds, it was a sight that calmed Nóra. The valley was beautiful. The slow turning towards winter had left the stubble on the fields and the wild grasses bronzed, and the scutter of cloud left shadows brooding across the soil. It was its own world. Only the narrow road, wending through the flat of the valley floor, indicated the world beyond the mountains to the west: the big houses and copper mines, the cramped streets of Killarney bristling with slated buildings and beggars, or, to the east, the distant markets of Cork. Only the occasional merchant headed towards Macroom, his horses’ sides laden with casks of butter, suggested that there were other valleys, other towns, where different folk led different lives.
    There was a shout of laughter from the children, and Nóra was startled out of her reverie. She turned to see an old woman making her way over the uneven ground from the cabin closest on the hillside, leaning heavily on a blackthorn stick.
    Peg O’Shea.
    Her neighbour smiled at the children as she entered the yard, then caught Nóra’s eye and shuffled towards her.
    ‘Nóra. I’m so sorry for your trouble.’ Her neighbour had the sunken cheeks of the very old, her lips curling inwards from loss of teeth. Her eyes, however, were wren-black and beady. Nóra felt them pass over her face, taking her measure.
    ‘God and Mary to you, Peg. Thank you for taking Micheál.’
    ‘’Tis no trouble at all.’
    ‘I didn’t want him here. The house is full of people. I thought . . . I thought he might be frightened.’
    Peg said nothing, pursing her lips.
    ‘Martin and I, we thought ’twould be best if we kept him from crowds. Kept him quiet with us.’
    ‘Aye, could be.’
    ‘Who has an eye to him?’
    ‘Oh, the house is full of my children and their weans. They give Micheál no mind. And ’tis not as though he’ll be wandering off.’ She leant closer. ‘I didn’t know ’twas so bad with him. All these months you’ve been caring for the boy . . .’
    ‘Martin and I both. We managed between us. The one could mind him while the other worked.’
    ‘How old is he, Nóra?’
    ‘Four.’
    ‘Four. And no more able to speak than a baby.’
    Nóra looked down at the egg the little boy had given her, tracing a fingertip upon the shell. ‘’Tis the illness upon him.’
    Peg was silent.
    ‘He has the ability for it. I heard him speak before. When Johanna was alive.’
    ‘Was he walking then too?’
    Nóra felt ill. She shook her head, unable to answer, and Peg placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘The sky has the appearance of rain. Let’s inside to rest our bones. I’ll pay my respects.’
    The turf fire was at a high blaze inside the cabin, and the conversation amongst the visitors was loud. Laughter spilt from a corner.
    ‘Mmm.’ Peg’s dark eyes flitted over the company in the room. ‘Who brought the drink then?’
    ‘Seán Lynch brought most of it,’ Nóra replied.
    Peg raised her eyebrows.
    ‘I know. ’Twas not something I expected. Not a generous man.’
    ‘The only thing that man is generous with is his fists.’ She cast a sly look to where Kate sat amongst the women, picking at her teeth. ‘Seán Lynch would skin a louse and send the hide and fat to market. I wonder what he’s after.’
    Nóra shrugged. ‘We’re kin. Don’t you forget that my sister married his brother, God rest their souls.’
    Peg sniffed.