Authors: Sara Seale
“
Danny
’
s children?
”
“
Hasn
’
t it always been Dun Rury for the Riordans?
”
“
Of course, but I
’
m a Riordan, too, and Dun Rury is mine.
”
“
Were you thinkin
’
of marryin
’
, then, Miss Sarah?
”
Nonie
’
s voice was dry.
“
No—no, of course not.
”
“
An
’
what other way would you raise children at Dun Rury? Well, let me tell you this, me bold girl—your husband, if you
’
re after findin
’
one—will be takin
’
you away to a home of his own, and then what happens to this divil of a house?
”
“
He could live here,
”
Sarah said, and Nonie smiled.
“
He could an
’
he would,
”
she replied.
“
But the sort of felly you
’
d pick for a husband, me doty, will have a mind of his own and will want a roof of his own, too, I
’
m thinkin
’
.
”
“
Then I shall have to live and die an old maid,
”
said Sarah cheerfully,
“
for I
’
ll not give up Dun Rury for any man.
”
“
An
’
that
’s
what you
’
ll become, me poor child, an
’
you growing stubborn with the years. Mr. Denis, God rest his soul, did you no kindness in settin
’
you over Miss Kathy, an
’
she the eldest
...
Danny is needin
’
more underclothes, Miss Sarah. These is droppin
’
off his back.
”
“
Oh, Nonie, more expense! Can
’
t they be patched?
”
The old woman held up a tom ve
s
t, already darned and mended in a score of different places.
“
If you think meself or Miss Emma can howld that thing together you
’
d best try patchin
’
yourself,
”
she said scornfully.
“
You
’
ll order some more at Cassidy
’
s next time you go to Knockferry, an
’
throw in some socks as well. The boy
’
s growin
’
.
”
“
All right,
”
said Sarah despondently.
Each week her precious hoard got dipped into for something, stockings for Kathy, linen for the house, repairs for the car. It was extraordinary the number of dusters, dishcloths, aprons and the like required
by Mary, while Nolan had to have new boots, the garden boy fresh tools, and all the time there was Dun Rury dropping into decay and the new roof for the stable as distant as ever. With the damage caused by the snow, it was clear that expenses could not be met without running up fresh bills, and Sarah drove into Knockferry one morning in early February and went to see Brian Kavanagh at his office.
“
My dear Sarah, I don
’
t see what more I can do,
”
he said regretfully, when she had told him her difficulties.
“
That extra twelve guineas a week should help to ease things, you know.
”
“
But I never seem to catch up,
”
said Sarah despairingly.
“
As fast as I get something saved, somebody needs something, and there
’
s so much to be done to the place that can
’
t wait much longer. If only I had a little bit of capital—a lump sum to get straight and start again. Surely there
’
s something you can sell, Uncle
B.?
”
“
My dear child, I
’
ve realized on all possible investments long ago. The few that remain must be kept intact, otherwise where
’
s your income coming from?
”
“
Couldn
’
t you raise even a hundred or so without making a lot of difference?
”
His eyes were kindly but he shook his head.
“
A hundred or
so wouldn
’
t begin to set the place to rights.
“
It would help.
”
“
I can
’
t do it, Sarah,
”
he said.
“
We
’
ve already dipped far too heavily into your father
’
s investments. I
’
m supposed to look after your interests, you know, and there are the others to be thought of.
”
“
The others?
”
“
Kathy and Danny. If everything goes into Dun Rury what is there left for them?
”
“
Kathy will get married.
”
“
Sure she will, but there
’
s still Danny and yourself. You know what I
’
ve always advised, my dear. Hanging on to the place is sheer folly.
”
“It will be different in the summer,” she said. “There will be plenty of visitors over then.”
He sighed. She was as stubborn as Denis had been and as passionately single-hearted.
J
oe took Sarah out and gave her lunch. They had none of them seen him since New Year’s Eve and she warmed again to the sight of his familiar, kindly face.
“No luck with the old man?” he asked with a sympa
t
hetic grin.
“None. He’s a hard-hearted old skinflint. I suppose I can’t get round you?”
“I can’t act without Dad, and in any case, you know, he’s right. You can’t afford to sell out any more. There’s little enough left as it is.”
“Oh, well, I’ll manage somehow. How are you, Joe? We’ve missed you.”
“Have you? I wonder?”
“Well, I have. Joe”—she traced a pattern on the table
-
cloth—
“
Adrian isn’t in love with Kathy. I thought you’d like to know.”
“Isn’t he? Then what right had he to make love to her?”
“
He didn’t. Kathy’s made one of her dreams round him.
He’s gone away.”
He looked up quickly.
“
For good, you mean?
”
“
No, only for a little while, but I think he
’
s staying away longer to give her a chance. He says she
’
ll soon get over it.
”
“
How
’
s she taking that?
”
“
She doesn
’
t seem to mind. I think she enjoys making
up stories about herself and the ideal lover—I think Adrian just happened to fit the picture rather well.
”
He was silent for a moment, then he said with a little smile:
“
Perhaps Kathy doesn
’
t want a flesh-and-blood affair
.”
“
No, I don
’
t think she does,
”
Sarah said.
“
She wants something all mixed up with poetry and romance and gentle compliments.
”
“
She hasn
’
t grown up,
”
he said, and she replied a little tartly:
“
Then it
’
s time she did. She
’
s nearly twenty one.
”
Driving back along the south road she was suddenly aware that spring was nearly here, and she knew a joyous lifting of the spirit, as she beheld the first buds on the arid thorn trees, the first green on the hills. Her old delight at the change of the seasons returned to remind her that nothing remained the same; as nature changed, so must their fortunes. She whistled the air of
The Spanish Lady
as she drove and wondered if this lovely awareness of the approaching season was like the dreams Kathy made for herself. She went running into the house shouting for her sister.
“
Come out!
”
she called.
“
Walk down the road with me and sniff the spring. Slieve Rury
’
s lost her snow cap and the thorns are budding.
”
They walked down the road together, their arms linked, and Kathy said:
“
You sound happy. Did Uncle B. help?
”
“
He didn
’
t help at all, but I
’
m still happy,
”
Sarah said gaily.
“
What does it matter, anyway? Dun Rury
’
s waited for years. It will wait a little longer till I make my fortune.
”
Kathy smiled.
“
Do you expect to make a fortune?
”
she asked tolerantly.
“
On a day like this I can expect anything. I saw Joe, Kathy. He took me out to lunch.
”
“
When is he coming out here again? He seems to have quite deserted us,
”
Kathy said.
For a moment Sarah glanced at her sister incredulously.
“
But, Kath
y—”
she began.
“
Oh, I know I said I wouldn
’
t marry him but that was only because he wouldn
’
t leave me alone and I had to say something. But I don
’
t see that
’
s any reason why he should stop coming here.
”
“
Don
’
t you?
”
Sarah felt subdued after her sudden sense of exultation. Did Kathy have no understanding at all or did she simply believe that her beauty gave her rights which others should not expect?
“
Have you missed him, Kathy?
”
she asked, and Kathy pouted.
“
Of course I
’
ve missed him. With Adrian away it
’
s very dull, and besides, I shall always need Joe. He
’
s part of my childhood.
”
“
And do you miss Adrian?
”
Sarah questioned a little
tentatively.
“
Of course,
”
said Kathy again.
“
But he
’
s coming back.
”
“
Kathy
—”
Sarah began, but at her sister
’
s enquiring
gaze she fell silent and said no more.
“
Don
’
t interfere,
”
Adrian had once told her. No, she would not interfere, she would not, as her heart urged her to do, make things safe for Kathy, perhaps make things safe for Joe. Words were useless things with which to fight dreams.
It was better to be silent.
Adrian did not return until the middle of February.
He
had been away just over three weeks, and since he had been gone the face of the country had changed. There was a softness over the land. The mountains, with their fresh splashes of color, were blue in the evening light with the soft bloom of grapes, and the streams ran clear and sparkling to the lough.
Sarah walked round the demesne the day Adrian was to return and surveyed everything with rueful eyes. Dun Rury had a battered look after the winter. Broken boundary
fences would soon be claimed by the strong profusion of spring, byres and outbuildings had suffered too severely in the frost and snow to be more than patched together, and the house itself wore a sad air of neglect, in the bright February sunlight.