House of Memories (22 page)

“Well done, young Danny,” she said, holding out her hand with an enigmatic smile on her face.

“Thank you, and welcome to Furze Hill,” he replied.

He was glad that it was Fr Tim who was saying the mass and wondered how he had persuaded Fr Burke to take a back seat. From where he stood by the door, he looked around the room. His mother’s face was full of peace, and with a start he saw that she now looked as young as Martha, who was standing a little apart from the rest of them. Then he noticed Kitty looking at Peter with an appraising look on her face, and he thought, If she sets her sights in that direction, there will be trouble with Martha. Then he saw Rosie watching Kitty and decided that there could be trouble from more directions than one. It looked as if the road to Mossgrove could be stormy!

After the long years of trouble between themselves and the farm across the river, it was good to see the altar candles glow in Nellie Phelan’s brass candlesticks and to know that the lace-edged cloth was the work of Emily’s hands. Emily, whose friendship had been the original link between the two houses. But the betrayal of that friendship had led to years of trouble and division, and now they had come the full circle, and it was her son Jack who had healed the wounds. He was glad, too, that Kate had decided to have the table that she had bought for the entrance hall used as the altar. It was as if this station altar was a darning back together of their many strands. Then Fr Brady broke into his meandering.

“This is a very special occasion. With this mass we are celebrating many things, but most of all we are celebrating a homecoming. Molly Barry left this house many years ago, and her dream was that one day she would come back. Well, today,
due to the courage and determination of her grandson Danny, who never lost sight of her dream, it has happened. He fought against the odds and got there, but he was lucky, and he was also blessed with good neighbours. No man is an island, and I think that the restoration of this house has proved that. We all need each other in our struggle through life, and maybe the question that will be asked of us when we arrive at the end of our journey is ‘How many did you help along the way?’ If Jack Tobin, whom we buried recently, was asked that question, many of us here, including Danny, could give testimony for him. He reached the hand of friendship across the river and joined two families whom difficult times had separated. Today we pray for all who were part of that division. We pray for Rory and Matt Conway that they may have peace and that those of us left behind may have the grace of forgiveness. We remember especially Molly Barry Conway, and we pray that Danny, Mary, Kitty and their mother Brigid will have long years of peace and happiness in this house.”

After the mass some of the men were shepherded by Brigid into the dining room, but many of them made their escape and headed for the yard on what Danny knew was a tour of inspection. He smiled to see that Shiner was part of the posse. He wished he could be with them! But he had to sit down beside Fr Burke, who looked at him sourly and proceeded to talk past him to David, on his left. Brigid was having difficulty in filling up her table, and Danny could understand why because nobody felt at ease with the overbearing Fr Burke. But then Martha sailed in and Danny had to smile, because it was mostly the men who breakfasted with the priests, which was exactly why she chose to do so. She soon turned the conversation to
her visit to New York and told them vivid stories of her trip. He had never imagined that she could be so entertaining. There were many sides to Martha, but he hoped that he would never have to cross swords with her.

That evening when all the neighbours had gone home, his mother and the girls walked back with Agnes to see Mark’s paintings. Alone in the house, he went in under the stairs and brought out Mark’s parcel. He had given him the old picture, and now his heart was beating with excitement as he peeled off the wrapping. He whistled in appreciation when he saw the rich oil painting. It was stunning! The faded old picture was transformed into a living canvas, and a vibrant young girl with a halo of red hair looked out at him. He went back under the stairs and brought out the picture from the auction and carefully removed the glass and the bishop. With rising excitement, he fitted in the portrait and then rested the frame against the leg of the table and stood back. The deep frame and painting were a perfect combination, the gilt picking up the golden glow of Molly’s hair. It filled him with delight. Taking her diary out of his pocket, he slipped it in behind her and then eased the bishop back into position. He hung the portrait over the hall table, and her beautiful face smiled down at him out of a blaze of red hair. She dominated the hall.

He smiled up at her and said, “Welcome home, Molly Barry.”

Memoirs

To School Through the Fields

Quench the Lamp

The Village

Country Days

The Night Before Christmas

Poetry

The Way We Are

Close to the Earth

Going to the Well

Fiction

The Woman of the House

Across the River

Essays

A Country Miscellany

Diary

An Irish Country Diary

Children’s

The Secrets of the Oak