The Woman from Kerry Read Online Free

there was dust drifting through the open door from Mary McBride’s. She could almost taste it on the back of her throat, a stinging dryness.
    ‘Get me the box, Patrick, my love, while there’s time,’ she said softly, putting a hand to his cheek. ‘We’re not the only folk to suffer like this. It’s not new. Adair is only another Sutherland. He’ll only defeat us if we give in. We’ll not let him do that.’
    Her father turned away without speaking, took a pronged fork from the tools by the open door and went into the tiny bedroom where he and Hannah slept. He returned moments later with a battered old metal box, its surface still dirty with tramped earth from the floor.
    She opened it quickly and sorted through the contents. The largest item was a big fat book with a black cover. There was a packet of papers, a china tea cup and saucer decorated with flowers, a brooch and two little pouches with drawstrings.
    Rose watched in fascination. She had never seen the box before.
    ‘Ma, what’s that?’ she gasped.
    ‘It’s your great-grandfather’s watch. You can hold it for a moment.’
    But no sooner had Rose clutched the cold silver case of the fob watch that her eye caught the glint of coins.
    ‘Not a word,’ said her mother sharply, as she counted them and put them back in their pouch. ‘None of you will say a word about the watch or the sovereigns.’
    She turned to her husband and handed the pouch to him.
    ‘When the Mackays were driven from Sutherland, they hadn’t a ha’penny. Put it on a string round your waist and cover it well.’
    The sounds of falling thatch were coming closer by the minute. Quickly, Hannah McGinley dispersed the precious objects amongst her children, showing them how to hide them in their scanty clothing. Young Patrick was entrusted with the silver fob watch, Mary with the cup and saucer wrapped in an unfinished piece of white embroidery. Michael putthe papers under his shirt and Hannah pinned the brooch on Rose’s shift below the woollen smock.
    ‘Gather up the potatoes from the barn, boys, and bring them here.’
    She turned to her husband. ‘D’ye think they’ll leave us the cart, or will they say it belongs to Adair? And what about the cow?’
    Her husband shook his head.
    ‘There was carts on the road earlier from Warrenstown going towards Glendowan. They must have let them go. But there isn’t much room in it. Will I put straw in the bottom for Rose and the baby? What else can we take forby?’
    ‘The sack of oats and the bit of flour left in the crock. A bit of turf and kindling for a fire.’
    He turned to go and found the doorway blocked by a man about his own height.
    ‘I must ask you to remove yourself from Mr Adair’s property.’
    For one moment, Patrick McGinley was overcome by blind fury. Sweat broke on his forehead and he felt every muscle in his body long to lash out at this man, this lackey, this miserable apology for an Irishman.
    And then he heard his wife’s voice, cool and polite.
    ‘Patrick dear, ask the gentleman to step inside to deliver his message.’
    He had never mastered the Scotch, but the wayshe said ‘Patrick dear,’ he could understand in any language she would ever speak.
    ‘No,
astore
, this man will never set foot over this threshold,’ he said in his own speech. ‘Come out with the children and we’ll be gone.’
    He pushed past the man, brought out the donkey and cart from the barn and lifted Rose up into it. The boys added the bundles of oats and potatoes and turf.
    ‘Are you all right Rose?’ her mother asked.
    ‘Aye,’ she said, bravely.
    She was cold and the bag of turf was poking into her, so closely packed was the small cart.
    ‘Can you hold the baby?’
    The sun was setting and a thin rain was beginning to fall. The baby was warm in her arms as the cart moved out between the wrecked houses. The men had lit a fire and were feeding the flames with pieces of Andy Laverty’s door. Andy was nowhere to be seen.
    The