The Woman from Kerry Read Online Free Page A

flickering light reflected on sweaty faces and strong, dirty forearms, on the uniforms and helmets of the police who stood watching. All around, people were coming and going, some trying to get back into the wreckage of their houses, some sitting crying on the doorsteps.
    ‘Don’t look back, Patrick,’ said Hannah, touching her husband’s arm as he pulled on the donkey’s bridle. ‘Nor any of you,’ she added,looking round at Mary and her brothers, who were following behind with the cow.
    They made their way slowly down to the roadway in the fading light.
    ‘Which way?’
    In the twenty years since Patrick McGinley had brought his Hannah back to the mountain, he had come to understand that when times were really bad and all he could do was despair, it was Hannah who could see a way. While he had her, he knew he’d never give in.
    ‘To the right. We’ll find shelter tonight in Casheltown.’
    The rain slackened momentarily, then turned to sleet. The sudden squall blew in their faces, bouncing icy fragments on their clothes, drifting on the rough surface of the road. Rose closed her eyes as the hail stung her face. She drew her mother’s shawl closer over herself and the sleeping baby.
    Above the creaking of the cart and the rush of wind, they heard behind them a shuddering crash. Though they all knew what it was not one of them looked back.

CHAPTER THREE
    The journey from Ardtur to Casheltown was no great distance, but the heavily laden cart and the reluctant movement of the cow made progress slow. Bent forward against the scudding hail, they said not a word to each other but tramped along the rough, potholed track, eyes downcast, knowing that when they turned towards the next random gathering of cabins there would be some relief from the particles of ice that stung the face, caught in the hair and clung to their worn and shabby clothes.
    As suddenly as it had come upon them, the squall passed. Through a gap in the cloud, the sun poured golden rays around them and they were dazzled by bright beams reflecting back from the skim of hailstones that lay as thick as a light fall of snow.
    ‘Thanks be to God,’ said Hannah, lifting her head and straightening her hunched shoulders. She wiped the moisture from her face and smiled as the bitter chill passed away, the golden light streamingdown from a widening patch of blue sky adding a touch of warmth to the evening air. She turned to the younger of the two boys.
    ‘Michael dear, run away on up to Daniel McGee and tell him we’re coming. If the door is maybe shut and barred, knock very softly and call his name.’
    She tapped her long fingers on the wooden frame of the cart. Rose wondered if she was tapping out the beginning of a song.
    Michael looked up at her, his face still damp from the melted sleet and solemnly repeated the rhythm on the rim of the cart. Rose knew he’d got it right, even before her mother smiled.
    ‘Good boy, yourself,’ Hannah said, as Michael took to his heels, pleased to be given a task after all the long hours of waiting.
    Daniel McGee’s door was open by the time they arrived. Born in the 1780s and blind from birth, he stood waiting for them, greeted each of them by name, though only Hannah stepped forward to press his hand, for he was uneasy when people came too close to him. He always said he could ‘see’ people better if they were further away.
    ‘You’ve none of you taken harm?’ he said abruptly, when he had studied each one of them. ‘Are we to have one more night?’ he went on, addressing Patrick McGinley, who stood by the donkey’s head wondering what to do next.
    ‘Aye Daniel, we are. Sure haven’t Adair’s fine,strong men worked hard and long the day. Won’t the factor want to see they’ve good food and rest against the work of the morrow?’
    He spoke bitterly as he took the sleeping baby from the cart and put him in Hannah’s arms. Then he picked up Rose, swung her into the air, twirled her round his head till