Back to the stone age, p.21
A Simple Life, page 21
A Simple Life
Lily E Dineen
Austin Macauley Publishers
A Simple Life
About the Author
Dedication
Copyright Information ©
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
About the Author
Lily grew up in the countryside of South Cork, Ireland. Her family has a small dairy farm where she spent most of her summers working on, with them. In primary school she was diagnosed with dyslexia and Irlen syndrome. Her parents took it upon themselves to read with her every night and during the summer days. They organised remedial teaching, invested in a number of Irlen glasses and bought her a laptop to help improve her reading and writing skills.
At 18 years of age, she moved to Dublin City to attend Trinity College Dublin. She trained to be a general nurse in St James’s Hospital and now works there as a staff nurse during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Dedication
For Mum and Dad.
You taught me how to read and encouraged me to write.
Copyright Information ©
Lily E Dineen 2022
The right of Lily E Dineen to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528928083 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528928175 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published 2022
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®
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Canary Wharf
London
E14 5AA
Chapter One
The glowing fire crackled away within the black slate fireplace as the low hum of folk pottered around in the parlour of the cottage. It was a bit of a solemn atmosphere, most were garbed in the mourning colour of black.
“Here, will you have a cup of tea, Mam?” Davie Rivers held forward a cup of nice milky tea. The old woman waved her hand in dismissal.
“Mam, why don’t lie down for a bit?” Rosie held a hand out for her mother to take. May Rivers stood up slowly; she was still wearing her coat and hat. She made her way out of the small room and away from the crowd of sympathising friends and family. She hobbled along into the bedroom and shut the door.
The chatter dulled away into the background. May made her way to the bed and settled near her bedside locker. A pretty little picture was framed and sitting there next to the bed.
The photograph was a black-and-white one, of a young couple on their wedding day. May ran her fingers over the photo of the groom. He was a handsome man with deep eyes and dark, shaggy hair. He had a beautiful smile; bright and kind.
It was the summer of 1985 that May Darcy met Jeremiah Rivers for the first time. She was eighteen that year; he was twenty-five.
Freddie Mercury’s Mr Bad Guy was bopping away out of the car radio of her father’s Mercedes 200 as they zoomed down the country roads. Mrs Darcy was wearing bright red lipstick with a silk red scarf around her head as she sat in the front passenger seat. She was a stylish housewife, dedicated to baking and baking well. Mr Darcy was in the driver’s seat, looking smart in his white shirt and tie. May thought the world of her father; he was a caring man and a caring doctor.
May rolled down the back seat window and stuck her head out. The wind whipped and blew around her long, bushy hair. The sun was high, dazzling in the clear blue sky.
“What’s wrong with Nana, Dad?”
“She’s old, May. She’s got cancer. I don’t know why she didn’t tell us sooner.”
“Don’t agitate yourself about it, John. You know your mother, she wouldn’t tell anyone that time she broke her wrist either.”
The little yellow car buzzed through small towns and villages as the family travelled down towards the south, away from their red-bricked house in the capital.
May had only ever seen her grandmother for a few hours every year. They travelled down, a few days before Christmas, stayed for the night then journeyed back the next day. May’s father had moved to Dublin when he married her mother to allow her to stay close to her own parents. Mr Darcy often wrote to his mother (every week) and visited her alone sometimes, even though he thoroughly disliked travelling.
The car flew past the old red house that lay on the outskirts of the small, cosy village of Ballybarr. “We’re here!” May beamed, gleaming out the car window as she spotted the buildings she remembered. There, they passed Garvey’s Pub, the Village Pantry, the old green church. The car bumped its way over the cobbled bridge and up a bit before it pulled up outside the little cottage. It was painted a washed blue and had a quaint red half door at the front. Nana Darcy was standing inside the door, waiting for them. May pulled out the luggage from the boot as her parents went to greet her grandmother.
“Well look at you now, my fair darling, you’re a great girl!” Nana Darcy went to give May a kiss.
“It’s lovely to see you too, Nan.” The poor woman was gaunt-looking and frail beneath her many layers of clothing. “Come on, Mama, we’ll get a cup of tea,” Mr Darcy led the way in.
The cottage was a simple home: one kitchen, one parlour, a bathroom and two bedrooms. May always thought the only word to describe it was ‘cosy.’ Everything was small and squashed into it, but a heavy fire was always burning and tea was given in abundance.
Nana Darcy was smirking away that whole evening. “You’re staying for the month, are you?” she repeatedly asked. Mr Darcy was her only child, although many cousins lived nearby it was never the same. She was always sad to see them off.
May slept on the couch in the parlour that night, which would be her bed for the duration of their stay. In her younger years, she often shared the bed in the second room with her parents, but she was far too big for that now.
Mr Darcy and Nana were up early the following morning to be at the hospital for a check-up at nine o’ clock. May awoke, grouchily, to the sound of the whistling kettle. A ray of sunlight glimmered through the gap between the two curtains, hitting her face. She pulled her duvet over her head, but it was no use. She was wide-awake now, and the whispering and hobbling about of the two in the next room did no help. She threw on her dressing gown and came up into the kitchen. “How’s my fair mare this morning? Did you sleep alright, pet?”
May gave her grandmother a morning kiss and then went to get a cup from the dresser. “Fine, thank you.”
“Are you coming with us then?” Mr Darcy enquired. “Ah now, love, you’d be bored to tears. You won’t want to come back again at Christmas if you experience the waiting rooms of the hospital.” Mr Darcy gave May a knowing look. They both wondered would Nana Darcy last till the end of summer. “I think your mother’s going to the supermarket later on for shopping. Why don’t you go on with her?” Mr Darcy decided. May nodded and took a sip of milk.
The two left soon after, leaving the house to silence. Mrs Darcy was breathing deeply in the next room. She wouldn’t be up for another few hours. May dressed and got herself another cup of cold milk. The cottage was an old set one still; with no television and no telephone. May threw on her coat and hat and headed out. Around the cottage was a small garden filled with bright and perfumed flowers. May had never much ventured outside of this perimeter. She never had the time nor the need to before. The air was fresh and clear that morning.
The sky was red however: Red sky in the morning, shepherds’ warning.
Her dad could swear by that saying. Rain would be coming some time during the day.
May strolled down the road towards the bridge. A grand patchy line of grass ran along down the middle of the road. The area was quiet, most people were still sound asleep. May crossed over the sturdy little bridge and down, nearer to the village’s main street. All the cars were mute and still parked outside their houses, although curtains were beginning to open in a few, with the neighbours welcoming the new day. She continued on and passed Garvey’s Pub towards the outskirts of Ballybarr.
She threw her arms up, high above her head to stretch, while smiling up at the sparkling sun. The buildings quickly dispersed, the scenery breaking into long open fields on either side of the country road. Doubt was beginning to seep into the back of May’s mind. She was to spend a whole month in this little town, with no television and no proper shops. She would send letters almost daily to her friends back in Dublin, but the entertainment from that could only last for so long.
May climbed up onto a hedgerow and began balancing her way along it. She spread her arms out for balance and kept her eyes downwards so as to not trip into any tangling briers. She hurried along the hedgerow, aiming to get fast er and faster. The ditch narrowed as it continued. May passed along a field of grazing cows. She could see their black-and-white coats from the corner of her eye. However, something caught her notice. A red speck was moving across the scene. She turned her head for a glance when her foot got entwined and she was pulled to a sudden snag and went flying down into the foliage. May tumbled sideways off the hedgerow and into the field. She slowly pulled herself up again, slightly dazed. The red speck was hurrying towards her. From the distance, May could see it was a man. She scuttled to her feet and pulled her way up over the hedgerow again, in a struggle. She toddled across the road and behind the opposite hedgerow.
A young man’s head popped up over the hedgerow from the first field. He had a head of soft ebony hair and a tanned face. Just the collar of his red shirt was visible to May as she peeped through the briars at the top of the hedgerow. The young man was looking around anxiously for her. She sunk back down to her knees and prayed he wouldn’t venture out from the field.
May waited there for almost 20 minutes to make sure the young man would be far away by the time she ventured for the road again. The field with the cattle was empty by the time she decided to turn back to the cottage. The journey back seemed longer. Her good mood had been dampened and the heavy clouds were beginning to form in the sky.
May and her mother spent the remainder of the day collecting supplies for their stay in the nearby town.
May followed the clapping of her mother’s heels as they sauntered from aisle to aisle around the store. An Elvis Presley song was humming low from the speakers in the ceiling of the shop.
“You’re awfully quiet, May.” Her mother was wearing her bold, red lipstick again; she was a pretty woman – May often wished she looked more like her.
“I suppose, it’s just very quiet around.”
“Oh, pet, I know it’ll be hard, but your father needs us with him. It’s a nice little place though, Ballybarr. Much more peaceful than Dublin, don’t you think?”
She helped her mother that night prepare dinner. May had always loved cooking; a nice mound of floury potatoes, a few crunchy carrots and peas and fried steak with onions that would melt in your mouth.
The first few days seemed to drag on for weeks out in Ballybarr. May spent the beginning of her summer holidays washing sheets, polishing cutlery, sweeping floors and so on. Nana Darcy was still bopping around amongst them all but they could all see she was tiring and often fell asleep by the fire after dinner.
Neighbours were constantly popping in – most of them Mr Darcy was well acquainted with, some he even went to school with.
A few cousins visited also, yet never stayed long; the cottage was full as it is. May loved seeing her little cousins: Jack, Paddy and Sarah. She spent their visits playing ‘hide and seek’ or ‘tip the can’ in the small garden around the house. When the older cousins came, she enjoyed hearing the latest gossip that was happening on TV shows or on the news.
It wasn’t until the end of her second full week in Ballybarr that summer that Jeremiah Rivers called. He came bouncing up over the bridge in his small car at about one in the afternoon. It was Mr Darcy who answered the door.
“Well, hello there, sir,” he smiled, slightly confused as he stared at Mr Darcy’s shirt and tie.
“Is that you, Jem?” Nana Darcy called from her seat by the fire. May was laying the dinner plates down on the table when she glanced up at this man at the door.
She remembered his handsome features, even with his long hair rustled and askew.
“Come in, Jem, ’tis nippy out today,” Nana Darcy called. “This is Pat Rivers’ son, John. Jem, this is my John and his wife, Mairéad. And my own little May,” Nana Darcy gave May an affectionate pat on the back.
“Pat Rivers! Ah yes Pat, your father was two classes ahead of me in school.” Mr Darcy gave Jem a sturdy handshake. “I’m fierce sorry for your loss, lad.”
“Lovely to meet you, sir. Your mother’s always in high spirits for ye.”
“Will you have a bite of grub, Jem, sure ’tis on the table now.” Nana Darcy took his hand as she stood up. “Ah now, I don’t want to be disturbing ye at all. I know ’tis a bit of a busy time to call in the day, but I was wondering if I could borrow Mr Darcy’s hammer. The head’s after falling off my own.”
“You know my Paddo now, Jem, he was as organised as a chicken. If you can find it in the shed out back, you can take it, but first you sit down here. You sit next to my May there. She’s a good girl now, you sit down there.”
Jem was a chatty young man but never rude. He always had a joke ready that would even make Mrs Darcy laugh. He seemed to be the centre of the dinner table that afternoon.
May spent most of her time looking up at him rather than eating. The width of his shoulders seemed to impress her most. He was a strong man, with large, tough-skinned hands. She thought it was funny the way he caught his fork; it seemed such an awkward way.
As the years would pass, May would often mock Jem on the way he held his fork and when little Davie came along he even did it himself; like father like son.
Chapter Two
Mass was said at ten in the morning every Sunday in Ballybarr. It was a small church, the smallest May had ever seen, yet it was never full. There were always a few scattered free seats available; only at Christmas was everyone touching shoulders in the pews.
The priest was an old man, as old as the hills, but had the voice of a foghorn. His sermons were loud and aggressive as he glared down from the pulpit.
The community was a very close one; everyone knew everyone and news always spread like wildfire, thanks to the few select village ladies.
As Father Jim preached on the evils of television and how women must continue to protect their purity, May’s eyes were scanning round the pews until she found Jem. He was looking even more handsome in a clean shirt and tie. He had such dark eyes, his bushy eyebrows only emphasised them. A young woman sitting beside him leaned in to whisper something. He chuckled, silently, in response. May sighed and turned back towards the pulpit.
When mass finished, Father Jim was waiting at the door for everyone, thanking them for coming. Nana Darcy was enthusiastic to introduce him this Sunday to Mrs Darcy and May.
“And my May, she’ll be doing the Leaving Certificate now, next June, she will.”
“Almost a woman then!” Father Jim huffed. “I hope you listened well to the sermon today?”
In the later years, Father Jim would become a great friend to May and he would even be the one to marry her and Jem.
“I’ll call around later with the hammer back, Mrs Darcy,” Jem smiled as he wandered over.
“Ah now, Jem, no work on the Lord’s day,” Nana Darcy scorned.
The woman who had been sitting with Jem before now accompanied him over to the Darcy’s. She was a tall, snobbish-looking young woman. “No Nel with ye today then?” Nana Darcy enquired towards Jem.
“Not today, she’s a bit under the weather, to tell you the truth. She’s got the flu.”
“Oh, the pet, sure God love her. And you, Brenda, have you met my John?” A civil nod was given towards Mr Darcy. “And how are you doing up in that college now?”
“I’m enjoying it very well, thank you.”
“Here now, May, you bring that over to the Rivers there, like a good girl,” Nana Darcy finished pouring the homemade soup into a large bowl. “May, pet!” she called into the parlour. Mr and Mrs Darcy were sitting at the kitchen table discussing their plans for tomorrow.
“Mama, will you sit down. Brenda will take care of Nel. You need to sleep.” Nana Darcy gave her son a disapproving glare.
“That girl is as helpful in a kitchen as a glass hammer is in a yard. May, love, would you carry this up to the red house for me, pet? You’ll get to meet Nel, what a lovely girl she is. About your own age, she is now. Do that now like a good girl and we’ll have dinner waiting for you there when you get home.”
May dragged her feet down towards the village. The clouds were thickening overhead and only added to the dead and dreary day that it was. The strong smell of turf fires were billowing from the village houses. Potholes were lining the road as she continued on, out of the village, towards the big red house.
