Norah

Norah

Paddy McKinney

Published by

Swordpoint Intercontinental, Ltd.

Copyright © 2013 Paddy McKinney

Published by Swordpoint Intercontinental, Ltd. at Smashwords

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Originally published as By The Waters of Elmwood

by Choice Publishing, 2010

Cover photograph, Copyright © 2013 Morpheseum | Dreamstime

Print ISBN: 978-0615447957

Typeset

By Swordpoint Intercontinental, Ltd.

Chapter One

The black four by four Jeep that carried the American tourists ambled roughly over the deep-rutted driveway that brought them back to the main road after their tour of inspection had ended.

Turning to his wife, the man at the wheel nodded his head while saying to her, Yes, I guess this place has got potential all right. It could quite easily be turned into what I think it should be, and what I would like to make of it.

Her faint smile indicated more than just a little skepticism. My dear Johnny, I am sure it has got all that you say, but like everything else, if only we had the dollars.

Seated behind were her aging parents, both of whom knew their likable son-in-law to be but an elaborate dreamer. In fact, this was a repeat of what they had experienced three days earlier on the grounds of an old Rectory in Co Leitrim. Drawing to a halt at the end of the long avenue, all four had a final look back at the dismal edifice that stood lifeless amidst the tall, leafless trees. The cawing of the crows was the only sound to disturb the silence and the bare trees were dotted with crows’ nests that created a kind of pattern against the half-light of a gray sky.

Darling, I will sure be back here in the Fall to explore this further, for this is something you and I are going to do, and this time I am dead-serious, proclaimed the eager American to a wife who had grown tired of hearing too much of his fanciful dreaming. The older pair was busying themselves counting the number of crofter-type dwellings evenly dispersed at different locations on the adjoining land. These were Land Commission settlements, each of about fifty acres that had been allotted in the Sixties to various people wishing to make a kind of living for themselves on the land. These holdings were no longer considered viable units under the EU farm directive, hence most of their occupants were but part-time farmers engaged in other pursuits of livelihood.

Even though spring was very much in the air, there seemed to be little sign of life or any kind of daytime activity anywhere along that quiet, fertile valley. As the Jeep moved away slowly, the couple in the back seat was showing an interest that was anything but fanciful. The daughter reached back to touch the cold hand of a frail mother who had tear-filled eyes. Not only was it the second to the last day of her two-week vacation, it was also a momentous day of personal fulfillment for her in getting to meet someone she thought she never would.

No need getting upset now, Mother. We are almost there and most likely we will all be back here again tomorrow.

Then it was up the road towards Letterkenny, where a special family dinner was on order in the Mount Errigal Hotel, which also happened to be the venue for the Daniel O’Donnell concert that was also on the agenda. This simple scene was the culmination of an epic tale that began in a different era, also at springtime, as the six hundred-acre Elmwood Estate was moving into a phase of renewal under new ownership. The new owner was a retired British Army Officer called Major West, who had a very definite plan, not only for the large extent of this rich meadowland, but also for a sizable extent of the adjoining river as well.

The old-fashioned peacefulness, so long associated with this place, as well as the entire district of Portneill, was now about to perish into oblivion. This change came about through the death of the Major’s old aunt, Miss Roberta Walker. She was the last of three spinster sister ladies who had been highly thought of in the neighborhood and, indeed, throughout the entire Roughan Valley as well. They had run the enterprise along traditional lines for many years, under the management of a local workman called Hughie Maguire. Three other workmen, along with a servant maid-cum-cook, made up the entire workforce of Elmwood Farm. It was a pleasant place to be and all of them counted their blessings many times. In their comfort, it never occurred to any of them that the entire unit was badly under-achieving and could not go on much longer.

It was a subject that aroused considerable interest in the locality. The Major and his wife, Florence, had arrived. At first, it was thought they were childless, but later it emerged they had a son in his early twenties who was supposedly attending law school in London. Even though he was the son of the only married member of the old Walker ladies, the Major’s visits to Elmwood had been very few indeed. As such, the Major was not familiar to his new neighbors: most of them had never seen him before. He looked to be a man in his late fifties, straight and regimented, with a seemingly condescending manner. It would be hard to see him as just a local farmer.

Regardless, he got off to a good start with the locals by holding what they called a large house-warming party. The workers spread word that all the people of the area were invited.

The lady of the house, along with Madge Crawford, the experienced housemaid, was taking it upon herself to organize the party, which promised to be an elaborate affair. The Major had retained Madge, along with two of the workmen from the old regime, but not Maguire, whom it appeared, had outlived his usefulness. The old Fordson tractor, along with the four horses, was going to be replaced by a more modern tractor. Changes were also taking place in the kitchen, as well as all the other domestic arrangements pertaining to the big house. The aging Madge was given the responsibility of finding a suitable young woman to be her assistant as housemaid and cook. It was obvious the new lady of the house had listened to the glowing reports about Miss Crawford and her culinary excellence.

Madge had a few names in mind, but one appealed to her more than any of the others. She was Norah Mullen, a very attractive young maid in her early twenties who worked in the home of a prominent businessman and farmer who lived close to the area. Madge was related to Norah’s father and had learned from him that the girl was not happy in her present employment, where she had served for the previous five years. The woman of the house seemed to be in poor health and was always difficult to get along with, while the husband was the ultimate in dourness. However, it was one of their two grown-up sons that posed the greatest problem for modest Norah. He was totally besotted by her appealing beauty and the mystery of latent sexuality that she exuded so unwittingly. She had long auburn hair that gave off a glowing sheen in the evening sunshine. Her hazel brown eyes were of the sort that stunned the observer into sensual meltdown. It was natural that this easily aroused young fellow began to pursue her aggressively. To his annoyance, Norah remained non-compliant and let him know that she was not for having any of it. This situation was making life rather troublesome for a young girl that wanted nothing more than to do her chores and earn an honest pound, so Madge Crawford’s intervention was timely indeed.

She will be needed for the party and will perhaps enjoy it as well, said Madge to Mrs. West. The event was now less than two weeks away and the theme of every discussion, where two or more locals had gathered. Norah was warmly welcomed to the home of Major and Mrs. West. She would be provided with a single room in the big house for the times when she would be needed for late night or early morning duty. Another advantage to her new position was the fact that she would be answerable only to the Madge, whom she knew and liked a lot. It would take her a while to settle into the routine of formality and protocol, which was part and parcel of life with the aristocracy.

Her father’s sister Kate and her husband Jack, who lived in a small Northern town not far from Belfast, had brought up Norah. They were a childless couple that gladly took custody of the little six-year old at the time of her mother’s untimely death. She had mixed feelings about her relationship with this couple. Aunt Kate was kind but firmly restrictive, while the man was cold and rudely insensitive, the sort of man a child could learn to fear. He worked in the farmyard of a nearby Monastery, as a laborer for a popular community of monks that ran a school there. So, when the time came, Norah quickly made her way back to the father she had such happy memories of, as a little child.

That was when Aunt Kate passed away unexpectedly after developing a fatal brain disorder less than two months before. It was yet another traumatic event in the life of one now in the process of growing out of her childhood. So now, the sixteen-year old swiftly made up her mind as to where she wanted to be.

The ten years spent with her foster parents did not permit her a lot of social integration, apart from attending the local primary school. As part of her daily routine Aunt Kate would send her to the farmyard after school with a beaker of hot tea and a portion of home-baked bread for Jack, the man of the house. This was something she had been doing for as long as she could remember and it was never a happy errand. That was until she reached the age of fourteen and began working full-time in the kitchen of the village restaurant. For a couple or more reasons, Norah was glad to be sixteen and returning to the place of her birth, where she would make her way in the field of domestic service. Soon she began to re-integrate with the culture and customs of the locality and by the time she took up duty in the big house, was very much a local girl who had many friends.

Spring was a good time to be starting in her new job: the weather was improving and the days were lengthening. The place was a hive of activity, both inside and out; every one was on the move from early morning until quitting time at six o’clock. A team of builders and carpenters began erecting new farm buildings as well as refurbishing the old ones. Most of these workers were local, except for a few who came from more distant parts and were accommodated in a small house attached to the farmyard. A local woman who lived nearby was given the job of looking after this house and its occupants. She was also expected to help the two maids of the big house when the occasion should arise. It was certainly a lively place to be and the work was seen as a blessing for the people. In addition to all that was going on there, Elmwood house was also drawing a considerable number of overseas visitors and guests, on an almost weekly basis. These were not guests of the paying type. It was the simple fact that the Wests had an oversupply of high-class friends. To the ordinary people of Portneill, this was an unreal way of life and to none more so than Madge Crawford and her assistant Norah. It was a cultural awakening for both of them.

The party was, indeed, a grand affair but to a large extent segregated. All of the special guests dined with the host couple in the main dining room, while the staff, along with the neighbors, feasted at will from a variety of savory fare that was provided in abundance on the tables of a large refectory-type room, down in the basement. No one complained, however, as the craic was mighty throughout and continued well into the early hours of the morning. In fairness to the Major and his wife, they did, for a time, join the merry group and chatted with the locals, who thanked them for their generosity. It would have been obvious to them that here was a simple fun loving people who were capable of intelligent expression and making their own enjoyment. There was music, song and dance as well as yarns from Vincent Wilkie that were hilariously funny, with one fat lady saying his jokes caused her to wet her drawers. Madge and Norah were still busy with the dishes and the general tidying up after dinner, even though the other woman had been brought in to help out for the occasion. Both she and Madge made a brief appearance at the real party that was going on down below. Norah would be staying for the night and could join in the fun along with friends and neighbors.

Passion, too, made its way into the proceedings as the merrymakers drank and danced to soft music. An occasional pair would steal away down the yard and into the hay-barn, not all of them with the right partner. This would inevitably be followed by scruples and feelings of guilt with rueful penitents heading down the road to confessions the following Saturday; Fr. McKenna would be hearing all about the Major’s party. Billy Mullen would also hear the story of the party from daughter Norah. He was one of the few that declined his invitation, having had a certain mission to the river that evening instead. He was a sturdily built man of around fifty years and worked as a lorry driver for a local agricultural produce merchant. In addition to his work, he shared a fishing boat with another man for the purpose of salmon fishing on the River Camus. This father and daughter relationship again became very close and loving in the best possible way. They both had a lot of catching up to do at first, but over the years Norah learned to trust her dad as a close friend and confidant, a man with whom she could feel safe. It was that, more than anything else, which made her decide not to reside full-time in the big house.

In their sharing, Norah would relate much about her life as a lonely child, sometimes worried and often afraid. She now had an attentive listener in a father who cared deeply about his dear and only daughter. Some disturbing events she gave a little mention of, about what happened to her during the early years of her time with Aunt Kate. These were secrets she had buried deep in her consciousness; they never, had nor ever would be shared with anybody else. For Billy, these revelations were far beyond his comprehension, yet they disturbed him like nothing had ever done before. But things were much better now that she was here at home and seemingly happy in her new position.

Norah’s attractiveness and brightness, along with her modesty, made her a very popular figure indeed, especially amongst the many young men who were employed at Elmwood House. She was the subject of most of their idle chatter. It was a good time to be young, in the early to mid-fifties, when Ireland was beginning to move away from its shady, restrictive past. Apart from the refreshing airs of spring with the advent of growth and new life, there were more widespread signs that hope was beginning to assert itself amongst the people.

Chapter Two

Elmwood estate was transforming at a rapid pace; there were few remaining signs of what it was like during the reign of the old Miss Walkers. It was the Major himself who was taking control of operations and was becoming a tough taskmaster, indeed. His methods were not being rated all that highly amongst the local men, especially those self-acclaimed experts like the recently deposed Hughie Maguire, who scorned the Major for being a textbook farmer, a man with lofty ideas but without practical knowledge or common sense. His learning, they said, would be both costly and swift. They reckoned it would not be all that long before he gives in and sets about seeking the services of a proper man who knows how it should be done. This was going to be a mixed farming enterprise with half of the estate going under the plow for a variety of crops. A man called Christy Flood was being commissioned to purchase a quantity of heavy store cattle to graze on the rich grassland over the summer months. Christy was considered one of the best judges of cattle in the country and traveled with the Major around most of Donegal as well as parts of the West of Ireland in pursuit of suitable stock. For the Boss, this was an exciting couple of weeks and a time of great learning for him in his new adventure. It was, however, a short-lived adventure that came to an end when they reached their target of three hundred and fifty Aberdeen Angus bullocks. As a single unit, this place was beginning to operate on a scale that was hitherto unimaginable.

Christy continued to pay the occasional visit to Elmwood throughout that summer; this was to monitor the progress of the livestock and to advise on matters pertaining to the herd. He seemed to make a point of arriving at the place around lunchtime and usually had something to eat with the two housemaids in the workers’ end of the house. Although this bachelor man was well into his fifties, he seemed to be paying much more attention to Norah Mullen than to her senior workmate. Madge was not in the least put out by this. In fact, she thought it quite amusing and jested about it to the other workers. This, in turn, left poor Norah open to a barrage of trite comment, which she took good-heartedly, knowing that no offense was intended. But the last thing she needed was the attention of either a middle-aged man or any other potential suitor. It had not escaped the notice of the others that this attractive beauty never engaged seriously with any man around the place. Why, they wondered, was she so aloof to all of them? Was she so aware of her own good looks that none of them was considered worthy of her?

That conjecture could hardly be true, considering Norah’s social adventures never exceeded the Sunday night dance in the old parish hall. This was one outing that she thoroughly enjoyed and always looked forward to. That was until the night Christy arrived on the scene, wearing a brown-striped suit and shoes that were shining red from oxblood polish; he certainly looked like a man on a mission. He was quickest off the mark to the start of the music and had her on the floor before the others had time to think. Indeed most of the local lads were lacking in sympathy towards Norah, for after all, she was not all that warming towards any of them who tried to know her better. Christy’s footwork was not the best, but experience had taught him to move in a way that did not make him look overly clumsy. Norah was glad to see the others take to the floor and shield both her and her partner from overexposure. He talked to her a lot while they moved round the dance floor; he wore a high-collared white shirt and a toothy smile as he guided her through the crowd. Some of his younger rivals commented that he looked like a donkey peering over a whitewashed wall, sniffing the hormonal air. She heard all about his home and family, about his business, as well as the wee Ford Van that took him around the country to fair days and markets. One such session would have been enough for any young girl out for a night’s craic with her friends, but not for bold Christy, who was determined to have her to the total exclusion of all others. Her refusal to be taken home by him in the old van was not taken to be a total rebuff. He understood she was with her friends and would probably prefer to walk home with them. It now looked like Norah had not seen the last of this persistent suitor.

The following Sunday night was a reenactment of what went on the week before; Christy was back and applying even more subtle tactics.

How would you like to go with me to a Drama Festival in Ballyshannon? My niece is taking part in a play that is being performed there next Tuesday evening.

Norah listened as he continued to relate all about his niece and her being a leading member of a drama group that had earned quite a reputation regarding the quality of its productions. Christy, now the cultured man, would surely impress the lady in a way that was far beyond the reach of this common type riffraff.

Things will not be all that busy in the big house on Tuesday evening. I’m sure this is the sort of thing you will thoroughly enjoy and we can have a bite to eat on the way as well. You see, my niece, Betty, is a very fine girl, just like yourself. I think you would both get on like a house on fire.

The flames of the proverbial house on fire, notwithstanding, there was little hope of Christy succeeding in his efforts to inflame the passion of his wary listener. She was not the sort who felt she had to immediately quell this kind of courting at the outset and, for, that reason may have been guilty of giving the wrong impression.

Needless to say, Norah found a way out of the situation; she would not be going to Ballyshannon on this occasion. It was hardly her idea of an evening’s outing to be traveling such a long journey with Christy Flood, accompanied by the smell of two collie dogs that were always in the back of the famous van. She also made up her mind, along with two of her friends, to give up on the Sunday night at the old parish hall. Instead, they took themselves further down the valley to the little Coolaghy Hall. They found this change to be refreshingly new and pleasant; they were meeting and mixing with people who were young, lively and interesting. The musicians were perched high upon a specially erected platform at the gable end of the tiny hall. This was to economize on floor space by allowing the dancers to use the area directly underneath. The roof was uninsulated corrugated iron and the sound of heavy rain and hailstones added tone to the rhythm to the music. But the real music was in the hearts and minds of the many young people who came there for enjoyment and romance. Norah was winning the attention of a young lad who introduced himself as Benny Ryan from just down the road. Both of them seemed comfortable in each other’s company and were dancing partners for most of the night. What passed between them was by and large small talk, like where they lived and what they did. Benny was a footballer and proud of his talent. The affairs of the wider world had not yet impinged upon either of them. Norah was twenty-two while he was just eighteen.

It was a happy Norah who traveled home with her friends fairly late that Sunday night. She talked about how she had enjoyed herself and did not mind being almost the sole partner to young Benny, whom she confessed to liking a lot. He was a handsome, clean and chatty type of fellow who asked for nothing more than to be her dancing partner. Before getting back home, the three girls met up with a few late travelers coming home from the old parish hall. Each group told about how their evening