Angels in My Hair (5 page)

My grandmother went back to the kitchen and I went into
the bathroom and prayed.

'Thank you God and the angels. Please, will you help my
grandmother – she is sad and hurting.'

Later that summer I did get a further insight into what
happened with Marie. It was a bright sunny afternoon and my
Granddad was polishing his car in one of the coach houses. I
peeked in at him and he sent me off to get him a cup of tea.
When I came back he asked me to sit down beside him in the
yard. We sat there watching the swallows flying to and from
their nests with food for their chicks. It was very unusual for
me to be sitting beside Granddad like this. The only other time
I had spoken to him was that first day, helping him to feed the
baby swallows. This time it was different. I asked the angels,
'What's happening?'

'Just listen,' the angels said, 'he needs to tell you about Marie
and bringing her to hospital.'

Granddad described that day for me.

'It was a chilly day but the sun was shining; your Gran got
Marie ready for the journey. She wasn't well and we knew that
she needed to go to hospital urgently. I was shaking as I got the
bike ready, knowing the bike would not last the whole journey
of more than twenty miles, but there was no other way to get
her there – there was no one around to help, no one with a
horse and cart, no one to share the journey with me.'

At that he smiled down at me, 'Only you, Lorna, you are the
first person I've ever told about it.'

'I tied a bag with sandwiches, an apple and a canister of
water to the back carrier,' he continued. 'I was scared that
Marie would die on the journey. I hugged your Gran; she was
in tears because she couldn't come with me as she had to mind
your father and your uncle, who were little more than babies.
I took Marie from her arms and carried her over to the bike. I
balanced her on the bar and held her close to my chest and
cycled off. I could not even turn around to your Gran to say
goodbye. It was very difficult cycling along with Marie in my
arms and with my wooden leg – I was scooting along, really,
rather than cycling. I cycled a long way. Many times I stopped
and gave Marie some water on my fingers – she could not eat
or even drink properly because if she tried, she might die,
because the lump on her throat might move. After some hours
– it must have been about lunchtime – I was feeling hungry so
I stopped and ate the sandwich and drank a little water. I
cycled a bit more, but then the bicycle got a puncture and that
was the end of the bike. I abandoned it there and I walked on,
carrying Marie in my arms. I held her close; I could feel her
heart beating and her breath so shallow. It was dark when I
eventually got to the hospital. Somehow they knew we were
coming; I walked up the steps of the hospital, exhausted,
hardly able to take a further step and a nurse came towards me
and took Marie from my arms. I didn't want to let her go. I sat
down on a chair and waited and a doctor came out and told me
they would take her into surgery first thing the following
morning.'

He looked at me with tears in his eyes. 'It was too late!'

The little lump in her throat had moved and blocked her
windpipe as they brought Marie down to surgery and she
suffocated. Granddad turned around and said to me, 'I became
very bitter after that – having lost Tommy and then Marie, I
just didn't believe in God any more. I have made life very hard
for your Granny.'

As I looked at my Granddad, with tears coming down his
cheeks, I saw Marie and Tommy standing in front of him,
reaching out to him and touching his tears. I told him what I
saw. Granddad, Marie and Tommy are with you right now,
don't cry.'

He gave me a big hug, and in a choking voice said, 'You'd
better not tell anyone your Granddad was crying.'

'Don't worry,' I said, and smiled at him.

At the same time the angels whispered in my ears, 'It's a
secret.'

I told Granddad, 'I will never tell anyone,' and I never have,
until now.

While he was talking to me, the light around Granddad
became much brighter, like the light around other people. I
realised then that his hurt and anger at the death of his two
young children had made him so bitter that it had quenched
his joy for life. Granddad got up and went back into the coach
house to work on his car. It was as if he had never spoken to
me. He changed back to his normal self, the light around him
became very faint, and I never again saw him with that brilliant
light around him.

I was very little to be told this story, but I knew that I was
working for the angels again, this time helping them to help
my grandfather.

I very much enjoyed my summer in Mountshannon and hoped
that the following year we could holiday there as well. The year
passed quickly, and when the days got longer again I couldn't
wait for the holidays, to go back down to Mountshannon.

This time we didn't stay in my Grandmother's house,
though. We drove past her house and down through the
village of Mountshannon and stopped on the outskirts, outside
a big house with a wild garden. The house was almost
completely empty – I think there was a table, a couple of chairs
and a cooker, but no beds or anything else in any other room.
This didn't matter to us; we thought it was a great adventure
and we slept in sleeping bags on the floor.

That summer, while we were staying in the empty old
house, a lovely old lady called Sally gave my Da a small piece
of land near Mountshannon. It was high up in the mountains
and a hard climb up a mountain road to get there, but I loved
it. The piece of land was next door to the little cottage where
Sally herself lived. The cottage had a traditional-style door and
the top half of it was always open. She would hear us coming
and would be standing there with a big smile; sometimes she
would have a cat in her arms. She made us feel so welcome,
giving us tea and biscuits or apple tart. I loved sitting there at
the table with her, drinking tea and listening to her stories of
growing up in County Clare. She loved having company and
when, after hours of listening to her, I would eventually leave,
she would ask me to come again tomorrow, or encourage me
to get Mum and Da to come and visit her.

Sally was very lonely there, up in the mountains on her own,
and this was the reason she gave my Da the piece of land at the
gate – she hoped that he would build a little house there and
then she would have company. She used to say to me that
maybe in the future I would come and live there with my
children. At eight, children were very far from my thoughts
and I would giggle when she said this.

Sally had lots of cats and there were always kittens everywhere
as well – they kept her company, she said. The cottage
may have been full of cats, but it was spotlessly clean. The little
house was packed full with furniture, but there was never any
dust, no piles of papers, and it always smelled clean and
homely.

I loved Sally very much, and I enjoyed all those childhood
summer visits to her and her little cottage; I loved that
mountain and the nights that we slept out in a tent with a
campfire and owls hooting nearby. Of course, my bird enjoyed
these nights up the mountain very much, too. He was getting
bigger and stronger now, but it was strange that, with his big
dark beak, he never once pecked my fingers or scraped me
with his long claws. One afternoon I picked him up, as I often
did, and took him for a walk with me. I brought him down the
mile or so to my Grandmother's house and showed him all
around the gardens.

As we were walking, the angel Michael appeared beside me,
and he walked all around the garden with me and the bird.We
walked through my grandmother's kitchen and dining room
without my being seen (sometimes the angels do things so that
people won't notice me) and into the beautiful bright corridor
with the wonderful flowers and the big windows.

'Your little bird is growing so big and so strong. You never
named it?' asked Michael.

'No, it didn't need a name,' I said, 'my bird is just "Love",
that's all.'

Michael looked at me and said, 'One day you will understand
why you called it "Love".'

I just looked at him. Michael's eyes were so bright it was as
if you could see for miles and miles inside of them; as if you
were going down a long, long road; as if you were passing
through time itself.

I always had my bird with me. Don't think I ever forgot him,
even for one moment. On the last day of the holiday I was up
on the mountain with my Da. We had the tent and we had lit
a fire, even though it was a great sunny day. I looked at my bird
sadly. The angels had told me when I found him that he would
not be going home with me at the end of this holiday.

I stood behind the tent holding my bird and talking to him
gently.

'How am I going to live without you? I'll miss you so much.'

Da called me over and said, 'Come on Lorna, that bird needs
to exercise his wings more.'

I picked him up sadly. He was so cheerful and flapped his
wings and let out a loud squawk.

My father called and I whooshed the bird out of my hands
up into the air. Da caught him and he flapped his wings in Da's
hands. Da whooshed him up into the air back to me. But,
three-quarters of the way across, his body fell to the ground.
My bird was gone! His spirit flew away: his wings seemed
enormous and he seemed to turn golden. He turned his head
to me; his eyes were so bright that they smiled back at me. He
wasn't an ordinary bird; he was a gift from God and the angels.

I felt happy and sad in the same moment. I was happy for my
bird – he was perfect now and he was soaring like an eagle –
but I knew I would miss him terribly.

My father rushed over, he was so upset, 'Oh Lorna, I'm
sorry, I know you didn't want the bird to fly further, you didn't
really think he should.'

'It's all right, it's okay,' I said. Da felt so sad, so hurt and so
guilty and I couldn't comfort him because I couldn't tell him
what had happened, that it wasn't his fault.

Michael had been very clear. 'You can never tell him. You are
different, Lorna, he can only see its body there on the ground.
He wouldn't understand. Don't you know how hard it is for
man to understand God as it is?'

I begged, 'But my Da is so hurt, Michael.'

'No, you can't tell him,' he said, 'one day you will tell him
some of what you know, but not now. Don't worry, little one.'
Michael would always call me 'little one' when he was trying to
comfort me.

Da and I never discussed the loss of the bird again, but I
think that for a long time after he felt guilty about it.

One sunny day I was walking up the lane to Granny's from the
empty house and smiling to myself; I felt enormous strength
and confidence because I knew that someone very special was
close by. My angels told me not to continue up the lane but to
go through the fields instead. I climbed a gate and as I was
walking through the long grass towards the woods, He ruffled
my hair.

He has an extraordinary presence, too powerful to manifest
in physical form. Instead, when he's present it feels like a
powerful force swirling around me. He has a habit of ruffling
my hair, which makes it feel all tingly. I feel so special and so
good when he is near me.

As a child I didn't know who or what he was, I just knew that
he was a completely different order of being.

'You're here!' I laughed with delight.

'I never leave you,' He said, 'I'm always with you. Don't you
know that? Don't you feel me? I ruffle your hair a lot. Why do
you hide from me?'

He was right: I did hide from him sometimes – even to this
day I try at times because he is so big and so powerful. I
remember turning and feeling his powerful force on my left
side, moving alongside me. I replied, 'Because you are so much
bigger than me and I am so small.'

He laughed and said, 'Lorna. Don't hide anymore. Come,
let's go for a walk now and I will take away your fear of what
you have to do for me in this life.'

We continued until we reached the woods. In a gap between
the trees, overlooking the lake, there was an old wooden chalet
and we sat down there in the sun to talk.

'You know I'm afraid,' I said to him.

'There is no need for you to be afraid, Lorna, I will not let
any harm come to you,' He said. 'People need you and so do
their souls, just as I need them.'

'Why me?' I asked tearfully.

'Why not you?' he replied, 'You may be a child, but you
know more than most people out there in the world. You are
my human angel, here to help people and their souls. Shed
your tears freely my little one, my Bird of Love.'

I looked at him. 'Why do you call me your "Bird of Love"?'
I asked.

'Because you carry love like your little bird did. You are pure
in your soul; you are my little bird of love and I need you, and
so do others.'

'You know I don't like being different from other children,'
I replied tearfully.

He wiped away my tears. 'Lorna, you know I am always
beside you,' and he put his arm around my shoulder and held
me tight.

The two of us walked back through the forest and cut through
the fields and back towards my grandmother's house. All of a
sudden he had gone. I continued up to my grandmother's house
and my Mum was there, helping Granny bake apple tarts and
make the dinner. I just watched them and listened – that's
something I did an awful lot of. I always let others talk, but I
would listen and I would hear the words they were not saying,
the words that they wanted to say, the words they kept in their
heart – their joy and the happiness, and also their pain.

We had four or five very enjoyable summers in Mountshannon,
but when I was about eleven or twelve, Granny had
a heart attack and was unable to continue in her job so she left
the house and we never went back to Mountshannon on
holidays again.