The Teapots Are Out and Other Eccentric Tales from Ireland (22 page)

Despite her husband's protestations Julia insisted in falling in by his side. They worked together, silently, at a corner of the meadow far removed from the other pair. Julia Henderson was the ideal farmer's wife. Always she had been by her husband's side when the need was there. Of solid farming stock herself, she was aware of her obligations although these had often ranged from milking the entire herd to deputising at weddings and funerals. This was the unwritten law when labour was not to be had.

Now and then Mick would glance anxiously to the west and south where the ominous turgescence of massing clouds was slowly enveloping the otherwise clear sky. By his own reckoning he estimated that there were three, maybe four good hours left. Given that much time all the hay would undoubtedly be saved. He redoubled his own efforts and then without warning of any kind Julia Henderson heaved a massive, choking sigh. Mick stood helpless and appalled while she attempted to restrain with clutching fingers the terrible upheaval in her chest. Then just as suddenly her hands fell listlessly to her sides and she fell backwards noiselessly in a crumpled heap. Urgently Mick Henderson bent and whispered an act of contrition into her ear. There was no disputing the fact that she was dead. He stretched her legs gently and folded her hands
across her bosom.

Then he sat by her side awaiting the arrival of Mikey with the next rake of hay. The young man sensed something was wrong. He dismounted slowly from the tractor and read the news in his father's face. He knelt by his mother's side and kissed her on the lips and forehead. He smoothed back the hair from her face and lifted her head so that he could rest it on the pillow of hay. Then he rose and looked at the sky.

‘Let's get on with it,' he said. At first Mick Henderson looked at him uncomprehendingly. Then the logic of it dawned on him.

‘What about the two?' he asked, pointing to where the labourers were building a cock at the other end of the meadow.

‘What they don't know won't trouble them,' said Mikey dismissing the question. Slowly his father rose. Already Mikey was adding to the half-made cock. Instinctively his father followed his example.

Before departing for another rake-up Mikey laid a hand on his father's shoulder.

‘She would understand,' he said. ‘I don't have to tell you that. When the job is done we'll take her indoors. Then I'll go for a priest.

So saying he mounted the machine and in a matter of seconds was again raking the ever-decreasing wind-rows. Mick Henderson cast a glance at his dead wife and then his eyes followed his youngest son. Beyond doubt here was a man with a sound sense of priorities, a man with a true feel for the land.

THE TEAPOTS ARE OUT
AND OTHER ECCENTRIC TALES FROM IRELAND

 

 

Carroll & Graf Publishers
An Imprint of Avalon Publishing Group Inc.
245 West 17th Street
New York, NY 10011

Copyright © 1997 by John B. Keane

 

First Carroll & Graf edition 2004

 

 

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

 

eISBN : 978-0-786-74899-0