Marlie and I lived at the Overhang, near the place where three roads met. One road went west to the Badlands. No one ever passed that way. It was the same with the road to the east – if you followed it you’d end up in the marshes, which stretched forever. Nobody went in that direction, and you’d never expect to see anyone coming from there. Only the road from Skerrick was used, and that was the one I watched, from high up on my ledge.
‘Peat, get down. You won’t make her come any faster by looking!’
I couldn’t see my sister but I could hear her. She was in the yard below, putting hay in the bails and getting the buckets ready for milking.
‘Come on,’ she yelled. ‘Come on, come on, come on . . . ’ She was calling the cows, but she was also calling me.
I ignored her and stared along the road, following it over the hills until it became a narrow track that disappeared into the valley where Skerrick lay. There was only one person who used the road and that was Wim, our auntie. She came up every month to bring us supplies and to collect the cheeses we made. Sometimes, if the weather was clear, I could see her as a tiny dot in the distance; then I’d know she would arrive in two days’ time, walking slowly because she always carried a heavy load – vegetables from her garden, flour, corn and lamp oil. Even with an empty pack, it would still take her at least four days to walk all the way from Skerrick.
Marlie and I longed for Wim’s visits because she was the only person we saw. You might think it strange that two girls would live all by themselves up there at the Overhang, but that’s the way it was. Our job was to look after the cattle. Every day we took them out to graze and every night we brought them back to the yard.
There were seven cows: Bella, Pem, Minka, Ellie, Creamy, Brown Cow and Skye. And each one had a calf except for Bella, who had the twins, Bright and Little Shy. Bright was my favourite even though he caused me a lot of trouble. He was brave and cheeky, and in the evenings when we locked the calves into the night cave, he was the one who always refused to come. Marlie lost patience with him but I thought it was funny the way he dug in his toes and wouldn’t budge. Most nights Bella had to help. She’d walk right up to the entrance and pretend she was about to go in, even though she was much too wide to fit. Only then would Bright skip through. I’d have to close the gate behind him quickly before he changed his mind.
We separated the calves from the cows at night so we could milk in the morning. If the calves were on the cows all day and all night there wouldn’t be any milk for us – not that it was really for us, it was for the people of Skerrick. We made the cheese for them.
Skerrick was the nearest settlement, the only settlement. You wouldn’t call it a town, or even a village – it was just a scattering of huts with walls made of stone and roofs of sod. None of the huts had windows, because there was nothing to see.
Most valleys lead somewhere – they open up into new country. But the valley where Skerrick lay – Bane Valley, it was called – ended in a steephead, a solid rock wall. The huts were built at the base of it and the sides of the valley were so steep that no sun ever reached there.
It was much better to live at the Overhang, even if it was just a rock shelter. At least there was a view. From the ledge I could see the entrance to the Bane Valley, and if I climbed higher up the escarpment I could see the sandy country out near the Boulders.
I would never have wanted to live in Skerrick even if I had been allowed to, but Marlie would have gone back and lived there the next day if she could. She’d been born there – well, we both had, but she’d lived there for six years, and I’d only been there for a day.
‘Peat, come down and help me!’
I took a last look at the road to Skerrick. The sun was in my eyes, so even if Wim was there I probably couldn’t have seen her.
‘Coming!’