The Homecoming

THERE HAD NEVER BEEN SUCH A HOMECOMING. Nano sat on her chair, blowing her nose loudly every now and then into a white handkerchief. Eily kept on hugging and embracing Michael.

‘I’m right glad to see you, Michael. You’ll never know how glad.’

John stood silent, and clasped Michael firmly by the hand in welcome. Michael sensed that something bad had happened, and, from the look of it, John had been in some sort of fight recently. He’d hear about it all in time.

A simple meal was prepared and they all gathered around the scrubbed, wooden table to eat. There was a huge bowl of potatoes, with freshly churned butter and a shake of salt. There was a cool jug of Bella’s milk, and a plateful of spring onions which the adults sprinkled on their spuds. Eily blessed herself and said a special thanksgiving Grace for the food on the table and the return of her much-loved brother. ‘Amen’ echoed happily around the table.

Afterwards, Mary-Brigid helped Nano to clear the table and wash up. She knew that her mother and father and uncle had a lot to talk about, so once she was finished she slipped back outside to play and to have another look at the two horses her uncle had left grazing down in the low field.

Michael’s homecoming seemed to bring a new energy and life to the small cottage. And more than that – he brought them hope.

‘This is the finest holding in the district, John, no landlord in his right mind would get rid of such a good tenant, let alone such a good and useful farmhand!’ he assured his brother-in-law.

John Powers nodded his head. Perhaps he was worrying needlessly. Michael knew more about the gentry and landlords than he would ever know. He’d be better off trying to put this fear out of his head and get on with his day-to-day work. Anyway, rumour had it that Dennis Ormonde had taken himself back to England for a few weeks, and, as his agent, William Hussey, was still laid up after the bad beating he’d received, things would be peaceful enough for a while.

There was much to be done as the summer sun blazed across the land, and the fields and crops and animals all clamoured for attention. Michael was pleased to help. At night he would talk with Eily of the happy and sad days when they were young, growing up in their small cottage in Duneen, where the hawthorn tree grew and their baby sister lay buried. Those had been awful times during the Great Hunger, and the memory of them seemed to be almost part of the O’Driscoll family, a big bruise that would never fade away.

Then one morning, when they least expected it, a knock came on the door while they were having their porridge.

Mary-Brigid leaped from her stool and ran to answer it. ‘’Tis a stranger!’ she whispered softly back to the rest of them.

Her father tucked his shirt into his trousers and came to the door. The man standing there had a small ginger moustache that jumped up and down as he talked. He spoke to John in a low voice and Mary-Brigid did her best to eavesdrop and catch what they were saying.

‘Due to certain circumstances and considerations, Mr Ormonde has no other option but to increase the rent.’

‘Increase the rent!’ shouted her father. ‘What happens if I don’t pay this increase – won’t pay it?’

‘Then, unfortunately, Mr Powers, you would be served a notice to quit.’