Summer was approaching and Ned sat in the doorway of the old cottage, once the home of his parents, weaving the supple willow leaves in and out of the basket frames.
He had handed over total control of the farm to Tom who had taken to managing stock, buying, selling and making day-to-day decisions, like a duck takes to water. Ned helped his son when asked, but otherwise kept out of the way.
In the mornings he often busied himself making baskets from sallies growing along the riverbank, and he had begun sending some to England for sale.
From lunch time onwards he could usually be seen in O’Connell’s Hotel passing the time of day, reading the newspaper or chatting to other old locals who, like himself, had retired.
Maeve and Ned had left their farmhouse just after Christmas in 1933 to make way for Tom and Norah’s growing family; but settling in had not been easy for Maeve as she found the cottage too small, too damp, and far too near the Clashawley River for her liking.
Hardly a day went by without Ned hearing her muttering to herself about being put out to grass like some old donkey. When it rained she would snatch up her rosary and feverishly begin praying whilst keeping an eye on the swelling river lapping towards the back door of the cottage. She hated the water with a vengeance and feared more than anything that one night while they were in bed it would crash through the door and take them in their sleep to a watery grave.
Ned looked across the field and could just see the rooftop of their old home, Monroe, where he saw smoke twisting out of the chimney rising into the fresh spring air. A current of wind blew smoke in his direction, and he smelled the familiar aroma of burning peat; the scent of home.
He did not dwell on the fact that he missed his home because he liked the thought that Tom, Norah and their children now occupied the cottage he had been brought up in, and where he and Maeve raised their family. Ned accepted the fact that he and Maeve would live out their days in the smaller home, known as Granny’s Cottage, until God called them to Him
Ned was, by and large, content with his lot. He had Tom and Norah nearby; and their two children Edward and Theresa were always running in and out as though it was their home too. The door was never locked and the children would crash through it each morning, filling their grandparent’s days with delight. Even Maeve seemed content with the pattern of her days, so long as the children came to be with them each day.
Maeve put the kettle on to boil and went across the room to Ned.
‘I’ll shut this door now, the weather is turnin’ and I feel cold.’
‘Please yerself woman,’ Ned said and pulled his stool further outside to continue basket making in the open. He stood for a while watching the river and lit up a cigarette, just as Edward turned onto the pathway leading to the cottage.
‘Well hello there, I expect ye’ve come to eat up Granny's special cake,' Ned said, ruffling the boy’s hair. Edward smiled at his granddad.
‘Me ma said she’d be glad if she could borrow some sugar, sure she forgot to buy it when she was in town.’
‘C’mon inside and we’ll see what Granny can find then,’ Ned said, opening the door, but when he went into the room, Maeve was not there. She must be in the bedroom, he thought so went to open the door.
At first he thought the door must be locked, but how could it be when there was no lock on it? He pushed against it calling out.
'Maeve. Maeve! Will ye open the door, Edward is here after some sugar.’
Maeve did not reply, so he pushed against the door until it gave a little, but it felt as though there was something inside preventing him from opening it.
‘Maeve, are ye in there?’ Ned called, becoming irritated. ‘Will ye open this door?’ He shoved the door with his shoulder and it gradually gave enough to enable him to slip inside.
Edward stood watching and waiting for Granny to come out, but when he heard Ned shout, ‘ JESUS!’ he became alarmed and knew there was something wrong.
‘Granddad is Granny in there?’ he called.
‘Edward, run and get yer Dada as quickly as ye can,’ Ned commanded.
The boy ran off to find Tom who was in the yard feeding the pigs. When Edward told Tom what Ned had said he dropped the bucket of food, told Edward to fetch Norah, and ran towards the little cottage.
Once inside, Tom saw the bedroom door was open slightly.
‘Dada are ye in there?’ he called.
Ned appeared in the doorway, but told Tom he was unable to open the door wide as Maeve was lying behind it.
‘She seems to have had a fall and I can’t move her, Tom,’ Ned said.
Tom wedged himself through the gap in the door and saw his mother’s ashen face twisted sideways against the floor. She wasn’t breathing. He gasped and looked at Ned.
‘Is she…? Has she…? Oh Dada...I think she’s gone.’
Ned stared at Tom, and then slumped onto the side of the bed.
‘No. No.’ He struggled for breath. ‘’Tis just a fall she’s had. Go get Daniel, as quick as ye can.’
Tom stood up.
‘Put a blanket on her Dada and I’ll get Daniel,’ he said moving around Maeve’s body. He looked at Ned. ‘Norah will sit with ye, Dada. C’mon in near the fire and warm yerself, and I’ll be back soon.’
‘No, I’ll stay here and watch her; she may wonder what has happened when she wakes up. Ye get on now and fetch the doctor.’
Tom squeezed out of the doorway and met Norah just outside the cottage.
‘Be prepared,’ he told her. ‘I think Mummy has passed away.’
Norah blanched. 'Oh no!’ She drew her shawl tightly round her shoulders. 'What’ll I do, Tom? Will I go in, or not?’
‘Sure, ye should go in, Norah. Dada’s in there but I do not think he is in full command of his thoughts. He says she has just had a fall, but I think Mummy has died. I’m away to fetch Daniel now, so are ye up to goin’ in?’
Norah nodded, but inwardly she dreaded walking into the room and having to deal with the situation. She looked Tom in the eye. ‘Off ye go then, Tom. Edward is lookin’ after Theresa so don’t worry, but maybe ye should ask yer sisters to come.’
Tom agreed. He hurried away and disappeared around the corner, leaving Norah alone on the pathway to Granny’s Cottage.