Read Online Dream Valley by Paddy Cummins - Free Book Online Page A

kitchen waiting for the jug kettle to boil for coffee. Emily was tidying up outside after the morning's work. It had gone very well. The work on the gallops was starting to get a little more serious
    now, and the horses were really enjoying themselves. An air of optimism prevailed. It won't be long now, thought Garry. They're coming around nicely, eating well, looking well, and working well - a trainer's delight. He felt good
    as he poured the coffee, lit a cigarette, and relaxed on the chair beside the old table.
    The mobile in his pocket rang. " Here we go again - always during my little break - you'd think they knew." Still, he
    liked to hear it ring. That little phone was a vital part of the business - he just couldn't manage without it.
    'Hello ... Garry Wren speaking.'
    'Hello, is that you, Garry?'
    His mother always began like that - just to be sure.
    'Yes Mam ... it's me ... have I changed my voice or what? How's everyone?'
    'There fine ... how are you?'
    'Oh, couldn't be better.'
    There was a pause, an unusual silence from his mother's side
    - he sensed something was wrong.
    'Mam, are you still there?'
    'You're going to be very sad, Garry, at what I'm going to tell you.'
    'What is it Mam?' He held his breath.
    'Sandra Greene is dead!'
    There was now silence at Garry's end. Anguish and pain crashed through him. His legs weakened, his brain refused to comprehend the
    shattering news; he was almost paralysed with shock.
    'Sandra dead!' He exclaimed hysterically ... 'she couldn't be!'
    'She is, Garry,' his mother said, as soft and soothingly as she could.
    'But Mam ... how? ... when? ... were? ... what happened?'
    'Well, you know she had twins?'
    'Yeah, of course I did.'
    'And she was expecting again?'
    'Yeah, I knew that too ... sure you told me the last time I
    was home.'
    'She was seven months; and she wasn't well at all. They took her into hospital in Dublin where they discovered the cancer. It was gone all through her ... too late to do anything.'
    'Oh God ... and what about the baby?'
    'Thank God, they managed to save her ... a little girl ... premature, but healthy ... in an incubator. Poor Sandra, she didn't have much of a life.'
    'That's for sure,' he sobbed, glad that his mother couldn't see the tears flowing down his face, dropping off his chin.
    'When did she die? ... when is the funeral? ... I'll have to be there, Mam.'
    'Of course you will, Son. She died at one o'clock this
    morning in the hospital. They're taking her home to Kildare to wake her, and she's being buried here after Mass on Sunday. They say it was her wish to be brought back here. I suppose she wanted to rest among her family and friends.'
    'That would be her alright, Mam ... she always loved home. I don't think she liked it up there in Kildare at all. What a shame ... what a waste ... God, it's awful, isn't it?'
    'Sure, 'tis the will of God, Garry ... nothing we can do
    about it ... she's gone now ... all we can do is say a prayer for her.'
    'I'll be home Sunday morning for the funeral.'
    'Can't you come on Saturday night. I'll have your dinner
    ready for you. Sure you won't be that busy ... couldn't Emily feed the horses for you?'
    'Yeah, maybe I'll do that ... thanks for ringing, Mam ... I'll talk to you on Saturday night.'
     
    Emily was approaching the kitchen for her coffee. Garry took his down to the bedroom. He was in no condition to be seen by anyone.
    'Your coffee's on the table, Emily ... biscuits in the jar,'
    he tried to sound normal.
    'Okay, thanks.'
    She hadn't a clue. Garry's suffering was private - Emily wouldn't understand. The story was too long, too painful - he might tell her sometime.
    He collapsed on the bed, lay on his back over the
    bedclothes. Staring up at the old wood-panelled ceiling, as tears flowed on to the pillow, the memories came flooding back. It started when they were no more than twelve. Sandra rode her pony to school every day. He could still hear the
    clip clop of the hooves and feel the loving sensation