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Authors: Henrietta Reid
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Gummidge, is much better humoured, although he has a bullying wife and is inclined to be reserved. Young Joe too is prone to fall in love with every girl he meets. That’s why I found Mrs. Murphy so comforting. In her case problems like that didn’t arise.’
‘Oh, I expect it’s because he’s young and just beginning to grow up,’ Kate said with an air of wisdom.
‘Not like you, of course, who are very old and very wise.’ He sounded dry and mocking, but Kate didn’t mind. She felt happy and confident that she had surmounted the first hurdle in her new job.
Then a sudden thought struck her. ‘Good heavens, I’d forgotten all about your tea !’
‘Don’t worry. I stopped off at Dan’s cottage on the way back from the fields and his wife entertained me to tea and a dissertation on her husband’s Shortcomings. So much for married bliss!’
‘So that’s why you’ve taken such a dislike to marriage,’ Kate said, before it occurred to her that perhaps it wasn’t the type of remark one makes to one’s employer. Immediately she realised her mistake as she saw his face stiffen.
‘My views on marriage are certainly no concern of yours. I suggest you turn your mind to getting ready a room for my aunt, Mrs. Lawlor. I’m going to write to her now and invite her to Laragh. The sooner she arrives the better, considering the present domestic set-up. By the way,’ he added, as he left the room, ‘you can use the sitting-room if you like. I do my paperwork there, so if you’d like to read or write letters in the evenings, you can feel yourself perfectly free to do so, provided, of course, that you don’t chatter.’
‘Thank you, Mr. Lawlor,’ Kate replied demurely, making up her mind to avoid the sitting-room and Owen Lawlor as much as possible.
As he turned to leave the room she longed to assert herself, to say something rude and crushing to her arrogant employer, but caution intervened. He was quite capable even at this stage of bundling Bedsocks and herself out of Laragh and his life and for once prudence prevailed. ‘I’ll see to Mrs. Lawlor’s room right away, sir,’ she replied, and just prevented herself from bobbing a curtsey.
CHAPTER THREE
SUDDENLY Kate was reminded by a gust of smoke from the direction of the kitchen that she had forgotten the soda-bread. Flinging down her duster, she dashed towards the kitchen to be met by even denser clouds of choking smoke. She reached for an oven cloth and flinging open the oven door, pulled out the tin of charred bread.
She had been a week now at Laragh and she had made several disastrous attempts at baking soda-bread in the old-fashioned range oven. But on each occasion failure had stalked her, although she had faithfully followed the recipe culled from a local newspaper. Time and again the men had made valiant efforts to consume the results of her labours, but she had only to take note of Dan’s lugubrious features as he stolidly chewed through the soggy undercooked slices of her earlier attempts to know that once again she had failed.
On this occasion she had conscientiously followed out the instructions in a cooking article, having pinned it against the dresser so as to refresh her memory. She had even persuaded Mick to give her a jug of the buttermilk he brought back from the creamery and which he usually kept for feeding the young calves. However, whether or not her latest effort would have proved a success would never be known.
Having slid the tin on to the table she pulled open a window to clear the kitchen of all evidence of the latest catastrophe. She could well imagine Mick humorously sniffing the air and the teasing remarks that would be bandied should they suspect that once again she had failed.
But where should she hide the evidence? she wondered, glancing around : to burn it would only add to the penetrating smell that seemed to fill every nook and cranny of the room. Then she remembered how soft the earth was in the kitchen
‘Oh, I expect it’s because he’s young and just beginning to grow up,’ Kate said with an air of wisdom.
‘Not like you, of course, who are very old and very wise.’ He sounded dry and mocking, but Kate didn’t mind. She felt happy and confident that she had surmounted the first hurdle in her new job.
Then a sudden thought struck her. ‘Good heavens, I’d forgotten all about your tea !’
‘Don’t worry. I stopped off at Dan’s cottage on the way back from the fields and his wife entertained me to tea and a dissertation on her husband’s Shortcomings. So much for married bliss!’
‘So that’s why you’ve taken such a dislike to marriage,’ Kate said, before it occurred to her that perhaps it wasn’t the type of remark one makes to one’s employer. Immediately she realised her mistake as she saw his face stiffen.
‘My views on marriage are certainly no concern of yours. I suggest you turn your mind to getting ready a room for my aunt, Mrs. Lawlor. I’m going to write to her now and invite her to Laragh. The sooner she arrives the better, considering the present domestic set-up. By the way,’ he added, as he left the room, ‘you can use the sitting-room if you like. I do my paperwork there, so if you’d like to read or write letters in the evenings, you can feel yourself perfectly free to do so, provided, of course, that you don’t chatter.’
‘Thank you, Mr. Lawlor,’ Kate replied demurely, making up her mind to avoid the sitting-room and Owen Lawlor as much as possible.
As he turned to leave the room she longed to assert herself, to say something rude and crushing to her arrogant employer, but caution intervened. He was quite capable even at this stage of bundling Bedsocks and herself out of Laragh and his life and for once prudence prevailed. ‘I’ll see to Mrs. Lawlor’s room right away, sir,’ she replied, and just prevented herself from bobbing a curtsey.
CHAPTER THREE
SUDDENLY Kate was reminded by a gust of smoke from the direction of the kitchen that she had forgotten the soda-bread. Flinging down her duster, she dashed towards the kitchen to be met by even denser clouds of choking smoke. She reached for an oven cloth and flinging open the oven door, pulled out the tin of charred bread.
She had been a week now at Laragh and she had made several disastrous attempts at baking soda-bread in the old-fashioned range oven. But on each occasion failure had stalked her, although she had faithfully followed the recipe culled from a local newspaper. Time and again the men had made valiant efforts to consume the results of her labours, but she had only to take note of Dan’s lugubrious features as he stolidly chewed through the soggy undercooked slices of her earlier attempts to know that once again she had failed.
On this occasion she had conscientiously followed out the instructions in a cooking article, having pinned it against the dresser so as to refresh her memory. She had even persuaded Mick to give her a jug of the buttermilk he brought back from the creamery and which he usually kept for feeding the young calves. However, whether or not her latest effort would have proved a success would never be known.
Having slid the tin on to the table she pulled open a window to clear the kitchen of all evidence of the latest catastrophe. She could well imagine Mick humorously sniffing the air and the teasing remarks that would be bandied should they suspect that once again she had failed.
But where should she hide the evidence? she wondered, glancing around : to burn it would only add to the penetrating smell that seemed to fill every nook and cranny of the room. Then she remembered how soft the earth was in the kitchen
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