The incoherent voices became louder as
the two yellow beams of cycle lamps appeared out of the morning
mist. Michael Leary recognised the cycle sway and cap positions
of the men. As they all became visible, morning greetings were
exchanged in laud voices as is only peculiar to the Irish. Kevin
and Thomas were on their way to Jennings's farm. Michael Leary
was returning home after playing an all night card game of '
twenty-five'. His summer vacation here in the Loughmask region
of County Mayo was almost over and he would be soon returning
to Dublin and his final year of electrical engineering studies.
The taste of porter was still in his mouth as he contentedly
sauntered home. It was becoming somewhat of a habit, but like
'Prince Hal', he hoped he would change when back at college.
Faintly, then increasing in volume, the echo of his boots was
interrupted by the sound of other boots approaching. ' A bit
odd!' he thought. He did not usually meet other folk walking
around at this time in the morning. Maybe a farm worker making
an early start? The smell of rough pipe tobacco now reached Michael
reminding him of his abstinence from cigarettes. 'Almost two
months now; well, forty-eight days.' The pipe appeared with an
elderly chap or in Michael's words, ' an old boy', the type who
appears at everyone's fireside in winter and tells a ' good yarn'.
He probably also knows how to drink everyone's tea, smoke their
cigarettes and say, "I'll just be having that egg,"
thought Michael. It would seem that the 'old boy' knew what Michael
was thinking as he walked him, quite unperturbed even to Michael's
"nice morning." 'Strange', Michael thought. ' I wonder
who he is? I bet Dad knows and probably knew his father'.
A faint red hue between two distant mountains appeared as Michael
arrived, some minutes later at his parents' cottage. The smell
of burning turf confirmed his suspicion that his father, a habitual
early riser, was about. He gently lifted the wooden gate to prevent
it from grating across the concrete. A few hens stirred in the
nearby henhouse, but he hoped he had not aroused his mother or
younger brother. As was the custom, the cottage door was unlocked.
However, its hinges did need oiling. He found his father leaning
across the fire with a black kettle in one hand and a rosary
in the other. " I suppose you'll be wanting tea?" Mr.
Leary said, rather sarcastically. "I wouldn't mind,"
answered Michael, who was now thinking about his bed as he sat
by the fire. His father fetched two large cups. "It'll be
a grand day later. See anyone on the road this morning?"
"Only Tom and Kevin on their way to milking . . . oh! And
some `old boy` with a pipe about half mile back down the road.
Never seen him before. " What did he look like?" enquired
Mr. Leary, picking up the teapot from the fire hearth. Michael
described the early morning traveller. " Do you know him
at all?" The elder of the two men stopped pouring the tea
and said quietly, "The man you have described to me has
been dead these ten years, God be with him. Jim Flyn was his
name and he was well known for his early morning strolls. He
used to live three cottages up the road. My father knew him well."
Michael sat and stared while his father finished pouring the
tea. 582
words
First North American English Serial Rights, only being offered.
