Page 181 of The Missing Sister
Arriving at the farmhouse, where the washing still hung out like flags on the line, and cows were grazing in the valley that led down to the slim sliver of the Argideen River, it was almost exactly as I remembered. Apart from the modern car parked in front of the house.
‘We’re here,’ I said, stating the obvious.
‘Hey, Mum, I thought you said the house you grew up in had really low-beamed ceilings? This farmhouse looks quite modern,’ said Jack, disappointment on his face.
‘This is the new farmhouse that we moved to when I was six. You’ll see the one we used to live in behind it.’
Looking at it now, I agreed with Jack that it was an unremarkable and small square house. Yet, moving from one side of the courtyard to the other, with all its space, light, and modern conveniences, had been a revelation for me back then.
‘Okay, why don’t you two stay in the car while I go and see who’s home?’ Before they could answer, I was out of the car and walking round the back towards the kitchen door, because I couldn’t ever imagine walking in through the front entrance. Only the priest or a doctor or a British person had ever done that.
The kitchen door was made of PVC now, not wood, and I saw that all the windows had been replaced in a similar fashion too.
‘Here goes.’ I held my breath and forced my fist out to knock on it, because I had no idea who would answer.
There was no reply, so I knocked louder. Putting my ear to the door, I heard a noise coming from within. Testing the stainless-steel door handle, I found it was unlocked. Of course it was, I told myself; on a farm, there was always someone in. Pushing the door open, I stepped into the kitchen and looked around me. The only thing that was the same was its shape and the old press holding tableware that still stood against the wall. The rest of the room had been filled with modern pine kitchen units, the old stone floor now tiled in an orangey colour. The range had gone, and instead there was an oven with an induction hob over it. The long table in the centre was also made of pine.
I walked to the door that opened onto the narrow hall which led upstairs, and realised the noise was of somebody hoovering above me.
The door in front of me led to the New Room; the overriding memory I had of it was of Daddy in his chair, with a glass in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.
The open fire had gone, and a wood-burning stove stood in its place. There was still the long leather sofa and a box of children’s toys was stowed in one corner.
Walking back into the corridor, I heard the hoovering noise above had stopped. ‘Hello?’ I called.
‘Hello there, can I help you?’
An unfamiliar woman stood at the top of the stairs, as I stood at the bottom.
‘Er, yes, my name’s Mary, and I used to live here with my parents, Maggie and John. And my brothers and sisters, of course,’ I added, trying to work out whether the woman could be one of my sisters grown older.
‘Mary...’ the woman said as she came down the stairs towards me. ‘Now, who would you be?’
‘I was the youngest of the sisters – Ellen, Nora and Katie. John, Bill and Pat were my brothers.’
Having reached the bottom, the woman stared at me. Eventually, realisation appeared on her face.
‘Jaysus! You mean,theMary, who everyone called Merry?’
‘Yes.’
‘The famous missing sister of the O’Reilly clan! Well now, what a gas! If I make one phone call, we’ll have them that are here out within the hour. Come into the kitchen and we’ll have something to drink, will we?’
‘I... thank you,’ I said as she led me back into the kitchen. ‘Um, sorry to ask, but who are you?’
The woman laughed suddenly. ‘Well, o’course, considering you’ve been missing for all these years, you wouldn’t be knowing, would you? I’m Sinéad, John’s – your eldest brother’s wife.’
Now she was close up, I glanced at her again. ‘Did we ever meet?’
‘I doubt it. I was in John’s year at Clogagh School. We started courting a year or so after you disappeared. He dragged me down the aisle a few months later. Now so, what can I offer you? I’d say we should be opening a bottle of something that sparkles, but I don’t have any in stock just now,’ she smiled and I thought what a lovely warm woman she seemed.
‘Um, tell me if it’s too inconvenient and you’d rather not, but I’ve got my two children with me,’ I said. ‘They’re waiting in the car outside whilst I found out whether the house was still owned by our family.’
‘O’course, Mary, or are you still called Merry?’
‘I am, yes.’
‘Sure, I’d love to meet them!’ she said, so I went outside and beckoned Jack and Mary-Kate in.
