Bruar's Rest

Hoping she was wrong, she waited for his next romantic gesture. This wasn’t how she’d imagined it to be. He took a small box from his pocket, opened it, and then on one knee he asked her in front of everyone to be his wife!
    Why did she feel like a fish hanging from a hook, suffering its slow, agonising failure to breathe? Unable to take in this awkward situation she was stunned into silence. He stood up, uncorked the bottle and began to pour each of his friends a glass.
    There were yippees and choruses of ‘He’s a jolly good fellow’, along with ‘Bloody time ye got yourself a wife.’
    Terry, who’d said little, was eyeing Megan. ‘Well, colleen, put the poor man out of his misery with an answer.’
    The words didn’t come. They were there deep in her dry throat, but not one came. What did come though was action. Her hand reached out to grab a cardigan, and a severely frightened black-haired tinker rushed from the room and did not stop running until she’d found her secret rock seat in the middle of the bogland. Here she drew breath and tried to clear her clouded mind. How could he do that in front of his friends and workers, and Mrs Sullivan? But on the other hand, what was so wrong with a romp in the hay and then accepting his ring? Her thoughts had until then been focussed on grieving the loss of her man, and now the sudden reality of becoming a rich man’s wife was terrifying. Was it what she wanted? Why did she have to be such a loner? ‘If only Rachel or my mother was here to share this episode with, they’d soon tell me what to do, but as things stand I’m so mixed up.’ All morning and into the afternoon she thought about nothing else but taking on the role of Michael’s wife. Could she fulfil his expectations? Would she open her mouth and shame him at such times as his county friends came calling? Up till then she’d seen none of them. Everything seemed to fade off into the distance as a rumble of thunder rent the air. She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts, the blackened sky above her head had gone unnoticed. ‘I’d best get back and face the music,’ she thought. ‘They’ll all be waiting on an answer.’
    Thankfully, Ballyshan was in sight as another loud clap of thunder shook the earth beneath her feet. The short time between the flashes of forked lightning and roars of thunder forecast a wild, storm-filled night ahead. On approaching the driveway she saw someone at the front door talking to Michael. Was it the last peal of thunder following on the heels of a severe flash that had momentarily blinded her? She couldn’t say, but something inside said, ‘hide!’ Hidden from sight behind a wall running up the side of the house she waited until the visitor had gone. She watched him as he walked past. A mighty flash of lightning stopped him in his tracks. He pulled a torn collar under his chin and stared skywards, and as he did so she saw the unmistakable, lean, sallow face of the Devil—Bull Buckley was back!
    Every sinew tightened like a vice. Tearing free from her hiding place when he’d gone, she bolted through the back door, screaming hysterically.
    Mrs Sullivan got such a fright she ran into the front room for Michael. Her screams brought the men hurrying from the stables.
    ‘Is it the storm, lass?’ asked Mrs Sullivan, ‘it’s the time of year for them, so tis.’
    ‘God love us, woman, yiv put the fear o’ death into the beasts, and them sparked up with the storm already,’ cried Paddy. Terry and Johnno also were vocal in their displeasure at her ridiculous screams. But none of them knew the cause except Michael. He’d seen that jutting jaw and those protruding eyes before. ‘Come on now, boys, give her a bit of peace. Megan doesn’t scare easy, something is wrong. Tell me now, what terrible thing has put the fear of death into my love?’ He put an arm around her as she snuggled into his body, clinging for dear life.
    ‘You’re right, Michael, I have seen Death!’ She got up and ran to the door. ‘Standing on the other side of this door no more than five minutes ago was Buckley! He’s found me. I tell you I’m as dead as stone now.’
    ‘This was the reason I took Megan away from England,’ he told everyone, then added, ‘Megan has been stalked by a street-fighter, and he seems hell-bent on terrorising her.’
    Bull Buckley, the man who laughed in the face of the mighty law enforcers, had followed her across the Irish Sea. Perhaps the Seer of