Bruar's Rest

journey. ‘What a miserable day, is your shawl warm enough?’ Her concern grew with each slow, dragging step of the old woman. She would have liked to take her companion’s arm to steady her, but she was walking Beth. The elderly lady was, however, of a hardy breed and told her so. ‘I’m fine. Now, watch that we take the right turn on this road. If we go left we’ll put another mile onto our journey. In this pea soup I’m certain my joints will fix stiff if I go another step over the distance.’ Minutes had passed when she stopped, squinted her eyes into slits and said, ‘Yes, there’s the building, thanks be to God for keeping me eyes sharp. I don’t show gratitude for me bent back and stiff legs, but I thank him for the eyes.’
    In the thick fog Megan could just about make out outbuildings with low roofs; these were stables. Beth, on smelling other horses, quickened her pace. The old woman laughed and said, ‘Now, girl, don’t get too frisky, you’ll be there soon. We’ll put her in the barn meantime. We don’t want to seen too pushy by taking up a pew in the stalls, better I get permission.’
    Megan walked into a cobbled yard and led her equine friend into the giant barn at the farthest end. After scattering loose hay in a trough and hobbling the horse, she was soon standing alongside her companion, outside a grand ranch-style door.
    ‘Well, well, well, would you look at who has decided to brighten our doorstep,’ said a young man, holding a newspaper in one hand, brown-stemmed pipe in the other. ‘Come away in, dear friend, out of this confounded fog. Now tell me, who is this young filly?’
    ‘Stephen, what a sight you are to gladden the eyes of an old gypsy woman. This is Megan, and before you start prodding at her mind, let me say she is a Scot and her business is her own. Now, what have you done with Bridget?’ At these words a young woman appeared.
    ‘He’s not got the energy to do anything with me, Mother Foy. Oh, it does my heart the power of good when I see that wrinkled face of yours. We noticed the bowed wagon down by the gorse, is it yours?’
    Megan was ignored momentarily as the friends greeted each other on the doorstep.
    ‘What couthy folk,’ she thought. They certainly had a fondness for her old companion, and she wondered why. Her answer came running breathlessly down the stairs in the form of a little girl. Her face, on seeing who was visiting, beamed as she threw herself into the old woman’s arms, ‘Mamma Foy, my lovely old Mamma! Why have you taken such ages to come? Did Daddy tell you what Uncle Michael has given me for Christmas? Can I tell her Daddy?’
    Her father waved his hand in a gesture of approval.
    ‘Oh Mamma, she is just divine, wait until you see her, are you staying for long? Uncle Michael will fetch her over in the spring because she’s too young to leave her mother.’
    ‘What a load of questions; me little princess, let me look at you.’ The wide-eyed child blushed and turned on tiptoes, pirouette-fashion. Her golden ringlets skimmed the air, then fell one by one upon tiny shoulders and cascaded down her back.
    ‘A living doll if me old eyes don’t deceive me, how you have grown. I think you must be about seven or eight. But what is this gift that has my sweetie so excited?’
    ‘Oh silly Mamma, I’m nine now. It’s nothing other than a brand new Irish foal, whose mother is none other than Fiddler’s Fancy. You remember her, don’t you? She won the National twice.’
    ‘Well, she must be a pretty picture if she’s her foal; I won a small fortune on Fiddler, I did.’
    Megan couldn’t help but wonder, with a little awe, at the attention, nay respect, this family paid to her old friend. They were not without wealth, that was apparent, but why the red-carpet treatment to a mere gypsy?
    The child smiled. ‘I’m Nuala, what are you called and why do you come with my precious Mamma Foy?’
    Before she could answer, the old woman called Nuala over and said, ‘This young lady is my friend, and has kindly offered to take care of me until the winter be over. Like you she has a pretty name, Megan.’
    Nuala threw her small arms round the new visitor and said excitedly, ‘I think you are the loveliest person in the entire big grand world.’
    ‘Why?’ she asked curiously.
    ‘For taking care of my Mamma Foy, that’s why.’ Then as fast as she had come she dashed back upstairs, to gather armfuls of dolls and teddy bears to lay at