Bruar's Rest

that news that Buckley is out there somewhere, I’ll sleep with one eye open.’
    ‘Surely he wouldn’t be so stupid as to risk coming here?’
    ‘That beast crawls the earth without a brain, his skull’s filled with bad brawn. He’s like a mad bull. He’d come here alright.’
    ‘But why should he?’
    ‘Listen, girlie, you might think me short of a shilling, but I knows how much is in a pound. You told Mrs Newton what you saw the night her man got murdered. Don’t tell me you didn’t, because I can see a lie like I see a rainbow. If Bull Buckley so much as sees a muskrie, he’ll know who fingered him. He’s got scores to settle.’
    ‘Then perhaps you had best stay with these kind folks, and I’ll take off to find my man. Surely he won’t bother you if he knows it was me who did the dirty on him?’
    ‘Stay the winter. This is a big lonely country, full of rivers, country roads and dales. To travel you need to know the place where you’re going, and money. Now let’s be honest, you have neither. Come spring, I’ll give you a shilling or two and help, but not just now.’
    ‘But if Buckley comes he’ll know you’ve helped me, and heaven forbid, hurt you. I couldn’t stand that on my conscience.’
    ‘If Buckley wants to come, he comes whether we be together or not. Now, get some sleep, will you, girl.’
    If they wanted a long lie in bed, then Nuala put paid to it. Ages before the cock crowed, her eager little legs were running up and downstairs, and along to the bedroom at the far end of the ranch-style house where her visitors slept. Megan listened both to her constant knocking on the door and her oohs and aahs on opening another gift from Santa. Although she hardly knew the child, it would have been nice to have something to give. But then, here was a girl who had a world of material wealth. What could a mere tinker give such a one?
    She was certainly the better for the early morning call. Bull had flitted in and out of her dark dreams, his red hair hung over one eye, and a helpless hedgehog held between his gruesome jaws. But thankfully, a bright morning pushed him to the back of her thoughts.
    She gently lifted the covers from her side of the bed, not wishing to awaken old Mother Foy; but there was no need, her companion was already up and about. With a feeling of embarrassment and guilt at resting longer than the old woman, she washed in a basin of water left for that purpose, dressed and quickly brushed her hair, and rushed along to the large sitting room. Nuala had taken herself upstairs, probably to share her Christmas joy with her parents. Apart from a smelly hound curled in a dog basket by the stone fireplace, the room was empty, just as it had been the night before. ‘I wonder where my old friend has got to,’ she spoke out loud.
    ‘Megan, I’m here.’
    She glanced around the room, it was empty. She asked, ‘Where?’
    ‘In this blasted chair.’ A limp hand fell from a blanket covering a wickerwork chair by the far wall next to long flowing curtains; it was the old woman.
    ‘I didn’t see you under the cover. What’s the reason for deserting a warm bed at this ungodly hour?’ She knelt down by her side.
    The old lady was pale and sickly looking; she was holding her side, obviously in pain. She made a weak attempt to sit forward, but the pain forced her back.
    ‘What in the name is the matter?’
    ‘I felt cold in the night, then I felt hot, my head got to thumping and this sharp pain like a hot poker in my chest. It’ll be little or nothing, probably just the walk yesterday. Nuala too, she was all over me like a nettle-rash, dear sweet child. Yesterday was too much for me and this is the result. If we can persuade Stephen or Michael to hitch a buggy, take us back to my varda, I’ll be the better in a couple of days.’ Through the grimace of pain she forced a smile, then laid her head back against a brocade cushion perched behind her.
    ‘Do you want a doctor?’ The old lady was far from well, and her colour worried Megan.
    ‘Phew, a doctor, that’ll be right. No, just give our hosts a call, then put the kettle on for everybody, it’s the least we can do.’
    ‘Nuala will be sad that we don’t share Christmas dinner with them.’
    ‘It can’t be helped. Old age is what it says, and things old don’t work well.’
    A concerned Bridget, who’d heard their voices, came downstairs. ‘What’s the reason for my guests in this cold sitting room, without so