Two chapters edited, two chapters to post .... why not?

 

Phil and Kate decided that the easiest way to avoid awkward situations in Drumlion (and having to deal with direct questions from Séan) would be to ‘play the tourist’ for a day or two.

“When all’s said and done, we’re supposed to be on holiday!” he said to Kate as they prepared to turn in on Monday evening. “Also, we don’t want to deliver Gerald back to Patsy Slattery carrying a beer belly from lack of exercise!”

They had taken their route map to the pub and consulted Hugh on a number of possibilities: this had the added advantage of making it easier to steer casual conversation in directions they wanted it to flow and avoiding potentially difficult questions about their intentions and the Important Announcement, concerning which Séan had already dropped a number of none-too-subtle hints. They had opted to circumnavigate Loch Cé in a clockwise direction, stopping each night at a different campsite. From the list which Patsy Slattery had supplied, there seemed to be plenty to choose from. There appeared to be a pub or a farm every ten miles or so around the lake. Phil reckoned they could look forward to at least three days on their own, which would see them back in the village on Friday, with less than two days to avoid Séan and his anxious questions.

They made a show of a deliberately casual start to Tuesday, lingering over breakfast. They stocked up in Drumlion’s only shop with a modest amount of fresh food to carry with them, and eventually left late in the morning. Their first stop, Clogher, was a village which on the map looked to be of similar size, halfway along the west bank.

The jungle drums, however, had preceded them, and at the pub when they stopped to ask about overnight parking they were greeted with the an MacDairmada honorific.

“News carries quickly, then!” Phil said as he eventually managed to persuade Tommy McCardle, the innkeeper, to accept payment for their drinks.

“Sure, there’s not much we don’t hear about just as soon as it happens, here: it’s a quiet life in the country, and people are more interesting topics of conversation than crops or the weather. But you’ve been here a week now, you must have noticed that yourself!”

“Hugh O’Gara did say that he was going to be talking to some people about ... about arrangements for a special day next week, but I wasn’t sure how far he’d be spreading the news.”

“Sure, and he asked me to let him have my two girls who usually serve at weekends: I gather there’s to be a ceilidg next weekend .......?”

“I don’t know the details yet, but that’s right” admitted Phil, “ ... but it’s supposed to be a surprise, so if you can try to keep it that way I’m sure Hugh would appreciate it!”

 “If Hugh’s been doing the rounds to get people cooking, you can be sure that people will be well aware there’s a ceilidg in the offing! Still, there’ll be good grounds for him not wanting to say why we’re having it, at least not yet: but I’m thinking it must involve yourselves?”

“That’s true enough: but there’s other involved as well! It wouldn’t be right for me to break a confidence, and young Séan O’Halloran would never forgive me if he isn’t allowed to make the Special Announcement after Mass next Sunday: he’s been trying to worm information out of me all week! In fact” he added, with an embarrassed grin “ ... in fact, Séan’s persistent questioning is one of the reasons we fled the village for a few days, so we don’t have to keep avoiding him!”

Tommy roared with laughter at this.

“Fair enough, Mr. McDermott! If you’ve arranged with Hugh O’Gara to keep certain things under wraps for a few days, I’m sure I can curb my curiosity until the weekend! If it’s at all possible, I’ll try to get over to Kilbrine and Drumlion to wish yourselves – and the others involved! – all the very best, whichever evening it turns out to be held ......”

Leaving the serving area, Tommy came out into the saloon area and walked with them to the door. Patting Gerald’s neck, he produced an apple from somewhere or other and led the horse by the bridle strap to a spacious, well equipped stable behind the pub and helped Phil to unhitch the caravan.
 
He remained, nodding tacit approval of the way Phil took immediately to grooming the horse before seeing to his own comforts. A small boy – younger, Phil thought, than Jim or Séan – suddenly materialised with a bag of feed, and silently offered to take over the currying and grooming.

“Peter will never forgive you if you don’t let him do the job!” observed Tommy. Phil stood back and joined their host at the door, watching the youngster as he worked swiftly and confidently until Gerald’s coat positively gleamed.

“If you’d care to join us for general chat in the bar this evening, I’ll do what I can to steer the conversation in a light and easy direction” offered Tommy as they crossed the yard back to the pub itself.

“We wouldn’t want to impose .... ” began Phil, but Tommy tutted impatiently.

“Sure, and we welcome visitors: if you knew how much we depend on the tourist trade, you’d understand that it’s no imposition at all! And anyone who doesn’t know your name already will know by this evening that there’s a McDermott visiting Clogher, and they’ll expect to see you and your good lady in the one place everyone visits most evenings!”

“Well, if you put it like that, I’d – or, rather: we’d be happy to oblige!” replied Phil, with a swift glance in Kate’s direction for confirmation.

“If nobody’s mentioned it already, this is the nearest point for visiting the McDermott family vaults at Templeronan. Gerry, one of my regulars, can offer the use of his boat, and he tells a good tale of the known history, too!”

Phil blinked.

“I’m sorry, the name – Templeronan? – hasn’t been mentioned, so far. I didn’t know there was a family vault: But I’d have thought the Chapel on McDermott’s Isle would have been the logical place for burials?”

“Gerry can tell you more about the reasons behind that! But I can say that, considering the number of Clan Chiefs, close family, and retainers who have needed burying in the family’s long history, the vaults would have outgrown the Chapel – and more than likely the Rock itself – long ago!”

“The vaults are at Templeronan because it’s not an island, with limited space available. It’s on the banks of the river Shannon that runs down through Carrick, and it’s easiest to get there by boat as the roads wander every which way! But as I said, Old Gerry can tell a far better tale than myself, and he’ll certainly be in tonight ..!”

Gerry Hanrahan didn’t appear to be as old as Hugh O’Gara, but they were certainly of the same generation and cut from the same cloth. Not ‘weathered’, thought Phil; nor even that old clichéed term ‘weatherbeaten’ Touched certainly by the years, but untouched by – even indifferent to – whatever weather he encountered seemed more accurate. 

“Siócháin teach: Peace to the House” was his greeting as he entered, and it was evidently his custom: those present nodded their thanks or raised a glass in his direction.

Easing himself onto a stool left vacant at the bar, he took a sip from the glass which Tommy had pulled as he entered, and nodded his approval. His gaze sought Phil’s.

“A warm welcome to our visitors: not just everyday tourists passing through, or so I’m told!”

Phil offered his hand, which was accepted with vigour and enthusiasm.

“The manager told me that you’d be the right person to speak to about some family research I’m working on.”

“Did he, now! And what makes Tommy McCardle so knowledgeable all of a sudden, I wonder?”

The gentle dig was spoken in a manner which robbed it of all possible offence; the good-humoured twinkle in Gerry’s eyes confirmed that this was simply normal village banter.

“I’d be obliged if I could arrange a boat trip for myself and Kate to a family vault at Templeronan. Mr. McCardle tells me that you may also be able to give me an outline of family history ........ ”

“So it’s right, then: you are of the McDermotts.” It could have been a question, but somehow Phil didn’t think of it as such. He nodded.

“I’ve already spoken to Hugh O’Gara about this: he seems to think the family line is straightforward, and what I can understand from Internet records seems to bear this out.”

“So I’ve the honour of addressing an MacDairmada, I see! And after so long ....!”

Phil flushed.

“I’m not .. trying to claim something which may not be mine!” he protested “ ... but Hugh O’Gara and ..... and some other people” He’d almost blurted out Paddy Ratner’s name, but managed to stop himself “ ....... and certain others” he continued after the briefest of pauses “ ... seem to think I’m at least close enough to claim the title, if I wish: though I understand it’s purely an honorary title, nowadays!”

“Honour and tradition can be two sides of the same coin” observed Gerry, to nobody in particular: there was a general sigh of agreement, as if he had said something which struck the assembled afternoon drinkers as both deeply philosophical and unarguably true.

“Still, I’ve nothing planned for the next several days: when would you like to go?”

Phil hadn’t expected it to be so easy, but rallied his thoughts and they quickly agreed to make the journey the following morning. Further handshakes and a round of drinks sealed the bargain just as Tommy McCardle called over to Phil and Kate that their evening meal was ready, as soon as they cared to eat.