Feathers in the Fire Read Free Page A

and at this his grandfather opened his eyes, his father lifted his head, and they both said, ‘Aye,’ and he went out of the front door on to the road.
    He passed the Geary house, which was strangely quiet today. It wasn’t very often he passed this door without hearing Cassy Geary bawling at one or the other. If it wasn’t her husband it was the two lads, or Molly. It was worse before the three younger lasses went into service. The hardest worked part about Mrs Geary, he considered, was her mouth.
    He passed the next house, which was always quiet, having only Will Curran in it. But even when Mrs Curran had been alive, and their grown-up son and daughter in the house, it had always been quiet; Will Curran was a domineering man who would be obeyed. He wanted to be a master did Will Curran, and he practised it hard under his own roof. His son had run off to sea and his daughter had done a moonlight flit with a fellow from across the valley.
    He went on down the road and into the farmyard.
    Everything here looked neat and spruce, especially since the mud was baked hard. There had been no rain to speak of for weeks, but it wouldn’t be long before they had it for the clouds were breaking up. He passed the house lying back to the left of him, then turned at right angles into the long yard that lay between the byres and barn at one side and the stables and store sheds at the other. He stepped over the channel of water which ran down the middle of the yard. Fed by inlets from the byres, it took the main part of the slush and muck.
    When he entered the byres Fred Geary was already at work, which was unusual so early in the afternoon session. The man turned his small thin body and looked towards him, but didn’t speak, and Davie hesitated just within the doorway, wondering what he should do. His first impulse was to go up to him and say, ‘Look here; you can think what you like, but I know nowt about it.’ But he thought better of it; what had to be said he would let come from him first.
    But when fifteen minutes had passed and Geary had said no word to him, good, bad, or indifferent, he covertly watched him as he clumped back and forth to the dairy. He still had the explosive look on his face that had been noticeable when they were all called into the barn to witness the chastisement . . .
    The chastisement. He couldn’t get over it. When the bell had rung he had dashed from the beet field thinking there was a fire, for the bell was only rung to gather them together for the march to church on a Sunday or in case of fire or flood; it was also rung, merrily for a birth, slowly for a death. But this morning his granda had been pulling it at the rate he did on Sundays, and so he had cried at him, ‘What’s up?’ His granda had merely pointed along to the barn.
    When he had reached the barn it was to see the master and Molly standing up on the weighing platform, and below them the five Gearys, Will Curran, his own mother and father, and the mistress and Miss Jane. The master had looked down on Miss Jane and ordered, ‘Go to the house and stay there,’ and the girl had hesitated a moment before doing as he bade her. Then the master had said, ‘There is trouble among us . . . Fred’ – he had nodded towards Geary – ‘Fred has come to me with bad news concerning his daugh— Molly here.’ He had hesitated over his words, which was unusual for the master, but it was plain he had no stomach for what he was about to do. Then he continued, ‘He tells me she’s in trouble and will not name the man, and because of her stubbornness he has asked me to chastise her. I have no heart for this, but he demands it be done as was usual . . . ’ It was at this point that his granda had cried out, ‘But them days are past, Master!’ and the master had replied, ‘I have already pointed this out to Fred.’ ‘Then why do it, Master?’ his granda had dared to question, and the master’s reply was, ‘If I don’t he will take her in