Across the River (19 page)

“Peter, you take the other end,” she told him, “and, Rodney, you sit here inside the table from where you can look down over the fields. Nora and Jack, you take these chairs beside him. Mark, Agnes and I will sit opposite.”

When they were all seated, Rodney Jackson looked around appreciatively.

“That’s what I’d call a good seating arrangement,” he said, smiling at Martha, and she got the feeling that beneath this
extremely pleasant exterior was a sharp brain that missed very little. She liked that. There was nothing more boring than fools.

Nora had decided to act as hostess and passed around plates of roast chicken salad that her mother had ready. Martha was glad that she had taken so much trouble in the preparation of everything. It had brought Nora into the spirit of things. Nothing was more important than that just now.

“Mark, you’re a lucky skunk heading off to America,” Peter announced from the end of the table. “When exactly are you leaving?”

“As soon as things are organised,” said Rodney.

“You had better mind him in America,” Peter told Rodney good humouredly. “He could get lost, wander off after strange women or something.”

“More likely strange butterflies,” Martha put in.

“Wouldn’t I love to be going?” Nora said wistfully.

“Why not?” Rodney Jackson asked her.

“What?” Nora gasped in disbelief.

“Well, now that it has come up, it seems like a good time to tell you that that is why I’m here, to invite you and your mother to accompany us and see Mark’s exhibition for yourselves.”

There was a stunned silence at the table. Then everybody started talking together, and Nora was on her feet hugging Rodney and Mark and running around the table to Agnes, Kate and Jack. Amazement followed by understanding flooded though Martha.
So this is what the invitation to Mossgrove was all about.
She turned and looked at Mark beside her.

“You knew all along,” she said.

“Yes. The change will be great for Nora, just what she needs, and it will do you good to get away as well.”

His tone of voice was such that for one second she wondered if he knew about that night at the river. Mark wandered around at the oddest hours. It was not outside the limits of possibility that he had been out that night. On impulse she took his hand and squeezed it.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

“This is a big surprise,” she told Rodney. “Do we have to decide straightaway?”

“You can think about it,” he told her.

“Think about it!” Nora shrieked. “There is no thinking to be done. We’re going and that’s it.”

The effect on Nora was amazing. She was vibrating with excitement and delight.

“Well, there seems to be no decision to be made,” Martha smiled, “but of course there will be certain arrangements to be made.”

“I’m looking after Mossgrove and Ellen Shine will help,” Agnes told her.

“So you knew too?” Martha asked.

“Only because they had to tell me on account of covering Mossgrove while you’re away. It was all very hush-hush.”

“Once I get over the initial shock, I’m sure that I will be as delighted as Nora,” Martha said.

“You couldn’t be, Mam,” Nora declared, dancing around the room. “I’m on air.”

The rest of the meal was given over to making plans and arrangements, with Nora giving Agnes instructions about clothes that would have to be made for her. Agnes was in for a busy time, but it was so good to see the transformation in Nora. Martha would always be grateful to Mark for this.

Now that Rodney Jackson had made his announcement, he appeared to be happy to sit back and let the
conversation flow around him. It would be interesting to know how he really felt about Nora and herself accompanying Mark. Was he doing it just to humour Mark, whom he thought, for some strange reason, should have his every wish answered? Was it his idea or was it Mark’s? It would be nice to know, but she doubted that she was going to find out in the immediate future.

They all enjoyed the meal and were loud in their praise of Martha’s cooking. Sometimes when she looked across the table, she found Rodney Jackson’s eyes on her. It was a bit disconcerting. She wondered how they would get on during the long trip ahead. There was a lot more to this man than met the eye.

Later that evening she stood alone inside the parlour window and looked across at Conways’. They were no longer a threat to Mossgrove. Looking down over the fields, she thought of all the generations of Phelans who had worked this farm. Now they were gone, but Mossgrove remained. Maybe Jack was right and none of them owned this land.

She walked over and looked up at the picture of old Edward Phelan. For the first time in twenty-two years, she felt a complete affinity with a Phelan.

“The score is settled,” she told him.

Alice Taylor lives in the village of Innishannon in County Cork, in a house attached to the local supermarket and post office.

Her classic account of growing up in the Irish countryside,
To School Through the Fields,
was published in May 1988. It was an immediate success, launching Alice on a series of signing sessions, talks, media appearances readings the length and breadth of Ireland. It quickly became the biggest selling book ever published in Ireland, and her sequels,
Quench the Lamp,
The Village, Country Days
and
The Night Before Christmas,
were also outstandingly successful. Since their initial publication, these books of memoirs have also been translated and sold internationally.

In 1997 Alice’s first novel,
The Woman of the House,
was an immediate bestseller in Ireland, topping the paperback fiction lists for many weeks. A moving story of land, love and family, it was followed by a sequel,
Across the River
in 2000, which was also a bestseller. One of Ireland’s most popular authors, Alice has continued writing fiction, non-fiction and poetry since.

“Ireland’s Laurie Lee: a chronicler of fading village life who sells and sells.”
Observer

“She has become the most popular and universally loved author in memory.”
Mail on Sunday

Memoirs

To School Through the Fields

Quench the Lamp

The Village

The Parish

Country Days

The Night Before Christmas

The Gift of a Garden

And Time Stood Still

Do You Remember?

Poetry

The Way We Are

Close to the Earth

Going to the Well

The Journey

Fiction

The Woman of the House

Across the River

House of Memories