Playing With Fire

by Mary Larkin

  ‘William! Remember him? Your grandson?’

  Hesitantly Rachel said, ‘Promise you won’t let Donald sway you.’

  ‘If I let Donald influence me, it will be because I’m not sure of my feelings, and it wouldn’t be fair to marry Jim unless I’m sure of how I feel.’ Seeing a worried frown gather on her mother’s brow, Susan said, ‘Don’t worry your head about me, Mam. I’m a big girl and I’ll do what’s best for all concerned. Now away you go to bed. I’ll lock up.’

  ‘Good night, Susan. I only hope you know what you’re doing.’

  Donald heard Rachel climb the stairs and debated whether or not to go down and have a chat with Susan. Unable to bear the long wait while she said good night to Jim, he had made his excuses and retired to his room. What on earth were they doing out there? As if he didn’t know! On the landing he paused to look out and, through the partly misted car windows, could just about see them. The figures in the car were in a tight embrace. Appalled at the intense jealousy that engulfed him, he regretted the plans he had made to go south with Trevor the next day. What if he returned to find Susan engaged to Jim?

  Donald came back from the south full of the wonderful architecture of Dublin and the fantastic scenery they had encountered on their travels. They had spent the first day visiting the most popular attractions in the capital, going into museums, cathedrals and the like - and of course the pubs, ‘for a wee drop of the cratur’. They had a stroll around St Stephen’s Green and even managed a quick visit to Trinity College. Darkness was falling when they eventually got to their hotel, exhausted but happy with their day’s adventure.

  Next morning, after a hearty Irish breakfast, they travelled across country to Galway. Trevor drove while Donald acted as navigator, stopping along the way at Athlone for coffee and to stretch their legs. They arrived in Galway town late morning and parked the car. It was a warm, bright sunny morning as they stood by the bay looking out over the calm, shimmering water. As they stood admiring the view Donald couldn’t resist humming ‘Galway Bay’, bringing a loud guffaw and a friendly punch on the shoulder from Trevor.

  ‘I didn’t hear you singing yesterday when we passed through Drogheda,’ chided Trevor.

  ‘Should I have?’ Donald was somewhat mystified.

  ‘Well, you were humming ‘Galway Bay’ here.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘The Boyne runs through Drogheda.’

  ‘I think you’re losing me, Trevor.’

  ‘Oh, never mind. I was only joking anyway. Where’s your sense of humour?’

  Donald was slightly offended. ‘Here, hold on a minute, Trevor. I’ve a very good sense of humour if you must know. It’s just that I don’t understand what you’re going on about. I do remember passing through Drogheda, and I do know the River Boyne runs through it. So what?’

  ‘Listen, son. Did you ever hear of William III, known over here as King Billy?’

  At last the penny dropped. ‘Oh! Now I know what you’re going on about.’ Donald laughed. ‘You’re talking about the Battle of the Boyne, where William defeated King James II. Why didn’t you say that in the first place?’

  ‘God, give me strength.’ Trevor was looking skywards, shaking his head in mock frustration. He was nevertheless impressed that this young Englishman would have knowledge of this bit of information. But then again, hadn’t Susan mentioned this very fact to him and Rachel - just how knowledgeable Donald was of Irish history.

  ‘Let’s go for a short drive along the coast, before we look for somewhere to eat,’ suggested Trevor.

  ‘I’m all for it,’ replied Donald, and they headed back to the car.

  They drove slowly along the coastal road as far as Clifden before returning to Galway for their lunch. They found an upstairs steak house on the main street and had to wait some time before being served. They both agreed the meal, complemented by a fine red wine, was well worth the wait. After lunch they took a stroll around the town, stopping for a short while to listen to the buskers in the square. Later, as they sat on a bench watching the world go by, Trevor had a sudden thought.

  ‘Look, Donald, do you remember that John Wayne film . . . The Quiet Man?’

  ‘This isn’t another one of your “guess the song” games, is it? Of course I remember it. I don’t think there’d be too many people who wouldn’t. Why do you ask?’

  Trevor was getting a little bit excited now. ‘If my memory serves me right, there’s a village not a stone’s throw from here called Cong. And that was the outside location for the shooting of that very film. Now then, what do you think of that?’

  ‘Well, I have to admit, Trevor, I don’t know what to think.’ Donald was beginning to get on Trevor’s wavelength at last and waited for his reply.

  ‘Do you fancy taking a drive up to have a look? You never know, we might even run into Barry Fitzgerald with a bit of luck.’ They both had a good laugh at his wit.

  ‘Not to mention Ward Bond,’ suggested Donald.

  ‘Ah yes, Ward Bond.’

  ‘I said not to mention him,’ laughed Donald. ‘It must have been that wine we drank, giving us a fit of the giggles.’

  ‘Okay, let’s get back to business. If we go to Cong we can always go home that way, instead of going back through Dublin. What do you think?’

  ‘I think that’s a brilliant idea, Trevor. That way we’d be able to see more of Ireland, instead of backtracking through places we’ve already seen,’ he said as he eagerly dug out his trusty map of Ireland and proceeded to pore over it, with Trevor looking over his shoulder.

  ‘There’s Cong, there, at the top of Lough Corrib,’ said Trevor, stabbing at the map with a finger.

  Donald traced the road further north. ‘We could then go up through Castlebar and further north to Sligo,’ he exclaimed running his finger up the map. ‘Where do we go from there?’

  ‘We’ll cut across to Enniskillen and from there it’s plain sailing all the way back to Belfast, so to speak.’

  ‘Enniskillen? That’s where we’re going on Saturday isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes! But we won’t call in on Susan’s grandparents. It would only spoil the women’s pleasure. You know what they’re like! So we’ll pass on through.’

  ‘You know what’s best, Trevor.’

  ‘Right then, we’d better be getting a move on if we want to have a look around John Wayne country before it gets too late,’ said Trevor, getting to his feet and giving his back a good old stretch.

  An hour later, after a leisurely drive through some lovely scenery, they were standing outside the large gates of Ashford castle.

  ‘It’s in there where that big fight between Big John and Victor McLaglen took place,’ said Trevor with an all-knowing tone. ‘Let’s take a walk around the village and see if we can get a cup of tea. Or maybe you’d like a pint of the black stuff, Donald, eh?’

  ‘Thanks, but tea will be fine. I’m already getting too much of a liking for the Guinness over here and I’ll probably take over the driving on the way back, now I know in which direction we’re heading.’

  They hadn’t gone far when they found a little corner café and sat down, ‘to take the weight off our feet,’ said Trevor as they waited for the tea and home-baked cake. The walls were lined with framed photographs of some of the locals posing with the crew and cast of The Quiet Man. Donald, seeing them for the first time, got up and walked around the café scrutinising each and every picture, passing comments to Trevor in the process. Feeling more refreshed they went for a stroll through the village, which didn’t take very long. They stood on a bridge watching a pair of swans feeding lazily on a pond and then made their way back to the castle gates and into the castle grounds. Feeling a bit tired from the stifling heat of the day and from walking about, they planted themselves down under a large chestnut tree and sat there for some time in companionable silence, each - more than likely - imagining Maureen O’Hara being dragged bodily across this beautiful countryside, or maybe the horserace down on the shore, or the
highlight of the film - that big fight. Who in their right mind could ever forget that?

  It was Trevor who intruded on their tranquillity. ‘Look, Donald, if we sit here any longer daydreaming, I’ll fall asleep. We’d better pull ourselves together and get a move on if we want to find somewhere to stay the night, before it gets dark.’

  Reluctantly they left the idyllic Cong in their wake as they headed north towards Castlebar, where they booked into a B&B and went out to find somewhere to eat. And perhaps ‘a wee dram’, suggested Trevor with a smile. He was really enjoying this young man’s company.

  Next morning they were heading up towards Sligo and then across to Enniskillen, passing alongside the beautiful Lough Erne, on the final stage of their travels. As they travelled along the motorway to Belfast, Donald thanked Trevor for his company and remarked on the places they had passed through and visited. ‘We certainly saw a lot of places in such a short time,’ he remarked. ‘I’d love to take more time out and tour around the south for, say, a couple of weeks. It was a fantastic couple of days. Wasn’t it?’

  ‘You can say that again, Donald. On second thoughts, don’t bother, son.’ Another loud laugh. ‘Seriously, though. Do you know something? This is the first break I’ve had in five years and I really needed it. I’ve enjoyed it every bit as much as you. And do you know something else? I enjoyed your company tremendously,’ he confessed. ‘And do you know something else, son? I’m going to make damned sure, pardon my French, that me and Rachel take a holiday every year from now on. What’s the use of slogging yourself half to death, six days a week, fifty-two weeks a year, and not getting any enjoyment out of it? You can’t take your money with you when the Big Man calls, you know. Oh no, I’ve had a right eye-opener this last couple of days. From now on I’m going to be a changed man. Take things a lot easier and not drive myself into an early grave.’

  Donald had listened in silence to every word as they approached the end of the motorway, before he finally spoke in a very solemn voice. ‘Okay, that was a very good confession. Now, for your penance I want you to say three Hail . . .’

  They both had a good old laugh at that and were still laughing as they pulled into the driveway of Trevor’s home.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Trevor had assured Donald he would enjoy himself in Enniskillen and it certainly lived up to his expectations. Susan’s grandparents welcomed him so warmly that he immediately felt at home. He particularly liked Jane, as she reminded him of his own mother.

  It started to rain as they travelled along the motorway on Saturday morning. ‘It would have to start raining now,’ grumbled Susan.

  ‘I’m not complaining. It’s only a shower. I’ve been very lucky with the weather so far. Two light showers in a week? Your dad couldn’t get over us having no rain at all while we were down south.’

  She smiled at him. ‘You’re right, of course, but I did so want you to see Enniskillen at its best.’

  ‘I’ve a confession to make, Susan. We passed through Enniskillen on the way home yesterday, so I’ve already seen it bathed in sunshine and it looks a grand town. Don’t you worry! With you for company, I’ll enjoy myself, rain or shine.’

  They shared a smile. They hadn’t had a chance to talk since he had returned with Trevor the night before. He was anxious about how things had progressed between her and Jim. Now, diffidently, he ventured to ask, ‘How are you and Jim getting along?’

  She shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Oh, the same as usual.’

  ‘He hasn’t yet persuaded you to marry him, then?’

  ‘Not yet, though sometimes I think it would be for the best. Other times I worry about leaving William behind and that puts me off.’

  Much relieved to hear this, Donald tried to be fair towards his rival in love. ‘At the moment I’m cramping his style. When I go home next week things will be different.’

  ‘Oh? So you’ve decided we wouldn’t be suited after all?’

  Surprised at this question, he debated whether to admit seeing her and Jim in the car on Tuesday night; it sounded as if he’d been spying on them. And so he had! He shrugged inwardly. May as well come clean and clear the air. ‘I saw you and Jim in the car on Tuesday night and you seemed to be getting on all right.’

  She turned in her seat and gaped at him. ‘Were you spying on us?’ she asked, aware that she was blushing, as the memory of Tuesday night’s episode crossed her mind.

  ‘No! No, I wasn’t! I just happened to glance out the landing window on my way to bed.’

  ‘Huh! Do you expect me to believe that?’ Receiving no reply, she dared to ask, ‘And just what did you see, eh?’

  He smiled wryly as he admitted, ‘As a matter of fact, very little. The windows were all steamed up and, since it wasn’t a very cold night, my imagination went into overdrive.’

  ‘Did it indeed? Well, I’ll have you know that we did have a good old cuddle. Any objections?’

  ‘No, why should I?’ His voice was abrupt. So much for being honest. ‘You’re a free agent after all.’

  ‘Do you know something? I enjoyed it. A girl likes to be kissed now and again, you know. Not being promised hugs and kisses that never materialise. Some people are just all talk! No action. Know what I mean?’

  Aghast at this outburst, her face blazed with colour. Now he would think she was throwing herself at him.

  Noting her high colour, he said gently, ‘Give me a chance, Susan. I didn’t want to rush you. But, believe you me, all that’s about to change. I’ll have you screaming for mercy before we leave Enniskillen. You mark my words,’ he promised.

  She was saved from replying by sounds from William, whose carrycot was strapped to the back seat. He soon settled down again, but the conversation was not pursued, as Donald was by now commenting on the countryside as they cruised along towards County Fermanagh.

  Donald had insisted on buying her grandparents some little token to show his appreciation of their kindness, so after a hearty lunch they spent a few hours in the town centre shopping and looking at buildings of historic interest that Susan thought would be of interest to him. She mentioned there was a pottery up near the border which produced the world-famous Belleek china and Donald jumped at the chance, suggesting they should visit it while they were in the region.

  ‘I might even get a gift there for Edith,’ he said.

  They travelled up alongside the Lough Erne, a route that was by now becoming quite familiar to Donald.

  ‘This is the road your dad and I came down on our way home from Cong yesterday,’ he said nodding towards Upper Lough Erne. ‘Isn’t that view something else? You could spend your whole holiday on one of those cruisers.’

  ‘Well, that’s what a lot of tourists actually do,’ Susan replied. ‘And it is a lovely view. Mind you, I wouldn’t fancy being out on the lough if it were raining.’

  ‘I suppose if you were really into boats, you wouldn’t care what the weather was like,’ Donald replied.

  Before long they were in Belleek and followed directions to the factory. They spent an hour browsing over the magnificent displays of china.

  ‘Look at some of those price tags,’ said Susan. ‘They’d take your breath away. Wouldn’t they, Donald?’

  ‘They sure would, but I’m just admiring the craft.’

  ‘You men! You never see the important things, do you?’ He just smiled at her and shrugged his shoulders. He did, however, manage to afford a pair of delicate china candlesticks for Edith.

  ‘She’ll be delighted with them. I noticed some china ornaments in her display cabinet, when I was over there,’ Susan enthused.

  On their way out of Belleek, Susan noticed that one of the pointers on the road sign indicated Bundoran. ‘Do you fancy a visit to the seaside before we return to Grannie’s? It’s only a short distance over the border.’

  ‘Why not! We’ve plenty of time.’

  A short time later they were sitting by the seaside, each enjoying a bag of fish and chips.

&nbs
p; Donald was suitably impressed with his day’s travels and his praise of Enniskillen and the surrounding countryside, when they returned to the cottage, pleased Susan’s grandparents.

  That night William and Jane shooed them out of the house and down to the pub while they pampered baby William; warning them not to hurry back, as they would give William a bath and put him to sleep in the carrycot.

  Susan and Donald sat in the corner of the oldeworlde pub and sang along with the rest of the customers to the traditional music played by the two fiddlers. He kept her in the circle of his arm, hugging her close and kissing her every now and again. It was with reluctance that they rose to go. The bar was still open, though it was after one o’clock in the morning. As for the fiddlers, they looked as if they could go on playing all night.

  Nearing the end of August, it was still quite warm outside. The rain had stayed at bay, bright stars studded the clear sky and the air smelt fresh and earthy. Putting an arm around her shoulders, Donald pulled Susan close as they made their way back to the cottage.

  She eased away from him. ‘You don’t have to overdo it, you know, Donald.’

  ‘Overdo what?’

  ‘You know rightly what I’m talking about,’ she admonished him. ‘All that kissing and hugging. I know it’s all a big show after what I said earlier today.’

  They were now at the cottage, which was in darkness. He secured the gate and followed her up the path in silence, but when she would have unlocked the front door, he closed his hand over hers and, pulling her against him, kissed her in a long satisfying kiss.

  They were both breathless when he eventually released her. ‘That’s what I call a real kiss, Susan. I’ve wanted to do that constantly, but felt I was betraying Jim’s friendship. See what I mean?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘I mean, have I your permission to court you? Is there any chance you might consider marrying me? Otherwise it would be a waste of time continuing like this, and might cause bad feeling all round.’

  Her look was appealing. ‘How can I know, Donald? Eh, tell me that. How can I know if you don’t try?’