A Son of Aran by Martin Gormally Page B

where the girls went for walks in their free time. She gave them news of Tadhg too whom she had met while on an outing to Kilkieran. She remembered the nights she and Peadar had spent there on their trip out of Galway.
    â€˜Why, Daddy, did we have to take such a roundabout route that evening when you could have sailed direct to Aran?’ she asked.
    â€˜Don’t you remember the storm that blew up’ he replied. ‘I had only you to help me handle the hooker. If we hadn’t tied up in Kilkieran we might never have reached Aran alive.’
    When they arrived home, Eileen couldn’t wait to see the cow, throw food to the hens, and give milk to the cat. She searched in the fuchsia bushes and came in with four eggs which she promptly set to roast among the gríosach(warm embers) in the chimney place. Having partaken of a meal of bread and tea, she hurried to pay a visit to Sorcha who threw her arms around her in welcome.
    â€˜Let me look at you,’ she exclaimed as she held Eileen at arms length. ‘My, oh my, you have grown six inches since we saw you last. And look at the sheen on those curls— you’ll turn heads in the chapel on Sunday.’
    As the evening sun was setting in a glorious splash of red in the north-western sky, Seosamh suddenly appeared on the doorstep.
    â€˜Welcome back to Aran,’ he said as he planted a light kiss on her cheek.
    â€˜Where did you come from?’ she asked excitedly. ‘I thought you were in Galway.’
    â€˜I was, until I heard that you were due home—I wanted to surprise you,’ he replied. ‘Now that we’re both here, how about a stroll on the beach.’
    In the light of a summer moon, with an arm around her waist, hand in hand they walked and talked until well past midnight, pausing at intervals to embrace and kiss. Eileen recapped on the months she had spent in the convent at Carna; she liked the school and she had made many friends among the students. Apart from maintaining a high degree of discipline, the nuns were outgoing. A number of the sisters were young—they treated the girls as equals rather than students. Subjects on the curriculum were interesting and presented little problem to her. She particularly liked geography—she would love to make this her major study if she should go on to third level.
    â€˜That,’ she said, ‘is a long way down the line. Things may occur in the meantime to prevent me going to college.’
    Seosamh told her about his job in Galway. When he went there first he knew nobody; he had to search for days before he got a job. Finally he discovered that the Railway Hotel wanted a boy for general duties, acting as doorman, bringing patrons to their rooms, carrying bags, and running errands. He had to be up early to open the door, take in the post, and collect the daily papers from a local news agency. After a week’s trial the proprietor gave him the job. He shared a room with the night porter and took his meals with domestic staff. Accommodation and food were tip-top. He was paid two pounds a week which was great for a start. Sometimes he got tips from visitors when he carried their suitcases, or called a car to take them to the railway station. The newsagent’s shop where he went every day had a small lending library from which he was able to borrow books. In his spare time he had read Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Kidnapped, Treasure Island, and King Solomon’s Mines, and he was half way through Old Celtic Romances. The shop was run by two elderly ladies—as time went on he got to know them very well. Their first job, on opening at seven in the morning, was to carry in the newspapers and put them on display in the shop. The bales were heavy and tied with strong cord. One morning when he approached the shop he found one of the ladies bent over a large bundle of papers in an attempt to lift it.
    â€˜Hold on,’ Seosamh said, ‘I’ll take that for