The Girl Who Came Home(101)

Jimmy and Grace stared at the old woman in shock.

‘Seriously,’ Grace asked one more time. ‘You really want to come?’

‘I’ve never been more serious,’ Maggie replied. ‘I know, I’m nearly ninety-years-old and I don’t really like to leave the house too much and I’ve never been on a plane before and all the other reasons why it sounds like absolute nonsense, but ever since you two got back together and decided to go to Ireland, I’ve been thinking about coming with you. I’ve tried to forget about Ireland all these years, but it won’t leave me. I’m part of it you know and I think I’m ready to go back now, after all these years. I doubt there’ll be another chance and I’ll admit I would like to see the old place again, before it’s too late. So, I figured, why not? Maybe it’s time for me to finally go home.’

‘Well, I think that’s fantastic Maggie, really fantastic and we’d love to take you back to your home. But, are you absolutely sure? It won’t be too upsetting will it?’

‘Hmmm, probably. But I figure you don’t get to be a ‘nearly-ninety-year-old’ woman without being able to cope with a bit of upset now and again. I think it will do me good to see that place again, see the faces of the people who live there now. Sure, they’re never going to give a hoot about some little old lady snooping about are they? I can travel back to Chicago with you Grace while Jimmy goes off exploring Europe. If an old lady won’t cramp your style too much, I’d really like to come with you.’

It was settled. Maggie would travel with them to Ireland, back to Ballysheen. The girl who had left all those years ago was coming home.





*





As the plane thundered down the runway and took off, Maggie closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of speed and of being pushed back into her seat. She felt more alive than she had done in years. She smiled as she looked down at the patchwork of fields below as the land she had called her home for most of her life faded into obscurity behind the clouds as they climbed higher and higher. She patted the pocket of her coat which was carefully folded up on her lap. Yes, it was still there. The packet of letters was still there.





CHAPTER 37 – Ballysheen, Ireland, 1982





The journey took a lot out of Maggie. She was exhausted by the time they landed at Shannon airport, and was glad that Grace had insisted they stay overnight in a local hotel before continuing their journey north to County Mayo the following day. She barely noticed the nice hotel carpet and the pleasing décor before falling into a deep sleep.

Sitting in the passenger seat of the hire car the next day, she watched, mesmerised, as the Irish countryside flashed past the window. Her mind wandered back to the train journey she had taken all those years ago from Castlebar, the great whistle of the engine startling her as they’d pulled out of the station with a groan and a jolt, slowly building up pace down the track towards Claremorris and from there to Limerick and then Cork. Eight or nine hours they’d travelled before they finally reached Queenstown. The salty sea-air of that town had made her feel queasy – she remembered it now as if it were yesterday.

Jimmy drove through small town after small town, stopping here and there so they could have a cup of tea or a bowl of soup and some homemade soda bread. The vivid colours of the houses and shop fronts delighted them all, the smoke from the fires burning in the grates of the houses snaked skywards from narrow chimney pots, filling the air with the smell of peat. It was a smell which Maggie recognised immediately and one which transported her right back to the kitchen of the small cottage she’d lived in with her aunt.

They drove out then into open countryside, past lush, green fields, dry stone walls and crops of wheat and barley. Maggie already felt oddly at home, at ease; at peace.

It was dusk as they approached the familiar landscape of County Mayo and Maggie sat in silence as she surveyed the scenery around her. And then she saw it. The majestic, distinctive shape of Nephin Mor. It was still lightly snow-capped from the harsh winter there’d been that year. A few fluffy clouds passed lazily across the sky. She could see the fields where she’d watched the men gather the potatoes at harvest time. She recalled herself as a young girl staring at another failed harvest, at the blighted crops, and her mother telling her how she remembered those fields lush and green with healthy crops, all the food they could wish to eat silently bursting into life in the dark earth through the winter, the tender green tops pushing through the ground in the springtime. It thrilled Maggie to see those same fields lush and green again; bursting with life and with food to feed the community ten times over.