Girl Auction

BY NED EGAN

Part 18

Now remember the handsome young man named Simon Flynn. Simon had been roughly handled; dragged from his midnight tick, in fact, by a strange spectral dream hound – whose baying was the last sound in his ears as he was so violently woken up. Not a young fellow to be easily rattled, he’s gone down to the stonecold kitchen, and made himself a mug of ‘tay.’ He sits now on an oak butt by the glimmering skeochgriosach, the candle ame icker-waving here and there, pushed by the random breezes that were part of any chill kitchen in those times. e dreamcreature, or force, that had so roughly dragged him onto the yellow-clay oor of his room, was nowhere in evidence. He’d also seen in the drowsy mist of his awakening brain a couple of eeting forms – young girls – and he thought he’d recognised them as Molly and Babsie Connolly. ey had to be; there were no other girls in the area that would t their cloudy images. And Molly held a special spot in his mind, anyway – and his heart. e question was: Why the sudden dream? Why the yank out of his tick? Simon wasn’t into spooks and puckawns. It gradually grew on him that the mystic dog wasn’t in the way of harming him. Nor was it out to frighten him, either – he was sure of that. e roaring had been to attract his sudden attention. He came to the conclusion that the dream was some kind of warning, some sort of signal. And no spectre would bother his head bawling around, or dragging him about, just for the fun of it. So, there only remained the one word to face – and consider: trouble.

And who was in trouble? Obviously not the sleepbothering madra – he’d be from a region unreachable by troublesome humans. So the only answer was –the Connolly girls.

So, now that he knows there’s trouble afoothow to act? He has been trying to pursue his ‘suit’ with Molly for some time now… A procedure which that sweet maiden has been completely unaware of…

First, he back-tracks in his mind over the last few months, to see if there are any clues lurking in his memory that might help him cotton on to the mystery of his rude awakening. {Old hands’ now perusing these inky quarters will be aware that Simon once instructed the Mollers in the e cient use of the Four Ten shotgun.} at was on a balmy summer’s day, when he just ‘happened to be in the area.’ Looking for a non-existent bullock was his little white lie: always excusable in evolving romantic circumstances. Truth to tell, he’d earlier been in Dungratton – it was a Fair Day - and had spotted Mikey Connolly in what could be only politely described as ‘a state of utter inebriation.’ Aye, langered, mouldy, rotor - in the horrors: same thing.

While not disgusted, amazed or alarmed at the sight of the jarred fellow –it being quite normal of a Fair Day, and happened to the best of men - he saw it as a chance to have the cuairdeek with Molly –who was sure to be home along with Babsie. e reports on the Mollers from his sister Bridie had always been great, and though he’d never got beyond the ‘hello’ stage himself –due to complete lack of opportunity - Molly looked a ne girl indeed. Now Bridie joined Simon in their old midnight kitchen, discussing the strange dream Simon just had. Simon spoke, quietly. “What have we got to do, sis? Where do we start? I have a few ideas – but what do you say? I thought I saw something strapped on the Moller’s shoulder, but I couldn’t be sure – it was so misty in that bloomin’ dream. e only thing it could possibly be is the Four Ten; you know, her dadser’s shotgun.” “Ah yes, Sim – the ‘Famous Four Ten!’ I heard you gave Molly a few friendly lessons on handling that handy little gun during the summer. Nothing from herself {of course!} but from Babsie – who spied on you as you so very helpfully held Molly round the waist, teaching her how to ‘cuddle’ the gun-butt’ into her shoulder! “ e Babs was gleeful – she asked me straight out if ‘them two would be getting married!’ A sparky wee sprite, that –but no fool.

I think she’s got hopes that you would put manners on the Mikey; and you do seem to be a favourite of those two. Ah, well, would that all things were so simple: what a great world we’d have…” In the switching glints of the embers and the guttering tallow candle, Bridie caught the faint blush on the brother’s handsome face – and had her rst laugh since she’d scrambled from her own tick, at his waking shout!

“Aye, Sim, your secret is well out and known about! Just the girls, and you and me, mind you.

Oh, yes - and Ma and Da. ey’re well-liked by the Babs, so she didn’t hesitate to chirp up about your teaching session!

Don’t worry about it: if only six people know a ‘secret’, it’s not bad going, around here…

“Anyway, I do believe what you saw was the Four Ten. e Mollers might have great faith in her Mam, but if the Dacent jumped out in front of them – and I’m sure he’ll have that big Purdey shotgun that he carries everywhere lately – there’d be little time for prayers.

We’ll go with your thinking Bridie, As you seem to know, I’m keen on Molly – and I think she is on me – so there’s no use me making plans. I’d probably grab Da’s Twelve Bore, and tear o to Bilzies, shouting her name - which would wreck everything. I’m too wound up.

You’re the boss, for all of this night.”

Disclaimer e opinions, beliefs and viewpoints expressed by the author do not re ect the opinions, beliefs and viewpoints of e Kilkenny Observer

Prep: 10 mins