The Far House

Chapter 4: Obstacles

When I glimpsed a familiar dash of red roaring towards us I knew our return to The Far House wasn’t going to be. Hit by a thump of dread, I grabbed Ryan and hollered, “I knew we wouldn’t get away with it!” Pointing to the approaching car, I said with quiet resignation – “It’s my Mother.”

As the car slowed my thudding dread was replaced with a slice of anger – Dawna in the passenger seat – a look of fake concern on her face. I never curse, but to my surprise the words flew from my mouth – “The bitch!” Ryan touched my arm discreetly and said, “I knew that kid couldn’t be trusted. Keep calm Paula, let’s take this easy, go with the flow.”

My Mother rolled down the window and beckoned me over, “So what’s the story here Paula Jane?” She only ever called me that when seriously pissed off. Adrenalin kicked in, “So, so, sorry Mum…” Ryan interjected, “It’s my fault Ma’am, I asked Paula to skip school so we could talk a little about Ireland, I’m new to the country; I apologize sincerely.” Dawna leant forward, looking at us both smugly she said, “But Paula Jane, I thought you were going home to help your Father with his lap top.” Mum took a sharp in-take of breath – a good sign, she always did this when about to defend me; turning towards Dawna, she said, “That’s right Dawna, she did help her Dad.” Dawna, not happy with Mum’s response dealt her trump card, “Well you know the Headmaster takes a dim view of students mitching, especially to go off on a secret date.” Mum, calm as a cucumber said, “But they didn’t mitch or go on a date Dawna, they took the afternoon off. I’ll put Mr Slatterry right on that one.” She threw me one of her reassuring smiles before continuing, “Now, thank God you’re both OK, Dawna seemed to think something awful had happened to you both; she’s thrown the whole school into a panic.” Mum thrust her hand toward Ryan, “I’m Martina, welcome to Ireland Ryan; why don’t you come to ours for tea this evening. I’ll just drop Dawna back home. Hope to see you later.” Dawna looked at mum, incredulous, “Are you not inviting me for tea as well Martina?” Mum answered as blunt as an old blade, “No! You’re going home madam.” Dawna's head hit the headrest as Mum took off at speed; she had the measure of Dawna.

“Wow, you have a cool Mom,” said Ryan, while throwing his arm around my shoulder and guiding me back down the lane. “Ryan, we can’t go back today, we’re in enough trouble already.”

“We just gotta go tell him we can’t make tea today, arrange another date, that’s all. And anyways, we aint in no trouble, your Mom will see to that.”

“Dawna Lynch will make sure we’re in big trouble – believe me!”

“I’ll deal with her, I know how to keep my frenemy’s sweet; now come on, we don’t have much time.”

Mr Grogan waited by the tree, cradling his little pig like a baby. He looked anxious, his body quivered. Ryan’s innate sense of caring took over, “What is it Paul? You seem upset my friend.” He motioned for us to move behind the tree, “Take steps one, two – let the tree protect you.” I became impatient, “Protect us from What Paul? And talk normally, we’re in a hurry.” Ryan threw me a look that said: ‘go easy on the guy Paula.’ Mr Grogan spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, “The wicked witch has come to visit. Unannounced, she pounced, like a scary ghost; angry, cos there’s no post.” Ryan and I shot each other a knowing glance, while Mr Grogan continued, “So you can’t come for tea today, we’re not allowed visitors, she’d make us pay!” Ryan calmed him, “That’s OK Paul, we’ll come back another day.” Paul smiled broadly, “Jeepers, come down on Saturday, that’s baby’s Birthday.” The sound of slamming doors from The Far House turned him back into a quivering wreck; he took comfort in cradling the pig, the animal grunted appreciatively. An assertive voice cut through the sunny silence – “Paul Grogan, what are you at? Get back down here – now!” He motioned for us to go, then scurried off like a frightened child. We peeked through the tree’s budding foliage. The woman from the shop stood stern and imposing in front of the door to The Far House, “I knew it!” I exclaimed, a little too loud, as she looked in our direction; the tree provided adequate cover, I don’t think she saw us. Ryan’s lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “Look Paula, behind the shop lady, in the doorway.” A small stooped figure cowered, “That must be Granny Grogan,” I said. The shop woman stepped aside when Mr Grogan arrived, “Get in Paul, I’ve told you never to leave her alone,” she said, with a definite hint of something cruel in her tone. She shoved Mr Grogan in, banged the door closed, then headed off over the fields in the direction of Ballina. “She’s one nasty beetch! I’m feeling sorry for these old people, feel they need some kinda help Paula,” said Ryan, with a concern in his voice that I found endearing.

 ……

“Ryan’s a lovely fella, very mature for his age,” said Mum, as we drove to school. We were on our way to meet with the Headmaster to explain our absence from school; Mum had our story all sorted. She looked at me in a way that made me know what was coming, “You will be careful won’t you darling.” I cringed, “Mum!” He’s a friend, I’ve only just met him, and anyway, I think he’s gay.”

“Why’d you think that?”

“Dawna said so.”

Mum laughed, “Ahhh for God’s sake PJ, Dawna Lynch thinks that any fella who doesn’t fall at her feet is gay.” She looked at me again, with eyes full of love, “And when I say be careful PJ, I mean, he’s only here for a short while, try not to get too attached. I was sixteen once you know, it can hurt sometimes.” Mum always had my best interests at heart. I usually told her everything and felt a pang of guilt for keeping The Far House secret from her. But I’d given Ryan my word, at least until after Saturday when we’d planned to get to the bottom of The Far House situation.

The Headmasters office smelled wrong, like a bad odour breaking through recently sprayed air freshener. His secretary let us in and told us to wait. I’d never been in his office, it felt weird, particularly being there with my Mother. When the door opened, Mum put a reassuring hand on my knee.

Mr Slatterry’s old (a year from retirement,) and old school: formal, authoritative, a strict disciplinarian. Mum, prepared for his dominant style, took control and began to explain how our absence had her consent etc. Mr Slattery’s hand shot up, cutting her off mid flow; his voice an octave away from a shout, “Quiet woman!” Mum yelped, alarmed by the outburst. His chest rose and fell as his breathing struggled to control a potent rage. He lowered his gaze, fixed it on Mum, and then spat warped, whispery words that literally made my hair curl – “I will not have my school besmirched by scandal in my final year. Your daughter needs firm discipline – seducing and engaging in sexual practice with the innocent son of a visiting dignitary will not be tolerated!” Mum looked at me – a mix of disbelief and disappointment flushed her face – “What!” she said, her eyes begging me for explanation. I could only manage a disbelieving nod, speechless. My head struggled to make sense of what he said. Slatterry miss-read my whirling mind, “Yes, hang your head in shame young lady!” he barked.

“NO!” I delivered the word with an assertion that slapped his scrawny face hard.

I looked my mother in the eye, “Mum, you know that’s not true.”

Mum could read me like a book; satisfied with my response she turned to Slatterry, “I know and trust my daughter. I don’t know where you got your information from, but it’s most definitely incorrect – I can assure you!” He gave her a patronizing half smile, “Well, Mrs Delany, let me enlighten you. A trusted student, several in fact, have told me of your daughter’s incessant flirting with the boy. Also, and most worryingly, a member of the community who shall remain anonymous, witnessed your daughter lying in a field, in wanton readiness, while the boy took off his clothes. Thankfully, she saw fit to inform the school.” He finished with a smug, self-righteous smile, which I ignored. “Mum, I can explain, it’s not what he’s making it out to be.” Mum eyed him firmly, “Look Mr Slatterry, this is obviously a personal matter that I shall deal with at home.” He thumped the desk, causing the tea in his mug to splash his jacket, it fuelled a foul temper, “Oh no Mrs Delany! This incident happened during school time, therefore it is my issue, and one that I shall deal with accordingly.” He pointed his finger at me, “You shall not fraternize with the boy while in my school! I am giving you a weeks suspension from school for your disorderly conduct!”

As he saw Mum and I to the door my resolve hardened; Ryan and I would overcome these obstacles and solve the mystery of The Far House. I think I owed it to him.