Free Across the River by Alice Taylor Page A

“Martha and I don’t always see eye to eye, but on this occasion I think that she has what it takes. So you stop worrying now, Jack, and after the tea the two of us will go down to Mossgrove, and you can tell them about your caller so that they can keep their ears and eyes open.”
    “What a way to live,” Jack sighed.
    “Now, Jack, will you stop worrying,” Kate scolded.
    “It’s bad for you, and now that I’m here, I’ll check theold ticker and the blood pressure. Wouldn’t it suit Matt Conway fine if you died of natural causes?”
    “By God, there is no way I’d give him the satisfaction.”
    “That’s more like it now, Jack,” Kate told him smiling.
    “You’re the most balanced head we have in Mossgrove, so you must keep going.”
    As they sat having tea, Jack could feel himself relaxing.
    Kate always had this effect on him. As district nurse she probably came up against some traumatic situations.
When you deal with birth and death as part of your job, it probably gives you a fairly balanced view of life
, Jack decided.
    “How is David?” he asked her.
    “Grand,” she answered, her face lighting up into a smile.
    “Himself and Fr Tim have taken the under-age team over to Ross for the final.”
    “They get on well together,” he ventured.
    “Do you know something, Jack, they’re like brothers.
    They like the same books, go fishing together and get great satisfaction out of training the teams. Fr Tim is such fun. He makes a great difference to both our lives.”
    It made him sad to think that such friendship was soon going to get a knock on the head. Kate was continuing, “Fr Tim was dismayed that a farmer would actually burn hay. He has this reverence for the produce of the earth. He thinks that the harvest is the manifestation of ‘Give us this day our daily bread’.”
    “You can tell him from me,” Jack told her, “that it’s a long time since Matt Conway said the Our Father, and if he does it’s his own daily bread he is thinking about, not ours.”

Chapter Seven
    K ATE OPENED THE letter with the American stamp and smiled in delight.
    “Rodney Jackson is coming,” she told David, whose dark head was visible above the paper.
    “Good,” he said vaguely.
    “Isn’t it great?” she insisted.
    “Very,” he mumbled
    “Very what?” she demanded
    “Very interesting,” he said.
    “What’s interesting?” Kate asked.
    “Whatever you said,” he answered.
    “What did I say?” she demanded.
    “You have me now,” he admitted, lowering the paper and grinning across at her.
    “You’re not a morning person,” Kate told him, “and I should have learnt after eight years that at breakfast I’m talking to myself.”
    “Let’s start again,” David told her folding the newspaper and putting it away. “It was something about Rodney Jackson, wasn’t it?”
    “You got it! Some part of your brain must have been ticking over. He’s coming for a few weeks.”
    “That will give Lizzy and Julia something to keep them occupied,” David declared.
    “He creates a great stir every time he comes, doesn’t he,” Kate said with relish, “and it’s the last thing that he wants to do.”
    “Well, he does stand out a bit in the crowd, but I suppose with his height it’s understandable, and then he doesn’t dress like a local farmer.”
    “And the funny thing is,” Kate said, “that he’d love to fitin so well that he wouldn’t be noticed.”
    “Well, tell him this time to put on a pair of wellingtons and a torn jumper and not to shave for a week.”
    “Could you imagine him?” Kate laughed.
    “No,” David admitted, “but no matter what he did, he’d never look as if he were born in Kilmeen. You only acquire his look after years of the good life.”
    “And he sure looks good,” Kate said in an affected American drawl.
    “And most women in Kilmeen would agree with you,” David told her.
    “If I weren’t so happy with my lot,” Kate smiled, “I’d be throwing my