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By Root 643 0

could see him inside seated at a long wooden desk, up at the front of the class, head bent with pen in hand, carefully forming letters in his copybook. He would have been comfortable here, a good student. She left the schoolyard with a new spring in her step, determined to seek out the locals and talk to them. She glanced at her watch. It was lunch time, the shops would be closed, but Muldoon’s, the pub down the street, would be open by now. As she walked back down the street her father was still on her mind. He would never have crossed the threshold of Muldoon’s pub. No, he had been a teetotaller all his life and wore a Pioneer pin in his lapel, the symbol of total abstinence, for all to see. As she pushed open the door to the bar, she was wondering if Muldoon’s had been around in her grandfather’s day.

The heavy smell of stale tobacco and porter met her as she stepped inside. Heads turned, followed by a brief lull in the conversation. An L-shaped bar surrounded by several bar stools stood to one side, and on the other there was a small group of tables and chairs. The patrons, all men, were gathered around the bar, with the exception of one old man who sat alone at a table in the corner, nursing his pint. Nora walked to the bar and stood by an empty stool. Two young men to her left nodded in her direction.

The barmaid, a brisk middle-aged woman with a fresh face and a big generous smile, leaned into the bar and asked brightly, “What are ye having?”

“A glass of orange and a ham sandwich,” Nora said, returning her welcoming smile.

“Grand.” She disappeared into a back room.

Nora decided to take a stool at the bar rather than sit on her own at a table. Perched like a hen on a roost was a brave choice but one she had to make if she was to engage anyone in conversation. She looked around her as if a world of interest existed within the confines of this country pub. The conversation opener, she knew, would eventually come. She just had to wait. She shifted uncomfortably. Beside her a man in a dark unkempt suit and a peaked cap leaned against the bar, his back to Nora. She knew by the very set of him, the space he commanded, the look of his clothes, that he was a man of importance, a shopkeeper or a cattle dealer, perhaps. She also knew that despite his apparent indifference to her presence, he had taken stock of her, as she had of him and that he would want to know her business. She tried to ignore his bulk, which seemed altogether too close to her, but in spite of her best efforts, her eyes kept returning to the pink stubbly bulge above his shirt collar. Like a pig’s rump, she thought, resisting an urge to reach over and touch the prickly lump with her fingertip.

The woman behind the bar appeared from the back room with two steaming plates of dinner: boiled bacon, cabbage, turnip, potatoes, and set them down in front of the two lads to her left.

“Begob, that’ll put fuel in the old tank, boys.” There was laughter. The shopkeeper had broken the ice. He turned slowly to face Nora, shoving his big hands deep into his trouser pockets and drawing himself up to his full height. “Y’er not from these parts now, are ye?”

The answer, she knew, had to be informative and forthright if she hoped to engage him in conversation.

“No, I’m not,” she said. “I’m from Leitrim, but I live in Canada now, Montreal. I’m just home for a short stay.”

“Ah, home from America, so that’s it.”

“No, Canada.” She was glad to take a jab at the self-importance of the shopkeeper.

“And what would bring a girl like you to Cullen?” His eyes travelled the length of her.

“My father came from Cullen. His name was Molloy, Eamon Molloy. They owned a small farm around here years ago.” Nora watched carefully.

The shopkeeper contemplated his boots for a minute, finally turned and spoke to the others. “Have ye ever heard tell of a fella from around here be the name of Molloy?”

There were mumbles. “No, never heard tell of that name. No, no Molloys around here, must be farther away towards Boyle they lived. There’s Molloys over that way,” one fellow offered.

Nora