that she left him to it, and hurried off to the kitchen.
Soon the little house was filled with the smells of wholesome good cooking. ‘Come on, you two.’ Harry was out in the back garden with Tom when she called them in. ‘The table’s all set and the food is ready, so it’s just the two of youse I’m waiting for.’ She ceremoniously ushered them inside, then told them to tuck in. ‘You’ve got fat pork sausages new from the butcher this very morning, with vegetables so fresh they stand up on the plate, and potatoes mashed from my very own kitchen garden.’ She gave Tom a wink. ‘I’ve got a juicy apple pie for afters,’ she whispered, ‘all smothered in thick creamy custard. What d’you think to that, eh?’
Tom whispered back, ‘Can I have a big piece with crust?’
Kathleen laughed aloud. ‘As big as ye like,’ she answered with a wink, and though he tried really hard, Tom could not manage a wink back, so he gave her a big gappy smile instead – which then opened the conversation as to how he lost his front tooth.
Tom explained that the fairies had taken the tooth and left him a whole shilling under his pillow, along with ‘a note, saying they were building me a new tooth straight away!’
‘Ah, well now, isn’t that grand?’ Kathleen gave a knowing wink at Harry, who was watching the two of them with a quieter heart than of late. ‘I’ve lost four back teeth meself, so I have,’ she said. ‘How much d’you think they’ll charge me to get new ones?’
Tom was amazed. ‘I don’t know.’ He frowned. ‘You’ve got big, grown-up teeth, and the fairies are only little.’ He looked at his father, then he looked at Kathleen, and in a sombre voice informed her, ‘Maybe you’d better go to the blacksmith.’
Trying not to laugh, Kathleen asked innocently, ‘The blacksmith, eh? And what does he do?’
‘He makes big shoes for big horses – I read it in the book Mammy got me for Christmas.’
For a second or two, the silence spoke volumes. ‘Oh, I see,’ said Kathleen, lightening the mood. ‘So you think I’m big as a horse, do you?’
‘Oh, no.’ Tom shook his head vehemently. ‘But he’s got bigger tools than the fairies, and he could make your big new teeth on his fire.’
‘Right.’ Kathleen plopped another sausage onto his empty plate. ‘So that’s what I’ll do then,’ she promised. ‘I’ll get my new teeth from the blacksmith. Shake on it?’ She held out her hand.
‘Shake on it!’ Tom’s happy grin said it all.
When conversation was done, and everyone was full to contentment, Kathleen left Tom and Harry chatting while she went upstairs. A few minutes later she returned with a flowery pinnie wrapped round her ample middle. ‘I’ve run a bath for the child,’ she told Harry, ‘so now you take it easy, while I get Tom ready for his bed.’
Dismissing Harry’s protests, she took the boy by the hand and chatted with him all the way up the stairs. ‘So now ye can tell me all about these fairies who had the cheek to take your lovely tooth and make you wait for a new one. If you ask me, they want a good telling off!’
Harry smiled at her antics. ‘She’s not changed,’ he chuckled to himself. ‘She’s still the same Kathleen as ever was.’
While Kathleen and Tom were getting to know each other, Harry set about clearing away the dishes and wiping down the table. He put the kettle on to boil water for the washing-up.
Kathleen was none too pleased when she bustled in. ‘Hey, you’re not here to do my job,’ she chided. ‘You leave that to me, and get yourself up them stairs. There’s a wee bairn in his bed, waiting to say goodnight to his daddy.’
Tom thanked her. ‘I’m surprised he let you wash him,’ he said. ‘It’s usually a big struggle at bathtime.’
‘Ah well now, the trick is to keep the water out of his eyes and keep him busy, with stories of hobgoblins and things of a child’s imagination.’ Regret coloured her voice. ‘I never had childer of my own, but I’ve looked after a few in my time, I can tell ye.’
‘Including me,’ he reminded her.
‘Oh, my!’ She had that mischievous look again. ‘So I did,’ she tutted. ‘Isn’t that dreadful? I’d completely forgotten about you.’
Smiling to himself, he crossed the room. ‘You’ll find him in the box room,’ she called out. ‘He’ll be watching for you, I’m sure.’
It was a while before Harry came down, and as he walked towards her, Kathleen thought he seemed more at ease. ‘Is the bairn sleeping?’ she asked.
‘Like he hasn’t slept since—’ He pulled himself up short. ‘Yes, he’s sleeping soundly, thanks to you and your magic stories.’
‘It’s always wise to have a few magic stories up your sleeve; you never know when you might need them,’ Kathleen said.
Harry glanced at the pile of dishes to be put away. ‘D’you need a hand?’
‘No, thank you. What I need is for you to sit down and put your feet up. Sure I’ll have these dishes sorted in no time, then, if you’re up to it, you and me will have a heart-to-heart. Would you like that? Or are you feeling a bit weary, what with the long drive an’ all?’
Harry was not ready for sleep. In fact, he desperately needed a catch-up with Kathleen. He had so many questions, and so much to tell. ‘Yes, I’d like that – if you’re sure?’
‘I said so, didn’t I?’ She shook her dishcloth at him. ‘Go on then. Take yourself away to the sitting room and I’ll be with you in no time at all.’
Harry gratefully took his leave. He went into the front room and sat awhile, thinking how welcoming Kathleen’s little house was. He thought about the past and the present and the future, and he grew increasingly restless. It was only a matter of minutes before he got out of the chair and, passing the kitchen, strolled out of the back door and into the garden where the evening shadows had begun to move in.
For what seemed an age he stood by the door, his gaze sweeping that pretty, tiny garden he had known so well as a boy.
Few things had changed. The apple tree was still there, its far-reaching branches touching the bedroom windows as always. The wooden gate that led onto the back lane was still wonky, and the bolt that secured it was still hanging by a thread.
The garden path was new though; where before it had been hardcore and broken concrete, it was now paved with pretty square blocks. The vegetable patch was obviously still in use, because the fork was standing up in the soil. And the patch of grass under the window was forever worn where Kathleen walked when cleaning the windows.
Walking to the far end of the garden on this, the last day of summer, he sat on the same iron bench that he had sat on as a teenager; though it was succumbing to rust in places. As he looked about at all the familiar things, he felt a great sense of homecoming.
He closed his eyes and he could see Judy, the girl who had awakened him to beauty and love, and whose image he had never really lost.
In that split second, steeped in memories, he could not see his beloved Sara. That was when the
