The Keening by Margaret Pinard

Author:Margaret Pinard [Pinard, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780989850650
Goodreads: 27417726
Publisher: Taste Life Twice Publishing
Published: 2015-12-02T16:00:00+00:00

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The time sped by. Gillan told Jenny and Charlie of the plan as well, and they agreed to host them for the final month. It was risky, since if the boss learned of his intended departure, Gillan might be forced to give over his post, and they might not make the full thirty pounds in time. But Gillan had committed to believing it would happen. He, too, started passing his eye over all they had. What could fetch a fair price, with everyone around so impoverished? These were cruel decisions.

His father’s tools? No, they’d very likely need those to build with in Canada. His mother’s jet brooch, which he’d given to Sheila when he asked her to marry him? Of course not. Their plates? Aye, they could do without all of them, although they were no so very fine. Sheila’s lace shawl, that she’d had made by an old woman on the island who knew the ways of Belgian lace-makers? Never.

Their few last treasures. He knew Sheila was doing the same, as night after night, he followed her eyes, casting around the little sitting room and coming back to her own plate in defeat. She was still at the loom every night, weaving, and he saw Muirne bent over mending tasks beside her in the firelight. Neil had taken up running messages in the evening for the municipal captain of police, as he’d been turned down for overtime. For a couple hours he earned a few shillings, not bad at all, although he could only burn the candle at both ends for a little longer before his attention at his job failed and he made a careless mistake.

Sheena had taken to searching the fields several miles south of town for kindling and turf-pieces so they would not have to use their money for coal or turf. Alisdair went with her to help carry. It seemed everyone had a function, and was pulling hard for those five weeks. They must have seemed either quite the industrious family, or quite the avaricious one, to any neighbors who cared to look. But as evidenced by the first footing, it seemed none did.

They took this in stride, instead joining in the rowdy ceilidhs at Jenny’s house many Saturday nights, when other friends dropped in. Gillan would greet them, and Jenny would introduce him and his family. On one of these occasions, it was Letty’s father who came by.

He had the unfortunate name, in that neighborhood, of George, for it was the name of the former king gone mad and the current Prince Regent, a generally despised fop. The man did not let on that he knew it was unpopular, seeming unaware of the tiny damper in energy that went round when he’d been introduced.

“George Cameron, aye, pleased to make yer acquaintance. Now, have ye heard that song of Jenny’s porter, yet? That is one of my favorites.” And so saying, he launched into a sprightly tune. Gillan wondered how he had been able to

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