Marie nudged the pony up the rugged path. Shaggy obliged, neatly stepping through the switchbacks of the steep track. They were sheltered here, once they reached the ridge the wind would hit them directly, blowing across the bogs and whipping up the water on the lake. In the hour she’d been riding Marie had calmed a little. Her mother was being unreasonable and stubborn. If her father wasn’t away she could have persuaded him and he could have worked his patient magic on her mother. He had a way of convincing Mammy that Marie lacked. She was too like Mammy and they clashed as a result. Nearing the top of the track Shaggy’s ear’s began to prick at the rising wind. Marie leaned over his neck, a few moments more shelter.
Marie wanted to go to Frank’s debs and her mother was refusing to let her. The debutante ball would be supervised; all the teachers from Frank’s school were going. Marie promised she wouldn’t drink and even meant it. She’d seen a dress in Bray that would be fabulous, but she’d be happy to rent one if expense was the problem. The wind whipped around her as the crested the ridge, causing her to shiver. Shaggy paused a moment surveying the ground. There were boggy patches on the flat ridge which he sidestepped sticking to the stones and grassy hummocks.
The problem was two years. Two short years. Frank was eighteen, finished school and about to go to university. Marie was sixteen and her mother’s little girl. She’d never get to grow up at this rate, even when she was forty she could see her mother click her tongue over something she didn’t do right. Never mind that she and Frank had known each other forever, never mind that they started seeing each other before either of them knew what that meant. Mammy didn’t approve of Frank, he wasn’t good enough for her little girl. She refused to let him in the house and forbade Marie from seeing him. Daddy stepped in when he realised that the ban hadn’t stopped them. He mediated a treaty supported by Frank’s mother that allowed them to see each other under strict supervision. The supervision had relaxed in the years since then. Marie thought Mammy’s refusal to let her go to the debs ridiculous in the circumstances.
Instead of going along the ridge Marie directed Shaggy to the opposite side. Battling the wind Shaggy seemed reluctant, he knew the way home and this wasn’t it. At the top of the cliff Marie looked down at the lake directly below. The brown bogwater of the lake shimmered as the wind whipped across it, opposing gusts sending ripples colliding. Under the overcast sky the lake looked black and mysterious, surrounded by a horseshoe of cliffs and the gentle slope of the bog below. A large white triangle loomed up from under the lake. It was huge and had a picture of a red and blue wing on the side. As Marie dismounted her legs went from under her and she sat on the damp bog. It was the upright of the tail of a plane, a big plane.
She stood pulling on the reins for support, and looked around. She could see ridges of the surrounding mountains, their gentle tops, grass and heather. The wind prevented her from hearing anything. There was no fire, no track of turmoil left by a falling plane. There was nothing unusual but this tail floating in the lake below.
She remounted the pony, urged him to a canter and directed him to the path home. There was nothing she could do there. There was no one to help. She headed for home. Mammy would know what to do. She’d know who to call, who to inform. She’d know the best road through the area and she might even guess where such a plane would come to ground.
