Fanore

SETTING - The Old Green Road is no longer old. It’s just busy.

SOUND - More voices than Walker thought could be possible in such a remote spot except it’s no longer remote. Herds of sheep and goats pass each other suspiciously as they try unsuccessfully to avoid the cow dung traps set every yard or less along the way. Donkey carts jostle and wheel rims thump the rock outcrops that break into the road like randomly misplaced city cobblestones. But it’s the people who make a place alive.

LIGHT - It’s Clare-bright with patches of daylight and a shower at any moment but if not, it’s maybe summer bright if a bit overcast at times.

ACTION - Walker stumbles against the edge of a smooth stone that could be the tip of a ball of solid rock a mile across and he apologises profusely for almost tripping into Sioga. Then the bitter tang of dung combined with animal smells and acrid turf smoke assail him.

“So that was the smoke?” He looks at her accusingly adding. “I thought it might have been something else.” He could be angry, but he’s really just amazed.

“Are ye disappointed already?” Shioga teases and links arms tighter as they breeze up the road to Ballyvaughan over the Murroughkilly.

“Dia dhuit Shioga.” Comments a man with a goat and a child on separate leashes.

“What?” Says Walker.

“God Bless you and yours Francie Flanagan.” Is the reply from Sioga and Walker pretends he never heard a hint of a foreign language, because he’s not sure he did.

Francie stops mid-stride, turns, lets loose a curse at either or both of the child and goat and beams at Walker. “Jaysus, Sean Og McMurrough. Great to see you back and you are most welcome. I almost didn’t recognise you with the sun tan.”

Sioga smiles but says nothing, so he has to say something. “Thanks very much Francie Flanagan. That’s very kind of you to say that.” Is the best that he can think of just then, but it appears to be more than enough.

“We took turns looking after your father’s house and took the price of that from his fields. So just give us a day or two to move the grazing cattle out. We’ll let you know about the crop rotation, because no doubt you’ll be needing to sow them soon enough.”

Walker has met his language limit and wonders how they haven’t noticed his jeans and sneakers, except he seems to have inherited some rags and his feet suddenly hurt. “He will sure enough.” Says Sioga, flashing her real diamond engagement ring.

“God bless you both.” Says Francie, as the child kicks the goat in the privates, causing it to retaliate. So it turn to head butt the child, only until Francie kicks it in the midriff and Walker discovers that even a goat can look insulted as it skulks away.

“And you.” Is Sioga’s reply.

“Is this it?” Asks Walker.

“It is.” She answers and asks. “Are ye disappointed with this as well?”

“It’s a bit basic, but I think it might grow on me.” He smiles. “I like to use my hands and you’ll find I’m good with animals.”

“That’s your father’s house down there.” Sioga points to a cottage surrounded by small fields about a quarter of the way up the hill.

“Where’s yours?” he asks and she just laughs and she climbs over the wall, running for ‘his’ father’s house.

She’s fast, but Walker catches her before she gets to the small barn and they fall into long multicoloured grass with a pungent summer smell that seems positively infested with bees.

“Welcome back Sean Og.” She says and lies back in the sun.

“I might bear a very small passing resemblance to Sean Mor or Sean Og, but I will insist on my chosen name of Walker.” He could get used to this.

“Fair enough Walker. Though it sounds like a girl’s name if I say it in Gaelic. Shulor.” She thought that was hilarious.

When she settled down he asked. “So what does Sioga mean?”

Her luminous green eyes narrow as she thinks. “I can see that you’re looking for a totally new beginning, so why don’t I also take a new name?” She was serious.

“But all these people?” He was mystified.

“They’re my people.” She was serious.

“Saoirse.” She said. I think you might like that name.