The Third Wish.......
The year was 1976
and Mary and Patrick were now
almost forty years of age. They had been married for more than
twenty years and were the talk of the village whenever children were mentioned
among the neighbours. Every other woman was having a baby at the
drop of a hat and although everyone knew that Mary longed beyond all else for a
child of her own, nothing ever happened.
The local doctor had made his tests on both Mary and Patrick and there did not seem to be any biological reason for her failure to conceive. Both of them had tried every ‘old wives’ tale’ known in the locality together with every prayer ever known to man but success eluded them.
That was, until the faithful day in July when she first came upon the haggard old tinker-woman with the wilting heather sprig......................
The local doctor had made his tests on both Mary and Patrick and there did not seem to be any biological reason for her failure to conceive. Both of them had tried every ‘old wives’ tale’ known in the locality together with every prayer ever known to man but success eluded them.
That was, until the faithful day in July when she first came upon the haggard old tinker-woman with the wilting heather sprig......................
It was a beautiful sunny
afternoon and Mary was in the kitchen preparing Patrick’s tea when she heard a
voice from the half-door that lead onto the village
street. Mary looked but could not see anyone through the door,
the upper half being open. She continued cooking the
tea. Again she heard the voice: “Bad cess to you woman, will you not
be talking to me”. Mary again looked but saw
no-one.
“Would you be asking for me to put a curse upon your home you ould blaggard you?” This time there was anger in the voice and with the mention of such a curse, Mary ran across to the door. As she looked out the top half of the door she could still see nothing but as she opened the lower half, what do you think she saw standing there? Well, I’ll tell you. It was a little bent over woman whose wrinkled face looked like that of a seventy year old yet she had a body of a child of seven.
“Mother of God” Mary exclaimed “but you scared the living daylights out of me, what with your threat of a curse and all that. What do you want?” “Well now” said the old woman, “now that I have got your full attention, maybe you would like to give a poor ould thing a crust of bread to eat and a sup of tea to quench her thirst?” “Arrah now, mother mo croi, step inside and take the weight off your legs, I have plenty to spare” Mary’s heart had always been open to kindness and would never let anybody go without. She went straight to the fire and brought back the stew pot. She set a plate and spoon and dished out a helping of the broth and potatoes.
The old lady merely took a spoon of the food and ate it silently. “Begob woman, sure now don’t you make a fine pot of stew” the old lady spoke with a beautiful soft voice as compared with that she had used earlier. “And where is the man of the house and all your children?” she asked. “Himself is up in the fields working” Mary replied “but as to children, sure by the Grace of God, we are without”.
“Would you be asking for me to put a curse upon your home you ould blaggard you?” This time there was anger in the voice and with the mention of such a curse, Mary ran across to the door. As she looked out the top half of the door she could still see nothing but as she opened the lower half, what do you think she saw standing there? Well, I’ll tell you. It was a little bent over woman whose wrinkled face looked like that of a seventy year old yet she had a body of a child of seven.
“Mother of God” Mary exclaimed “but you scared the living daylights out of me, what with your threat of a curse and all that. What do you want?” “Well now” said the old woman, “now that I have got your full attention, maybe you would like to give a poor ould thing a crust of bread to eat and a sup of tea to quench her thirst?” “Arrah now, mother mo croi, step inside and take the weight off your legs, I have plenty to spare” Mary’s heart had always been open to kindness and would never let anybody go without. She went straight to the fire and brought back the stew pot. She set a plate and spoon and dished out a helping of the broth and potatoes.
The old lady merely took a spoon of the food and ate it silently. “Begob woman, sure now don’t you make a fine pot of stew” the old lady spoke with a beautiful soft voice as compared with that she had used earlier. “And where is the man of the house and all your children?” she asked. “Himself is up in the fields working” Mary replied “but as to children, sure by the Grace of God, we are without”.
With that, the old
woman moved closer to Mary and they both began to whisper things to each other
that it is only fit for
ladies' ears. However, the gist of their discussions came
out later on.
The old lady took Mary’s hand and made the sign of the cross on the palm. She handed Mary the sprig of heather that she had been holding since she arrived in the house. She then slowly walked out the half-door and was gone in the blink of an eye. At least Mary would swear to it and sure as she was the only one present, who is there going to call her a liar?
In any case, as soon as she heard Patrick whistling from the side of the house, she began to set the table for his tea. She saw that the kettle was on the boil but instead of adding tealeaves to the pot, she added the sprig of heather. In fact it smelled quite nice.
As Patrick sat down at the table, she poured him a mug of ‘tea’ and added two teaspoons of sugar and plenty of milk. When he took a swig of it he never battered an eyelid and did not seem to notice. She then poured herself a similar mug and found it to be to her own taste.
About a month later, Mary began to ‘feel’ different and as the feeling would not leave her after a fortnight, she went to the doctor for a quick check-up. As soon as wise old Doctor Kennedy saw her, he smiled knowingly. Without any further ado, he did a pregnancy test and lo and behold, after all those years of marriage, Mary was indeed pregnant. I think it is safe to say that at that precise moment in time, there never was, there is not, and never is there likely to be a woman more content and happy than Mary was. As soon as she came out of the Doctors she made her way to the little Church and prayed solidly for the next hour.
At teatime, Patrick was equally overjoyed and for the next eight months, they sat each night before the open fire and spoke of their plans for the child that was soon to be theirs.
Mary had no complications during her pregnancy and sure enough when the time came she had the shortest of labours and produced a beautiful fair-haired daughter. The date was 17th March 1977.
Although quite small – she only weighed four and a half pounds when born – she was more beautiful than any other baby in the whole of Ireland or for that matter, the entire world. At least Patrick and Mary, not to mention the entire village, honestly believed so.
Winter time in the village dragged slowly but the summer months flew by. It seemed like no time at all until Siobhan, (for that was the name they gave the child) was about to celebrate her fifth birthday. Patrick had wanted Mary to Christen the child Margaret after his mother but Mary was adamant that the child ‘was her little white fairy’.
On the night before Siobhan’s birthday, Mary sat up in bed in a cold sweat. She believed that she was awoken by a terrible nightmare. She lay back but was restless the remainder of the night. As the cold spring dawn broke, she got out of bed and lit the fire. She then went to Siobhan’s bedroom to wake her but lo and behold, the bed was empty. There was no trace of the girl whatsoever and all that there was to show where she had slept was a sprig of heather on the pillow.
Mary immediately woke Patrick and they searched the surrounding area. As they began to panic more and more they called on their neighbours to help. Someone telephoned the Gardai in the local town and within minutes three police cars arrived in the village. A thorough search of the area found no trace of the little girl. In the days that followed, the local river and small lake were dragged and searched by a police underwater unit from Dublin but once again there was no trace of the child.
Patrick and Mary were completely devastated and cried most days and nights. As time passed Patrick began to give up all hope but Mary’s resolve held firm. She ‘knew’ that Siobhan was safe and well and that she would return. They had several special Mass’s said at the church and prayers were offered up for her every Sunday. But still no trace could be found.
As the months passed and the time came close to Siobhan’s sixth birthday Mary felt the pain all the more. She had never felt so miserable and sad before in her life. Mary well remembers the moment, the precise moment when she heard a familiar voice from the half-door.
It said “Woman of the house, can you spare a little drop of stew for an old woman”. It was the old woman whom she had not seen for nearly seven years. Mary opened the door and let her in. “And what’s all the crying for?” the old lady asked “sure didn’t I think that all your prayers and wishes had been answered from what I hear”. “’Tis my little girl Siobhan” Mary cried “someone took her away this time last year and not a hair nor a sound has been seen or heard of her since that night”.
The old lady placed a sprig of heather on the table and slapped her hand against the surface “Bad cess to the little blaggards” she cried “you leave it to me; I know where she will be”. “But the Gardai and everyone searched high and low for her without any success” Mary cried. “You make a special cup of tea with the heather and I will be back inside the hour” the old lady demanded, got up and walked out the door where once again she disappeared in a flash of light.
Mary did as she was told and as she sipped the hot tea she heard some noise from outside the door. As she made her way to it, the door opened and there stood Siobhan. Her clothes were a little muddy and her hair uncombed but apart from that she looked in perfect health. As the old lady entered the room, there was a flash of lightning from outside and there, lo and behold, in place of the old lady, stood a beautiful young woman aged about eighteen dressed in the most beautiful clothes.
The old lady took Mary’s hand and made the sign of the cross on the palm. She handed Mary the sprig of heather that she had been holding since she arrived in the house. She then slowly walked out the half-door and was gone in the blink of an eye. At least Mary would swear to it and sure as she was the only one present, who is there going to call her a liar?
In any case, as soon as she heard Patrick whistling from the side of the house, she began to set the table for his tea. She saw that the kettle was on the boil but instead of adding tealeaves to the pot, she added the sprig of heather. In fact it smelled quite nice.
As Patrick sat down at the table, she poured him a mug of ‘tea’ and added two teaspoons of sugar and plenty of milk. When he took a swig of it he never battered an eyelid and did not seem to notice. She then poured herself a similar mug and found it to be to her own taste.
About a month later, Mary began to ‘feel’ different and as the feeling would not leave her after a fortnight, she went to the doctor for a quick check-up. As soon as wise old Doctor Kennedy saw her, he smiled knowingly. Without any further ado, he did a pregnancy test and lo and behold, after all those years of marriage, Mary was indeed pregnant. I think it is safe to say that at that precise moment in time, there never was, there is not, and never is there likely to be a woman more content and happy than Mary was. As soon as she came out of the Doctors she made her way to the little Church and prayed solidly for the next hour.
At teatime, Patrick was equally overjoyed and for the next eight months, they sat each night before the open fire and spoke of their plans for the child that was soon to be theirs.
Mary had no complications during her pregnancy and sure enough when the time came she had the shortest of labours and produced a beautiful fair-haired daughter. The date was 17th March 1977.
Although quite small – she only weighed four and a half pounds when born – she was more beautiful than any other baby in the whole of Ireland or for that matter, the entire world. At least Patrick and Mary, not to mention the entire village, honestly believed so.
Winter time in the village dragged slowly but the summer months flew by. It seemed like no time at all until Siobhan, (for that was the name they gave the child) was about to celebrate her fifth birthday. Patrick had wanted Mary to Christen the child Margaret after his mother but Mary was adamant that the child ‘was her little white fairy’.
On the night before Siobhan’s birthday, Mary sat up in bed in a cold sweat. She believed that she was awoken by a terrible nightmare. She lay back but was restless the remainder of the night. As the cold spring dawn broke, she got out of bed and lit the fire. She then went to Siobhan’s bedroom to wake her but lo and behold, the bed was empty. There was no trace of the girl whatsoever and all that there was to show where she had slept was a sprig of heather on the pillow.
Mary immediately woke Patrick and they searched the surrounding area. As they began to panic more and more they called on their neighbours to help. Someone telephoned the Gardai in the local town and within minutes three police cars arrived in the village. A thorough search of the area found no trace of the little girl. In the days that followed, the local river and small lake were dragged and searched by a police underwater unit from Dublin but once again there was no trace of the child.
Patrick and Mary were completely devastated and cried most days and nights. As time passed Patrick began to give up all hope but Mary’s resolve held firm. She ‘knew’ that Siobhan was safe and well and that she would return. They had several special Mass’s said at the church and prayers were offered up for her every Sunday. But still no trace could be found.
As the months passed and the time came close to Siobhan’s sixth birthday Mary felt the pain all the more. She had never felt so miserable and sad before in her life. Mary well remembers the moment, the precise moment when she heard a familiar voice from the half-door.
It said “Woman of the house, can you spare a little drop of stew for an old woman”. It was the old woman whom she had not seen for nearly seven years. Mary opened the door and let her in. “And what’s all the crying for?” the old lady asked “sure didn’t I think that all your prayers and wishes had been answered from what I hear”. “’Tis my little girl Siobhan” Mary cried “someone took her away this time last year and not a hair nor a sound has been seen or heard of her since that night”.
The old lady placed a sprig of heather on the table and slapped her hand against the surface “Bad cess to the little blaggards” she cried “you leave it to me; I know where she will be”. “But the Gardai and everyone searched high and low for her without any success” Mary cried. “You make a special cup of tea with the heather and I will be back inside the hour” the old lady demanded, got up and walked out the door where once again she disappeared in a flash of light.
Mary did as she was told and as she sipped the hot tea she heard some noise from outside the door. As she made her way to it, the door opened and there stood Siobhan. Her clothes were a little muddy and her hair uncombed but apart from that she looked in perfect health. As the old lady entered the room, there was a flash of lightning from outside and there, lo and behold, in place of the old lady, stood a beautiful young woman aged about eighteen dressed in the most beautiful clothes.
Mary could not speak. The
young woman spoke gently whilst holding Siobhan’s hand. “Woman of the house” she
said “you showed
kindness to an old woman in a time of need. I return the
favour. When you could have had three wishes, all you asked
for was one and she stands beside me. You are a kind and good
woman and when you told me about the missing child I knew where to
look. Where and how will have to remain a secret but suffice
is to say that you will be having no more trouble from the little
people.
“As for you ‘little
white fairy’ named Siobhan, I tell you, grow up to be exactly like your mother
and you will have richness beyond compare. Don’t go searching
for the end of the rainbow, for it is already where you are
standing. Last but not least, always remember that ‘faraway hills
are green’”.
With that there was another flash of
lightning and the young lady, or the old lady, or whoever it was, was
gone. Siobhan ran to her mother’s arms and they held each
other close for the next half hour. “Yes indeed” said her
mother “tomorrow, 17th March,
your birthday is going to be a day you will always remember”.
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