Capitol Breaks: A Short Story

Capitol Breaks: A Short Story

Sep 23, 2022

I have traced my Crabtree ancestors back to 1298 in Essex England. They were obviously a reasonably strange bunch endowed with wanderlust. The diaspora of Crabtrees is amazing. They are everywhere apart from Greenland but they haven’t finished travelling just yet!

This story is about Brid, an Irish lady who attended evening classes to learn how to access records and find all the above named in the countries above named. It was a wonderful trip until she reached Australia and then......

This is a long short story (Oirish).
Please enjoy these travels and all the people met along the way! Thank you

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CAPITOL BREAKS © SEARCHING FOR KELLY – MURPHY – DUNICAN - DINEEN NADINE CRABTREE


“Mammy”? Mairaid pushed open the door. “You’re not on the computer again? By all the saints, sure it’s becoming an obsession”.
“Be right there”. Brid quickly logged off and ran from the bedroom. “Hello dear what brings you here today”? Brid appeared guilty as she ran down the stairs, nervously pushing back a wisp of hair.
“Just passing Mammy so I thought I’d see if you needed anything”? Mairaid studied her mother. Her behaviour conjured guilty circumstance.
“Tea”? Brid sped into the kitchen and made tea, upending an open packet of Bourbon Creams onto the kitchen table.
Mairaid was completely taken aback. This was so unlike her mother. Usually everything was laid out neatly, each biscuit placed impeccably to enhance the next!
“Mammy you look as though you have someone hidden in your bedroom”? Mairaid muttered with a smirk.
“No dear. Not at all I was looking up those Gerontology pages, you know the ones where you can find relatives”. Brid explained.
“It’s Genealogy Mammy, the other is the study of ancient persons. Those not unlike yourself”.
“Are you suggesting I’m old”? Brid did not appreciate the passing of time and since her husband Murphy Murphy passed on, she was lonely although she would never admit that to Mairaid. Her daughter had her own busy life with a husband, four children to nurture and educate, plus running a house and attending a part-time job. Now the children were older they no longer had time for their Grandma. Occasionally a couple of them called in but their visits were erratic. “Mum you are sixty-six, but seriously, I think you have done well to navigate the computer. Many people half your age find it difficult”. Mairaid picked up one of the biscuits, nibbling around the edges just as she had done since childhood.


Brid wanted Mairaid to leave. It wasn’t that she didn’t adore her daughter or want to see her today, but her life since the inception of her laptop and then connection to Broadband was opening up a whole new planet to her.
“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about”. Brid moved nervously to the sink and began scrubbing the pristine counter tops.

“Oh? What?” Mairaid didn’t much like the sound of that. It harboured doom and she wondered if her mother was hiding some critical illness and was going to die.
“Yes. As a matter of fact I’m thinking of Letting the house and taking a long holiday”. Brid spewed the sentence more hastily than a breached sea wall!

Mairaid frowned. “Really? How can you afford that on a pension”? “Well to tell the truth I have a bit saved and I thought I should see a bit of the world, you know, before I turn up my ugly toes”.
Mairaid was concerned. “Are you going to die Mam”?
“Well not imminently. Eventually. What I mean is that I have never done anything apart from look after Murphy Murphy and you, the house and garden and my job. I enjoyed every moment of it, honestly I did but I’m not ancient yet and while I’m still a ‘wrinkly’ rather than a ‘crawly’ it just popped into my head. That’s all”.
“I see. How long do you intend to be away”? Mairaid’s back was up but she had no idea why. Maybe it was because her mother was always there. As to letting the house, Mairaid knew her mother would have to careful who rented, because she could home and find it trashed. “About a year, maybe two”. Brid murmured.
“A year or two? Where on earth would you go for a year or two mother”? Mairaid demanded. “And how would you live? Your pension would stretch far. Do you know how much hotels are these days or plane tickets, insurance for the elderly not to mention restaurants? My God you might be stranded somewhere or get sick and where would you travel to? Australia? Canada? America? What about us, we would be worried sick every moment you were gone. I honestly think you are being totally selfish”. Mairaid picked up her cup and finished her tea then went on. “What about the kids? I mean you know how hard it is for us to pay University Fees and next year Triona will start at UCD so we’ll be forking out for three. What rent would you get and what about the furniture?” Mairaid’s tirade seemed endless.


Brid cowered. She had no idea Mairaid felt so strongly about any prospective trip. As Brid thought about her admonishing words a sense of ‘being’ entered her soul, clearly through the back door but enter it did and unexpectedly Brid caressed a feeling of strength. Her whole married life she answered to either Murphy Murphy, Mrs O’Herlihy her former employer who was noted as Dublin’s Dragon Queen and latterly Mairaid. At this point in time Brid had no one to whom she need answer apart from herself.

She dared not share with Mairaid that her proposed trip would cost peanuts because if she did, Mairaid would be seething altogether. Brid took a deep breath. “I plan to visit Canada. America, Australia and New Zealand, after which and time allowing, I shall visit wherever I choose. As to worrying I might get stuck somewhere, if I did as you say ‘get stuck’ you would be the last person I would contact for help as I shall take out more than adequate insurance. The money for rent will help on the trip but property in Black Rock is sought after so I’m told. As to furniture, it’s nothing special and as for contributing to your children’s university fees, your father left you a huge amount of money Mairaid. I got the house and no money, so don’t try and pull that one please. I plan to travel by bus and train in order to see something of the countries I visit and I assure you I do not crave cordon-bleu cooking so will exist on food from lesser restaurants. Now dear, if you have finished telling me how I should live my life I have work to do”. Brid stood ramrod straight peering at her daughter, daring her to make further questioning inroads to her plans.

“Fine mother, do what you have to do but don’t call me from somewhere in the middle of nowhere or the middle of the night and expect me or Phil to come and save you”! Mairaid pulled on her jacket while Brid followed her to the front door.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. Goodbye Mairaid and thank you for calling”. Brid closed the door and smirked. If Mairaid had the first inkling of what she was about to do Mairaid would give out until the Sahara froze and camels learned to skate!

oooOOOooo


“Good morning. This is Brid Murphy from Horton Gardens. May I speak with Peter Doyle please”? Brid waited. She had already spoken with Peter Doyle and promised she would get back to him about letting her home to the bank’s newly appointed Assistant Manager.
“Hello Mr Doyle. I spoke with you last Thursday and have decided your Assistant Manager and his family may take my house. You do understand it is for two years”?
“Yes Mrs Murphy. We will deposit the first three month’s rent in your account. When will the house be available please? I only ask because Trevor Regan’s wife is due to give birth any day now and they are finding it stressful in the hotel”?
“Lord-a-Mercy. I do understand Mr Doyle so if you return the signed Lease to me this afternoon, Mr Regan and his family may move in tomorrow morning”.

“Really? That is grand and thank you. Did you receive your Credit and Debit cards safely”?
“I did and thank you for your trouble”.
“No trouble Mrs Murphy. Is there anything further I can do for you”? “If you are driving past the house in the morning I would appreciate a lift to the station and you know where the keys are hidden”?

“I do. Would seven thirty do”?
“Seven thirty is perfect Mr Doyle”.
“The Leases will be couriered out this afternoon. I’ll make sure the funds are transferred immediately. See you tomorrow”.
“Goodbye Mr Doyle”.
“Goodbye Mrs Murphy. See you in the morning”.
Brid was thrilled. She ran around the spotless house with a vacuum cleaner after which she checked that the kitchen presses were clean and contained basic food items due to the imminent arrival of a new baby. That done, Brid ran up to her bedroom and collated numerous printouts.
Next she fingered then sniffed her new Passport. She placed this with insurance documents, address book and maps in her handbag. She checked the contents of her small suitcase and closed the lid. With everything in order, Brid wrote a brief note to Mairaid, explaining her sudden departure and promised she would email her from abroad. Last she packed her laptop.

oooOOOooo


It was a pleasant journey from Dublin to Belfast, then onto George Best International Airport. Brid could not stop smiling as she checked in.
“St. Johns Newfoundland eh? Have you visited before”? The Clerk asked in a broad Belfast accent.
“Not at all. Is it worth a visit”? Brid grinned.
“It is. There’s your passport, boarding card and ticket. Boarding upstairs in twenty minutes. The Departure Gate and flight number will be screened”. She nodded to Brid and waited for the nextpassenger.
Brid wandered up the stairs and waited. It seemed interminable. Eventually the doors opened and she hurried forward onto the aircraft. The flight and food were spectacular. She could not think of a better adjective to describe it. This was Brid’s first flight and it was exciting. After the stewards collected lunch trays, Brid pulled out her first file of papers and read them through. She would be collected at St. Johns airport by one Patrick Murphy, his wife Sonia and their three children.

The town was colourful as the aircraft descended closer and closer until it landed neatly on the runway. After gliding through Customs and Passport Control. Brid pulled her belongings onto the Concourse. A young man stepped forward and she recognised his face from Webcam.

“Cousin Bridge”. His accent was strange but wonderful even if he did pronounce her name erroneously.
“Patrick. How wonderful to meet you after all this time. I do hope I won’t be in the way”? Brid allowed herself to be hugged and kissed by the entire family.

“Now Bridge, we have a tight schedule as you only have a week, so I’ve taken time off to show you the sights”. Patrick beamed at her. “Wonderful. How kind. Thank you so much.”
The family left the airport and arrived at their lovely log home at Old Perlican overlooking Trinity Bay. The house was enormous. “This is your suite”. Patrick ushered Brid into a self-contained unit complete with kitchenette, en-suite bathroom attached to a huge bedroom and a sitting room overlooking the bay.

“My goodness this is magnificent Patrick”. She turned and hugged Patrick.
“We are really pleased to meet you in person Bridge. Had you not bothered to contact us, we would never have known where Great, Great Grandfather came from”.

“I have the Family Tree for you dear”. Brid rummaged through her bag and produced an envelope. This she handed to Patrick. She noted his hands tremble as he opened it and excitedly read the perfectly presented Genealogical table.

“Thank you this is so cool. Now here’s the thing Bridge. While you are here you will enjoy. We will take you every place you need to see. Okay? Our treat”.
Brid nodded. This holiday could not have inched off to a more agreeable start.

oooOOOooo


It seemed but five minutes since the family met her at St John’s and now she was on her way to Halifax, Nova Scotia. Patrick would not hear of her taking the bus or train and presented her with a First Class airline ticket. He also called ahead to make sure William Declan Murphy would meet her at the airport.
“Goodbye all of you and thank you so much for the lovely time. Sure it’s a beautiful city and home you have”. Brid kissed them all and presented the children with Shamrock pins.

“Goodbye Bridge and do come back any time at all. You are always welcome here”.
It was a short hop from St John’s to Halifax. William Murphy met her. William, it transpired, was edging his way through a nasty divorce. He told Brid all about it on the way to his house, which to Brid was more a mansion than a house. The entire week in Halifax she spent listening to the woes and cares of boring William but he did make the effort and took her to a few excellent restaurants. At the end of the week, hearing that Brid intended to take the Bus to Montreal he forbade it and bought her an airline ticket. William did not call ahead to Micheal Murphy whose domicile was the French Canadian city, but as planned, Micheal turned up at the Bus Terminal. Brid caught the bus from the airport to downtown Montreal.

“Hello Aunt Breeej, or should I greet you with Bonjour. They are sticklers for speaking French in this here territory, but don’t worry I have organised for Michelle to take you to all the touristy spots. It’s a pity you didn’t schedule your trip for next month. You could have attended our wedding”.

“I had no idea you were to be married Micheal. I should have offered an Irish gift”.
“Don’t worry Aunt. We have more than enough. Bags of presents. Ah there’s Michelle”.

“Hi Aunty Breeej. Hop in. I just have to tell you Breeej that Me haul has been so excited to meet you. Did you bring the Murphy Family Tree”?
Michelle was a leggy brunette with such stunning looks Brid could not take her eyes from the girl and happily, Michelle owned a personality to match.

“I did of course and you will find notes of the dates and original travel to Canada by Great Great Grandfather. Brid handed Michelle the envelope.
“You are a true darling. Now we are off to a really bizarre restaurant owned and run by men in drag. It’s fantastic. We love it. Eat there always”.

Brid sat in the back seat with one eyebrow raised then smiled. “I shall enjoy it enormously and thank you for meeting me”.
“Not at all to be sure – to be sure and all that Oirishness”. Micheal turned and winked at her.

At least he was livelier than the last host. The week flashed by, spent either sightseeing or in their Penthouse Apartment at the end of which

Micheal and Michelle waved goodbye. Micheal insisted on Brid flying, not bussing, to Ottawa.
In Ottawa, Brid shook hands with Dennis McDermott Murphy who turned out to be a government official and was incredibly ‘proper’. He made her suitably welcome but the day after her arrival Dennis invited her into his office. Spread on his desk was the Murphy Family Tree prepared by Brid. Next to it was another Murphy Family Tree.

“Brid I think you must be mistaken about our relationship? This is the Family Tree my Great Grandfather prepared and when I studied it, your Family Tree does not appear to match. You see here my Great Grandfather was Declan, as was yours, but Declan was born in Drogheda, whereas in your Family Tree, it proposes he was born in Waterford?” Dennis went on. “Also he married Assumpta O’Reilly in my Tree, but you specify he married Aine O’Reilly. He raised a questioning podgy face and waited.

Brid surveyed both Trees. “Ah, I see where you are confused Dennis my dear. Now our Great Grandfather was indeed born in Drogheda but his birth was not registered until the family moved to Waterford. He did indeed marry Assumpta but unhappily the poor dear girl died not long past their wedding day so it remained unconsummated. He then married her sister Aine and that is how we are related”. Brid felt light headed and extremely hot in the confines of his office.

“Right, so that’s it? I see it now. There is always some family carcass left mouldering behind closed doors. My Grandfather refused to discuss it. That must have been why. Declan married twice. I’m glad you have sorted it out because for one horrible moment I believed I was entertaining the wrong person”. Dennis roared with laughter and from that moment on he showed Brid everything he could possibly think of and entertained her royally.

At the end of her stay he sent her onto Toronto in the government jet. He also gave her $5,000 to erect a monument to their Grandfather in Waterford which Brid promised to achieve upon her return to Ireland and said she would send a photograph.

Toronto was a beautiful city. Here she was ensconced in a beautiful home in downtown Toronto. For a week Brid enjoyed wining and dining provided by Fergal Murphy and his wife Cynthia. They were both overjoyed to meet her and Fergal presented her with an airline ticket to Winnipeg where Foster Murphy met her and showed her the sights. From Winnipeg Brid discovered Saskatoon with Maximillian Murphy. He also made her most welcome. Maximillian insisted he

drive her through to Calgary. This part of the trip was scenic but anxious as Maximillian seemed not to heed speed restrictions.
At Calgary Brid was entertained by Pauric and Sean Murphy who ran cattle. She was grateful for a week’s respite from rich food and sightseeing.

The Murphy twins were fun and for the first time Brid rode a horse. With regret, Brid left the cattle ranch this time by train to Vancouver. Simon and Rebecca Murphy met her and implored her to spend two weeks but Brid negated this as she was on a very tight schedule. Vancouver was everything and more than expected. She could not believe she had been travelling for nine weeks. On her final night in Canada, Brid dumped all her ‘Murphy’ paraphernalia and scrutinised the Dineen Family Tree.

oooOOOooo


Brid covered every state in the USA meeting up with so many Dineen relatives but particularly fell in love with the Southern States and the Eastern Seaboard, ending her sojourn in San Francisco. Myra and Robert Dineen were her final hosts in America and sent her on her way with a huge party. When Brid closed her bedroom door on the final night, she sorted through her genealogical papers, dumping the Dineen Family and studied the Kelly Family Tree which was huge. There were so many throughout Australia, the most notable one ‘Ned Kelly’ the Bushranger. She thought it a pity he was hanged! Fifty six enjoyable weeks were safely under her belt in North America. Every family were kind, hospitable and generous.

oooOOOooo

Sydney Harbour Bridge welcomed the 747B to that heaving cosmopolitan city. Edward Kelly shook Brid by the hand and took her bags. “Good trip”? He pushed through the crowd.
“Wonderful but tiring thank you. I am so glad you could meet me”. Brid peered at Edward’s strange attire of skimpy shorts, sleeveless T- shirt, a pair of huge flip flops and a broad brown hat. “You have a wonderful suntan”. Brid murmured as Edward led her to the car. “Ha. Ha. Ha – that’s a good one you old dag”! Edward grinned.

“Dag? What’s a dag” Brid hurried after her host.
“It’s a lump of sheep poo attached to the sheep’s bum”. He roared with laughter.
“Why am I a dag”? Brid was not at all enamoured with Edward. He was unlike the Murphy’s or Dineen’s!
Edward stopped in min-stride. “You’re having a lend of me right”?
“I don’t think so dear. What are you laughing at”?

Edward hurled her bags into the back of the utility, never caring if they held anything breakable.
“You don’t know do ya”? He sat behind the wheel while Brid struggled with the passenger door.

“Do you live far”?
“Nah. About three hundred and fifty clicks, give or take. You can have a sticky beak at the country”. He pushed the aged utility into traffic. “So you reckon we’re related do ya”? Edward asked.
“Most definitely Edward. I brought a copy of the Family Tree”. Brid noticed the digital thermometer boasted 40C.
“I reckon you got it wrong love. No way can we be related but I ain’t said nuthin’. Thought I’d see how it pans out”.
Brid felt chilly despite the heat. “Why do you say that? I sent you a shortened version of the Kelly Family Tree and you did invite me to stay”. Brid felt she was on thin ice which was an oxymoron in present circumstances, due to the temperature.
“Well love, if we’re related, I’ll go HE for Tiggy”. Edward answered. “You didn’t say anything in your emails about this”? Brid viewed the passing inner city suburbs and realised Australia had its share of poverty.
“Nah, thought it might be nice for Ma to have something to look forward to; bit of company for her”. Edward slapped Brid on the leg. “Really Edward, what makes you think we have no relatives in common”?
“Well for one thing Breed I’m a Fair Dinkum Aborigine and for another, Kelly was the name me Great Great Grandfather was give when he was a Stockman. Worked for the Kellys out to Dubbo see so they named him. Now I’m not sayin’ you aren’t related to them muggers, but our family – NEVER”! Edward chortled enjoying the joke.
“Dear Lord, what have I done”? Brid turned deathly pale. “If you are certain Edward, perhaps you had better leave me in Sydney. I’ll make my own way to the Melbourne Kelly’s”.
“No way Little B. I reckon this is real good sport. We wanna hear the whole story”.
Edward put his foot flat to the floor as he moved onto the Freeway. They stopped for drinks at a place called Orange and then sped on to Gulargambone. Brid gawped at the countryside as not a single blade of green grass was evident. As they moved into the township a cluster of trees welcomed the visitor. They hung tired and limp in the searing heat. Once through the tiny town Edward turned the utility onto a long dusty track. He stopped at a wooden house with peeling paint and hungry looking dogs.
“Welcome to Kelly Country”. His white teeth shone in the brilliance of the Australian summer. Brid looked around. This was a far cry from the lovely homes encountered in both Canada and the USA.

“Come in and meet Ma”. Edward hauled her bags from the Ute, scratching them as he did so.
Brid needed a cup of tea and rest. She felt they had travelled for month rather than hours. “Thanks”. She followed him into the house. The interior of the wooden house belied the exterior for everything inside was neat and clean.

“Ma, meet Brid. She is one of Great Great Grandaddy’s rellies”. He put her bags on a corner and laughed while winking at Brid.
“Put the jug on will ya Ed”. Ma shuffled toward Brid. Ma was tall and very slim. “Stuff the Goanna’s Brid but you are a welcome sight. Me and Edward were looking forward to meeting you. Park yer bum and call me Pansy. Me mum liked them flowers and I got stuck with the name. Me old man died out the bush some years ago. Never found ‘im but. It was his family what were the Kelly’s. Ma hugged Brid then went back to sit next to the wood burner which conveyed more stifling heat into the room.

Without warning a voice screeched at Brid. “Whadda ya want. Get them damned sheep out the yard ya bloody bastards”. Brid jumped looking around for the male voice.
“Ha, that sounds far dinkum like me old man Brewster. Cocky picked up everything old Brewster said. Cocky’s nearly forty years old now, the old ‘B’. Pansy chortled at the cockatoo’s antics, while all Brid could focus on was escape.

“It is lovely to meet you both but I really think I should be getting onto Melbourne”. Brid explained, eyeing the squawking cockatoo perched on the central light shade.
Pansy sat forward passing her guest a mug of syrupy tea. “No way. We want to hear how you done it Brid”. Edward grinned.

“What do you mean”? Brid kept her eyes focussed on the worn linoleum.
Edward filled his mug. “Aw come off it Brid. Now we never said nuthin’ right but when you was writing back and forward to all them people over the email, you got yourself in a bit of a tangle. We received every email you sent to all the Murphy’s in Canada, the Dineen’s in the USA, the Kelly’s in Australia and the McDermott’s in New Zealand. We knew what you was up to but we never said nuthin’. Not a bloody word.

We reckoned you were as smart as a one-eyed Dingo and you know what, good on ya for havin’ a go but you slipped up see”.
Brid lifted her head slowly looking first at Edward and then Pansy. “So what are you trying to tell me”?

“We might be black love but we ain’t stupid. No way in the world are you related to all them blokes that you freeloaded on in the Northern Hemisphere. See Brid the truth is I teach IT at Dubbo University so don’t try and have a lend of me. I also teach Genealogy to U3A classes, that’s the University of the Third Age. For old retired people. When you sent one particular email to us you had a load going out and instead of them going to the addressee, you attached the lot to our email. Now call me Eddie and colour me black but I began to put the sums together and it was dead easy to trace your emails starting way back. After a couple of months I realised what you was doin’. Right or wrong it ain’t no skin off our bums, but we cottoned on that you were angling a free trip around the world, or part of it anyway and staying with relatives who wouldn’t have the first clue that you were bull- twanging them right”? Edward grinned at Brid.

“Right. How could I be so stupid, I mean sending all those emails to the wrong person”?
“Easy done mate but how did you get the idea in the first place”?
Brid sipped the treacly tea and realised she had to come clean. “The lady who taught us computer skills for the Aged and Deranged became a good friend. Katie Boyle was her name. About 7 months into the course Katie got sick and was diagnosed with cancer. I visited her every day until she died. It was during those visits Katie told me how she worked it out. She swore me to secrecy but about 6 months later I decided it was too good a scam to pass up, so I began digging. It is so easy to find people’s relatives on the web. There are thousands of sites, all offering well-constructed pages of relatives. So many Irish left the country during the famine and after. Anyway it took me ages to findthose families that couldn’t be particularly traced and so many Sean’s, Seamus, Declan, Patrick etc. so I contacted each of these families living relatives. You know how people love tracing their ‘roots’ so it was easy. When I had everything in place and all family trees, I contacted them and told them I would be visiting and would like to meet them and pass them their Tree. To be honest, only one lad in Canada queried our relationship and I had to think on my feet, but even he was easily deluded. So here I am and I suppose this is the end of my trip? Shame really as I really wanted to see all your large cities and New Zealand”.

Pansy and Edward laughed. “Hey don’t let us stop you in fact I have some real good news for you”.
“What’s that”? Brid asked him.
“You’re married name is Murphy right and he was baptised Murphy Murphy. I reckon his parents were nuts”? Edward grinned enjoying the banter.

“Right”.
“Your maiden name was Dineen and you husband’s mother’s name was Kelly”?
“Exactly”. Brid couldn’t imagine where he was leading her.
“Well my love, your mother’s mother’s name was Dunican, which to us Aussies is an outside toilet. I began to dig around the Australian Dunicans and would you believe it, you actually do have rellies out here. I’ve made a list and I called them and they are desperate to meet you and what’s more you old dag, I’ve done a complete Family Tree with all correct documentation. How do you like that”? Edward grinned.
Brid thought for a moment, musing about her bona fide relatives and then sighed. “You know Edward, please don’t think me ungrateful, but I was having so much fun on this trip, making up fanciful stories and scenarios. Becoming legitimate kind of takes something away from what I set out to do, or prove to myself that I could do. I did it for Katie actually, as a lasting dedication to her memory. She was such a great person. I suppose I’ll have to do the right thing and visit theseDunicans.
Edward nodded. “You should, but don’t let us stop you from your scam. Personally I think you’re a howler. What do you reckon Ma”?
“You stick around here for a bit, have a poke about and then do whatever you want”.
“Pansy, you don’t think badly of me do you”? Brid whispered.
“No way mate. We reckon you brought a lot of happiness to a lot of people and who cares if you are or aren’t related? I suppose when the goanna’s boiled down to oil, we are all related. All humans doncha reckon? No dear, you keep on with your quest and see how far you get. In the meantime I’ve got possums out the shed need skinning for tea. Want to come and help”?
“By all means Pansy. I’ve never skinned a possum before. Are they tasty”?
“Not bad, better than roo. Roo meat’s too dark and sinewy for my old choppers”.

oooOOOooo

Twenty four months and three days after jetting out of Belfast, Brid arrived at Dublin International. As she waited in line at Passport Control Brid could not help but hear the hubbub in the arrivals hall.“Is there a celebrity arriving”? Brid queried the bored looking officer. “Not a celebrity no. There’s some old woman who has scammed her way around the world by pretending she is related to people that she isn’t. The Press got hold of it somehow”.

“Oh right. Is there a Ladies cloakroom in here”? Brid asked politely. “Yes just at the end on the left. Here’s your Passport Miss Dunican. Welcome to Dublin”.
Brid locked herself into one of the cubicles, changed into a pair of jeans, a leather jacket and arranged an auburn wig over her grey hair. She moved to the mirrors and applied makeup, added sunglasses and pushed her feet into stilettoes. Feeling and looking years younger Brid strode into the waiting crowd. She stopped short when she noticed her daughter standing near the Exit doors. Stepping toward her, Brid stopped right in front of Mairaid. “Could you direct me where I might find the bus to downtown Dublin please”? Her drawl very Texan. Mairaid looked down at the woman. “Out of these doors, turn right, cross the bridge, down the steps and they are on the left. You can’t miss them.”

She returned to her search of incoming passengers. “Thank you ma’am”. Brid walked away grinning.

END

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