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The Ashes
of Candleriggs
by
Jenny Telfer Chaplin
Kate
Rafferty Kinnon O'Neil sat lost in contemplation in the elegant drawing
room of her Irish country house. As celebrations went, it had been a memorable
occasion, marking as it did not only the anniversary of yet another year
of marriage to her beloved Terence, but also the debut of her grand-daughter
Theresa on to Ireland's literary stage. As had always been the case, Kate's
staff had done her proud: the magnificent old house, a joy at any time,
had been aglow with sparkling crystal, gleaming silver, and a forest of
flickering candles. But now with the last lingering farewells of the evening
over and her guests departed, a tired but happy Kate was savouring the
luxury of being alone with her thoughts.
Yes! Who could ever have imagined
in their wildest dreams that I, a lowly kitchen skivvy, could ever have
hosted such a distinguished gathering, far less be the lady of the house
in such a magnificent establishment. Aye, I've come a long way on life's
journey.
*************
Kate raced down the stairs to next floor ahead of the following flames and having reached the next landing safely she ran as best she could to the end of the corridor with but one aim in mind. At the end of the passageway there rested a giant antique and elaborately carved Indian temple gong with its attendant massive striker hammer. It had long been the ambition of any visiting child … and even that of many an otherwise serious-minded adult … to give the tempting gong an almighty whack each time they happened to pass. And now, Kate felt secure in the knowledge that not only would it awaken her house servants on that floor, its booming reverberations would doubtless echo not only to the farthest corners of the old house, but hopefully even beyond to the coach house itself and thus alert as many people as possible in the shortest space of time. The noise from the echoing gong was all and even much more than Kate could ever have imagined. With the fervent hope that outside help of one sort or another might be brought in to Haxton without any undue delay she went on beating feverishly at the swinging gong. She became aware of different sounds already gathering momentum all around her. There were doors being thrown open, screams of alarm, dogs barking, cats meowing, shouted commands and over and above it all, there was something even more terrifying than all of these put together. There was the horrendous crackling of fire, the hideous shattering of glass as ornaments, mirrors, window panes and roof slates all fell victim to the fire's destructive power.
| By the same author: | |
 |
The Kinnons of Candleriggs |
 |
The Widow of Candleriggs |
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
The rights of Jenny Telfer Chaplin to be identified as the author have been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and patents act 1988
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