HOLLOW 28

The view from the pony and trap took Jonjo's mind back in time. He was 10 years old again, holding on to the big rope, atop a cart full of hay. It began as a sad memory of loss but soon switched to happier thoughts of a time gone by.

The pony's thick coat and mane protected it, in this winter weather. Its strength came from a broad chest and powerful legs. Steam came from its mouth, and it trotted happily, ears back and relaxed.

The rhythm of its hooves was answered by an echo once they reached the town. Sean joined Jonjo at Mass because it was Christmas Day.

The sight of the tree and the crib made Sean's mind too, wander back. He remembered setting up the little crib at home with his mother. On no account could the Baby Jesus join the other figures until Christmas Day.

Sean remembered playing with the Infant, getting him to look through the window of the crib. Once he tried to balance him on the back of the donkey, but suddenly felt very guilty, this was a step too far.

Fr Flanagan resplendent in his white, vestments spoke well. Sean joined in the prayers and hymns with enthusiasm. He waited in his pew after the service while Jonjo took the collection plate into the sacristy.

By the time Jonjo emerged the church was empty. They walked to the door surprised, to find the whole congregation had dispersed.

"They must all be rushing home for Christmas presents," said Jonjo disappointedly.

Presently the sound of the hooves greeted them, and they hopped on board. They made their way down the main street, which was extremely quiet. On reaching the junction, Mangan turned the pony off the road onto the grass track.

"Taking the scenic route?" inquired Sean.

"This time of year, a lot of the fellers will be drinking. They'll be letting their wives drive, 'tis safer off the roads," answered Mangan.

Sean and Jonjo laughed, neither sure if Mangan was joking.

The journey home was pleasant as they looked at the path they had trodden many times. Going through the Hollow, they felt the wheels dip into the ruts worn by previous generations. The pony's ears shot up, he whinnied and tossed his head.

"Easy boy, easy Arkle," soothed Mangan." 'Tis the little people, he senses them."

As they approached their homes, Sean asked, "Can you hear that?"

Jonjo nodded. The sweet sound of a choir reached their ears. "Thank God," continued Sean. "I thought that my number was up."

"That's no heavenly choir, I can hear Seamus Burke's rumbling voice," laughed Jonjo.

Sean's chimenea and Jonjo's brazier were burning brightly. Around them were the choir and half of the townsfolk singing 'In The Bleak Midwinter', Jonjo's favourite. As the people caught sight of the pony and trap, a great cheer rang out.

Sean and Jonjo were bemused.

Fr Flanagan stepped forward to explain," These good folk have got together, to thank you for everything the two of you have done for this town.

Sister Frances stepped forward and presented them with a Christmas pudding. "God Bless you for your help at the Rest Home."

Mollie Keane, not to be outdone gave them a Christmas cake. "Thank you for the ideas for my business and bringing in extra customers."

"To my loyal deputies who solved the mystery of the ghost in the churchyard," began O'Regan. He gave them a small card. "That's a 'Get Out of Jail Free Card.'