My Grandparents- a little midweek inspiration!

'My Grandparents' by D. F. McKeever- An Unconquerable Spirit!

There were three things everyone knew about Mary Dermody: her tireless work ethic, forthrightness and energy for life. But her fellow workers knew nothing about this young woman or her past and what fuelled her powerful sense of self reliance.

   Mary appeared out of place among the many servants and estate workers on Keir House Estate in Bridge of Allan. Unlike the rest of the estate staff shuffling about with their drooped shoulders Mary walked with the same brisk upright poise as the young 6ft 6 inches Lord David Stirling. You would easily have mistaken her for the young lady of the house not a kitchen hand, until she opened her mouth and you heard her sharp Irish lilt. At seventeen years old she was a meagre 5ft 2 inches tall with a small neat frame. She had a regimented appearance; neatly styled shoulder length red auburn hair, immaculately shined shoes and crisply pressed uniform.

   When Mary arrived off the boat from Ireland all she had in her small suitcase was enough clothes to see her through her stay with her cousins for the summer in the village of Dunblane. She didn't anticipate that due to the outbreak of the Second World War she would be left stranded in Scotland on mainland Britain unable to return home. Luckily for Mary her Uncle Robert managed to find a brief opening on the large country estate for the summer as a fruit picker. There she was quickly noticed for her efforts by the gamekeeper who gave Mary a personal introduction to Lady Stirling.

   'I have been told by our Gamekeeper that you could put most men to shame with your capacity for hard labour dear,' stated Lady Stirling during her job interview.

   Mary was an invaluable asset to the Stirling household always in demand for extra duties by the butler and head housekeeper. On several occasions the Lady of the house had to intervene as head housekeeper attempted to steal Mary from her duties in the kitchens to work on the house keeping. There was no way Cook was losing her prized baker with meticulous organisational skills and creativity of how to utilise every morsel of food that entered the kitchen pantry. Without instruction Mary would use every part of game or fish sourced from the estate by the gamekeeper. She found a use for everything from the leather and fur from the hides of the rabbits and deer, every joint of meat for roasts including offal for pies, using left over bones for her famous Irish broth.

   There was many a night that the butler would find Mary sitting by the kitchen fireplace with a darning needle and wool, stitching a ladder in her wool tights or hand knitted pullovers ensuring a pristine appearance for the next days work. Private and always the professional no one knew anything about Mary's past, her background or upbringing.

   Neither her employer nor work colleagues knew that every penny earned went straight back to her family in Ireland. Only on a brief Sunday afternoon when given leave and in the company of her cousins in Dunblane would she drop her guard and share the other side of Mary. However that was about to change!

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Early one morning in September a young man arrived at the estate for a private interview with Lady Stirling. In his possession was a personal hand written reference from Lady Stirling's sister-in-law from his employment in Lyons tearoom in London. The young man originally from Lanarkshire had returned to Scotland after his brothers had been conscripted into the army. Now alone in London aged seventeen with the Lyons tearoom in Grosvenor Square now bequeathed to American Army Personnel, the young man was forced to return home to Scotland to seek employment.

   By coincidence this morning Mary had been assigned housekeeping duties due to a shortage of housemaids. And as the young man made his way up the beautiful carved wooden staircase, rehearsing his interview pitch he abruptly bumped into petite Mary carrying a pile of neatly pressed linen. Without hesitation Mary indignantly gave him a scolding, telling him with her sharp Irish tongue to watch where he was going. To Mary's surprise the confident young whippersnapper jokingly chided her for attempting to carry too much for her short stature. He proceeded up the stairs to his appointment briefly glancing back as he reached the top landing observing an unusual red faced Mary marching indignantly down the stairs.