Hollow 5

The Hollow 5

A whole wall of Sean's house was devoted to books. Ceiling to floor, there were hundreds. There was a smart, wheeled ladder for access to the higher ones.

"Have you read all of these?" asked Jonjo.

"I have so," replied Sean.

"You brought them all the way from America."

"I did, and it cost me a small fortune," replied Sean.

"But why, when you've read them?" persisted Jonjo.

"I don't know, I couldn't bear to part with them. Some have sentimental value, like the books I won as school prizes, some are valuable. I have books that are signed by the author, some with a dedication, to me, in them. Maybe they're my equivalent of your sports trophies."

"I think you're right!" said Jonjo. "I understand that so. I was never one much for the reading."

"I love books, even the smell of them. But I suppose I'll have to think about what to do with them when I'm gone."

"You're going nowhere soon, Sean me- boy, unless it's on our next walk,"

It was the first walk that Sean had planned in their search for the Vale of Mist. He showed Jonjo the route. They'd walk to the Hollow and have their first break there. They would then follow the path of an old, dried-up watercourse right down to the lough. On the way, they would cross several small streams and pass three wells, including St. Patrick's Holy Well.

"It's an ambitious walk," commented Sean. It is near enough, twice the distance of the others. Easy enough going down but uphill all the way back."

"We won't need to carry a picnic," countered Sean."We can have lunch at the cafe, on the lough. We can drink water from the wells too."

"Well, you've thought it through," conceded Jonjo.

They stepped out that midsummer morn the pleasant warmth inviting them to the new day. The view showed every shade of green, from almost yellow to the virtually brown. The myriad paths appeared each to present an opportunity each diversion presenting a diversion. The sun seemed to lead them in their search.

They walked towards the Hollow, unencumbered by any bags. They talked about their school days. Sean remembered that he had clung to his mother's skirts and had had to be dragged in. Jonjo told of how, when he was outside at breaktime, he had run full pelt into the knot at the end of a skipping rope. The rope swung with great gusto by, what seemed to him at the time a huge girl, knocked him off his feet. He had cried, more because of the sympathy he was receiving than the pain. They had taken him, his eye now closed and trickling with blood, to the headteacher.

The head Sister Angela took one look at him and said, "You'll be better before you're married."The cold manner in which she spoke silenced Jonjo. He resolved never to show any sign of weakness again at school. They spoke of the infant class teacher, another nun, who had a few tricks up her sleeve. She once asked the class to put up their hands if they wanted a chocolate biscuit. She then rapped the fingers of any child who had raised their hand, with a wooden ruler saying, "That's for being greedy!"