Chapters (71)
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Part Two
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part Three
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Part Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Part Five
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
- About the Author
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“Aye, they are that! When Siobhan and Michael come ter get ye, I shall invite yer cousins to stay to tea. And ye are very welcome too, I swear on the heads of the Blessed Saints ye are.”
Blackie wasn’t surprised about the invitation, because Siobhan and Michael often stayed when they came from work at the Lassiters’. What intrigued him was Joe O’Donnell bringing her the rabbits. Was Joe after Mrs. O’Malley? Why not? Joe’s wife had been dead a few years. And how did Mrs. Martha feel? Put that thought away, he instructed himself, alarmed by the idea of Joe and his dearest friend together.
Mrs. O’Malley said, “Come ter think of it, I’d better get ’em out, start ter cook ’em on the hob.” She pushed the odd pieces of dough off her hands, and washed them at the sink. She then turned to Blackie and said, “I’ll need yer help, me lad. Come on over to the cold room. Get me the pot, will ye, please? It’s right heavy.”
“Right away.” Blackie jumped out of the chair and followed her across the room. The cold room was indeed cold; certainly, that was a better name for it than larder.
“That big pot, over there on the shelf … do ye see it?”
He nodded. “Come out, please, Mrs. Martha, and then I’ll be able to reach it better, take it out.”
She did as he asked. A moment later, Blackie lifted the pot with both hands, asking her, “Where do ye want it?”
“Over here,” she explained, pointing to the sink. “I’ve got ter rinse ’em, ye see, clean off the salt.”
Blackie stood and watched her wash off the pieces of rabbit.
“I added all sorts of spices … pepper, lavender, and nutmeg—just pinches of it. Now I must take out all the vegetables and cook the pieces of rabbit for a bit. Later, ye can help me put the vegetables back in.”
Blackie said, “I know they can’t go in the pot now. They’ll become too soft.”
Mrs. O’Malley beamed at him. “I see that ye learned a lot from me.”
He laughed. “There’s no better way than to stand at the knee of the master,” he said. “And I’ve been by yer side for years.”
She simply nodded. “I’m going to take the kettle off and ye can carry the cooking pot to the fire. Put it on the hob in its place.”
“I will do that. And when the rabbit is stewed, it will go in the oven, under the dough. And we’ll soon have a pie. Correct?”
“Exactly,” Mrs. O’Malley agreed, and stepped aside so Blackie could have an easy passageway across the kitchen with the pot.