“A ball of malt, a pint of stout and chai latte like a decent woman and will you have something yourself seeing that it’s rarely I am in nowadays, its good to see you Nora “ “Well Tom its good to see you and its looking well you are too.” Nora put up the drinks on the counter, popped the steam nozzle into the milk jug and through the steam that was rising up, studied Tom’s freshly shaved complexion as he chatted to the two while handing them the drinks.” That wild buck had straightened himself out, he gave up the drink, got his last two children through college with master degrees, not so shabby that now” she thought to herself and felt herself smirk inwardly noting that there was spring in him. Nora had had her own troubles over the last four or five years, she had buried her husband Bernard the same week as Tom had buried his wife Kate. She took over the pub, the farm the gambling debts and three wayward teenagers that had been given free rein by an affable, loveable, rogue of an indulgent father.

Tom and Bernard had been good friends, they went on the wagon every Lent except for their excursion to The Cheltenham Festival and what happened there was their business and no more questions. Tramore, Listowel, and Galway race meetings were also annual events for the boys. Kate and herself were expected to step up at these times and take over all duties. The two women had a week or ten days sometimes in New York, London or Paris. They worked hard too and deserved to play as well. Fair was fair and that was the way it was. Kate got a brain tumour and was gone in a few days while Bernard suffered in and out of St. John of Gods getting dried out and then the liver gave out. They died within days of one another. In a sort of a way it was a relief to have Bernard gone as the moodiness with herself and the children near the end was intolerable but she missed him, and she missed her close friend and confidant Kate. While handing Tom the chai late the cup and saucer rattled a little as some unbidden memories flooded in for a moment and then passed. But Tom noticed and just stroked the back of her hand with a sensitive acknowledgement of old friendship. They had been in primary school together, there had been birthday parties as children while their parents and

families had always been very close. Nora bit her lip with a memory of being put in the bath with Tom as a three or four year old. They had both

gone in to the piggery to see the new little bonnabhs and had fallen in the sloppy smelly muck, screaming for help, as they were chased by the enormous sow. Their parents had laughed as they stripped the two of them putting them into a warm bath together and that’s where they discovered they were different. She still remembered his big eyes looking at her down there. Their eyes met and held for a moment but the presence of the other two in the bar prevented any follow up. Tom put a spoon of sugar in the chai latte stirred it slowly while Nora poured a little sherry for herself as the three waited for her. They lifted their glasses and Tom his cup, saying “you know this is eerie ! Like déjà vu” Five years ago Kate was taken into hospital, Bernard had been in for a couple of weeks and was about to be operated on, just the four of us were here all worried, in fact it was the last drink I had”. Tom had a tear in the corner of his eye and the boys spotted it saying “you were great Tom to stay off it, look how your life has turned around”. “Shur yourself and Bernard were devils when ye were on it, not, mind you, that ye were bad or anything, but ye were yer own worst enemy, would you not agree, Nora”?. Nora paused, tilted her head, and shook it a little, and while looking into the middle distance, said.” I said I would climb Everest if those two gave up the drink” said Nora draining her sherry glass “and I will do the reek next Wednesday seeing its five years “ Well climbing the reek “Croagh Patrick” was regarded as a religious penance, a pronouncement of devotion or and expression of gratitude in Christian terms .They called the mountain itself after St. Patrick, the man who had brought Christianity to Ireland. The mountain was well known to have had healing, sacred, and magical properties by the Druids long before Christianity usurped its prominence, totally ambivalent to its Siva Lingam properties, “mar ghea”. Tom looked at the two lads and herself, stood up, put out his hand to Nora and said “I will do it with you, I ‘ll call for you at ten”. .

Nora had togged out for the reek in her own inimitable way, a tartan kilt a pair of Doc Martin boots woolly socks, an off white Aran sweater with the sheep oil retained in the wool to ward off the mist that might be encountered, a pair of tasty panties for auld decency and devilment for the chaser, a four foot staff, a loan of her daughters I Phone with head phones and a bottle of lucozade for the thirst and the energy. She said to herself “I’ll stiffen St. Patrick himself if he is still around “. She got out of the passenger seat revealing to Tom a lovely white thigh that flashed memories of past paradises before his startled stagger. Tom shook his head like a drenched cocker spaniel coming out of a freezing river to clear his vision as it were and smirked his boldest smile at Nora who shook out her long red hair at him laughingly saying” I’ll beat you to the top” and I’ll see can you live up to your name, Tomás Mac Tire, Woof Woof.” (mactire being the gaelic for wolf) Off she went at a brisk trot. Tom grabbed his length of hazel, and his bottle of water, his Munster Rugby Supporter’s anorak, and set off after her with his heart pounding, not having been this excited since Ireland beat England in Croke Park, at the rugby. ”Oh Lord above ’tis mighty “he said to himself as he felt the yen coming on him as well. If this was what climbing Croke Patrick was about, there wouldn’t be room to move on the mountain, and here now, they had it all to themselves, so they better make the most of it. Nora had stopped to put on the head phones with the Beatles up loud ,”All you need is love, love is all you need, love, love, love, love, is all you need,” like a mantra inside her, trembling her body it was, she couldn’t stop it and she didn’t want to stop it. As she climbed her excitement mounting with all this exercising and stretching her body to the extremes, it was carrying her back to her early twenties. Her mind was afire and she was light and carefree one second and the next she was about to become an old woman. She paused for more air but also to reflect and embrace these energised feelings that coursed raw animal lustful longings in her loins. Noticing that the waist band of her kilt had moved up from the hips to over the belly button where it definitely felt more comfortable, modesty was prompting her to pull it down, but devilment stayed her hand. She noticed Tom panting and puffing up the slope some thirty feet behind her with a big red turkey face on him like her late husband used to have with a couple of Viagra and a budán that would beat an ass out of a sandpit. She roared laughing, a mocking laughter directed at Tom” you’ll have to hurry if you want to beat me “, and after a little pause giggling “with that yoke “and she started to howl again with laughter. Tom nearly tripped, toppled a little then recovered which startled Nora for a moment and then they both started to laugh like two big kids and he after her. They were more than half way up they paused in the climb to look around down into Clew Bay which was magnificent. Nora looking out at Clare Island, thought of Granuaile, Grace O’ Malley the Pirate Queen who had sailed out from there and up the Thames Estuary showing bottle to the English that had never been shown before or since. Her heart swelled up with pride and with renewed vigour she set out for the summit. While she was stopped Tom was gaining on her, he too stopped to admire, but not the scenery, but the lovely figure with the long legs and red hair and the exuding sensuality that was fit to break down any human. He thought of their late spouses Kate and Bernard and contemplating for a moment, relished in the encouragement he was certain of from the both of them. So with that clarity his heart skipped and he knew his intentions were wild but honourable. Nora saw the change in him, bit her lip and thought to herself “I ‘m a slut”. “No I’m not but he will have to catch me”. They were both breathing hard and as they neared the top it got harder. The stones scattered under their feet and with the mist coming down it was slippy and dangerous enough. Now the only sound was rocks scattering and heavy breathing and it seemed to echo around them. Suddenly it darkened with a fall in temperature, a cloud burst with very heavy hail and what had been heavenly was suddenly hostile. A rush was called for to the little white chapel on the hill and the cry of pain from Nora as she skidded on a stone brought the hibernated Munster rugby forward back into play as chief protector. Within seconds he had Nora over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold with his big boots pounding and large stones scattering under the determination to reach shelter. They reached the door of the chapel to find it locked against them and as Tom slid Nora down against the door asking “is it bad” and she still with her arms around him looking into his eyes says “it couldn’t be better.” The body heat was steamy and the hail shower was passing, the church door was rattling to a steady rhythm as Tom said “I’d climb up here every day for this” and you won’t need the church’s approval either as far as I’m concerned “said Nora laughing in her last clutching spasm. Then they both started to hum and sway into one another to an old Bob Dylan number “Knock Knock Knocking on Heaven’s Door”