Chapter Four
'Sean Thornton Marries Sheila'
After the publication of the first edition of the 'Guinness Book of Records', Sean returned to work as a journalist with the 'Munster Express'. He had met a young woman while working on the book verification out in Norway. Her name was Sheila and she worked as a veterinary assistant. Sheila was the only woman that Sean had ever met who was capable of making his mere body radiate with a feeling of pleasured warmth every time he gazed at her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and indeed, had it not been that it would have called the impartiality of his judgement into question, Sean would have declared Sheila as possessing 'the most beautiful face in the world!' and verifying her as such in the 'Guinness Book of Records'.
He will never forget the very first time that he saw her. She was bathing in an idyllic stream that they both had separately discovered and in which they regularly swam. Sheila had deliberately kept its presence secret. After that moment they first set eyes on each other, they were instantly struck down with the romantic's curse of 'love'. From then on, neither ever held another secret from the other and Sheila never tried to conceal anything from Sean ever again.
During the following eighteen months, Sheila obtained work at a Dublin Vet's establishment and after six months there, she obtained a job in Waterford and digs in a house at The Sweep on the Waterford to Portlaw Road. At last, the young couple in love were able to see each other almost daily and establish a more conventional courtship.
Sean and Sheila were married at 'Saint Patrick's Catholic Church' in the spring of 1957. One of his wedding guests was the horse breeder, Ned Hackett who was now in his 70s. Ned and Sean had established a very close relationship since Sean had returned to Portlaw and as Sheila's parents were both deceased, she felt very comfortable asking Ned Hackett to 'give her away.' Two weeks prior to their wedding day, Ned had asked Patrick and Sheila to visit his place so that he could present them with their wedding gift.
Sean had been so pleased to learn upon his return to Portlaw that Ned was still breeding horses at the same high standard as he'd always done. Upon arriving at Ned's place, Sean spent the first half hour in the stables admiring his latest stock before retiring to the house for a pot of tea and a chat.
Sean had been so pleased to learn upon his return to Portlaw that Ned was still breeding horses at the same high standard as he'd always done. Upon arriving at Ned's place, Sean spent the first half hour in the stables admiring his latest stock before retiring to the house for a pot of tea and a chat.
Ned looked at Sean with the affection that a father might accord to a son he loved dearly. Addressing Sean and his bride-to-be, Ned said, "As you know, Sean, I have no family left alive and I would hate to ever have to leave this life behind and not know beforehand that my 'babies' are safe."
Ned always referred to his stock of horses as his 'babies'. "I have the best stock this year that I've ever bred.....so beautiful.....too beautiful to leave to chance. There are so few people in the world that I would trust their welfare to and........to put it plainly, you come out on top every time. And since you are tying the knot with a vet, it couldn't be better!" Ned remarked.
Ned always referred to his stock of horses as his 'babies'. "I have the best stock this year that I've ever bred.....so beautiful.....too beautiful to leave to chance. There are so few people in the world that I would trust their welfare to and........to put it plainly, you come out on top every time. And since you are tying the knot with a vet, it couldn't be better!" Ned remarked.
Ned loved horses through and through, and while being no connoisseur of fine art, the only three paintings he had in his farm were ones of wild horses, running free with the spirit of the wind. Yes, he loved breeding the heavenly creatures, but always felt deep down that being free to roam at will was infinitely more natural a life for them to live as opposed to being corralled, made to pull cart or plough, raced until they dropped from exhaustion or to fill the palates of the French plate! He used to rationalise that breeding for the purpose of rearing for one's own personal use only, where both owner and horse are able to establish a loving and lifetime bond, was the next best thing to total freedom that any horse or pony could ever enjoy.
"I would turn in my grave if I was to see them in the knackers' yard after I've gone or sold for horse meat or their pulling power. Their line has been bred too beautiful to be allowed to die out with me. I will never forget 'Midnight Fighter'; one of the first Quarter horses I ever sold. I got a good enough price for her and only found out five years later that she'd been worked to death in the fields as a plough horse before being dispatched to the knackers yard."
"I've asked you here today for two reasons, Sean. The first is to present you and your beautiful Sheila with my wedding gift to you both and secondly, is to tell you of my will that I intend to get drafted within the month."
"Put plainly, Sean, I intend to leave all I possess to you. While I can't extract any undertakings from you that you will do this or that after you inherit and, it would indeed be wrong to do, even if I could, I would ask that you ensure that nobody finishes up owning any of my 'babies' who cannot appreciate their beauty and specialness."
"I've asked you here today for two reasons, Sean. The first is to present you and your beautiful Sheila with my wedding gift to you both and secondly, is to tell you of my will that I intend to get drafted within the month."
"Put plainly, Sean, I intend to leave all I possess to you. While I can't extract any undertakings from you that you will do this or that after you inherit and, it would indeed be wrong to do, even if I could, I would ask that you ensure that nobody finishes up owning any of my 'babies' who cannot appreciate their beauty and specialness."
Sean and Sheila looked gobsmacked at Ned's proposed generosity as they looked back and forwards at each other in sheer astonishment.
"But, why?" Sean asked the horse breeder. "I don't deserve such generosity."
"Oh yes you do, my Boyo," Ned replied. "I haven't forgotten those years; four or five at least, when all the other Portlaw kids of your age were playing games in the road or (forgive me, Sheila), were chasing bits of skirt up Curraghmore; and what were you doing? I'll tell you, my Boyo. You were feeding my 'babies', walking them around the paddock, brushing them down and mucking their stables out! And what did you do this for? It wasn't money! No! You did it for no other reason than being able to enjoy their company. If I were to search Ireland from The Giant's Causeway in the north to The Metal Man in Tramore, I couldn't find a better man to leave them to! I couldn't find a safer pair of hands to leave them in than those of yours and Sheila! That is why it would please me to leave their fate in your hands, Sean."
"That's enough of that said for the moment," Ned remarked as he stood up and ushered Sean and Sheila towards the door. "Let me show you your wedding present that I would like to give you both."
Ned led the couple out towards the field at the back of his farm where pranced two of the most beautiful horses that Sean and Sheila had ever seen; a white and a beige.
"The white is Sean's and he's named Stardust and the beige is yours, Sheila," Ned smiled, adding, "She's called Buttermilk. They can remain here in the stables for as long as you want or you can stable them elsewhere when you are ready to do so."
"They are beautiful," the couple agreed.
Ned led the couple out towards the field at the back of his farm where pranced two of the most beautiful horses that Sean and Sheila had ever seen; a white and a beige.
"The white is Sean's and he's named Stardust and the beige is yours, Sheila," Ned smiled, adding, "She's called Buttermilk. They can remain here in the stables for as long as you want or you can stable them elsewhere when you are ready to do so."
"They are beautiful," the couple agreed.
As they were returning to go back inside Ned's farm, Ned noticed that the Widow Friggs' stack wasn't smoking so he set off to get her fire going before it darkened and grew colder. Sean and Sheila said they'd walk there with Ned, but wouldn't go in as Widow Friggs didn't take too kindly to strangers on her place. As the threesome approached the old cottage, Sean could see that the widow was still living in relative squalor. Ned knocked and entered without waiting to be invited in. Sean and Sheila remained outside and walked down towards the River Suir that ran close by. The widow's run-down cottage looked out of place in the splendid waters and landscape that surrounded it; scattered with sheep and milking cows of a farmer that lived two miles away who rented two of Ned's fields for grazing his flock and herd.
Five minutes later, Ned came back out. His face carried a look of sadness and Sean knew that something was amiss as he carried his flat cap in his right hand instead of wearing it. His cap would be on his head at all hours of the day and would only be taken off it when he was negotiating a horse sale, and would only be restored to his crown after the sale had been satisfactorily agreed upon by a crossing of spitted palms. The only other occasions that Ned would be holding it instead of wearing it was when he was the messenger of bad news or if one of his prized horses had to be 'put down.' Ned sadly declared the Widow Friggs dead in a tone of disbelief, as though it had never entered his head that she wouldn't live for ever.
"The old girl has gone. It looks like she's finally gone! I've covered her up with a blanket to keep the flies off her. We'll need to get her washed and prepared for burial as there's nobody else to do it. Will you do it, Sheila?"
"Of course I will," Sheila replied. "Sean and I will do all that needs doing here before the burial and you can see to your horses."
"Poor old woman! I'm so glad I saw and spoke with her yesterday now. I hate to think that she was alone at the end though," Ned said with a tear in his eye."I'll take my old bike back as I won't need it to come here anymore," he said solemnly as he started to wheel the old bicycle back to his place. His hat remained off his head as he disappeared from view.
"The old girl has gone. It looks like she's finally gone! I've covered her up with a blanket to keep the flies off her. We'll need to get her washed and prepared for burial as there's nobody else to do it. Will you do it, Sheila?"
"Of course I will," Sheila replied. "Sean and I will do all that needs doing here before the burial and you can see to your horses."
"Poor old woman! I'm so glad I saw and spoke with her yesterday now. I hate to think that she was alone at the end though," Ned said with a tear in his eye."I'll take my old bike back as I won't need it to come here anymore," he said solemnly as he started to wheel the old bicycle back to his place. His hat remained off his head as he disappeared from view.
It was evident by the manner in which Ned spoke about Widow Friggs that he not only respected the old woman, but that he loved her dearly. As a youngster, he had helped her picked the tatties in her field in the early autumn and for over the past thirty years, he had done the odd job at her place and fetched and carried her provisions whenever he shopped for groceries. He was the only one that the widow trusted. Over the past thirty years, she had pretty much been a part of Ned's life and she obviously had become much more in this regard than that of the usual next-door neighbour. Not one day would pass by when Ned wouldn't watch for the burning of her chimney stack before reassuring himself that the widow would be okay until he called in and checked her out later in the day. He always referred to her as Widow Friggs although he treated her as a mother. She in turn always called him Ned with the degree of affection that a mother might call her son.
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