Chapter Three
'The Long Summer of 2012'
Having been allocated this extra duty of selecting suitable entertainment for St Michael's Christmas Party on December 26th, 2012, the Social Event's Secretary put the task to one side and planned to arrange something appropriate much nearer the time when he'd had the chance to check out every entertainment avenue.
Besides, Magnus had more pressing matters on his mind to occupy his immediate attention. Although many would have thought him to be in the autumn of his life, Magnus had been experiencing a second flush of youth.
It was well into spring and the explosion of blue bells on one of their favourite country walks provided that extra bounce in the step of the older man who was strongly fighting off the combination of his advancing age and his youthful urges.
Besides, Magnus had more pressing matters on his mind to occupy his immediate attention. Although many would have thought him to be in the autumn of his life, Magnus had been experiencing a second flush of youth.
It was well into spring and the explosion of blue bells on one of their favourite country walks provided that extra bounce in the step of the older man who was strongly fighting off the combination of his advancing age and his youthful urges.
Despite being aged sixty, Magnus and his 59-year-old wife, Elizabeth, still had a very healthy marital relationship. It was during early spring when Magnus and his wife went on a country walk. Since their eleven children had all flown the family nest, Elizabeth and Magnus had been able to get some of their much appreciated time back together again. They went on country walks whenever the weather would allow, and when the spring sun shone down on them one March morning as they walked through a field of long grass, like many a young courting couple, the rays of sunshine seemed to invite them to try to recall their more romantic times before they'd married and their children had started to come along. So they lay down a while and bathed in a recaptured moment of love's youthful passion as they abandoned all consideration of what any passer-by might chance upon.
A few months later and to their utter surprise, while crossing the bridge over the River Clodagh, Elizabeth told Magnus that he would shortly become a father again in the New Year. Upon hearing this news, 'Thomas' would have been a more fitting name for the doubting father to have been baptised instead of Magnus. He asked her first, if she was sure that she was indeed pregnant and secondly, if she'd been foolish enough to seek fertilisation again behind his back? Elizabeth was adamant in her assertion that she was pregnant again, only this time she assured him that the only intervention to produce her current state of pregnancy came from his loins and the hand of God!
"Are.............are you sure, Elizabeth?" Magnus asked her once more.
"Credit me with knowing my own body, Boyo, won't you? And me having already given birth to our own football team!" she retorted before going inside her purse and then placing a photograph of their eleven children in their youth in her husband's hands.
After the couple had got over their initial shock, they decided to keep the news to themselves until it became absolutely necessary to tell others. Besides, given Elizabeth's age, there was no certainty that the pregnancy would be carried to its full term as she would be sixty years old by the time she was due to deliver her twelfth child and the chance of the foetus aborting naturally was extremely high.
"Credit me with knowing my own body, Boyo, won't you? And me having already given birth to our own football team!" she retorted before going inside her purse and then placing a photograph of their eleven children in their youth in her husband's hands.
After the couple had got over their initial shock, they decided to keep the news to themselves until it became absolutely necessary to tell others. Besides, given Elizabeth's age, there was no certainty that the pregnancy would be carried to its full term as she would be sixty years old by the time she was due to deliver her twelfth child and the chance of the foetus aborting naturally was extremely high.
So the couple decided to put their fate in God's hands and to accept whatever course He chose for them. Magnus buried himself in his roles as Secretary to this organisation and that organisation and Elizabeth continued to perform in the Amateur Dramatic Society of Portlaw. Most evenings would see Magnus reading or writing in the room that he'd turned into his study and his wife would be out rehearsing at her drama group.
Around July of 2012, Magnus received an unusual request from 'The Portlaw Rugby Club.' It came in the form of a letter to his home in William Street, as a visit from the writer of the letter would have been highly unusual under the circumstances that prevailed between Catholics and non-believers of Portlaw at the time. The letter was from Marcus Merrydew Wright, the President of 'The Portlaw Rugby Club'. It read as follows:
"Dear Mr. Ferguson,
As President to 'The Portlaw Rugby Club,' I am officially inviting you on behalf of our organisation to consider filling the position as Secretary to 'The Portlaw Rugby Club' and in particular, to the 'Social Events Committee.' While I realise that you are of Roman Catholic persuasion and as such, might not consider this position as being one that you could accept, having been described to me as the very best Secretary that Portlaw has ever had in its fold, it would be wholly remiss of me not to offer you the first opportunity of filling this post. Naturally the position is a paid one, and in exchange for approximately twenty hours work per month, a salary of ten thousand euros per annum (€10,000) would be payable. The post has fallen vacant due to the recent death of our previous Secretary, Wallis Mately Esquire. Please give the matter your earnest consideration. Also note that should you require it, you could adopt an alias name as Secretary in order to maintain the confidentiality of your position in the Portlaw Roman Catholic community. I will await your early reply.
Yours Faithfully,
Marcus Merrydew Wright,
President of 'The Waterford Rugby Club.'
"Dear Mr. Ferguson,
As President to 'The Portlaw Rugby Club,' I am officially inviting you on behalf of our organisation to consider filling the position as Secretary to 'The Portlaw Rugby Club' and in particular, to the 'Social Events Committee.' While I realise that you are of Roman Catholic persuasion and as such, might not consider this position as being one that you could accept, having been described to me as the very best Secretary that Portlaw has ever had in its fold, it would be wholly remiss of me not to offer you the first opportunity of filling this post. Naturally the position is a paid one, and in exchange for approximately twenty hours work per month, a salary of ten thousand euros per annum (€10,000) would be payable. The post has fallen vacant due to the recent death of our previous Secretary, Wallis Mately Esquire. Please give the matter your earnest consideration. Also note that should you require it, you could adopt an alias name as Secretary in order to maintain the confidentiality of your position in the Portlaw Roman Catholic community. I will await your early reply.
Yours Faithfully,
Marcus Merrydew Wright,
President of 'The Waterford Rugby Club.'
Despite its name, the premises of 'The Portlaw Rugby Club' were not located in the town of Portlaw, but about one mile beyond the Kilbunny Church Cross. Viewing the imposing premises from the outside, the building proudly stood out from its more rustic surroundings of the Kilbunny Woods in the background, while inside it reflected the richness and opulence of its wealthy supporters. Even the Club's library boasted to be one of the most magnificent to be found in the whole of Europe.
When Magnus first received the offer to become Secretary to 'The Portlaw Rugby Club', he more or less instantly dismissed it from his mind as being incompatible with his background and breeding, besides possibly representing a 'conflict of interest' with the other secretarial positions he held.
It was only after he had told his wife Elizabeth that he was obliged to give the matter at least some further consideration; especially as the mention of €10,000 yearly remuneration was not a sum of money to be instantly dismissed out of hand at this juncture of the couple's life. Having reared eleven children, they barely had any savings to their name and with the additional prospect of another family member to feed and clothe, €10,000 per year was not a sum to be sniffed at.
It was only after he had told his wife Elizabeth that he was obliged to give the matter at least some further consideration; especially as the mention of €10,000 yearly remuneration was not a sum of money to be instantly dismissed out of hand at this juncture of the couple's life. Having reared eleven children, they barely had any savings to their name and with the additional prospect of another family member to feed and clothe, €10,000 per year was not a sum to be sniffed at.
"Don't be in such a hurry, my Boyo to turn up your nose at the opportunity of earning an extra €10,000 for so little sweat. Why, it's only twenty hours work a month, ten months a year. That is all they want you to cover. That's over €50 for one hour's work, Boyo," Elizabeth said. "That's more money per hour than you've ever made in your life. It's about time that you got a bit of financial benefit from the employment of your secretarial skills," she added, "after all you've given freely to the community all your life."
"But what about....?" he started to voice.
"What about what?" Elizabeth replied.
"The Catholic Church! If they find out, along with our Catholic neighbours down William Street, we'll be treated no better than traitors! If they learn that I'm the Secretary to a club of......................."
"Of what?" Elizabeth pressed him. "To a club of what?"
"To a club of toffee-nosed rugby players who's got more brass than sense to throw around......to a crowd of hell raisers they consider to be no better than the most sinful bunch of men ever to set foot on Portlaw soil. To a group of.......pagans, atheists, hedonists and non-believers; that's what!" Magnus replied to Elizabeth.
"And who's to be telling them all this, Magnus Ferguson, father of my child to be? Just who will tell them this? Look at the letter, Boyo. It's here in black and white. Unless you tell them, then nobody except them, me, you and the sparrows that sit upon the Bunny Cross who see you entering and leaving the Club House will ever know!" Elizabeth tried to reassure him.
"I don't know..............." Magnus muttered. "If the church ever found out, why...... they'd............. excommunicate me!"
"But what about....?" he started to voice.
"What about what?" Elizabeth replied.
"The Catholic Church! If they find out, along with our Catholic neighbours down William Street, we'll be treated no better than traitors! If they learn that I'm the Secretary to a club of......................."
"Of what?" Elizabeth pressed him. "To a club of what?"
"To a club of toffee-nosed rugby players who's got more brass than sense to throw around......to a crowd of hell raisers they consider to be no better than the most sinful bunch of men ever to set foot on Portlaw soil. To a group of.......pagans, atheists, hedonists and non-believers; that's what!" Magnus replied to Elizabeth.
"And who's to be telling them all this, Magnus Ferguson, father of my child to be? Just who will tell them this? Look at the letter, Boyo. It's here in black and white. Unless you tell them, then nobody except them, me, you and the sparrows that sit upon the Bunny Cross who see you entering and leaving the Club House will ever know!" Elizabeth tried to reassure him.
"I don't know..............." Magnus muttered. "If the church ever found out, why...... they'd............. excommunicate me!"
"The church will never find out," Elizabeth said confidently. "Confidentiality! That's what will keep your little secret safe, Magnus. Confidentiality! Aren't you forever stressing its sacrosanct nature. Now write back immediately and accept the post and we'll get off on that country walk I've been promising to take you! It's time that someone in Portlaw started behaving in a more impartial manner if you ask me. It's about time that the street and town started to rub together. For heaven's sake, it is the New Millennium!"
So Magnus Ferguson wrote back accepting the rugby club position and stressing the condition that he would be known by an alias name that maintained his true identity while he undertook the office as Club Secretary.
So Magnus Ferguson wrote back accepting the rugby club position and stressing the condition that he would be known by an alias name that maintained his true identity while he undertook the office as Club Secretary.
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