It was 1959 in Dublin. A doctor and his wife lived
in a large red brick semi-detached house in a suburban area of the city. They
had three children ranging in age from seven to two years. Also living with
them was the children's maternal grandfather.
It was before the time of central heating and the
living rooms had open fireplaces. There was no heating in the bedrooms.
Everybody took a hot water bottle with them up to bed and wore warm pyjamas or
long nightdresses. Woolly slippers sat under the beds and thick dressing gowns
hung on hooks on the back of the bedroom doors.
At seven o'clock every morning, the grandfather woke
up and looked forward to a visit from the older two children who would join him
in his bed for a short time. He made certain that they were tucked up warmly
and then, as was his habit, went down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea for
himself and the two other adults. The eldest child, a girl, would always bring
a book with her; while the younger boy would usually bring some of his
favourite toy model cars.
On one particularly cold morning, the children woke
early, saw that the light was on in grandfather's room and ran excitedly into
his room.
"Good morning Grandpa", they said almost
in unison. He gave them each a hug and settled them into his bed.
"What are you reading today?" he asked his
granddaughter. She did not reply, already engrossed in her book. He looked at
the title. Another Enid Blyton book. He smiled and felt very proud of his
eldest grandchild. She was well ahead in her class on reading skills. The lad
had brought his pride and joy, a yellow model truck, which he proceeded to push
up and down the bedclothes.
Leaving them comfortably ensconced in his bed, the
grandfather put on his dressing gown and headed downstairs to the kitchen. All
was quiet in the rest of the house. He fed the cat, and waited for the kettle
to boil.
Upstairs in his bedroom, the young girl continued to
avidly read, but her brother was becoming bored and got out of bed and went to
look out of the window. Somehow, he had picked up a box of matches, and in an
instant, he had lit a match. Perhaps a little scared at what he had done, he
attempted to throw it away, unfortunately into a wicker wastepaper basket.
The basket suddenly burst into flame. The flame rose
up towards the curtain and the lower portion of the curtain began to smoulder.
A whiff of smoke must have reached the parent's bedroom as the children's
mother rushed into the room with a look of sheer panic on her face. She was
dressed only in her nightdress. She tore down the curtain, threw it on top of
the burning wastepaper basket and stamped the fire out with her bare feet.
Grandfather came up the stairs carrying a small tray
with tea cups, having heard a commotion, wondering what had happened.
Horrified, he surveyed the damage and the guilty looking small boy trying to
hide himself in the corner of the room. Thank goodness no-one was hurt!
Addressing her daughter, the mother said "
Sweetheart, did you not see what your brother was doing?"
The little girl, shaken by what had happened
answered tearfully,
" No,
Mum, I am sorry but I was reading my book and I didn't see anything".
October 2013 CP
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