‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Richard stirred uncomfortably in his sleep.’  Next to him his wife, Maureen, woken by his heavy breathing, rose silently to go to the bathroom.’  Returning, she looked down sympathetically at her husband.’  She could just make out his form, now darker now lighter as clouds scudded across the half- moon shining silvery-pale into the room..’  It was a sultry London summer night and’  they had slept with an open window to let in any light breeze.’  Maureen, climbing softly into bed, nudged him gently.’  Richard woke with a disconsolate grunt.’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œWhat’™s the matter, Dick?,’ she asked just above a murmur.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œIt’™s that dream again,’ he mumbled then plunged back into it as if’  desirous of returning to whatever it may have been. In his dream Richard vividly relived his youth. The games with his sister. The times he helped his father.’  He would see again the many shelves of materials much of which would have appeared as junk to a stranger.’  However, to Harry, Richard’™s father,’  many bits and pieces were just waiting to fit the right job when it came along.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Maureen knew the dream well. In it Richard was back in the home of his childhood in the outskirts of Dublin. The recurring dream had been troubling him’  now several months.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Adjoining his family’™s Irish home,’  Harry had run a’  smithy and sheet-metal workshop. There he made milk cans from heavy tinned copper.’  He also supplied guttering for roofs and galvanised storage tanks.’  In the mid thirties,’  Richard still a’  young lad,’  piped water had not yet reached many farmers and country folk and’  many still collected rain water into’  large corrugated-iron tanks.’  This water was so much softer than that from the cast-iron hand pump that stood in back yards.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  As a child of seven Richard began helping his father in the school holidays.’  This help became more and more important to Harry as Richard grew older. It was his father’™s hope that his son would take over the workshop which he loved so much.’  For Richard, however,’  growing up in a generation deeply divided and troubled by civil disturbance, nothing was sure.’  Times were changing. The great cart horses were giving way to tractors and other heavy vehicles. Piped water began reaching many outlying districts.’  Harry’™s ‘œold faithfuls’ were becoming fewer and income lessened. Barely enough for a higher education for the kids.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Richard at twenty two had moved into the field of automated accounting machines and had found work in Dublin proper.’  There he met the dark and attractive Maureen.’  They were soon married.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Harry’  came to realise that his hope that Richard would carry on the business was futile. It saddened him greatly.’  The workshop had not only been a livelihood.’  His artisanship was a source of pride -‘  his tools a joy in his hands.’  A good finish to a job was the love of a true craftsman.’  Richard well knew that for his father the vision of the workshop’  closing was a dreadful one.’  Of course Harry’™s consolation was his beloved Mary and his two children, Richard and Theresa, his younger daughter. Theresa was his special joy.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  One dark winter day, the rain heavy and constant,’  tragedy had struck.’  Harry had just opened the workshop when the silence exploded with a single gunshot nearby.’  Harry ducked instinctively.’  Calls of dismay sent him headlong into the street knowing that Theresa was’  at this time waiting for a bus to college.’  By some sixth sense he felt that she was involved.’  He dashed toward a crowd gathering.’  Some were crying, some shoving to get a look.’  Harry pushed his way through calling ‘œTheresa!’  Theresa!’’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Between the moving forest of legs Harry had a glimpse of a fallen body.’  He instantly recognised the black rain- cloak and hood.’  Somebody grabbed him from behind, turned him forcefully to face him and hugged him hard to his chest.’  Harry,’  sobbing like a child called in dreadful pain, ‘œTheresa!’  Theresa!!’
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  She had been often warned that in that raincoat she could be mistaken for’  a hated British policeman but she had paid scant attention.’  She had become an innocent victim and nothing could be done to console Harry.’  The doctor intimated to Richard later that Harry’  seemed to have lost his’  purpose in life.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œMaureen, we’™re moving to London.’’  These words from Richard to his recently pregnant wife took her completely by surprise soon after his sister’™s death.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œBut our families are here!’  Anyway, it would be nice to have some help from them when baby arrives!’’ ‘ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œI don’™t want to carry on living in a mad society, Maureen. There are also tremendous advances in business machines. It’™s all taking place in London. Nothing is coming to Dublin.’  Dad understands – your parents too.’  We must go.’
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Richard established himself in the business machines market in North London. Maureen, in a’  secretarial job at the local hospital.’  Only three years after their move they got word that Harry contracted pneumonia.’  Three days later Harry died.’  For Richard it was harrowing since he could not help but feel partly guilty. Things became far worse when, a few months later,’  friends informed them of his mother’™s very sudden passing away. Richard became morose and far from his usual self.’  The dreams began many years later.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œMaureen,’’  Richard said at breakfast the next morning,’  ‘œsomething has been bothering me for some time now. I feel I must pay visit to the old place.’  I have a’  certain calling.’  Dad’™s spirit or something.’  I think that a visit to’  Dublin will bring me some relief.’  I may see or hear something – find something.’  Perhaps it will bring me peace from these dreams. Can you understand?’
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Maureen nodded. ‘œYes,’ she said finally.’  Taking a sip at her coffee she added,’  ‘œWhen will you go?’
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œSummer is always a slack period.’  I’™ll pack a bag and’  go just as soon as I notify a few clients. Okay?
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œYes, Richard.’  I think it will be a good thing.’  Don’™t worry about the girls – I’™ll manage fine.’
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ 
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‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  A few days later, Richard,’  wondering whether this was just a wild goose chase, was holding Maureen’™s slender, dark- haired body in his arms as he bade her farewell at the airport. They were both pensive.’  Richard, however, felt that foolish or not he had to have it out with himself.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  A thousand memories flooded him in the streets of the town he had known so well in his youth. He looked about him. Looked for a recognisable face.’  Someone who may just say, ‘œHey! Isn’™t’  this Richard from way back when?’’  But there was no such call.’  No face he knew.’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  He shivered as he climbed on the bus of the route upon which his sister’™s life had come to such a tragic end.’  It was almost empty.’  One couple was chatting but most wore the usual morning glum ‘˜ just another day’™’  look.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Richard recognised immediately the house – the front yard where he had run as a child. On the other side of the street he saw the bus stop where Theresa had fallen.’  He alighted.’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The workshop had been altered. It was now a garage for car sales and repairs.’  In place of the two great corrugated-iron doors there was a stone front around a large show window.’  Behind this stood a handsome red Alfa Romeo.’  Richard took a deep breath, paused a moment then walked through the entrance.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The smell of oil and petrol that greeted him did not fit the place he remembered.’  He associated the place with’  the smell of the furnace; the acrid’  aroma of hydrochloric acid for the soldering irons.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œYou the owner?’, he queried kindly of a blond,’  middle-aged man whose head had been just a moment before buried under the bonnet of a car.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œI am,’’  the man said, straightening.’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The few words sufficed for Richard to detect the brogue he knew’  well.’  ‘œYou must be from these parts?’
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œI am.’  You, too, by the sound of it.’.’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œMy father’™s metal works was in this place some fifteen years ago.’ Richard answered, extending a hand. The man took Richard’™s hand in both of his.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œL’™wellan’™s the name. Richard L’™wellan,’ said the mechanic. Dick to you. Come into the office and have a coffee – unless it’™ll be a wee dram you’™d prefer?’. He winked.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œNo, thank ‘˜ee kindly said Richard extending his brogue to include the colloquial.’  ‘œNo dram i’™ the morning – but a coffee sounds fine – just fine!’  Name’™s Richard too. Richard O’™Cary. Dick to you,’ he added for a touch of humour. They moved towards the office.’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  It was after coffee and Richard’™s tale of the events that led up to his present visit that he said: ‘œDick,’  I’™ve something to ask. When you took over the place were there any of my father’™s tools that you put to use?’  I’™m hoping to take something back with me.’  Some memento of the old place.’  The workshop meant so much to the old man.’
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œWell, you must know Dick, your Dad’™s tools didn’™t suit my work. I got rid of them all.’  But if I’™m not mistaken there is a large screwdriver which I believe may have been his.’  I don’™t know why but I just took an attachment to it.’  Come, I’™ll show you.’ ‘  Recognise this?’
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Richard held the screwdriver in his hands turning it this way and that.’  Unexpectedly tears began welling.’  Some’  ran’  silently down his face.’  He thought of the small triumphs and pains that make up a life.’  Of the satisfaction his father had in this work-shop until the tragedy.’  There came to him a line from a poet he had read somewhere: ‘œA man and his tools is a man and his life.’ Wordlessly he took the mechanic’™s hand in his.’  The gesture sufficed’  – was more than words..
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œIt has found its rightful place. I’™m so happy.’’ 
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Richard had a feeling that it was this that he had come for. So often held in his own and in his father’™s hand, he knew the tool not’  only well but intimately.’  With its flat- sided wooden handle of hardened beech, he had used it frequently both as child and as a young man.’  To him it suddenly became priceless and he blessed the day he had decided to make this journey. ‘œThanks,’ he said simply and quietly to Dick.
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  After a tour around the house, Richard said with a warm smile to his new-found friend:’  ‘œDick, remember that wee dram you mentioned?’  I think now it would be most appropriate’  – don’™t you?’’ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ 
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*’ ‘ ‘ ‘  *’ ‘ ‘ ‘  *
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‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Maureen and the girls met him at the air-port.’  Still at a distance he waved,’  the screwdriver held high above his head. The smile on Richard’™s face told Maureen all she needed to know.’  She waved back while the girls ran towards him for a warm Irish hug.