Kellie Fahy – The Bottle of Brasso
The Bottle of Brasso
By Kellie Fahy
“Ginny,” mother called. I sighed and got off my bed. I had just started getting into my new book “Little Women”. “Ginny,” mother called again. “I’m coming,” I said running down the hall to where my mother was standing, her hands caked in flour. “Ginny dear, I’m busy baking for the station. Will you polish the brass candlesticks for me Darling?” Mother asked wiping her hands on her apron. “Okay I’ll do it, but I want a big slice of your delicious porter cake afterwards.”Alright! Alright! Hop to it then,” mother said turning back towards the kitchen. I fetched a clean cloth and a bottle of Brasso from the cupboard. I read the back, “Shake well before use,” it said. I shook the bottle and pressed down on the white cap and twisted it open.
A light peach liquid poured out onto the cloth. I began to rub the brass candlesticks vigorously. Suddenly I dropped the candlestick and it made a dull thud as it hit the hard marble of the hearth. “Oh heavens,” I said crossly picking up the candlestick. The sound of my mother’s voice echoed throughout the house “Ginny dear be careful with those candlesticks. They were passed down to me by my great grandmother” she said. I rubbed the candlesticks furiously until they gleamed and sat back to admire my work. A voice called to me from the farmyard saying “Ginny, Paul and I are feeding the goats. Give us a hand, will you.” It was Tom, my brother. I jumped up in excitement. I loved feeding the goats although Tom and Paul hardly ever let me help. I put down the cloth and bottle of Brasso beside the fire and ran out of the house.
Half an hour later I re-entered the house. My good Sunday dress was covered in meal and goat hair. I noticed something flickering in the parlour. I ran towards the door of the parlour and saw flames. The fire was spreading quickly. I knew there was no point in trying to put it out. I ran out of the house “Mam, Dad, Paul, Tom,” I shouted and they all came running. “F-fire in the parlour,” I said.
Dad and my brothers got buckets of water and tried to put it out while my mother and I sat on the ground crying. When the last flickers of fire were extinguished we walked among the charred remains of the room which had been our parlour. The once beautifully patterned furniture now tarnished with ash and smoke. It was as if our memories of the room had been burnt away along with the room itself.
As I looked around the room something caught my eye. It was a blue and white striped bottle with a red label; its cap now charred from the fire, the label almost illegible. I bent to pick it up. It was the bottle of Brasso. I turned over the little bottle and squinted at the tiny writing down the side that I had missed earlier.
“ DO NOT LEAVE NEAR AN OPEN FLAME”.
By Kellie Fahy
Kilcooley National School