by Kevin Doyle
Noelie moved to get a better look. Robert Donnelly looked poorly. There was a blanket over his lap and there was little sign on his face that he had recognised Lynch.
‘What about speaking to him, after the cops go I mean? You could say about knowing him and see if he recognises you?’
‘I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Look.’
One of the men in the cream robes was approaching. He was elderly. As he reached them, he lowered his hood and spoke to Meabh.
‘Aren’t you Sean Sugrue’s daughter? I’m Albert Donnelly, do you remember me at all? I knew your father well.’
Albert Donnelly had wavy bright white hair and large dark eyes. He was in his seventies but agile looking. He took Meabh’s hand like they were old, close friends and clasped it. Strangely Meabh acquiesced. Albert muttered something under his breath and Noelie realised that he was blessing her. It was an odd moment.
‘Your mother told me you were away.’
‘I am. But I came back for a few days.’
‘To be here?’
‘No, for another reason. But when I heard about Mr Walsh I wanted to be here.’
Albert looked at Noelie finally. Meabh introduced them.
‘To be honest,’ said Noelie, ‘it was me who dragged Meabh here. I’m working on a history of Danesfort Industrial School and I figured that it would be a good idea to come here and attend this event.’
‘I don’t follow,’ said Albert curtly.
Noelie chose his next words carefully. ‘I understood Leslie Walsh was close to some boys from Danesfort. I wondered would they be here.’
‘Leslie?’ Albert Donnelly shook his head. ‘Leslie was never at Danesfort.’
‘But all the same, wasn’t he familiar with some boys from there?’
Albert’s gaze didn’t flinch. He turned from Noelie and looked at Meabh once more. ‘It’s very nice to meet you again.’ He let go of her hand finally.
Noelie decided to go for it. ‘One more thing, Mr Donnelly. Your family had land at one time, beside Glen Park, that’s in Ballyvolane. Am I right?’
‘That’s going way back,’ Albert replied coldly. He turned and left.
28
They were nearly the last to leave the Mass Rock site. At the stone bridge Noelie enquired again if Meabh intended to speak to her mother. She told him to wait a minute and wandered away in a different direction from where their car was parked. While he had the time, Noelie tried Hannah’s number, but still couldn’t get her.
Meabh returned with the news that Albert Donnelly was driving an olive Berlingo, a model adapted for wheelchair access; a third man was with the two Donnelly brothers, helping with Robert’s wheelchair. She suggested that they follow the Donnellys back to where they lived. Noelie reminded Meabh that he needed to make contact with Hannah. He agreed to go along with the idea as long the Donnellys were returning in the direction of Cork.
They headed back to the car and followed the Berlingo. Due to the traffic it was slow going until they reached the Cork side of Glenville. Meabh was very quiet.
‘Everything all right?’
‘Albert. He squeezed my hand so hard it hurt.’
‘Why didn’t you say something?’
Noelie got a withering look. He drove on. Outside Glenville, to his relief, two messages arrived on Meabh’s phone. One was personal, from Holland, the second from Hannah. Noelie quickly checked his pay-as-you-go to see if it had received any messages; it hadn’t.
‘Hannah is asking Is Noelie with u? Tell him meeting went well. Over now. Talk later. What will I reply?’
‘What about Met Albert and Robert Donnelly. Much to tell.
See you later? No, that’s too much information.’
‘What about He’s with me. Great. Talk later?’
‘Perfect.’
The Berlingo stopped on a narrow section of road on Cork’s northside. There was congestion as it reversed through a narrow gated entrance. Noelie and Meabh watched from a distance.
‘What area is this?’ Meabh asked.
‘Sunday’s Well.’
‘Is the river near here?’
‘Very close.’ Noelie pointed to the houses on the downhill side of the road. ‘Some of those properties have gardens running down to the river’s edge.’
They found parking near the Cork City Gaol. When they walked back they discovered that the Donnelly car had gone into a substantial house protected by high walls. The nameplate read Llanes.
Meabh walked on to a junction. Noelie followed.
‘This is it. Remember I told you that I came to Cork once looking for the place that my father used to take me to? This is the place.’
Meabh pointed to a church a short distance uphill. It was perched on a knoll and had a slate steeple. The building was made from cut limestone, gothic in style. The gates were closed. A notice announced services on Sundays only.
‘I’d like to call in.’
‘It’s closed.’
‘To Albert’s, to Llanes, I mean. We often went to a house after the service and that house was near the church. It could’ve been the Donnelly home.’
Noelie didn’t want to.
‘Look, I’m leaving tomorrow. I have work I need to go back to. I’ll know once I’m in the house.’
‘What will you know?’
‘If it’s the house …’
Returning to the junction Meabh crossed the road and went over to Llanes. Noelie caught up with her.
‘I think we should wait.’
‘You don’t have to come with me.’
‘It’s not that. I’d prefer to hook up with Hannah first. Then the three of us can call in.’
Meabh pressed the doorbell beside the roller gates.
‘I’m not going in there, Meabh.’
‘I’m not asking you to.’
The gates opened. A middle-aged man with lank hair stood looking at them. He called out before either Noelie or Meabh could react. ‘Albert?’
Noelie stared at the man. He had large ears, so large they were difficult not to notice. He remembered Martin’s description of the man who had called to his place the evening he hid in the train tunnel.
Meabh said something that Noelie didn’t catch. At that moment Albert appeared. If he was surprised to see them he didn’t show it. He had changed and was now wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and light blue slacks; his hair was combed to one side. He seemed happy to see Meabh.
‘Come in.’
‘I’m leaving tomorrow,’ explained Meabh. ‘I called to the church, on the hill. My father took me there a few times. Then I remembered that you were nearby. I thought it might be an idea to say hello to Robert. I should’ve done that out in Glenville.’
Albert stood aside. ‘What a good idea. He’ll be pleased.’
Noelie reluctantly joined Meabh inside the gate. The patio was narrow and then widened out into a generous parking area for two cars. Alongside the Berlingo there was a polished dark blue Citroën DS. It was in pristine condition, a beautiful car.
Albert addressed Noelie. ‘I was thinking about what you said. Do you realise that I have films of Danesfort? Home-movie quality. You’d find them interesting, I think.’
Noelie tried to get Meabh’s attention. He really didn’t want to go in but there was no holding her back. He realised he had to stay.
‘I’d love to see them,’ he replied.
Albert went ahead up the steps. The entrance was Georgian and in perfect repair. ‘Robert’s out back, although sometimes we call it the front. It’s where the sun is. He likes to sit there.’ Conspiratorially, he added, ‘It’s all he does any more.’
The hall widened into a reception area in front of an elegant curved stairway. Noelie noticed a large portrait of a man in military uniform. An unusual flag hung from a staff beside the portrait: a red St Patrick’s saltire on a white background.
‘Your father?’ enquired Noelie.
Albert nodded but didn’t stop. They arrived
in a warmly painted room with French windows that opened onto a platform balcony. Robert Donnelly was sitting in a wheelchair with a straw sun hat tied to his head. He appeared to be dozing.
‘Robert, we have visitors,’ Albert announced loudly. He quickly released the chair’s brake and swung his brother around. He adjusted the sunhat then changed his mind and removed it entirely. Robert stared at them blankly. Noelie noticed that his right hand was shaking.
‘Remember Sean Sugrue, your great friend?’ Albert addressed Meabh, ‘They were very close.’ He took his brother’s hand. ‘This is Sean’s youngest, Meabh. She’s here to visit you.’
Albert put out Robert’s hand for Meabh to take and hold. She did as instructed and Noelie watched.
‘That car crash was an awful blow. Robert lost his brother but also his closest friend.’ He began stroking Robert’s hair. ‘He’s in decline. He was head of the Cork gardaí for many years, can you believe that? Now look at him.’
‘Was there ever an explanation for how that crash happened?’
Albert looked at Noelie. ‘You know about that too?’ Albert bent down and spoke in an overly patient voice. ‘Robert, this young man, Noel Sullivan is his name, is very interested in our history. I imagine in yours, Robert. After all you were the star, I was nobody. You could’ve gone all the way, Robert. We all said it but … it wasn’t to be.’ Albert looked at Noelie. ‘I made my money in property. Too much of it at too young an age. It ruined me actually. I’ve never been bothered by ambition since.’
Noelie noticed the man with the large ears hovering just inside the French windows, watching them. He nodded at him. ‘I think I know your friend.’
Albert dismissed the idea. ‘I’d doubt that. He never steps outside the door. Gardens for me mostly. He’s a recluse.’ In another conspiratorial whisper, he added, ‘He’s had lots of troubles in his life.’
Albert pushed his brother’s chair over to where a set of steps descended from the balcony to the riverside garden below.
‘Do you remember the pond, Meabh?’
There was a circular pond at the foot of the steps, at riverside level. ‘There were lilies in it and small frogs too. You loved those lilies. Go down if you like.’
Noelie intervened. ‘We only wanted to say hello. Maybe we could come back another time?’
‘Nonsense, Meabh’s leaving tomorrow,’ Albert said bluntly. ‘There are pictures I want her to see. Her father is in them.’
He walked away leaving Robert Donnelly on the terrace. ‘Come,’ he instructed. ‘This will interest you too, Noel. We have a room dedicated to our family’s history. I’ll show you.’
They re-entered the house. Noelie caught up with Meabh. ‘Seen enough?’ Meabh didn’t reply. She was preoccupied and looked unwell.
A short distance along the main hall, Albert opened an ornate mahogany door. He stood aside so that Meabh and Noelie could enter. It was a beautiful drawing room with shelves of books. Albert immediately went to the wall opposite the only window. There were lines of framed black-and-white photos on the wall. In the corner there was a glass case containing a uniform and rifle.
‘Our father, Anthony Donnelly Senior, fought in the War of Independence. He took part in a number of flying column operations and was decorated. This was his rifle. Killed a few Protestants, it did. He was very proud of it.’
The pictures spanned the early years of the Irish Free State. They were historically significant and Noelie was impressed.
‘My father eventually joined the gardaí when it was set up. Robert, in a sense, followed in his footsteps.’ He added, shrugging, ‘Robert was the golden boy. But look where it got him.’
Noelie noticed another cabinet. It contained a different uniform, a type he had only ever seen in pictures: a pressed blue shirt with a cross insignia, black trousers and a black beret. The uniform of the Blueshirts. Next to it was a picture from Spain. Noelie realised then. Toner, the elderly historian that he had met on his visit to Ballyvolane, had mentioned that Old Donnelly had lost a leg in the war. Noelie assumed it was the Second World War but of course it wasn’t.
‘Where was your father injured, in Spain?’
Albert drew back in exaggerated shock. ‘My, my. You know about that too? The Battle of El Mazuco, to be precise. 11 September, 1937. He was decorated by Franco, did you know that?’
Noelie shook his head. He added evenly, ‘No doubt you were all very proud.’
Albert didn’t reply. He appeared to be lost in thought. Noelie looked to see what Meabh was doing and realised only then that she was no longer in the room. He looked around uneasily.
‘It was a bad blow,’ continued Albert. ‘He lost his leg. It ruined things actually.’
In the corner there was a wooden cross. It was a large structure, ornate and partially painted in bright blue. There were sketches near it.
‘What’s that?’
Albert ignored the question. Instead he went to a wall-mounted glass cabinet. ‘There are a number of films of Danesfort. You said you had an interest. There’s some of the Ballyvolane farm too. Did you say you were interested in that as well?’
‘Well, I’ve noticed Meabh isn’t with us any more. I wonder if we should get her and then we could watch the films together. I think she’d like to see them.’
Albert appeared not to hear Noelie again. He unlocked the cabinet. Noelie saw dates on the boxes: 1960, 1961, 1959. They went up to the mid-seventies.
‘A friend of our family, a Mrs Finn, a wonderful woman, was in Spain as a nurse and made a name for herself later on as a journalist there. She was a close friend of my father’s. She gave me a Bell & Howell home-movie camera for my eighteenth birthday. 1956. It was a wonderful gift. Just wonderful. For years I was the only person in Cork to have a camera like that. All these films are Bell & Howell double-8 format.’
He selected a box and closed the cabinet. Marching out of the room and along the hall, Albert shouted, ‘Tea. In the movie room,’ as he opened another door.
Noelie remained at the doorway. There was a projector and a screen already set up. Comfortable chairs were arranged in a semicircle. Albert attended to closing the blinds.
‘I’d like to find Meabh,’ Noelie repeated.
Albert came over. He looked concerned too. ‘I’ll put the film on. Take a quick peek and I’ll find her ladyship.’
Noelie sat reluctantly. The room suddenly went dark. A small side light was put on and a trolley appeared, followed by the silhouette of the man with the big ears.
‘Your friend is using the toilet,’ he said.
To Noelie’s surprise his accent was American.
‘Is that okay?’ Albert asked, coming back into the room and taking a seat beside him.
Noelie dithered as the projector whirred into life, shining a white light at the screen. Albert handed him a cup of tea.
‘You’re in for a treat,’ he added, also handing Noelie a scone with butter and jam on it. ‘By the way, that jam’s homemade.’
The camera panned over the broad vista that was the original Danesfort complex. Noelie recognised it from photos he had seen. The clip was shot from a distance, from one of the fields in front of the school. Noelie noticed crows on the ploughed drills and remembered Black Gary’s comment. Eventually the camera found a thin priest with specs standing at the chapel arch.
‘There’s my brother Tony,’ said Albert enthusiastically.
‘How was he friends with Meabh’s dad?’ asked Noelie.
‘I’ll explain that later.’
The tea was bitter but the film intriguing. It cut to the large military-like square attached to the industrial school. A group of boys, immaculately turned out, were performing warm-up exercises. Noelie felt his eyes wanting to close. A moment later his head fell to one side. As he righted himself he felt the first stirrings of alarm. The film was getting fuzzy too. He thought he heard his name being called. Then for no apparent reason the door crashed open. He thought it was Meabh but he was
n’t sure. He fell over as he tried to stand.
29
It was dark and cold. Noelie was lying on an incline. He ran his hand over the surface of it. It felt rough and there were slimy patches. He could hear gurgling noises from time to time.
‘Meabh,’ he called out, but there was no reply.
He was still wearing his clothes. He had his wallet too. He searched for his phone but remembered that he had left it in his car. Trying to sit up, he hit his head against something overhead, almost knocking himself out. He lay back and put his hand up to feel what was there. More rough concrete. Where was he?
He carefully crawled up the incline but the gap between the floor and the ceiling became so narrow he was unable to proceed. Moving sideways he reached a solid wall. It was rough too, with cracks here and there.
A sudden burst of gurgling followed by the sound of prolonged sucking made him stop and listen. He thought he heard moaning but he wasn’t sure. He called Meabh’s name again.
Returning roughly to where he started from, he crawled in the opposite direction and reached another wall. Again it was not possible to move up the incline.
He sat for a while. There was total darknesss – he had never experienced anything like it. He felt afraid and called again. This time he heard a moan. Crawling down the incline he was eventually able to stand. He figured that he was in some sort of underground cavern. Moving about he called Meabh’s name. Eventually he found her lying on her side. He took her hand. It was very cold.
‘Meabh?’
She shifted and groaned. ‘My head.’
He tried to move her.
‘My feet are in water.’
Noelie moved down the incline some more. He felt about. Her legs were on a ledge with water just beyond it. There was a pool of some sort out there in the dark. It was still. He put his hand into the water. It was icy. He couldn’t touch the bottom.
He helped Meabh crawl up the slope. ‘Where are we?’
‘I don’t know.’
Meabh sat up. ‘My head’s really sore.’
He reminded her that the last time he saw her was in the Donnellys’ family history room. ‘Where did you go?’