Jumping up, she ran to help. ‘Looks like a feast, Maisie,’ she said, eyeing a plate of sandwiches and a platter loaded with hot scones. To the side sat a jar of raspberry jam and a pot of fresh clotted cream.
Maisie glanced down to the shore to where the Daphne was being hauled up on the bank by Lillie’s brothers. ‘I could see that lot were on their way in, so I thought I’d kill two birds with the one stone and bring cool drinks for them as well.’
‘What a good idea, Maisie,’ Alice said. She looked back up towards the house. ‘What about James and Kathleen? Are they joining us?’
Maisie shook her head. ‘Not this afternoon, ma’am. Mr O’Sullivan be gone to Kenmare, while Mrs O’Sullivan be in her darkroom developing photos.’
‘Busy bees, aren’t they?’
‘They are indeed, ma’am.’
She then placed the tray on a log and left to return to the house.
As Lillie watched Maisie walk across the lawn, she saw smoke curling out of the kitchen chimney where the Aga was purring happily. She took a deep breath and turned around to pour Grandma a cup of tea from the silver teapot. She then handed her a plate with a scone smothered in jam and cream. She poured herself a long tumbler of lemon squash. Her stomach was in too much turmoil to eat anything.
Now Marcus and Freddie arrived, soaked to the skin, leaving Ronan to pack up the Daphne. They gulped down most of the scones and sandwiches in a matter of moments and scampered up to the house.
Later, Lillie settled Grandma in her room, adding a piece of turf to the fire and putting the brass fireguard back in place. Then she went to find Ronan. He was out in the back garden hitting a tennis ball against the wall of the woodshed. As well as playing in the rugby team at his boarding school in Cork he had also tried out for the tennis team and had made it as a reserve. He was determined to make it into the team proper when he went back next term.
‘Why didn’t you come out for a sail, li’l sis?’ he asked. ‘A bit rough for a mere girl, eh?’
Lillie adored Ronan, who always called her li’l sis.
‘I thought I’d keep Grandma company. Besides, with you lot on board, where was I supposed to fit?’
Ronan looked her up and down. ‘Yeah, that’s a point. Not as little as you used to be, are you?’
‘Ronan!’ Lillie exclaimed.
Lillie had put on a bit of weight lately, which was giving her the willies. Ma said it was the age she was. Lillie wasn’t so sure it wasn’t the way she was meant to be. She and Sheelagh, who was also a bit on the chubby side, spent hours poring over magazines looking at diets, but as soon as Maisie took a fresh loaf of soda bread from the Aga and Lillie smelt the rich aroma wafting through the house, any thought of a diet went flying out of the window.
To add to Lillie’s woes, Clara, the daughter of her mother’s friend Jessica, was coming to stay. So Lillie would feel even fatter — Clara was as slim as a pencil and hugely pretty.
‘Are you excited about Clara coming?’ she asked Ronan.
‘Yeah, it’ll be good to see her.’
When Clara had first come to Rathgarven, it had been with her mother. Lillie remembered being in awe of Jessica. When she’d got out of the car, Lillie thought she was a movie star. She was wearing a tailored cream suit with an otter fur around her neck. The otter still had its head attached. Lillie felt incredibly sorry for the dead otter, as she would hate that to happen to the friendly one who lived in the cove. On her head Jessica wore one of the most glamorous hats Lillie had ever seen, the colour of the blueberries in Paddy’s garden. But it was her perfume Lillie remembered the most. Long after she left a room, you could still smell the mixture of wild flowers and musk.
‘That horrid man, Mr Donoghue, was here again,’ Lillie told Ronan, trying to share her worries around. ‘He came yesterday when you were at the movies in Kenmare. It sounds to me as though Dad owes him a heap of money. He and Ma were arguing.’ She fiddled with the collar of her yellow seersucker blouse, which was always itching her neck. ‘Did you know Dad gambled? That he’s probably lost so much money we might lose Rathgarven? I heard Ma say so.’
Ronan leant down and picked up a tennis ball. He hit it hard against the wall, making the shed shudder. If Lillie hoped to get some comfort from him she was disappointed. When the ball hit a rough patch on the wall and dropped dead to the ground, he turned around and said, ‘It’s none of our business, li’l sis. I’m sure they’ll work through it somehow.’ There was something in Ronan’s voice that told Lillie he may have guessed something of their parents’ difficulties. ‘I wouldn’t go worrying too much if I were you.’
‘Oh yeah … And what about Mr Donoghue?’
‘If Dad owes him money he’ll find a way to pay him back.’ He hit another ball. ‘And, in any case, you probably misheard. Or misunderstood. Besides, you shouldn’t have been listening.’
‘I couldn’t help it, could I? I mean … it’s not as though I was standing outside the door to snoop. I was in the library and they were in the drawing room. The door was open a bit. You know how it’s always hard to close it properly.’
Ronan shook his head. ‘If we’re meant to know what’s going on, we’ll find out soon enough.’ He handed Lillie the racquet. ‘Here … you have a go.’
‘I don’t feel like it. And I don’t think you’re taking me seriously. If you’d heard them arguing I bet you’d be more worried. But go ahead. Keep hitting that tennis ball and leave the worrying to me.’
With an angry toss of her head she stormed up to her bedroom and threw herself down on her bed. Ronan could be infuriating at times. Sheelagh once told her about a family who lived outside Sneem whose father had gambled so much on the races that he lost their house to the bank and they now had to live in a caravan in that hideous caravan park near Killarney. What if that happened to the O’Sullivans? And, if it did, how would Ronan feel then?
* * *
And how is the beautiful Kathleen?’ Declan asked, leaning his chunky frame towards James. His black suit was spick and span, much like the one James was wearing for this visit to the bank.
‘I’m afraid she’s not too happy with me,’ James said. ‘I hate to admit it. But … well … I did a darn foolish thing.’
He confessed how he put money on the horse that had lost at the Killarney Races. How he had hoped it would solve their liquidity problem, which as Declan knew only too well, was not good. He didn’t tell him about the meeting with Jessica.
‘But the beast had the hide to lose,’ James said, sounding a lot more upbeat than he felt.
‘Oh! How much did you lose on it?’
‘Two thousand pounds. Then when it lost I stupidly kept trying to get it back. Lost more of course.’
As Declan’s eyebrows shot up James told him how Donoghue was ready to swoop on Rathgarven. James knew Declan had no time for Donoghue, who had been known to take a vulnerable gambler’s last pound without any shame at all, leaving Declan to sort out the mess. Once over a Guinness in Crowley’s Bar he had told James how he had had many a broken man sitting in front of him over the years thanks to Donoghue. Little did James think back then that one day he would be the broken man sitting in front of his friend.
Declan went to the window and stood for a moment looking out.
‘Why for pity’s sake did you do something idiotic like that?’ he sighed, turning back to James and beetling his brow. He picked up a pack of Craven A from his desk and knocked one out. ‘It be unlike you to take such a risk.’
‘Folks had been talking about this horse for weeks. Everyone thought it had no chance of losing. Even Lord Fitzpatrick said as much. On the way back from Dublin a couple of days before the meet I thought it through and came up with the idea. You could have knocked me over with a feather when the darn thing lost.’
‘But to keep going …’
They stopped talking when his secretary bustled in and placed the tea tray with a couple of shortbread biscuits on the desk in front of James.
After she had disappeared through the door Declan shook his head. ‘A whisky might’ve been more in order.’
‘It might’ve at that.’ James eyed his friend. ‘But do you think you can help? If I can get rid of Donoghue and we reap a good crop of barley I’ll be able to pay you back.’
Declan stubbed out his cigarette and looked at his friend. ‘We got a directive only last week to say all loans over five hundred pounds have got to be approved by Dublin. Things may not be as grim as the 1950s but they’re not exactly bubbling. All I can do is put in an application and hope for the best.’ He paused and poured James a cup of tea. ‘Hopefully within a couple of weeks we should know something. But, James, I have to say it’s not a given that they’ll approve it. There are many folk in dire straits at the moment who’ll go under if they don’t get a loan. Some of them with estates far bigger than Rathgarven.’
‘All I can ask is you try.’
‘Ah, I’ll be doing that all right. I’ll put you at the top of my list. Unfortunately, my list is one of many around the country. Now,’ he said, pointing to the tray, ‘are you going to have that cup of tea, or will you let it go cold?’
James picked up the cup and took a long sip. He decided against a biscuit.
‘I’ll get the application off in the afternoon mail,’ Declan said, rustling some papers out for James to sign. When it was all done, he saw James to the door and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I hear a thing. In the meantime, do what you can to hold Donoghue off. Once the word gets around you’ll be having every darn sod you owe a penny to leaping in for their piece.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ said James. ‘Rest assured I’ll heed what you say.’
Declan cleared his throat. ‘And the other payments …?’ he paused. ‘You still want to keep that going?’
James sighed. ‘Let’s talk about it after we hear about the loan.’
As he drove back to Rathgarven along the narrow road that twisted through the woods beside the Kenmare River, the waves rolling in from the Atlantic pounding against the rocky shore, James wondered what he would do if Declan didn’t come good with the loan. Apart from everything else it would break his mother’s heart if he lost the family home. He could remember so well the last time her heart was broken. His younger brother Dermot had caused it to break. And in a way it had never really mended.
His family home stood tall and proud in the late-afternoon sunshine as he swung the car in through the gates, and James felt more anguish than he thought possible. He knew Declan well enough to realise there was a definite question as to whether he could get him out of the pickle he was in.
CHAPTER
3
Lillie put the phone down and went to find her mother. She knew she was in the kitchen getting ready for tonight’s dinner with Lord and Lady Fitzpatrick, who owned Drominderry House on a large estate ten miles away. Lillie really liked Lady Fitzpatrick with her mass of steel-wool hair and jolly laugh. She always dressed as though she’d just come in from working in the bogs. She wasn’t so sure about Lord Fitzpatrick, who had a flushed, pillowy face and dreadful teeth. But as he always brought boxes of chocolates for her and her brothers she pretended she liked him.
In the kitchen her mother was at the sink chopping up potatoes. ‘Have you decided whether I can go to the dance at Kingdom Hall tomorrow, Ma?’ she asked. ‘Sheelagh just rang. She’s going.’
‘She may well be,’ Kathleen said, turning around and scraping the potato peels into the bin for the chickens. ‘However, your father and I have decided you’re far too young to be going to dances.’
‘Ma! I’m fourteen. The same age as Sheelagh.’
‘I’m quite aware of that,’ Kathleen said, picking up a carrot to peel. ‘Now if you don’t mind I’ve a lot to do to get ready for tonight’s dinner. Maisie’s laying the table. I said I’d finish up here. And Uncle Finn will be arriving shortly. So as far as I’m concerned that’s the end of the matter.’
‘But Ronan’s going.’
‘Ronan will be seventeen in a few months.’ Kathleen wiped her hands on her apron and stood with her hands on her hips. ‘Now off you go and finish getting your room ready for Clara’s arrival. Last time I glanced in there it looked like a jumble sale.’
Lillie shook her head and flounced out of the kitchen. It wasn’t fair. She really wanted to go to that dance. In the hallway she passed the photograph of her mother in a sapphire-blue ball gown with her hair up in a chignon. Lillie knew it had been taken in Calcutta, and normally she liked it, but right now she wanted to take to it with the scissors.
‘So what will I tell Seamus Flaherty if he’s there?’ Sheelagh asked, when the exchange put Lillie through from their new phone on the landing. ‘If you’re not allowed to go.’
Seamus was a boy Lillie had fancied for ages. Just last week at the end of the school term there had only been one spare seat on the bus from Cork, which happened to be next to Lillie. Normally Sheelagh sat with her, but her father had picked her up the day before.
Heaving his bag and tennis racquet up into the luggage rack, Seamus had sat down and flicked his ginger hair back off his forehead. Normally Lillie wasn’t so keen on gingerish hair, though on this boy it looked kind of cute.
‘Hope you don’t mind me sitting here?’ he asked, eyeing her from behind lashes as thick as hollyhocks. ‘Never seen the bus so crowded.’
‘No, of course not,’ Lillie said, moving over to give him more room.
‘I’m Seamus,’ he said. ‘Seamus Flaherty.’
‘Lillie. Lillie O’Sullivan.’
After Lillie got over her shyness at having him sitting next to her, they chatted companionably. He told her how he lived on a dairy farm out towards Castlecove. He was one of five children, four boys and a girl. He was the eldest and had won a scholarship to Glenstal Abbey at the beginning of high school. He hoped to be a writer.
‘Like Brendan Behan?’ Lillie asked, as the bus rounded a steep corner.
‘Something like that.’
‘He’s a real hellraiser!’
He laughed and Lillie thought it was a lovely, fun laugh. ‘But he’s a darn good writer. I’d give a quid to be able to write like him.’
‘I’ve never read anything of his. My brother Ronan has. He read The Borstal Boy. He said it was really out there.’
‘It’s that all right.’
When the bus had chugged down the steep winding road and pulled into Sneem, he grabbed his bag and tennis racquet and handed Lillie her own bag.
‘Thanks a lot,’ she said, sad they were going their separate ways.
He paused and threw her a smile. ‘You going to the dance at Kingdom Hall on Saturday?’
Lillie felt herself blush. ‘I’d have to ask my parents if I can.’
‘Well, if they’ll let you go, I’ll see you there. Otherwise I might catch you around sometime.’
‘Yeah. You may well do that,’ Lillie said.
And, as Lillie watched him jump down from the bus in front of her, she felt her heart race. Did it mean he fancied her? Or was he only being friendly?
Now she was unlikely to find out. ‘Tell him I’m not allowed to go,’ she said to Sheelagh down the phone. ‘My parents think I’m too young.’
‘You’re the same age as me.’
‘That’s what I said.’
Ma called up the stairs. ‘Lillie … come on down. Uncle Finn’s driven in.’
‘I’ve gotta go,’ she said to Sheelagh. ‘Uncle Finn’s arrived.’
She hung up and looked out of the window. Uncle Finn stood by his car, which he must have hired in Dublin, wearing beige trousers, a checked shirt and a sports coat. Instead of a tie like Dad always wore, he was wearing a cravat. He was talking to Freddie, who was holding his pet tortoise, Mandrake. Much as she loved Uncle Finn, she felt so cross with her parents she didn’t feel like being sociable. But if she didn’t go down she’d get into trouble.
‘Gees, look at you,’ Fi
nn chuckled, his eyes crinkling in his bronzed face on seeing her step out of the front door. ‘You get more like your lovely mother every time I see you.’
‘You think so,’ Lillie said, moving forward to receive his kiss on her cheek. Despite how miserable she felt she was chuffed he hadn’t seemed to notice she’d put on weight. ‘It’s wonderful to see you, Uncle Finn.’
Finn sighed happily. ‘And it’s great to be here breathing in this fresh Kerry air with a whiff of the mighty Atlantic.’
Although Lillie thought you wouldn’t call him fat, Uncle Finn was solidly built. His warm blue-grey eyes twinkled in fun above a slightly Roman nose and his mouth looked as though it was always about to break into a smile. He talked with a mixture of an Irish and — Lillie presumed — an Australian accent. His mop of coffeecoloured hair had definitely got more grey in it since Lillie had last seen him.
At that moment Marcus and Hugh, the Fitzpatricks’ grandson, scampered down from their perch in the oak tree where they had been playing with their bows and arrows and rushed across the lawn, almost knocking Lillie flying in the rush.
‘Are you staying long, Uncle Finn?’ Marcus asked. ‘I’ll take you out and show you where the best salmon are biting if you like.’ He grinned, showing a gap in his front teeth. ‘I caught a huge one off the point yesterday. Maisie said it was the biggest she’d seen in ages. We had it for supper …’
‘Stop skiting,’ Lillie broke in. ‘You’re always doing that.’
Finn chortled. ‘Crikey, if he caught the biggest salmon Maisie’s seen in a heck of a long time he’s allowed to skite. And, as a matter of fact, I plan on spending every moment I’ve got on that glorious stretch of water. And with you lot on holidays, no doubt I’ll have plenty of company. Now.’ He rummaged around on the back seat of the car and drew out a stuffed toy kangaroo and a wooden boomerang. He handed the kangaroo to Freddie and the boomerang to Marcus.
‘Sorry, young man,’ he said to Hugh, ruffling his hair. ‘I didn’t know you’d be here.’ He then took the boomerang from Marcus and showed them how to throw it so that it came back.
The Homestead on the River Page 3