‘Why would I think that?’
‘Because it’s so darn obvious that you fancy him.’
‘What’s the point of fancying anyone in Ireland? As you say, the whole place is on the move. Whether they like it or not.’
And with that she burst into tears and hung up the phone.
* * *
In a way Lillie wished they had to leave the next day; however, it turned out Mister Donoghue had given the family a month to vacate Rathgarven. Each day she woke up and saw the river and the mountains, and each day Merlin and the other horses in the meadow seemed sadder than the last. Hopefully if she wasn’t here any more she might feel better. The worst thing of all was watching her parents and Grandma going on as though life was normal. No matter how much Grandma was hurting, she never said a bad word against her son. Yet she must know what he had done. If Lillie felt so sad about leaving Rathgarven, she couldn’t begin to imagine how sad Grandma must be.
When Lillie sought her out under the oak tree where she was sitting with her knitting on her knee, all she said was: ‘Australia. Now that’s a country I’ve always wanted to see. You’re a lucky girl, Lillie O’Sullivan.’
‘Well, why don’t you come with us?’
‘Because, my darling, I’m far too old. Besides, Ireland is my home. And I know you lot will be back before I can say Jack Sparrow.’
She had picked up her knitting needles and started to knit busily. It wasn’t long before tears dropped onto the cable-knit jumper she was making for Freddie.
Lillie put her head on Grandma’s shoulder and let her pat her, as she’d done ever since Lillie was a little girl.
‘There, there,’ Alice said. ‘We’re a couple of silly, sentimental old fuddy duddies, aren’t we? Now, why don’t you go and get us a nice cup of tea and some of the wonderful chocolate cake I smelt coming from Maisie’s kitchen a little while ago. It should still be warm with the icing melting, just as I like it.’
After she brought out their afternoon tea, Lillie thought how much Grandma would miss this house. She wondered about the awful time in the Civil War when the original house was destroyed. She had never really asked Grandma about it, but now that they were going to lose Rathgarven again, she wanted to know more.
‘Tell me about the fire that burnt the old house down,’ she asked, throwing her grandmother a small smile. ‘It must’ve been so scary for you.’
‘Indeed it was,’ Alice said, putting down her teacup. ‘Would you really like me to tell you?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Well, I was hiding with the boys in a disused wine cellar under the garage when I first heard the soldiers coming. We’d been warned and had taken some of the valuables from the house, including some of the paintings, in there with us. Unfortunately, we’d no time to escape. First of all we heard the sound of horses’ hoofs, then the stealthy footsteps, the crash of glass and then the crackling of a fire.’
Lillie shook her head, imagining the terror her father, uncle and grandmother must have felt.
‘Your grandfather, you see, wasn’t with us. He was a newly appointed senator in Dublin — negotiating a peace treaty with England, which De Valera refused to accept. Part of the policy of his anti-treaty forces was the destruction of any of the “big houses” of the newly appointed senators they could lay their hands on. Unluckily, Rathgarven was regarded as one.’
‘So it was just because Grandpa was a senator?’
‘Well, ultimately it turned out to be a mistake.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘As you know, many of the families around the Sneem and Ken-mare area are O’Sullivans. And Catholics like us. It would seem that when one of the anti-treaty men realised it was Rathgarven to be burnt down, he sent an emissary, a messenger that is, to try and stop it. He was too late. The fire had taken hold.’
‘How awful. But how on earth did you get out?’
‘We waited until the morning, well after the last sound of horses’ hoofs went down the avenue and the flames had died down. I crept out of the garage, leaving the boys in the cellar below. Straightening myself up, I heard a crunch of gravel. As you can imagine, my heart nearly stopped. I turned around and saw a soldier, gun raised. In that instant I thought I was dead. Then do you know, the strangest thing happened. The soldier lowered his gun and walked towards me. When he got closer, he gave me a sad sort of smile and said, “Mrs O’Sullivan?”
‘I stood there dumbfounded before I recognised him. I think it was the colour of his eyes. Like a field on a spring day. I remembered those eyes from when he was a little boy.
‘“Kevin Byrne?” I asked.
‘“Tis that indeed,” he said.
‘You see, he was the son of Moira Byrne, a wonderful member of our staff who’d been with us for many years at Rathgarven. She’d only recently died. He told me how he was the emissary sent to stop the burning. When he realised he was too late he was so devastated he waited behind to make sure there was no more pillaging. And to see what he could do to save anything. He didn’t know we were in the cellar until I crept out and he saw me.’
‘That’s incredible,’ Lillie exclaimed.
‘I’m not sure how he ended up with the anti-treaty forces. That was the sadness of the conflict. Often one brother fought with the pro-treaty forces, another with the anti-treaty forces, each trying to kill the other. Young as the men were, I doubt they knew the significance of it all. And I’ve no doubt some were bullied into their allegiance.’
‘Imagine if that was Ronan, Marcus or Freddie.’
‘Yes,’ Alice said. ‘It was an utter tragedy.’
‘Do you know what happened to the soldier?’
‘I never saw him again after that day when he handed me the chalice he’d saved from the ruins. The one that sits on the mantelpiece in the drawing room. Every time I look at it I think of him. He helped me get the boys out of the cellar and then arranged for us to take shelter in a neighbour’s house until your grandfather came down from Dublin. After that we moved to Dublin until the new house was built. I owe that young man a great deal.’
‘Golly,’ Lillie said. ‘We all do. How old do you think he’d be?’
‘Let me think. What are we now — 1963? Probably in his early sixties. He couldn’t have been any more than late teens then.’
‘I wonder where he is?’ Lillie mused. ‘It’d be fun to know.’
‘Alas, I’ve no idea.’
‘You’d think the Fitzpatricks’ Drominderry House would have been more likely to be burnt. It’s a much bigger house.’
‘And of course they are regarded as Anglo–Irish, their title dating back to King James the First. Rathgarven was very unlucky. As was Derryquin Castle, next to the Parknasilla Hotel.’
This story made Lillie even sadder about losing her family home. Not wanting to let Grandma see her cry, she packed up the tea tray and took it out to the kitchen, where Maisie was getting dinner ready. One look at Maisie and the tears flooded down her cheeks. Before Maisie could see, she rushed outside and went to the stable to get Merlin’s bridle. She saddled him up and went for a long ride up behind Rathgarven to the hill where she loved to gallop. From the top was a wonderful view of the Kenmare River and the Kerry Mountains. Dismounting, she sat on the ground and held Merlin by the reins. Sensing her sadness, the pony nuzzled her face. Although one day she would outgrow Merlin, Lillie couldn’t imagine life without him. She had owned him since she was ten years old and had promised Freddie that he could have him when she became too big.
Now what would become of Merlin?
CHAPTER
8
Kathleen was talking to Maisie in the kitchen when the phone rang. It was the exchange putting through an international call: Jessica, who Kathleen knew was in London.
‘I just wanted to say thank you for having Clara to stay,’ she said down the crackly line. ‘She does love coming to you at Rathgarven.’
‘We adored having her, as always.’
&nb
sp; Kathleen decided to bite the bullet and tell her they were moving to Australia. And that Clara wouldn’t be able to come to Rathgarven any more.
‘You’re what?’ Jessica shouted, making Kathleen hold the phone away from her ear. ‘Moving to Australia? What on earth would possess you to do that? Honestly, my sweet, they’re not far removed from convict days over there. What’s James thinking of?’
Despite the risk of Jessica feeling sorry for her, Kathleen explained how things were so bad on the land in Ireland that they were selling up and moving to Australia. She then told her about Finn’s offer at Eureka Park.
‘He’s going to work for darling Finn?’
‘No, he’s going into partnership with him.’
‘Oh, is he?’ Kathleen heard her clear her throat. ‘Finn came to see me on his way back to Australia. He didn’t say anything about it to me then.’
‘Finn came to London?’
Another long pause. ‘Yes. Maybe he did it on the spur of the moment and didn’t mention it to you. No reason he should really. But tell me, my sweet, what am I supposed to do with Clara during the holidays? If she can’t come to Rathgarven?’
Kathleen shook her head in annoyance. Trust Jessica to think of herself before anyone else. Kathleen was so incensed by her selfishness she said there was someone at the door and she had to go.
‘And besides, Jessica, this call must be costing you a fortune. We’ve already had two extensions.’
‘Really! I didn’t notice. Anyway, my dear girl, you make sure you take care. As I told you, they’re a rough lot out there in the colonies.’ Kathleen heard her sigh loudly down the phone. ‘Surely there must have been an alternative to James dragging you to the other side of the world. All the same, give the darling my love, won’t you? He and Finn are such good friends, aren’t they? I do so hope working together doesn’t spoil that friendship.’
Kathleen wondered about Finn going to see Jessica in London. But then again, she knew Finn would have to fly out of Heathrow. And he was fond of Jessica. So why wouldn’t he see her? But she was so angry that Jessica could only think of what she would do with Clara during the school holidays that when she put the phone down she decided to finally do what she’d been putting off for too long: she would attack the attic.
A short while later she stood in the attic and took a deep breath. It was worse than she remembered. There were old carpet scraps, broken pieces of furniture and standard lamps, plus loads of family memorabilia. There was the wooden rocking horse with the shiny black mane that all the children had ridden and now had a broken leg. There were the china dolls that Lillie had long since discarded, some with eyes missing and others with broken arms and legs. Marcus and Freddie had taken it in turns to disassemble them to see how they worked.
Kathleen looked around. She didn’t know where to start. In a way she supposed it was good that they had this move, for surely it would make her throw out bits and pieces that should have been thrown out years ago.
‘Put it up in the attic,’ had been her answer when anyone asked where something should go. ‘I’ll sort it out later.’
Well, later had now come. James had told her to make two piles: the small amount they could take to Australia, and what was to be thrown out. Donoghue was to give them a pittance for the furniture, which broke Kathleen’s heart, but there was no way they could afford to ship any of it to Australia. She had already marked a few small pieces for Maisie and Paddy and wiped tears away when she looked at the rest, which Donoghue would get. Alice, who held onto the hope the family would return one day and be grateful for some familiar objects, had insisted on the family portraits, paintings and the harp, which had been there since she was a young bride, going into a storage depot in Killarney. A few small things, like the chalice that was saved when Rathgarven was burnt down, would go into a safe deposit box with the bank in Kenmare.
Kathleen was depressed to see the ‘throw-out pile’ growing and growing. But there was no other option, as she threw a fur coat, which had been devoured years ago by a frenzy of moths, onto the pile.
‘I’ve no need for it any more,’ Alice had said, handing it to Kathleen, when she and James had returned from their honeymoon in Tipperary. ‘James’s father gave it to me when we were first married. You’ll look heavenly in it.’
Kathleen had worn that coat so many times, particularly that first winter at Rathgarven when snow had covered the ground and Paddy had to hitch a sled behind the workhorse to clear a path to the front door. She had been devastated when she went to get it out one winter and saw what the moths had done, and refused to throw it away. So into the attic it had gone. Next to the fur coat was a sapphire-blue ball gown Kathleen could remember wearing to a ball at Government House in Calcutta. That too went into the throw-out pile.
She looked at the black and gold money tin, which had ceased to hold money long ago and was now full of treasures she’d saved from her Indian days. There was a paper fan, a colourful bangle, a jewelled hair clip and a pair of earrings. There was also a bundle of papers with a rubber band wrapped around them. It had been years since Kathleen had read those pages, yet she knew the words off by heart. All the same, she pulled the rubber band off and opened the first sheet and held it before her eyes. As she read, tears threatened and she wiped her eyes.
… As I write to you now, I imagine you by the river reading this letter. I can see you lying on the rug we used to lie on under our very own sun — listening to the birds in the trees, the flow of the rapids over the smooth brown rocks, the fish jumping. I can even smell you, my darling. Or is it the aroma of newly mown grass, honeysuckle, and jasmine that brings you so much closer to me?
Kathleen recalled those moments by the river so well. Above all, the day before he was first sent back to Burma. How they had made love for the first time. Gently at first and then with such passion that it took Kathleen’s breath away. It was as if their souls had lifted from their bodies and were flying with the birds high in the sky, singing out their joy and love. Kathleen had never known such happiness could exist.
… Every morning when I awake, I know that it’s a day closer to when I’ll see you again. That’s the only thing that keeps me going. And your photo I have nestled close to my heart.
… I awoke last night, my darling, and saw your face framed within the window, your skin pale against the full moon, your hair dancing in the reflected light. Reaching out to take hold of your hand, I realised you were not there, and an emptiness filled my being like no other I’ve experienced. It was almost worse than when I said goodbye to you and tears rolled down my cheeks.
Stop now, Kathleen told herself. She couldn’t.
… Tonight is a beautiful night. All is peaceful. Despite this I’m full of melancholy.
… Remember, my special one, that no matter where you or I are in this funny world of ours, you are forever in my heart. I’d give anything, my darling, to hold you in my arms and run my hands through your lustrous auburn hair. If only I could hear your laugh … I would settle for that.
She remembered the day he had taken her on his motorbike through the village. How she had photographed the children and laughed with them at their antics. How he had sat a small boy called San-jay on his bike. How he had twirled Kathleen around and kissed her passionately there and then, making the children skip with joy. How they had gone to the river again and made love.
Kathleen placed the pieces of paper down on her lap. Should she burn them? She’d thought of it many times. Surely now was the time to do it. Particularly if she was to make a go of things in Australia. She would take them down to the drawing room fire. No one would be there now. James was out helping Paddy with the cows and the children had gone into Kenmare with Maisie to see a film.
But when she went downstairs and knelt by the fire she couldn’t bring herself to burn those memories. They would go back in the money tin and to the bottom of her steel trunk for Australia.
* * *
A week later Donogh
ue and his family came to Rathgarven to learn the ropes. Kathleen didn’t want anyone here except for James and herself. So she asked Maisie to take Alice and the younger boys along to Parknasilla where the boys could explore the tangled woods and the ruins of Derryquin Castle while Alice had afternoon tea with Lady Fitzpatrick in the hotel’s lovely drawing room overlooking the gardens rolling down to the water. Lillie had gone for a ride on Merlin and Ronan was out in the cove fishing in the rowboat, which they had managed to rescue from where it had got wedged between rocks downriver after his accident. The oars were missing, of course, but luckily Paddy had managed to resurrect another pair from the woodshed.
When Donoghue drove up in his pretentious shiny black Dodge, Kathleen thought of hiding in her darkroom next to the woodshed. But she couldn’t let James go through this on his own. So she put her shoulders back and went to the front door to greet them.
‘Welcome to your new home,’ she said with a tight smile to Donoghue and his wife, who was dressed to the nines in a floaty, full-skirted dress that looked more suited to the social whirl of Dublin than rural County Kerry. Beside them stood their two children, a boy and a girl of about ten and twelve.
‘Thank you, Mrs O’Sullivan,’ Donoghue said, lifting his trilby. ‘It be a sight for sore eyes to be seeing you again.’
It was all Kathleen could do to be civil. ‘Would you care to come to the drawing room?’ she asked standing aside to let them in. ‘Maisie will bring tea.’
‘That’d be grand if we could,’ his wife said. ‘If it not be too much trouble? For it must be terribly sad to be leaving such a place as this.’
Your husband could have prevented it, Kathleen felt like saying, but instead forced a smile. ‘It will be a great wrench after all this time.’
As she served them afternoon tea, their two sulky children stared vacantly out the window at their new country estate, which seemed of little interest to them. Kathleen looked at James’s strained face. To know this family would now be the custodians of Rathgarven would be enough to turn most people’s minds, let alone the mind of the man who’d lost it in a gambling bet.
The Homestead on the River Page 8