‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ Kathleen said, turning to embrace Ronan.
Kathleen glanced around the small airport. Everywhere she looked there were islanders clinging to the wire fence, calling out and waving to the arriving passengers. Little children clung to their mothers’ hems or were cradled in their arms. The women’s bare breasts gleamed in the sunshine, as did their colourful skirts. Many of the men had painted faces and some even carried spears. There was the smell of heat, dust, human sweat and smoke in the air.
‘It reminds me so much of India,’ she said. ‘Even the smells are the same. I can’t wait to see the village where the guesthouse is. And where you teach, Clara. Ronan told me it’s such a pretty spot.’
‘Oh, it is, Aunt Kathleen,’ Clara laughed. ‘The most perfect spot in the world. That’s why we wanted to get married there.’
‘You’ve got a lovely room overlooking the lagoon, Ma. It’s the best, isn’t it, Clara?’
‘How lovely,’ Kathleen said. ‘Thank you.’
Soon they were in the Land Rover, which Ronan told Kathleen he often used to collect guests, some arriving from as far away as Scotland.
‘It’s amazing meeting so many different nationalities,’ he told her as they drove through thick bush interspersed with small, neat villages. ‘They come to listen to the islanders’ sing sings, fish in the lagoon and the ocean and explore the caves. Most of all they come to buy the ebony carvings the islanders are so famous for. We get a number of Germans and of course lots of Aussie expats living up here as well.’ He laughed. ‘They sure can drink.’
When they drove into the village Kathleen could see why Clara had been so taken with it. Ronan too. It was delightful. As she stood by the Land Rover taking it all in, it was as if she was back in Calcutta with the aroma of the villagers’ cooking on open fires, the women squatting on the ground peeling vegetables, their little ones close by; stray dogs scavenged for scraps, baby goats bleated and the birds and bats in the poinciana and flame trees created their own cacophony. The familiar sight of frangipani, bougainvillea and the sweet perfume of jasmine made her feel nostalgic. Not only for Calcutta, but also for Dermot, who would have loved this place so much. She thought of the lifestyle Clara would have had at Drominderry House if she had married Charles Fitzpatrick. It was like comparing the Shelbourne Hotel to one of these village houses. There could be no comparison at all. Seeing the joy on Clara’s face, it was clear that life here on Kiriwina with Ronan and her schoolchildren was the life that suited her best.
The guesthouse was delightful too. With its sac-sac palm roof, deep verandah and rambling garden a riot of colour rolling down to the lagoon, it was no wonder it was popular with guests. She wondered how they ever left. And Ronan was right — her room was in the very best spot with a beautiful view to the lagoon and across to the yam fields on the other side. It was furnished with rattan pieces and colourful rugs on the floor. The bed beneath a billowing mosquito net would prove to be one of the most comfortable Kathleen had ever slept in.
‘Oh, Ronan,’ she said, as she stood with him on the verandah the next day, watching a group of children playing with a cockatoo nearby, ‘I can see why you’re so happy here, darling.’
Ronan put his arm around her. ‘I’m very lucky. And very glad you’re here with us.’
* * *
The village chief was decked out in his traditional regalia, his face painted in vibrant colours, his proud head adorned with magnificent feathers, his neck and arms bearing shell necklaces and bangles as he walked Clara along the path to where a makeshift altar, covered in a splendid mass of flowers, had been set up. Behind it stood the missionary priest, ready to officiate. Clara wore a white sarong, her shimmering blonde hair cascaded down her back and a frangipani was tucked behind her ear. Three of her little schoolchildren in grass skirts, their hair in braids, walked proudly in front of her. She smiled at Ronan, who looked radiantly happy as he waited for her at the altar. Kathleen tilted her white hat to shade her beaming face from the sun and watched them greet each other. She thought of Dermot. How proud he would be of his son. As James would be as well.
Lifting her camera, she took some more photos. She had already taken a heap since she’d arrived on Kiriwina. And some of Clara down by the lagoon before the ceremony. This moment was so special she wanted to make sure the photographs were perfect. Lillie and Seamus hadn’t been able to make the long trip from Rathgarven, as Lillie was pregnant with their second child and her doctor was loath to let her take such a long flight. She would be waiting anxiously for photographs, as would James, Marcus and Freddie when she got home. And Brian and Lorna Medlow, who had been such a comfort to Kathleen ever since Ronan had been injured in Vietnam. Then there were the Hogans, and Father Fogarty, and Arthur — all of them would be keen to see the photographs.
After the ceremony, as they gathered on the verandah of the guesthouse, Clara came up to her.
‘It’s funny,’ she said, ‘despite what Mummy did, I do miss her. She would have loved this, wouldn’t she?’
Kathleen smiled as she thought of Jessica on the verandah of the Tollygunge Club surrounded by a group of admirers. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘She would have been in her element.’
‘She might have complained about India, but I know she loved it. If she’d had a happy marriage maybe she would have stayed there.’
‘You may well be right,’ Kathleen said.
What would have happened if Dermot hadn’t died? Would she still be in India? Although it was wartime when they met, Dermot had loved India as much as Kathleen did. But she was happy with her life the way it was. She loved Eureka Park and was looking forward to the future there with James. Marcus and Freddie were doing well at school and Cosmo was proving to be a great little horse — Tommy Brown had agreed to take him on as well as a couple of others they had decided to hold onto. She had another photographic exhibition coming up, this time in a small gallery in Double Bay in Sydney, which had come about when the owner had seen her photographs in Roger Mann’s gallery in Tamworth.
As she watched Ronan grab hold of Clara and, despite his walking stick, twirl her around and around to the delight of the little children down below, Kathleen laughed out loud. She remembered the letter Dermot had written to her all those years ago. A letter she had not received until after his death.
If only I could hear your laugh … I would settle for that, he had written.
How happy he would be to hear Kathleen laugh with joy for their son and his wife, Clara. The girl he loved so ardently.
EPILOGUE
Kenmare River, 1970
‘Where would you like this to go?’ Lillie asked Maisie as she walked into the drawing room at Rathgarven. It was a sunny but chilly late summer’s day; the leaves of the oak tree outside the window were blowing in the light breeze coming up from the river.
‘Over there on the sideboard will be doing fine. We’ll be covering it up so your grandma can’t be seeing it until she should.’
Lillie placed the birthday cake, which she and Ma had spent ages decorating yesterday, on the sideboard and stood back. ‘I think Grandma will love it. Don’t you?’
‘Ah to be sure now I do. Haven’t the two of you been doing a grand job.’
‘It’s going to be such a lovely day for her, isn’t it? The only pity being Ronan and Clara aren’t here.’
‘Yes, it is,’ Kathleen said, coming into the room and carrying a vase of wildflowers for the table. ‘But they’ll be here in spirit.’
She was wearing a blue cashmere sweater, linen slacks and had her hair in a French roll. Lillie was amazed at how quickly Ma had seemed to fall back into the way of life at Rathgarven and the way of dressing. It was as if she felt Grandma, and possibly even Maisie, would disapprove of her wearing jeans and an open-necked shirt as she mostly did at Eureka Park. Even Dad, who had left the running of Eureka Park in Arthur’s hands for the three weeks they were to be away, appeared to take on a different per
sona here, becoming more of the country gentleman, whereas in Australia he seemed to be one of the stablehands rather than the squire. Lillie was pleased that when they had lost Rathgarven to Donoghue in 1963, Dad and Ma had invented the lie of selling to him. It made it so much easier. Not only for Lillie and Seamus, but also for Ma, Dad and Grandma to return here.
When Lillie had asked Ma how she felt about being back at Rathgarven she had smiled. ‘It’s wonderful to be here, darling, and to see the old place. But Eureka Park’s our home now.’ She leant forward and used the poker to push a piece of wood back into the roaring fire. ‘And I must say you’ve done her proud. We’ll be forever grateful to Seamus for buying her back. As is Alice.’
When she first came down from Dublin to stay, Seamus had just received an offer from a publisher for The Chalice, and Alice had said to him, ‘Of course it was my advice to you on the plot that got it taken up,’ and laughed. ‘Without my input it might still be languishing in your bottom drawer.’
Now Freddie came bowling into the dining room with Lillie’s dog Bonnie in hot pursuit. ‘What time’s lunch?’ he asked. ‘I’m famished.’
‘Me too,’ Marcus said, following him in with Hugh in tow. ‘We’ve been out in the rowboat. I reckon I’ll catch a heap of salmon this afternoon.’
Lillie smiled. Her brothers were certainly enjoying being at Rathgarven and having Hugh close by at Drominderry House. If Marcus caught any more salmon Lillie and Seamus would have to buy another freezer. She wondered how Ronan’s fishing was going on Kiriwina. She knew how much he loved fishing on the Kenmare River. And in the river at Eureka Park. But she also knew how much he loved the lagoon opening to the wide, open sea where he was now.
She grinned at Marcus, who had grown a good five inches taller than her. ‘I reckon you’re nearly as good a fisherman as Ronan now. You might even be better.’
‘I was always better,’ Marcus said.
‘You were not,’ threw in Freddie, who was also taller than Lillie by quite a few inches.
Lillie smiled. Some things would never change.
In the conservatory yesterday evening Lillie and her mother had looked through Ronan and Clara’s wedding photos.
‘They do seem so happy, don’t they?’ Lillie said. ‘And I must say Kiriwina looks divine. I’m so glad they’ve negotiated to buy the guesthouse. And that Ronan’s building a house for them down by the lagoon.’ She had glanced out of the window to the river where a strong wind was whipping up the water. Beyond the river, the mountains rolled into the distance amidst the clouds. ‘I could do with some of that warmth,’ she shivered. ‘Even on a summer’s day it’s freezing, isn’t it?’
‘But that’s the beauty of Kerry. It might be freezing one day, glorious the next.’
And Ma had been right. For today, Grandma’s birthday, although it was cold it was as clear as a bell. It was as if Grandma had put in a special order, which had been met with merriment from above.
‘Charles is coming for Hugh shortly and lunch will be at one,’ she said to Marcus and Freddie. ‘In the meantime do you mind occupying Gemma? Dad’s looking after her in the drawing room. No doubt he wants relieving so he can finish reading the Irish Times. He’s loving catching up on the local news.’
‘Where’s Seamus?’ Kathleen asked. ‘I haven’t seen him this morning.’
‘He’s down with Paddy. One of the stags got its horn caught in a gorse bush.’ Lillie was amazed how Seamus had taken to farming. And how much he loved those deer. Although she missed Ronan, she was grateful that his advice to breed deer at Rathgarven had paid off. They now had quite a herd, and a young man from Sneem helped Seamus look after the animals. Together with Seamus’s writing and Lillie’s part-time teaching at the primary school in Kenmare while she finished her degree, they had a good income and were managing so well financially that they were able to put in a new central heating system and upgrade the wiring and plumbing. In fact, Rathgarven was now so warm during the winter that Grandma had once complained that it was too hot.
‘Honestly, Lillie, we’ll all be roasted like chestnuts if you don’t turn it down.’
* * *
An hour later the family gathered around the table with Grandma seated in the middle and Gemma in her high chair between Lillie and Seamus. First of all Maisie brought out a silver platter with a huge salmon Marcus and Hugh had caught, surrounded by potatoes and greens from the walled garden. And when that was all gone, Lillie went over to the sideboard and uncovered the cake and lit the nine candles representing each decade of her grandmother’s life.
‘What a glorious cake,’ Alice said, when Lillie put it in front of her. She clapped her hands in delight at the miniature gold chalice in front of a miniature Rathgarven on top of the cake. ‘You really are very naughty to go to all this trouble for an ancient old bird like me.’
‘Not at all,’ James said, standing up to give a toast. ‘Happy birthday, Mother. You’ve been a wonderful example to us all. And hugely loved by us all as well.’
‘Hear hear,’ reverberated around the table.
‘And,’ Lillie added, ‘to the best grandma and great-grandma in the world.’
‘Thank you, darling,’ Alice said. She glanced up at the portrait of her late husband, Eoghan, hanging above the fireplace where a turf fire was burning in the grate. ‘We should also remember those who are no longer with us, yet are thankfully here in spirit. Particularly,’ she added, looking at James and Kathleen, ‘Dermot. Who has left us so much to remember him by, including our darling Ronan.’
No sooner had she said that than Maisie came in and handed her a telegram that had just arrived.
Lillie opened it and nearly jumped out of her skin. Happy Birthday, Grandma. We wish we were with you. Great news. Clara and I are having a baby. Due in six months. All my love, Ronan.
‘You’ll never guess!’ she exclaimed in delight, looking around the table.
‘Guess what?’ Freddie asked, staring at the telegram in her hand.
‘Ronan and Clara are going to have a baby.’
Lillie went over to her parents. ‘Isn’t that wonderful?’ she said, giving them each a kiss. Their smiles and the smile on Grandma’s face made Lillie think that there could be no better birthday present for Grandma. Or anything that could give the whole family more happiness.
Her father put down his pipe and lifted his glass again. ‘To Ronan and Clara,’ he said, beaming from ear to ear. ‘And the new little O’Sullivan on its way.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Seamus declared, leaning over a beaming Gemma to give Lillie a kiss and a hug. ‘And to the new wee Flaherty on its way.’ Seamus took her hand in his and looked around the table. ‘’Twas a mighty grand day when I married into this fine O’Sullivan family.’
How lucky I am to have married such a man, Lillie thought. And to be sitting here at Rathgarven with my family. Even though Ronan isn’t here, I couldn’t be happier for him and Clara and their imminent baby.
She lifted Seamus’s hand to her lips. ‘And ’twas a mighty fine day when I sat next to a budding Brendan Behan on the school bus all those years ago.’
‘It was indeed,’ Seamus said with a wink, as the rest of the family burst into laughter.
Lillie caught Ma’s eye. Although her hair was now greyer, and there were deep wrinkles around her hazel eyes, she still looked very beautiful. Her gaze then rested on her father, who was filling his pipe with tobacco. Behind him the harp Uncle Finn and Rory used to play stood next to the fireplace.
Her parents had trod a long, hard road in the seven years since they had left Rathgarven for Australia. Now, with Ronan and Clara’s news, that road had turned another corner.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Many times I have revisited Ireland, the land of my birth, and where my parents returned to live in their later years. On one of those occasions I took my mother to County Kerry to visit Parknasilla Hotel on the banks of a rocky cove on Kenmare River where she stayed as a teenager in the 1920s. I loved
the area so much that I thought then I would like to write a novel partly set there. Recently I returned to Kerry with my husband, Rob, to refresh my memories and edit this book. From the porch of our small cottage looking across Kenmare River to the Kerry Mountains I found the scenery just as rugged and spectacular as I remembered.
Although this novel is a work of fiction, I have drawn on historic events in my family’s past.
My grandmother Eily was a descendant of the O’Sullivans of Beare and Bantry. Despite having seen her last when I was seven years old there is no doubt that I have inherited her love of writing. And hence I have used the O’Sullivan name for the family in this book. Today in Kerry there are still many O’Sullivans related to the original chief, Eoghan (Owen) O’Sullivan of Dunkerron Castle. Nonetheless, the O’Sullivan family in my novel is entirely fictitious.
Rathgarven and Drominderry House are the work of my imagination, but my family’s ‘big house’ in County Wexford was burnt down in the Irish Civil War of the 1920s and later rebuilt. The 1770s Georgian home on the shores of Lough Derg in Tipperary, where my father, Owen Esmonde, and his family lived during the Civil War as a young boy was spared and still stands. He regaled us with stories of how he and his young brothers hid in the attic as his mother pacified soldiers at the front door. It is where my parents and my siblings, Deborah, Gill, Eugene, Viv and I resided before moving to Australia.
My mother, Eira Mackenzie, lived in India for a time during the last days of the Raj before she married my father and moved to Ireland. Her memories of that time in Calcutta have always intrigued me.
Although Gullumbindy and Eureka Park near Tamworth in the New England area of New South Wales are fictitious I have drawn on my memories of this area from my many visits to my sister, Gill Rosewarne, who lives there. Ever since I was a child my siblings and I have ridden horses, so, of course, they had to play a part in this book.
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