by Paula Clamp
All the way back to the Airbnb, Ellie tried to guess who would meet up under the tree at this time of the morning and why. By the time she had got back at around ten, Ellie still had no answers.
Ena was vacuuming the debris from the previous night's impromptu party, but when she saw Ellie enter the room, she swiftly switched the vacuum off, careful not to break a nail.
"There you are."
"Hi, Ena. Where's everyone else?"
"Our Ronan's gone over to Cormac and Frankie’s to help count the donations from last night. Soupy's gone for the papers."
Ellie was disappointed that Ronan wasn't there.
"You've a visitor up in your room." Ena didn't look too impressed, "I told him to come back later, but he’s a determined bugger, I’ll give him that. I sent him up to wait."
With this news, Ellie entirely forgot her plan to tell Ena that she was checking out early, and instead she raced up to her room. She paused outside of her bedroom door. Someone had returned the books that she had so hurriedly abandoned in the living room and left them outside her door. Lifting the books, Ellie then nervously opened her bedroom door and discovered Conor sat on the edge of her bed. He hadn't heard her come in and was sat motionless, staring down at a piece of paper in his hands. The room was exactly as she’d left it. Even the imprint of her stretched-out body was visible in the sheets. Immediately, Ellie could see that Conor's eye was still heavily swollen from his fight the previous night with Ronan. When she placed the books onto the dresser, Conor instantly stood up and faced her directly. For a brief moment, neither had anything to say, but then Ellie was overcome with the need to defend her territory after last night's disagreement.
"If you want a rematch, Conor, I'm not in the mood…"
"I'm sorry." He quickly, but quietly interjected, "Ellie. I don’t know what came over me. I didn't mean a word of what I said last night." His thin face appeared gaunter than when she had last seen him, but the kindness in his wide eyes hadn't changed, “I was…tired I guess."
"Yeah, tired of me."
"Ellie, I could never tire of you," Conor awkwardly locked his long arms around his back, "I was out of order and I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep all night until I'd told you."
"Well…" Ellie searched for something appropriate to say, but nothing came. The memory of him holding her hand at the big house still troubled her, "Do you know what I do when I can't sleep?" She gently added.
He almost smiled, "You work in an abattoir too?"
Instantly, Ellie was transported back in time to the bus ride yesterday, when Lusty was just a place on a ticket and Conor was just a good-humoured Irish boy making small talk.
"So, you forgive me?" He tentatively held out his hand for hers.
"Do you forgive me?" They shook hands and Ellie didn't want to let go, "I've given up on my search - it was going nowhere. I’ve decided to take an earlier flight home and get the bus this afternoon."
Conor was motionless. He didn’t look up, "Which bus are you getting?" He asked, finally raising his head and breaking his hitherto unflinching expression into the kindly one that Ellie knew she was going to miss.
Ellie looked at her watch, but she wasn't reading the time. She was enjoying the feeling of knowing Conor was now staring at her, as if he was absorbing her somehow, "The one that picks up at five."
"Okay." Conor nodded.
Just as when she had first entered the room, there was another moment of silence, but for Ellie this time it was painful, rather than awkward. When Conor then turned to leave, Ellie saw what he had been holding in his hand; it was a photograph.
Conor read her puzzled expression, "I almost forgot - this was for you. But I don't suppose you'll be interested now. I found it amongst some old boxes I was clearing out. I thought it might be useful for your…search."
Ellie held the tiny black and white photograph and was instantly drawn to the central image - her friend, the Liberty Tree. She had got used to thinking of the old tree as something majestic, but slowly decaying. But the tree in the photograph was something entirely different; there was no need for metal rods to support the trunk when this image was frozen for eternity. The tree looked magnificent and even with the faded sepia, its richness and strength shone through. Leaning against the trunk, as if attempting to topple the old oak, were three figures. The youngest, a toddler, was dressed in a gaudy sweater, with a pattern more akin to some sort of optical illusion. The sweater was far too short for his long arms. There was no denying that this boy just had to be Conor. The figure beside him was also familiar. This man, in his late thirties, wore a tight-fitting, formal suit that was single-breasted, with narrow lapels and a thin tie. His long hair was slicked back. The man's body frame was muscular and strong and in no way did he resemble any aspect of the boy with him. The third figure was an elderly man in his late-seventies. He was standing between the other two, with his arms tightly wrapped around both of them. It was obvious that he too had once been muscular and handsome, even with his over-sized overcoat and explosion of pure white hair.
"The Sullivan clan - three generations. Me, my Da – Bernard, and my Grandda – Davy." Conor pointed at the image, just in case Ellie wasn't sure who he was talking about.
"It's wonderful. When was it taken?"
Conor read the back, "September 2005, a few months before my Da died. He always dressed like he was in a sixties time-warp."
Ellie couldn't resist trying to slot the date into all the other dates that she had built up whilst she'd been here. This photograph had been taken just three months before the date on Bernard Sullivan's gravestone and six months before Davy Sullivan’s. It was also only taken shortly before the article she had read in the National Geographic and 'the problems faced by the plight of the Liberty Tree and…of those unfortunate people'.
"You can keep it, if you want," Conor looked anxious to get going, "It might remind you of your visit here."
"Are you sure?"
"Aye, I'm sure." He smiled properly for the first time since he’d arrived, "And what are your plans until your bus comes?"
"After last night, I want to cause the minimal amount of trouble as possible. Did you hear that the boy, Bap, is going to be okay?"
"Aye, Ena filled me in." Conor opened the bedroom door.
Ellie stood beside him, "Ronan got away with just a few scratches."
"Ah, good, I'll be able to sleep much better now." Conor replied sarcastically, before stepping out onto the landing.
"What about you, Conor, what are you going to do?" Ellie was reluctant to let him go.
Conor stared at her through the doorframe, as if weighing up a grave decision.
"What are you going to do today?" Ellie helped clarify her question.
"Oh, I see – well, it’s this bazaar thing all day. I checked the weather forecast and it doesn't look good, so I reckon I'm going to need to get a stack of tarpaulin from somewhere… and then I want to get the field cleared of any old farm machinery… You wish you hadn't asked now don't you?"
Ellie laughed, “You could always play Call of Duty, like most boys your age.”
"There’s a thought.” Conor stood motionless, as if frozen by the mammoth task ahead, “I'd better go." He began to descend the stairs, "Will you get a chance to come to the bazaar?"
"Try stopping me." Ellie shouted after him.
"And you will come and see me before you go?"
"Of course..."
Ellie wanted to say more, but Conor had already left.
Chapter 41
With Conor gone and her bus not until the afternoon, Ellie was at a loose end. Even though she had given up on her search, she somehow found herself sitting in her room, sifting through Father Daly's books. Stretching out on the unmade bed, she randomly flicked through the indices. With so little sleep, her heavy eyelids eventually blurred the footnotes and then the chapter headings and then, finally, the pages.
Ellie was woken by the sound of the wind rattling her window frame.
She must have fallen asleep for over an hour and it was now nearly eleven. Checking her appearance in the bathroom mirror, she realised how much serious neglect she’d given herself since she’d arrived. Ellie threw off her jeans, vest-top and cardigan and went to have a quick shower. The shower spluttered and coughed out fast jets of boiling water; making her face and chest red with the heat and the rest of her still freezing cold. Opening the window to let out the steam, the outside temperature and taken a huge dive compared to the day before. With her face still glowing, Ellie quickly dressed into the only other clothes that were still clean and would provide some warmth - a pair of fawn combats, the vest-top she had been wearing earlier and her Afghan coat. On her feet, she pulled on her Doc Martins. From the moment she had arrived in Lusty, Ellie’s hair had rebelled fiercely against any of the controls she usually attempted, so she gave up entirely and just let it fall loose on her shoulders.
Everything else that she had brought with her, Ellie now casually threw back into her rucksack. In a matter of minutes, that was all her packing done.
All that remained as evidence that Ellie had stayed in the room at all, were the pile of books belonging to Father Daly. Returning the books to the old priest was something that Ellie had been dreading, but considering that her schedule for the rest of the morning was blank, Ellie decided to get it over and done with as soon as possible.
Back downstairs, Ellie was disappointed to find the Airbnb empty. There was still no Ronan and she hadn't had a proper breakfast.
Ellie closed the front door behind her. A gust of dry wind hurtled past, causing her to almost drop the heavy books that she was carrying. She could almost visualise the journey of the gust, as it swept across the road, taking small stones and twigs with it, before being engulfed by the forest.
Nearing the chapel, Ellie could hear a babble of voices coming from the field behind. Nearer still, the wind carried the voices and they became louder and she could also now hear and see multi-coloured flags getting battered in the wind.
Ellie knocked at the front door of the parochial house for a good few minutes, only to be told by a man carrying a large root vegetable, that he thought he'd heard the old priest in the chapel. Ellie had dreaded having to visit the chapel, especially on a Sunday and she stubbornly knocked at the door to the parochial for a further minute, in the hope that the passer-by was wrong.
There was still no answer.
Considering that it was the largest and most impressive building in the village, the chapel, and also the bordered up cottage, were the only noticeable buildings in the heart of Lusty that Ellie had yet to set foot in. As she looked up at the chapel's blackened walls, she was very tempted to take the left path to Doherty's Bar and Lounge but, instead, she forced herself to take the far less worn path on the right.
The huge, heavy mahogany front door was wide open and creaked in the gathering wind. On a small table, just before a glass door leading to the interior of the chapel, there was a display of parish pamphlets. Even though they were neatly piled, the faded yellow of the paper and the out-of-date style of the people photographed on the covers, suggested that this latest edition was several years old. The glass door was highly polished, with only a few tiny fingerprint marks at toddler height. Ellie caught sight of her own reflection. The red glow from the shower earlier had given in to pale white.
When Ellie, finally, entered the chapel interior, it was like walking into a tunnel. The pews either side of her were blanketed in darkness and ahead was a shaft of light, which she initially thought must be coming through a stain-glass window image of the Virgin Mary on the far wall. But tentatively, stealing through the tunnel, Ellie soon discovered that the light source was simply a sixty-watt bulb. The gold light gilded a plain, wooden alter and also a marble pillar, which was adorned with the purple, drooping flower of foxglove. The heavy smell of incense dominated and extinguished any traces left of the Imperial Leather soap from Ellie's shower in the Airbnb.
The chapel appeared to be empty. Relieved, Ellie opted to leave the books with a note at the altar. She scribbled a brief, 'thank you', on the back of one of the Post-its and stuck it on the cover of the top book. As she turned back to face the aisle and the exit, Ellie realised that her eyes had already adjusted to the diminished light. The walls of the tunnel had widened to take in the heavy-wooden pews and well-worn footrests. To her right, Ellie could also now make out a rich mahogany box decorated with a carved cross - the confessional box. At its top was a thick, dominating crucifix. The chocolate-brown image of Jesus was somehow inviting her in, seducing her with his heady timber breath.
Furtively, Ellie stepped over to the box, checking all around her for the priest. Still there was no one present. Before she knew it, she was seated inside. Instantly, Ellie was swamped with a distinct, thick scent that she could imagine young children guessing was the actual smell of God. Now the walls around her appeared lacquered and gave off a watery glow. She slumped down with her hands tucked between her knees, as if she too were a young child again.
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned." She took a breath. Closing her eyes, she deeply sucked in the aroma, that smell of God, "I've been guilty of entering the parochial house uninvited. I’ve kissed a boy, who I hardly know…and enjoyed it far too much…” She now exhaled, mixing her own essence with that of the countless others who had done so before her, "I've also read letters that didn't belong to me."
"Three Our Fathers, six Hail Mary's..." A rich, barely audible voice gently whispered back through the grill.
Ellie's heart-rate plummeted.
"Father?" Ellie eyes were now wide open and her mouth clenched tight in horror. She held her face close to the partition, but could see nothing other than a dark silhouette of a face, with the head tilted down. She could only barely hear deep, slow breaths.
"And a good act of Contrition." The voice added.
"Father, how long have you been there?" She shoved her fingers through the grill that divided both sides of the confessional box.
His words had trailed away.
Ellie dug her fingers further into the latticework. There was silence.
Moments later, the crackle of a tannoy in the field behind the chapel filled the void and after a few deafening screeches, Paddy's familiar, cheerful voice came booming into the confession box.
"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I'll be your compere for today’s Fundraising Bazaar." He waited for applause, but none followed, "But before we kick off the announcements, I've a wee lad hear says he's lost his Mammy. What's your name, son? His name's Ivan, everybody. What's your surname, Ivan? Does anyone here know Ivan Itchybum?"
Despite the noise outside, Ellie could still just about hear the slow, controlled breathing from the other side of the confession box and now felt its rhythm begin to soothe her own rapid gasps for air. Eventually, the two breaths reached each other through the divide, attaining the same, steady level.
"Before I tell you about some of the wonderful prizes you can win on the Rickety-Wheel this morning," Paddy bellowed again, "I want to tell you about the strange folk I've had come into Doherty's 'award winning' Bar and Lounge during the week."
A half-hearted applause followed.
"The other day, I saw this bloke chatting up a cheetah and I said to myself, 'he's trying to pull a fast one.’" A muffled titter followed his punch line, but Paddy clearly wasn't discouraged, “Four fonts walked in the other day and I said 'Oi - get out! We don't want your type in here."
The titter was now more of a groan.
Ellie ran out of the confession box, without looking back and raced down the aisle, which once again had become a dark tunnel. She pushed through the door, leaving behind two sweaty handprints on the glass, at a tall adult's height.
Back outside, in the bleached brightness, the gathering wind carried the sound of the tannoy even further and Paddy's familiar voice appeared to circle Ellie before careering down the lane, around the curve and out towards the bus stop and the
main road out of Lusty.
"A priest, a rabbi and a vicar walked into the bar and I asked, 'Is this some kind of joke?’"
Chapter 42
Luckily for Rosie, who was the designated back-up entertainer, Mrs Burke's legs had made a miraculous recovery and she looked to be more than up to taking her salsa class. Could this be just the distraction that Ellie needed whilst she attempted to recover from her mortifying visit to the chapel? What a complete and utter fool she had just made of herself. The sooner Ellie was heading back home, the better for everyone.
The bazaar was in full swing by the time Ellie arrived. In the middle of Sullivan's field, there was a roped off circle and Mrs Burke was trying to form dancing partners with a group of reluctant volunteers. In total, there were eight women, all in their late fifties, plus one hugely embarrassed schoolboy. There was a momentary tussle for the boy, before Mrs Burke regained control and suggested he would be her partner, 'for illustrative purposes'. Ellie watched, still catching her breath, as Mrs Burke explained the first few steps before, without warning, a Latin rhythm galloped out of the PA system and startled everyone there.
The dance students shuffled along at various speeds, to whatever beat was playing in their heads, stopping every now and then to realign themselves to the music. Mrs Burke was well into her sixties and was dressed in a tight black T-shirt and tight black leggings. Ellie couldn’t help but admire the older woman’s terrific shape and as her hips rotated, the rest of Mrs Burke’s body appeared motionless, like a gyroscope. The other dancers soon began to recognise their relative incompetence, eventually, giving up on their clumsy steps and simply admiring their teacher. Mrs Burke’s eyes were now closed and she was fully absorbed in the rhythm of the music. Her schoolboy partner also gave up, seizing the opportunity to escape. Only when Paddy bounced into the arena, was Mrs Burke’s spell finally broken.