by Paula Clamp
Inadvertently, the neglected land was now slowly being dug over and aerated again and again by eager and willing little helpers. Most of the children only managed to discover one parcel at a time; and some not even that. But the unlucky ones were not disappointed, as when they weren't looking, Conor dropped a tiny parcel into the holes that they had already dug and the children cheered with the discovery. Ellie helped by taking charge of the money.
Whilst Conor continued to sprint across the field, ensuring that no child was left disappointed, Ellie gave out instructions to the next batch of three children and three spades. Much to her own surprise, she was actually beginning to enjoy herself, realising how much of her life was solitary, with her nose stuck in books. Ellie, suddenly, felt that being an 'only' child had become a statement for her life and now with her father suffering from a depression, not that dissimilar to her mother’s, she was beginning to see that 'only' and 'lonely' made very sad bedfellows.
Ellie smiled as she watched Conor taking a moment to catch his breath before a massive, gauche leap into action. The children giggled and began to mimic him, which he very much took in his long, gangly stride. He appeared to be showing off and Ellie couldn't help but wish that it wasn’t just for the children’s benefit. Only now did Ellie fully appreciate Conor's undeniable singularity. His incandescence shone through, even in the mud and she so wanted to race over to him and hold him so tightly that he became part of her.
Even though Ellie had given up on her mother’s Irish history and would soon be returning home an unmitigated failure, she felt happy for just being in the company of this kind and thoughtful teenage boy. Sadly, this happiness was about to be abruptly cut short.
Chapter 44
Father Daly was a pulse beat away; dressed in a block of black, except for his white hair and the plastic dog collar.
"Hello there, Ellie. What a great help you are to Conor."
"Thank you, Father.” Ellie’s sense of well-being had evaporated and she could physically feel the paralysis of embarrassment with the memory of all she had disclosed in the chapel.
"The money raised today is all going to Frankie’s trip to America – a life’s dream for that wee fella." The old man gently nodded his head in admiration for all the work that was being done, "So, rest assured my dear, all your good work will be going direct to those who need it. Are you okay, Ellie?" The priest scrunched up his heavily wrinkled eyes.
Ellie nodded.
"Are you tired, maybe?"
Ellie lifted her head, "Maybe." She felt so completely ashamed of herself.
"Were those books any use to you?" He asked gently.
She nodded again.
"Perhaps, Ellie, I could get them back off you before you leave us."
Ellie looked at the old man inquisitively, "But I gave them back to you already - I left them in the chapel a short while ago."
"Oh, did you. Sorry, I was only in the chapel for a minute or two at daybreak. I've been up in the attic of the parochial house." Father Daly pointed upwards and for an instant Ellie was unsure if he was now being metaphoric. "You know how it is, you start looking for something and then you end up finding stuff you didn't know you had."
"You weren't in the chapel - just after eleven this morning?"
The timings didn't make any sense to Ellie.
"No."
Ellie hesitated, but couldn’t ignore the question she just had to ask, "So, you weren't in the confession box today?"
"No, not yet – like I said, I was busy in the attic..."
Ellie dropped the collection tub on the ground and the coins jumped up. If Father Daly wasn't the one to hear her confession, then who was? She was immediately overcome with the urge to run away, in no particular direction, other than away.
"…And I found this…" The priest was holding out a copy of the April 2006 edition of the National Geographic. The magazine fluttered in what felt like the beginning of a storm.
Chapter 45
Over the PA system it was up to Paddy to announce that the north of the island of Ireland was right in the pathway of a hurricane on its way across the Atlantic from Florida, and the advice he’d just heard on the radio was for everyone to get home and stay there. Frantically, trestle tables were being collapsed, flags stripped, rope barriers untied and wound up and children herded. The grey clouds were now being swiftly masked over by low black ones, bulging with the rain that threatened at any minute.
Ellie stood motionless as all around her was swept along by the panic induced by Paddy's announcement. The same panic that raced through her veins as she struggled to solve the question; who had it been in the confession box? Whoever had overheard her, had the potential to really inflict pain. Who would want to do that to her? Only when she took a moment to look out around, did Ellie realise that she was not in fact surrounded by panic, but by organised activity. Just as the locals had been down at the lake, the night previously, everyone slotted into their role; without a need for anyone to bark an order, or to take charge. How could the villagers in Lusty have known what to do in such an unusual circumstance as a hurricane in Northern Ireland? What was clear, however, was that when a potential tragedy struck, they all knew exactly what their contribution was within the grand scheme of things. Ellie was once again on the fringes; the only one without a role, without a duty and without a clue.
She checked her watch and it was gone midday; Ellie had begun to count down the final hours until five o'clock and her bus to the airport. A flock of starlings startled her as they swept across the sky, before roosting in the Sullivan forest of conifers. Like the villagers, even they were efficiently taking their place in the order of things. Ellie could feel the blisters on her palms, from all the digging, begin to throb. Neither her mind, nor her body was equipped for life here. She was the Big English Girl – an outsider, probably in the same way her mother would have been. Ellie was going to spend all her life as an outsider and alone and that was simply that.
The first splashes of rain were sporadic and almost soft. They were cartoon-like; huge dollops that splashed on Ellie's face and trickled downwards. The bone-white clouds of earlier had been replaced with ones that were lead-black. They appeared to be mocking the villagers' frantic efforts with their pitiful downpour. But the mocking was short-lived, as within minutes, the rain came crashing down from the sky in heavy, dense sheets.
"Come on, Ellie, or you'll catch your death." Ronan grabbed hold of Ellie’s hand and began dragging her as he ran.
She was only now aware of the mass exodus from the field and all that remained was a strip of bunting, billowing against the sky, like a flock of geese and a solitary spade that Conor had forgotten, rammed defiantly into the soil.
Ellie and Ronan followed the crowds, running firstly up towards the shelter of the back of the chapel, resting against it for a second to get their breath, before sprinting down the lane that led away from it. In those few, short minutes, the once dry path had become muddy and Ellie slipped on wet stones as she ran. Soon they were both out onto the road, leading to the bank of three cottages. The power of the raindrops raged against Ellie's face and was painful. Whichever way she turned, she appeared to be in its full force. The tips of the Sullivan conifers dipped under the pressure and cracks could be heard, as branches succumbed to the pelting wind.
Within no time, Ellie was soaked right through to her uncoordinated underwear. She could see from Ronan's back, as he continued to lead her that he was just as saturated as she was, with his jeans stuck firmly to his legs. Ahead of them, Ellie also saw Rosie, Frankie and Cormac, all running. Cormac was gallantly trying to shield Rosie with a buckled umbrella. All three then disappeared into Rosie's cottage.
When Ellie and Ronan, eventually, made their way to the Airbnb, Soupy and Ena were already safe inside the living room, with the door closed. Ellie could hear the couple’s astonished 'oohs' and 'aahs', and she guessed they were watching nature's firework display of thunder and lightning outside their
window. Only now that they were stood in the dry of the hall, did Ellie realise what a pitiful state both she and Ronan looked. They were both completely drenched and splattered in mud. Ellie blew a drip from the end of her nose and they both began to laugh. Ronan stroked the dripping long, blonde hair away from his face and his cobalt-blue eyes pierced through. He was so incredibly out of her league. They remained there for a moment, with Ellie's heart pounding, listening as the front door rattled in its frame, along with the sound of a bin lid being swept down the road
“Come here.” The tenderness in Ronan's deep voice was in sharp contrast to the hurricane rattling at the door, "Just close your eyes and think back to our first kiss and how much you enjoyed it.”
"What did you say?"
"Just close your eyes..."
"No, after that…you said 'how much I enjoyed it'."
"It was just a figure of speech." Ronan’s calm tone was barely audible and with the slow beat of his breath brushing against Ellie’s cheek, he added, "Come closer to me."
"It was you, Ronan!"
His words and the pace of the breath had given him away. Ellie was enraged.
"You were listening in the confession box!"
"Ellie, it was only meant to be a joke, but..."
"Funny was it?"
"No."
"And who else thought it was funny?"
"No one - I've spoken to no one.” He looked angry, “Really, Ellie aren't you over-reacting?"
He again whispered this, in the same hushed tone that Ellie recognised from the confession box. Only this time there was also a sinister, angry tinge at the edges, which Ellie knew she’d heard somewhere else before. Overcome with her own confused rage, Ellie pushed past Ronan and went to open the front door.
"What are you doing, Ellie?"
"I'm leaving."
"In that weather?" Ronan nodded to the raging storm outside, "Where are you going?"
Ellie made no attempt at an answer. She didn’t have one.
She was in no state to qualify why she, suddenly, felt so let down. So what if Ronan had pretended to be the priest; it was hardly the end of the world. But there was something else, something in Ronan's manner and in the way that he spoke to her, that was unsettling. Ellie was torn between anger at Ronan and at herself. What does she do when she meets the most handsome boy she has ever met in her life? She bolts for the door. Why was she always running away?
Within seconds, Ellie was back out onto the stormy street, without a single clue as to where she was headed next.
Chapter 46
Rosie was more than a little surprised to find Ellie at her doorstep. She ushered the wretched girl into her kitchen and sat her down at a large wooden dining table, between Cormac and Frankie.
"My girl, what on earth are you doing out in that?" Cormac passed Ellie a towel to dry herself on
Ellie shrugged her damp shoulders.
Rosie looked understandably puzzled, but didn't pry and instead busied herself with re-filling the kettle and washing an extra cup for tea. Rosie's kitchen was as chaotic and overgrown as her garden. The kitchen table was strewn with half-read newspapers and magazines. Fighting for space in the centre was an incomplete jigsaw puzzle, on which Frankie's concentration was fully focused, as he divided similarly coloured pieces into separate piles.
Ellie simply stared down at the puzzle, trying to make out what the picture was supposed to be. She searched for the only corner piece that was still missing, but she quickly gave up and inspected the room around her instead. The kitchen walls were a blend of indigo and aubergine ceramic tiles and combined with the blackness of the sky outside the window, the room was quite dark. Along the windowsill, above a Belfast sink, was an assortment of germinating plants in polystyrene cups. The sink was full of dirty dishes and there was an assortment of greasy pans, all lined up on parade along the worktop. Ellie could trace the combined forces of oil paint, linseed oil and Cillit Bang in the air.
Pinned against any possible flat area were pencil drawings, watercolours and the occasional explosion of oil paint. The subject matter was constant; the landscape that Ellie immediately recognised around Lusty. Stuck to the fridge door, was a charcoal sketch that Ellie knew in an instant. There were no iron rods, or evidence of decay, but this was clearly a drawing of the Liberty Tree, in all its glory.
"Wow, Rosie, don't tell me you did all these?" Ellie stood up and inspected the artwork closely.
"Aren't they terrific?" Cormac's eyes lit up in admiration.
"They sure are." Ellie gently touched the drawing of the Liberty Tree and tiny slithers of charcoal came off on her fingertips, "Do you sell any of them, Rosie?"
"Now and again a fella with a gallery in Armagh comes and takes a load off my hands - helps pay the bills." The kettle boiled and Rosie poured the piping water into a teapot, "Take the one of the tree if you like."
"Oh, Rosie, I couldn't."
Rosie, carefully, freed the picture from the fridge and gave it to Ellie.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
The drawing was the most wonderful gift Ellie had ever received, especially as it had been given to her by a woman she admired so much. Ellie loved Rosie's direct approach to life. To an outsider, Ellie guessed that these pictures would appear to be from an artist who was sentimental and even romantic, but that wasn't the Rosie she’d met. This was an artist who was a pragmatist and a realist.
Rosie plopped two mugs down besides the two men. She gave the third mug to Ellie, "I suppose you'll want something to go with that." She muttered to herself, before opening one of the cupboards in search of a packet of biscuits and several tins dropped down onto the worktop.
Ellie sat back down, "How did last night’s fundraiser go, Cormac?"
"Good, I think. We haven’t had a chance to count the donation yet." He had been wearing a baseball cap and now that it was removed, its imprint was still visible on his wiry hair. Any hair that hadn't been covered, appeared to have doubled its size in the rain.
"Oh, I thought Ronan went over to yours to give you guys a hand this morning.”
“No – only time I saw Ronan was at the bazaar.”
Ellie was totally confused, as this account didn’t match the one Ronan had given her.
Cormac quickly continued, “But what about you, have you finished all your family research?"
“I’ve kind of given up. I managed to uncover a few bits and pieces after you helped me, but none of them really fit together." Ellie decided to return to safer territory, "I’m sure it won’t be long now, Frankie, until you’ve enough raised to go to Graceland."
Frankie triumphantly thumped his fist on the pile of blue-sky pieces he had assembled. They shot out everywhere.
Cormac's wiry brows hid small, inquisitive eyes as he scrunched them up to whisper to Ellie, "I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you with anything more.”
“Don’t worry. You’ve enough going on in the present, without bothering with my past.”
“This is true, Ellie. Frankie’s mother passed away five years ago and we’ve been struggling a bit on our own. Frankie has his own health problems and he’s spent a big part of his life in hospitals. This fundraising appeal has given us something to work towards." Cormac’s usual smiley face had returned, "Frankie’s been doing odd jobs - mostly for Conor in the big house. Conor really only has a small allowance, but he always makes sure Frankie is taken care of. We’re getting there..." He leaned forward and with a gentle hand on Ellie’s, he whispered even more quietly than before, so that he was out of his son’s earshot, "Time isn’t exactly on our side.”
Ellie gasped a silent, "Oh."
People in Lusty were clearly united in their ambition to help a young man achieve his ultimate dream, before it was too late. Again, this only magnified Ellie's sense of isolation in life. She felt dislocated from everything and everybody and envied them their true interpretation of community spirit.
"Anyone for a tart?" Rosie set down a plate of
strawberry jam tarts.
When Cormac then pulled out a seat on the other side of him for Rosie, she sat down, but not before blushing a little first. Meanwhile, Frankie had begun to re-group the sky-blue pieces again, only this time with Ellie's help.
"A Fool Such as I?" She asked him playfully.
"The Wonder of You." Frankie replied with a cheeky smile, just as a gust of wind ricocheted off the window.
For a short while, the little group quietly attempted to complete the jigsaw puzzle together. Without the box lid as a clue, however, the image was still a mystery and Rosie was the first to tire and begin to clear the table. Ellie helped take the empty plate and cups over to the sink.
"So, Ellie, what did bring you, in a hurricane, round to my front door? Was it my dazzling personality?" Rosie asked, as she began to run water into the sink and add washing-up liquid.
"I had a bit of a disagreement with Ronan."
"Oh?"
Ellie shrugged her shoulders.
"Don't worry, Ellie, it's none of my business."
"It’s not that, Rosie, I just don’t know what to make of him."
"Just be careful."
"I'm as tough as old boots."
"No, you're not." Rosie blew a bubble off one of the washed cups, "I knew a man very like Ronan once and trust me, they are not always as they seem."
Ellie began to casually dry the dishes, as if this conversation had very little significance to her at all. Time was no longer on Ellie’s side and she just had to cut to the chase.
“Rosie, was that man Bernard Sullivan?"
Rosie froze, "How did you know?"
"Everywhere I turned with my search, I appeared to find Bernard's name coming up, again and again. And usually unhappiness followed in his wake."
Rosie stared at a chipped plate in her hand, "That's Bernard all right. I loved him, you know." She sighed deeply, “But then didn't we all - even when I became…" Rosie mouthed the word 'pregnant'. “A pity none of us knew just how bad he was.”