by Colm Toibin
‘I am telling you this only because you asked me. But I am not looking for sympathy or help, because Declan needs that from all of us. Someone else would probably have softened, but I haven’t softened. We have to put up with these people, my mother and my grandmother, and be polite to them because Declan is here. So we should go into the kitchen and see if he has come back.’
Helen was pale when she finished talking. Paul put his arms around her and held her until she was calm again.
‘I’m caught between wanting to make up with them and wanting to get away from them,’ Helen said. ‘But actually what I would really like to do, if you insist on hearing . . .’ She smiled.
‘I insist,’ he said, ruefully.
‘I would really love to run my mother over in the car, that’s what I would really like to do.’ She laughed sourly and opened the door.
At about eight o’clock Declan and her mother came back. From the dining-room window, Helen watched her helping him from the car. She and Paul went to the front door.
‘He wants to go to the bathroom,’ her mother said.
‘Was there a problem?’ Paul asked.
‘Not until we were driving home, and then he was sick in the car.’
‘I’ll clean it,’ Paul said.
‘Sorry about that, Paul,’ Declan said. He began to make his way upstairs to the bathroom.
‘It was a very sad day, Helen,’ her mother said. ‘We were talking about the house and the garden, and it was always something I planned for him, that he would come down at weekends and take an interest in it. He has only ever been down once. But he saw it all today and he was so good. I brought him into the offices; he hadn’t seen them since they were refurbished. I had to leave instructions for next week.’
Declan shouted down the stairs for fresh underwear and clothes, which his mother went to get. Helen remained surprised, almost shocked, at the tone her mother had taken with her just now, which was instantly confiding and intimate. It was like tasting something not consumed since childhood, or smelling something not encountered for twenty years. It brought anxiety with it as much as reassurance.
In the kitchen her grandmother was sitting by the window looking out, with the two cats on her lap. On seeing Helen, they immediately jumped and sat on the top of the dresser, although Larry had been in the room all the while.
‘Some people like cats, and cats like some people, but they’re not always the same people,’ her grandmother said.
‘Did you buy anything in Wexford then?’ Helen asked.
‘Oh, we’ve fresh everything, fresh bread, fresh eggs, fresh fish and fresh meat. All from the supermarket. “You’d swear”, I said to Larry on the way home, “that we lived on a farm by the sea.” ’
Paul came and stood at the door. ‘Declan says he wants to go for a short walk at Ballyconnigar. He says he wants to get being sick in the car out of his system. His mother is going to come.’
Larry and Helen agreed that they would also join the walk.
‘Tell them I’ll stay here,’ Mrs Devereux said, ‘and ask them if they want salmon or lamb chops for dinner. Explain how fresh everything is.’
Declan said he did not think he would eat much, but he’d try the salmon. The old lady came and watched as Helen, her mother and Declan got into Declan’s car and Larry and Paul got into Larry’s car. She waved at them as they turned in the yard.
‘Helen,’ her mother said from the back of the car, ‘I wish you’d talk to her about looking after herself. Even getting in a proper telephone, any small thing would be a great improvement.’
‘My husband says there’s no getting around the women in our family,’ Helen said.
‘But he doesn’t know us,’ her mother said.
‘I’ve told him about you,’ Helen said.
Suddenly she looked up and saw her mother’s face in the rear-view mirror; her eyes seemed magnified and unguarded and vulnerable, nervously watching her. She was tempted for one second to slow down and turn to see if the mirror were making her mother’s eyes like that, or if they would appear like that too if she saw them directly. When Helen looked again, her mother’s eyes were cast down.
They stopped in Keatings’ car park in Ballyconnigar, Larry and Paul parking in the space behind them. They got out of the cars and walked across the small wooden bridge and moved south in the half-fading light. Tuskar lighthouse had started and they stood and watched as a beam circled towards them.
‘There used to be two lighthouses here,’ her mother said. ‘I don’t know what they needed the other for, but I suppose the Irish Sea was busy and bits of it were dangerous. It was just out there now – no, a bit further north, towards Cush and your granny’s house. Do you remember it, Helen?’
‘I do, Mammy, but only when we were children.’
‘It was taken out of commission by Irish Lights. I don’t know exactly when,’ her mother said.
‘What was it called?’ Paul asked.
‘It was called the Blackwater Lightship. It was weaker than Tuskar. Tuskar was built on a rock to last, I suppose. Still, I loved there being two. I suppose the technology got better, and maybe there’s not as much shipping as there was. The Blackwater Lightship. I thought it would always be there.’
Slowly, they walked towards Ballyvaloo. Helen eased close to her mother. The three others moved ahead, Larry and Paul with Declan between them, quietly protecting him. Helen noticed that the beam of the lighthouse did not flash when she calculated it should. Each time she expected it to come too quickly.
‘When I was young, lying in bed in your granny’s house,’ her mother said, ‘I used to believe that Tuskar was a man and the Blackwater Lightship was a woman and they were both sending signals to each other and to other lighthouses, like mating calls. He was forceful and strong and she was weaker but more constant, and sometimes she began to shine her light before darkness had really fallen. And I thought they were calling to each other; it was very satisfying, him being strong and her being faithful. Can you imagine, Helen, a little girl lying in bed thinking that? And all that turned out not to be true. You know, I thought your father would live for ever. So I learned things very bitterly.’ When Helen looked down, she saw that her mother was clenching her fists. ‘If I could meet him here for one minute now, your father, you know, even if he were to be allowed to pass us on the strand here, here now, when it’s nearly night. And not speak, just take us in with his eyes. If he was only to know, or see, or acknowledge with a flicker of his eyes what is happening to us. This is just morbid talk, don’t mind me, but it’s what I think about when I look at Tuskar lighthouse.
‘We should go back now,’ her mother went on, ‘we’re all hungry, I’m sure, and we’ve had a long day, Declan and myself, and I’m sure you’ve had a long day too.’
The five of them turned and walked back towards the small river which changed its course through the sand each year. There was no one else on the strand now; it was too late for walkers or bathers, and theirs were the only cars in the car park. Helen was surprised when Declan travelled with his friends and left her alone with her mother. He must have been talking to their mother about her, she thought, must have been trying to bring them together. They were together now, Helen thought, and it was awkward. She started the car and then waited for Larry’s car to start up. She moved slowly behind it, the lights full on, and they drove back towards Cush as the night settled down.
As soon as she got back, Helen grew restless and wondered if she could find an excuse to drive back to Dublin now. This new softness in her mother was impossible to resist. She felt that her mother was waiting to approach her again with a soothing voice and a tone of easy intimacy. She could not bear it. She took the keys of Declan’s car, slipped out of the house and drove into Blackwater.
She dialled Hugh’s number from the callbox in the village. When his mother answered the phone, Helen’s asking for Hugh was so urgent that she called him immediately and did not make conversation.
/> ‘Are things all right?’ Hugh asked.
‘No, they’re not. I’m desperate to get out of here.’
‘How’s Declan?’ he asked.
‘There’s no change.’
‘The boys are fast asleep,’ Hugh said.
‘It was mad me not going with you. I’ll never do that again. I don’t think I can leave them like that again.’
‘Helen, it’s just a few days.’
‘How can you tell whether they’re all right or not?’
‘Of course I can tell,’ Hugh said. ‘They’re fine. They’re on their holidays. They know they’ll see you soon.’
‘When my father was sick, they all thought it was OK to leave us down here too.’
‘There’s one big difference,’ Hugh said. ‘I’m their father, I’m with them. You’re talking about them as though I don’t exist. I’m looking out for them all day.’
Helen listened and said nothing.
‘What you have to do,’ Hugh continued, ‘is imagine how it would have been all those years ago if your father had been with you. And you mustn’t sound worried when you talk to the boys, or they’ll get worried too. At the moment they haven’t a bother on them. And if there were the slightest problem, I’d tell you.’
‘Maybe it’s myself I’m worried about. Maybe I’m just afraid to tell you that.’
‘I’m here all the time and I’ll come down if you want me to, even just for a day.’
‘The worst part of it is that my mother is going all soft on me.’
‘That sounds like good news.’
‘Stop making everything seem good.’
‘What are you going to do? Are you going to stay?’
‘I’ll stay for another day,’ she said. ‘And I’ll call you again in the morning. It’s good to talk to you.’
SEVEN
That night before he went to sleep Declan asked them to put another bed in his room; Larry and Paul found a camp bed upstairs which they dismanded and took downstairs and put together again beside Declan’s bed. Helen came in and sat on a chair and watched them as they made it up.
‘Do you want me to sleep here?’ she asked Declan.
‘Maybe. I don’t know. Sometimes I wake and it’s not easy.’
‘You can call me. I’m just in the next room.’
‘They’d all wake, or you’d think there was something wrong.’
‘No I wouldn’t. Call me if you need company. Cathal and Manus wake me all the time.’
‘Do they never wake their daddy?’
‘Sometimes,’ she said and smiled, ‘but their daddy is a great sleeper.’
‘Anyway, I’m going to take a Xanax tonight, so I’ll probably be all right. If I’m not, Paul or Larry can sleep here.’
‘Is Mammy smothering you with attention?’ Helen asked.
‘She’s finding it all very tough. She’s jealous that I didn’t want to come to her house. She brought me there today to show me where she would have me sleeping and how much space there was for my friends. No mention of you. But it won’t be long before she has a room for you, too. I have a new word to describe her which I picked up from Paul.’
‘What’s the word?’ Helen asked.
‘The word is “needy”,’ Declan said. ‘She’s needy and she never was that before. I mean she’s become needy over the past year or so.’
‘Earlier, when we walked on the strand,’ Helen said, ‘she was different, she was mellow and sort of sad, and I feel she’s going to embrace me and all I can do is cringe, but otherwise she’s been a complete bitch to Paul and Larry.’
‘Yeah, they can’t get over it. But Granny is making up for it, isn’t she?’
‘Granny’, Helen said, ‘is all charm.’
Larry woke Helen in the night to say that Declan needed company. For the length of a breath she could have been twenty years younger, moving hastily from her room to his. It was just a flash, but it was real and almost perfect; she was surprised at how little the memory disturbed her, how natural the connection seemed.
She put on a pullover and went and sat by Declan’s bed.
‘Now I feel I’ve woken the whole house,’ he said. ‘The Xanax has worn off. There’s no point in trying another.’
Larry had been sleeping on the camp bed. Now he and Declan lay on their beds, each with his hands behind his head, while Helen sat on the edge of Declan’s bed. They listened to the distant roar of the sea and the moths’ brittle wings against the window-pane, but they said nothing. Helen was tired and she wondered what they would say if she said that she wanted to go back to sleep.
‘I’d love to have a real house to go back to – you know, a house of my own,’ Declan said. ‘Somewhere bright and clean.’
‘Even an apartment?’ Helen asked.
‘Even an apartment,’ he said.
‘Why don’t we find you one next week?’ she asked.
‘No, I mean that was my own, that I had painted and furnished myself.’
‘But we’ll do that,’ Helen said. ‘We’ll paint it and furnish it, and it will be all bright and clean.’
‘Maybe,’ Declan said. ‘What do you think, Larry?’
‘I’m all for it,’ Larry said.
Helen made tea in the kitchen and was joined by Lily, who wanted to know if everything was all right. She gave her mother a mug of tea and told her that Declan was almost asleep and it would be a mistake for her to disturb him. When Helen had drunk her tea, she felt even more sleepy.
‘I’m going to bed for a while,’ she said. ‘Wake me if you want me. I’ll drive to Dublin and rent you an apartment and furnish it and decorate it, if you want, Declan. You should think about it.’
She did not wake until nine in the morning. She wished there was a back door to the house so that she could sneak out to the car and drive to Blackwater, make her phone call and buy the paper without having to consult anyone. Instead, she would have to go into the kitchen and brave them all. It struck her for a moment how simple Hugh and Cathal and Manus were compared to these people, how setded their relationships, how easy and modest their requirements. In the kitchen now, she was sure, as she got out of bed and went on tiptoe to the bathroom, warring factions were already at work, strange demands and alliances, energies that no one could understand. Soon she would leave, she thought, if only for a day or two, and once she began to imagine a possible escape she felt satisfied, more secure in her mind.
It was Saturday now. Declan was already up, sitting in the chair beside the Aga, taking his drugs. Larry was doing the dishes, the rest of them were sitting at the kitchen table.
I’m going into the village to get the paper,’ Helen said.
‘We already have the paper, thank you,’ her grandmother said.
‘I have to phone Hugh.’
‘You phoned Hugh last night,’ her mother said.
‘I’m going into the village,’ Helen said firmly.
‘Helen always does what she sets out to do,’ her grandmother said.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Larry said, his hands covered in suds.
‘No, I’m going now and on my own and I won’t be long,’ Helen said. She closed the kitchen door behind her.
She knew that Declan had given up his flat in Dublin, but it had not occurred to her until now that this left him at everyone’s mercy. Surely they could rent him a comfortable apartment somewhere in Dublin with a garden and large windows. She knew that it would be better if her mother thought of this and did all the organisation. When she went back, she would try to plant the idea in her mother’s mind.
Hugh was still in bed when she rang, but the boys were up; she asked Hugh’s mother if she could talk to them.
Cathal came first to the phone.
‘How are you?’ she asked.
‘Fine,’ he said quiedy.
‘You were in bed early last night,’ she said.
‘I think so.’
‘Are you having a good time?’
‘Yes.’ He s
ounded subdued.
‘Is your bed comfortable?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll be up soon, so you’ll be able to show me all the sights.’
‘Do you want to talk to Manus? He’s trying to grab the phone,’ Cathal said.
‘OK, and tell your father I rang.’
Manus came on the phone. ‘We’re going fishing,’ he said.
‘For what?’ she asked.
‘For all morning,’ he replied.
‘Is your daddy asleep?’ she asked.
‘He’s not coming. Uncle Joe is coming.’
‘Have you got a fishing rod?’
‘We’re allowed to use the ones here. But we have to go now.’
‘You sound very busy,’ she said.
‘Will you ring again later?’ he asked. He was trying to sound like an adult.
‘Yes, I will.’ She laughed. ‘I’ll ring again later.’
Manus put down the phone.
Helen bought the paper and sat in the car on the bridge reading the headlines, turning the pages. She looked through the section Apartments to Let, and realised that her mother would relish this work, dealing with landlords and leases.
Lily was in the lane when she returned. On seeing Helen she waved, as if to flag her down. Helen let the car roll down the hill towards her.
‘Declan’s gone blind in one eye,’ her mother said.
Helen parked the car and went with her mother into the house. Declan was sitting exactly where he had been in the kitchen.
‘What happened?’ Helen asked.
‘I felt over the past while that I was losing the sight in it, and now it’s gone. It was always going to go, but the other one’s fine, the other one’s taken care of. I’ve explained it all.’
‘Helen, tell him we should call the doctor,’ her mother said.
‘Declan, we should call the doctor,’ Helen said.
‘There’s nothing the doctor can do,’ Declan said. ‘Ask Paul, he’s the expert.’
‘Paul isn’t a doctor,’ his mother said.
‘He’s read a big book and he knows all about the new therapies. Ask him,’ Declan said.