Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars

by Jean Grainger

  What seemed like hours later, Patrick was brought to the Tobins’ house, his own in darkness across the street. Detective Inspector McMullan went in with him.

  The detective knocked on the door. Patrick was relieved to see Liam’s mother, she opened the door and wrapped her arms around him, and there they stood for a few moments. Then he looked up and saw Liam standing there.

  ‘How did you get here?’ he croaked. ‘I thought ye weren’t allowed out?’

  ‘Special circumstances, Mam got the guards to ring the college and there was someone driving down anyway. Patrick, I’m so sorry…’ Liam’s voice shook. Mrs Lynch was so nice, she worked so hard for her family. Against all the odds, they were great kids, and then for this to happen. All the way down in the car, Liam railed in his mind against a God that could allow this to happen.

  ‘It was him, you know?’ Patrick said bitterly.

  ‘I know.’

  Before they could say anymore, Patrick’s two little sisters appeared at the top of the stairs.

  ‘I put them to bed. They were exhausted, poor little pets. I stayed with them till they slept but they must have woken again.’ Liam’s mother was trying to reassure Patrick that his sisters were being taken care of at least.

  He opened his arms, and they ran to him. Connie was nine and Anna only six. They buried their heads in his chest.

  ‘Daddy…Daddy did a bad thing…’ Anna began, sobbing.

  ‘I know, pet, I know, he’s a very bad man. The guards are going to lock him up forever and ever so he can’t ever come near us again,’ Patrick soothed their sobs. The girls looked at the detective, and he nodded.

  ‘We will, I promise,’ he said solemnly.

  ‘When is Mammy coming home?’ Connie asked. Patrick caught Mrs Tobin’s eye. She obviously hadn’t told them.

  Patrick sat on the stairs, a sister on each knee with Mrs Tobin and Liam on either side. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice steady.

  ‘Mammy is gone to heaven, she’s gone up to see Nana and Granda and Auntie Kit, and she’s having a lovely cup of tea up there with them all. She wants us to stay here for a bit, and I’ll be minding ye with Mrs Tobin to help, and we’ll be grand.’

  The children tried to absorb what their brother was saying.

  Liam’s heart was breaking for the three of them, sitting together on the stairs.

  ‘I don’t want Mammy to be dead,’ Connie said in a sad, little voice.

  ‘Won’t she ever come home, Patrick?’ Anna whispered, her eyes locked with her brother’s.

  ‘No, pet, she won’t,’ he answered.

  There were no screams or wailing, just the unadulterated sound of pain and anguish in a little child’s voice—children who had seen too much violence and fear in their short lives. Liam was preparing to help Patrick with the barrage of questions, but they were exhausted from crying so they just sat on their brother’s knee and cuddled into his chest as he rubbed their heads.

  Later, when they had fallen asleep and the detective had left, Patrick and Liam lifted them up to the double bed in what had been Liam and Con’s bedroom. Mrs Tobin had retired, as well, shattered by the day’s events. Mrs Lynch had been her closest friend. Liam knew that when all that business blew up with Daddy and that woman next door, years ago, it was Mrs Lynch who helped them through it. She loved to have Liam, Hugo, and Patrick for tea and scones when she was sure Joe was on a skite, and she worked so hard for her children. Liam knew he was supposed to believe that this was all part of God’s plan, but that seemed hard to accept tonight.

  He sat at the fire with Patrick, reminiscing about their childhood. Patrick talked about how proud his mam had been when he got into St Bart’s and then when he got the job in O’Neills. Patrick told him how she said she wished she had a camera the day he went off to work, in his shirt and tie. Liam urged his friend to hold tightly to that memory, like a snapshot in his mind, and always remember the joy he and his sisters brought their mother. He must block out the image of her on the cold slab below in Mercy.

  ‘It’s not that easy, Liam. I…I hate him, I’ve always hated him. God knows I begged her to leave him, especially now that I’m working. We could have got a little house somewhere, changed the locks, and she’d have had some peace, but she’s just not that kind. For better or worse, and all that rubbish. He’s been missing for weeks now. I was sure when the guards came to the office, it was to tell me they found him. I was trying to make sure I reacted properly, like Mam would want us to and not do what I felt like doing, which would be whooping for joy. I was sure, and when they told me it was my mam, I…I…just couldn’t take it in, y’know? Why did God do that, Liam? You’re supposed to be learning all about his mysterious ways and all that, what was he thinking? My poor mam put up with so much, and then that bastard gets in and beats her to death. How can that be right? Where was God when that useless excuse for a man was battering my mother for the last time?’

  Liam wished he could find the words to comfort his friend, to have an answer for why a merciful God would let this happen, but he couldn’t. Why did Daddy get killed, why did he land such a difficult cross on poor old Hugo? He found the more he thought about it, the more questions were raised and the fewer answers he had. He wondered once again if he was cut out for the priesthood. A major part of his job was going to be this, helping families who were bereaved, and what had he to offer? Nothing, absolutely nothing at all.

  Patrick stared, unseeing, into the dying embers as the wall clock ticked in the silence.

  ‘Did you tell Hugo?’ Patrick asked eventually.

  ‘Mam asked Father Aquinas to phone him from the monastery.’

  ‘I can’t believe it, Liam,’ Patrick said for the hundredth time. ‘My mam, she never hurt a fly. She went to Mass, she was a good person, Liam. She put up with him, worked so hard, and where was God, Liam? Where was he?’

  Liam had never seen Patrick so distraught. He searched his mind for some theology, some wisdom, anything to ease his friend’s pain but found nothing.

  ‘I don’t know, Patrick, I really don’t. All I can think is that there’s a divine plan, something we have no knowledge of, where God has decided he wanted to call your mam to heaven now, at this time.’ The words sounded hollow to his ears.

  ‘But, even if he wanted her, how could God’s need be more than Connie and Anna’s? I’ll be okay, I’m able to fend for myself, but they’re just little girls, they need their mammy...’ His voice choked with emotion. ‘And why did she have to have such a brutal death? Years of battering and then to die at the hands of someone that God created as well. I’m sorry, Liam, either there is no God, it’s all lies, there’s no divine plan, or if there is, he’s one evil bastard. Either way, I want nothing more to do with it.’ He stood up. ‘I need to get some air.’

  Liam watched helplessly as his friend walked out into the dark night. He sat by the fire thinking. Maybe Patrick was right. Why would God give us people to love, people we need, and then take them away? Why did Daddy have to die? Hugo’s father? Why Mrs Lynch? If he created Joe Lynch in his own image and likeness, why did he turn out to be so bad? Why did he give Hugo that huge cross to carry his whole life? None of it made any sense. Faith, that’s all you were told. Have faith and everything will work out fine in the end, but Daddy had faith, Mrs Lynch was devoted, so much so she wouldn’t leave her abusive husband because she took a holy vow, and where did it get them? Six foot under, that’s where, and left the people who needed them bereft.

  Every day, Liam learned in the seminary about the divine grace of the Lord. Of how he loves us and looks after us, but tonight, in a little terraced house in Chapel Street, Liam had to admit God seemed a very remote prospect indeed.

  The days that followed went as funerals always do, in a blur, while simultaneously seeming interminable. Hugo came from Greyrock, and the three friends spent a lot of time together talking and reminiscing. On the night of the burial, they polish
ed off a bottle of brandy between them, sitting around the range in Liam’s kitchen. Father Aquinas had been coming and going. Mrs Tobin had been busy trying to feed everyone, and all the neighbours pitched in with food as they always did. That last night though, as Connie and Anna slept upstairs, it seemed to be understood by everyone that the boys who’d been inseparable since they were twelve years old, needed to be alone with each other.

  They cried, and they laughed, and they were comforted by each other’s presence.

  Chapter 18

  ‘Ah, Mrs Duggan, what can I do for you?’ Hugo asked pleasantly as the housekeeper appeared in the morning room. He’s not spoken to her in weeks. Since the funeral of Mrs Lynch, Hugo had been travelling back to Cork more frequently to see Patrick and the girls. They loved to see him coming, always laden down with gifts, and he found his new purpose of cheering them up meant he had less time to wallow in his own misery. He was surprised that she’d requested a meeting with him. She and Patterson handled most of the details of the running of the house, and Hugo was very grateful that they didn’t need to consult him on every little thing, so her request struck him as a little odd. He hoped she wasn’t leaving, she had been running Greyrock since he was a child. She was formidable and stern, but she was a kind-hearted woman under it all. He remembered she always turned a blind eye when they were children and the cook gave him and Martha buns before their dinner. One time, he managed to keep a pet rat in his bedroom for months without his mother knowing, thanks to her, so he knew she was on his side. Her iron-grey hair was perfectly set in waves and her black uniform seemed to be made of something stronger than mere fabric.

  ‘Good Morning, Master Hugo, thank you for seeing me. I’ll get right to the point...well, there’s been a staff development you should know about.’

  ‘Really? What?’

  ‘It’s Martha, sir, Martha Courtney. She’s gone, sir.’ Mrs Duggan was making no effort to hide her disapproval. She was always of the opinion that Martha was altogether too flighty and far too familiar with Hugo.

  Hugo was confused. ‘Gone where? Have you asked Tom? Perhaps she had an errand to run or...’

  ‘No, sir, I don’t mean she is unavailable at the moment, I mean she has left Greyrock, for good, it seems.’

  Hugo was incredulous. ‘There must be some mistake. Martha wouldn’t just go off without telling anyone, she would have told her father, surely? What does he say?’

  ‘I’ve not spoken to Tom, sir. He’s not been in the house and when I sent one of the girls to fetch him, he wasn’t available.’ Her tone indicating that she didn’t believe that story for one minute.

  He rang the bell and Patterson appeared.

  ‘Ah, Patterson, please fetch Tom for me, tell him it’s urgent.’

  Turning back to Mrs Duggan, he resumed his questioning. ‘What makes you think she’s gone for good?’

  ‘Well, sir, her things are gone from her room, and she swore young Florrie to secrecy when he met her in the yard at around four o’clock this morning. He was checking on the new foal, so he slept in the barn. She was obviously trying to slip away unnoticed.’ Mrs Duggan pursed her lips in disapproval. Loyalty to the FitzHenry family was paramount for the staff of Greyrock to her way of thinking. Anything less was intolerable.

  Tom Courtney knocked and entered.

  ‘Tom, Mrs Duggan here tells me that Martha is gone. What’s going on?’

  Tom was his usual taciturn self. ‘She’s gone all right. To where I don’t know.’ He didn’t raise his eyes.

  Hugo had a flashback to the day in the woods three months earlier. He’d been so busy with the funeral, and going up and down to Cork, he had barely five words of conversation with Martha since then. He no longer ate in the dining room, it seemed stupid to go to all that trouble just for him, and he kept such long hours that he instructed the cook to leave him something on the sideboard, and he ate it when he came in. During the day, he ate with the workers in the yard, and he hardly ever ate breakfast, sometimes because he was hung-over from the brandy, other times because he wasn’t hungry. Because of this, he rarely ran into her. He reluctantly admitted to himself he was relieved, he was embarrassed about that day, and perhaps it suited him not to have to talk to her, but he never imagined for a second that she would ever be anywhere but Greyrock.

  ‘Did she give any indication? Any reason to think there was something wrong?’ Hugo was worried about his friend.

  Mrs Duggan glanced in Tom’s direction. ‘Well, sir, she had seemed rather distracted these last weeks, not herself.’

  ‘Is that true, Tom? Is there something wrong?’

  Tom looked up and stared directly at Hugo. Something unspoken in his eyes. After several seconds, he spoke, but didn’t answer the question.

  ‘Martha has left Greyrock. I don’t expect you to keep her position open for her, and I don’t know when or if she’ll be back. It might be best if you advertise the position.’

  Hugo was about to argue that he couldn’t care less about the job but that he wanted to know why Martha had left, but something in Tom’s demeanour stopped him. Suddenly, a thought struck him. Maybe she was so appalled at the thought that she had sex with a homosexual that she couldn’t bear to stay. Maybe Tom found out about it, maybe somebody saw them in the woods. Tom Courtney knew where she was, of that there was no doubt in Hugo’s mind.

  Hugo forced himself to speak.

  ‘Well, I must say I am saddened to hear it, but Martha is her own person and perfectly entitled to go where and when she wishes. I hope she returns to us, Tom, and if you do hear from her, please tell her I said that. Her job and home here is hers for as long as she wants it. Now, if you’ll excuse me...’

  Hugo left the room and walked back to his own bedroom. He needed to be alone to process what had just happened. Sitting on the bed, he spotted a note on his bedside locker, it could have been there earlier when he got up, he overslept that morning and had a meeting with a tenant so in his haste to get out he could have missed it.

  There was no name on the envelope but once he opened the one sheet of paper, he recognised the writing as Martha’s.

  Dear Hugo,

  I’m sorry about this, but I’m leaving Greyrock. I know I should have told you face to face, but I’m not as brave as you. I’m fine, I just need to get away, please don’t worry. Live your life, Hugo, whatever way you want. I hope we meet again someday.

  All my love,

  Martha xxx

  PS. Please keep an eye on my dad. I know he’s a grumpy old git, but he’s all I’ve got. Also, I got Jenny the scullery maid to drop this note for me so don’t tell Mrs Duggan or she’ll make her life hell.

  Hugo folded the letter. What did she mean needed to get away? Away from whom? Him? He was sure she was repulsed by what they’d done and needed to distance herself. It was the only possible explanation. It was 1977, maybe she realised that there was more to life than being a maid. She was right; she was bright and funny and could do anything she wanted. He had no right to ask her to come back; he could offer her nothing but a job from the last century and his friendship. It was clearly not enough. He’d have to face it, Martha was his only friend at Greyrock, and now she was gone.

  Chapter 19

  Days turned into weeks on Chapel Street, and it was soon going to be Christmas. Patrick and Mrs Tobin were doing their best to make it a nice one for the children, but it was hard.

  Only that morning, little Anna blurted out as he was trying to brush her hair, ‘Ouch! You’re hurting me, Patrick. Mammy does it without hurting. I hate Daddy, I wish he were dead and not Mammy.’

  He decided that even though they were only small, they were better off knowing the truth. They’d seen enough of it, anyway, every time he’d come home drunk.

  ‘I do too, pet,’ he said, bending down on his hunkers to look straight into her eyes. ‘I hate him, too, and he is the one that should be dead, not Mammy. Mammy was kind and good and loved us,
and he’s a terrible person. We will never again look at his face or speak to him as long as he lives.’

  ‘But what if he comes back?’ Connie asked fearfully.

  ‘He won’t. He knows the guards are after him, and he’s a coward so he’ll stay away. I promise. And anyway, I’m here at night and Mrs Tobin collects ye from school and gives ye ye’er dinner so ye’re safe.’

  ‘But what about when you are out at dances with girls? Who’ll mind us then?’ Anna’s little face was worried.

  Patrick knew his days of dances and courting were over for now, he had more important responsibilities. Jackie had come to the funeral, all dolled up with loads of makeup on and hugged him, but he hadn’t seen or heard from her since. He hoped she would come to his side immediately when she heard the news, but she didn’t. He supposed there wasn’t much future for her in a fella who stayed in babysitting his little sisters every night and who had to use his wages to run a house.

  Helen from the office had called a few times, she even brought dolls for Connie and Anna and took them upstairs to play house when the house got too full during the funeral. She brought cakes and a shepherd’s pie even though the house was groaning under the weight of food. Why did people think that when you lose someone all you want to do is eat? Still, they meant well, he knew that. She was nice, Helen, easy to be around, she wasn’t too loud or always looking for attention. Some evenings, she’d call and they’d just sit and drink a cup of tea and not say much at all. Other times, they’d talk about hurling, she even took the girls training with her at the club, and they loved it. Patrick bought them little hurleys and a ball out of his wages, and they were forever pucking the ball against Liam’s mother’s back wall, just like he and Liam used to do as kids. Life passed into the humdrum of the ordinary in the weeks that followed. He didn’t go out anymore but went to Liam’s mam for his tea after work. The girls would have theirs eaten and their lessons done and would be delighted to see him. He set the fire in the morning in his house and put a match to it before he went over to the Tobins for his dinner, so the place would be warm for the girls when they all trooped across the road. He had literally no idea what he would have done without Helen and Liam’s mam. They kept him going, helped him get their own house back to some kind of normal. He used Seán Tobin’s tools, still in the shed in his yard, to fix up most of the damage that was done the day his father came back. Father Aquinas even helped and was surprisingly handy with a hammer and nails. They painted it all inside. Mr O’Neill bought the paint and they even got some new furniture. Hugo said they had lots of things in storage that they didn’t use at Greyrock so it all arrived in a big truck one day, much to the excitement of the whole street. Patrick had to laugh when he realised that the furniture that graced the living room and the bedrooms of a small terraced house on Chapel Street was probably worth more than the whole street put together. He accepted all offers of help gratefully, people really did want to help, and Patrick was determined that Connie and Anna would have a comfortable and safe place to live. It was the least they deserved after everything they’d endured. It still looked a bit higgledy-piggledy as Connie said, but it was safe and warm.