Startled, Cordelia asked, “Why were you expecting me?”
“You won’t find anything in here.”
Cordelia moved slowly along the first stretch of books, gliding her fingers along the edge of the shelf. Wade walked beside her on the other side of the shelves, watching her through the gaps at every opportunity. Cordelia could tell he was up to something. As she approached the end of the aisle, Wade quickened his pace and darted around to Cordelia’s side of the bookshelves where he threw his back against the books.
“What are you doing?” asked Cordelia, puzzled by Wade’s behavior.
“I might ask you the same question.”
“I’m looking for a book, of course.”
“Have you finished reading the books Lana lent you?”
“No, not yet.”
“Well then I can’t lend you anything until you’ve read the basics. These are all far too advanced.”
“You’ve lent books to me before.”
“That was different.”
“How so?”
“It just was.”
Cordelia looked Wade in the eyes and he held her stare.
“You know what I’m looking for, don’t you? I bet the book I’m looking for is right there behind you.”
“It’s for your own protection,” said Wade still guarding the books.
“My protection? What do I need protecting from in a library?”
“Knowledge isn’t everything Cordelia. In order to move forward, some things are best unknown.”
“You speak in riddles. Are you referring to Breck?”
“You’ll thank me one day. Now come along, the library is closing.” Wade ushered Cordelia into the tunnel.
“The library never closes,” complained Cordelia.
“It does now,” replied Wade, bolting the door and turning the key in the lock.
“Wait! I don’t understand,” said Cordelia, banging the door with the palm of her hand.
She soon realised that Wade was not going to open the door, not tonight at least. Cordelia skulked back to her chamber and slumped down on her bed. She lay in the candlelight daydreaming about Breck who at this very moment was having problems of his own.
Keeva had been watching from the upstairs window, waiting for Breck to return home. While her mother darned socks and looked after her younger siblings, her father managed the bar and her brothers had been out working with a team of men repairing and extending the sea wall. They were now gathered around the kitchen table, waiting for their mother to serve the broth that had been bubbling away on the range for hours. Keeva had spent the day perfecting her hair and admiring herself in the mirror, experimenting with the embellishments on her mother’s dressing table. As soon as she saw Misty come around the corner, she raced downstairs and flung open the door to the yard.
“Will you not thump down the stairs like that child?” called her mother. “Sounds like an elephant loose in the house.”
Keeva ignored her mother and playfully toyed with her hair as she leaned against the ivy growing around the door. It was the golden hour before dusk and the evening sun bathed the entire street in a soft, golden glow. Keeva watched Breck unhitch Misty from the cart and lead her into the yard. He picked up a few pieces of turf from the wagon that he’d brought back for the fire. He hadn’t noticed his cousin watching him. Keeva waited patiently, adjusting her posture, making sure she looked her best. Then he walked towards her, smiling. Keeva smiled back, still twirling strands of golden hair around her finger.
“Evenin’,” said Breck as he brushed past her and stepped into the scullery without so much as a second glance.
Stunned that Breck could dismiss her like that, Keeva followed him into the scullery and through to the kitchen.
“Here, let me take your jacket.” She tugged gently at his sleeves and grasped his hand. “You’re freezing, come and warm your hands by the fire.”
“I’m fine, really,” said Breck.
“Well at least let me pull out a chair for you.”
“Would you put the boy down, Keeva. You’re a child, he’s not interested in you,” snapped her father. “And get that muck off your face! It’s the devil’s trickery.”
Keeva’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and she left the room, slamming the door behind her.
“Stupid girl,” muttered Mr Kelly. “What nonsense have you been fillin’ her head with while we’ve been workin’ all day?”
“Nonsense? I don’t have time to fill her head with any nonsense, not with all these mouths to feed,” replied Mrs Kelly.
“Then why the embellishment all over her face? A child of her age should be out workin’, not dressing up like a clown.”
“Workin’? There’s no jobs for girls here, and even if there were, no one has the money to pay for the work.”
“Then we’ll send her to the workhouse in Kilrush. I hear they pay with food.”
Mrs Kelly shoved a quarter filled bowl of broth on to the table in front of Breck. “And how much turf did you sell today?”
Breck cleared his throat. “I was digging today.”
“So you didn’t sell any?” questioned Mr Kelly sternly.
“Not today Sir, no.”
Mr Kelly clipped Breck round the ear. “How do you think we can feed this many mouths if you’re not bringing any money home? The relief work the boys have been given with the sea wall isn’t anywhere near enough to keep a family of this size goin’ and nobody has the money to spend on ale. We’ve had two punters in today, two. We’re relyin’ on you Breck, people still need to make fires, even if there is a great hunger.”
“Seems to me that he’s getting fed elsewhere,” said Conall, the Kelly’s eldest son. He hadn’t taken too kindly to Breck moving in and making cramped living conditions even worse.
“Is that right?” asked Mr Kelly sternly.
“No, really, I’m not.”
“Then why is it that you’re so well built and we’re all fadin’ away?” asked Conall.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s from all the digging.”
“So you’re saying we’re wastin’ away ‘cos we don’t work hard? Are you kiddin’?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I don’t know why it is.”
“Enough!” shouted Mr Kelly, slamming his hands on the table.
At that precise moment, the babies started crying.
“Will you shut them babes up! For God’s sake woman!”
Mrs Kelly huddled by the fire cradling two babies in her arms, rocking back and forth.
Mr Kelly sipped a spoonful of broth and spat it out. “What’s this?! It’s disgustin’!” He scraped his chair back and returned to the bar.
Breck and his cousins sat for a few moments in silence while Mrs Kelly sobbed on the kitchen floor. Eventually, Breck stood up and left. Just as she’d watched him arrive, Keeva watched Breck leave from the upstairs window. The sun had sunk low between the buildings and she pressed her hand on the cold window pane as Breck galloped away on Misty’s back. Keeva waited by the window all evening for Breck to return but he never did.
The early morning light seeping through the gap in the curtains woke Keeva from her sleep. Her mother had promised to make new ones that actually closed. That was before the hunger. Before the punters stopped coming. They barely had enough money to pay the rent, never mind anything else. Sleeping was Keeva’s favoured activity these days. It was her escape from reality. The only thing that kept her going now was Breck. His arrival came at a time when Keeva thought things couldn’t get any worse. He lifted her spirits and brightened her otherwise dreary days. Keeva could smell the peat on the fire. She pushed back the coarse, linen bed sheets and tiptoed across the wooden floor. She opened the door enough to listen to the voices downstairs. Mrs Kelly was serving breakfast. There was no sound from Breck, just the usual moaning from her father and brothers. Keeva put on her best dress, brushed her long golden hair and went downstairs. On the kitchen table was a sma
ll wedge of dry soda bread. Keeva reached across the table, picked it up and took a bite.
“You’ll have to pay your way if you want to keep eating the food in this house,” said Conall. “Father’s talking about sending you to the workhouse.”
His words made Keeva’s stomach flip.
“That’s right lass,” said Mr Kelly, stoking the fire a little longer than required. Something in the fire had caught Mr Kelly’s eye.
Keeva slowly chewed the small piece of bread in her mouth and put the rest back in the paper wrapper. The workhouse was the last place she wanted to be. She’d heard stories of children losing fingers and limbs in the machinery and tales of girls only a year older than herself being sent on ships to Australia where they were married off to strange men. Without saying a word she brushed the few crumbs off the front of her dress, picked up one of the babes and stepped outside. The street was busy with the remaining town folk following the deafening toll of the church bells, a sound that Keeva hated. Despite the sickness and loss of life, the hunger and worry, people still went to church every Sunday. They prayed that things would get better. It was a drug. Keeva’s family filed out of the tavern and joined the procession. Every unkind word, every wrong doing was wiped off the slate on Sundays, as though it never happened. Just as long as they went to church. They were good people; that’s what her father said. Pillars of the community. For a few hours on a Sunday Mr Kelly was a model citizen. Then the week started over and he’d return to his bullying ways until the following Sunday when all was forgiven. Keeva didn’t see the point in that. She simply wanted her prayers to be answered; for the potatoes to grow and for the punters to return.
After the church service Mr Kelly shook hands with the priest, “Great sermon,” he said, squeezing Father Michael’s hand tightly.
“Thank you,” smiled Father Michael. “How’s the family?”
“Oh, grand,” fibbed Mr Kelly. “I’m a lucky man with a beautiful wife, isn’t she beautiful?”
Mrs Kelly smiled, lips pursed. A small crowd had gathered to meet with Father Michael.
“She’s a great mother,” continued Mr Kelly, “and a great cook. We’re lucky to have her, aren’t we lads?”
Conall and his brother nodded but kept quiet.
“And how’s business?” asked Father Michael.
“Grand,” fibbed Mr Kelly again, determined to keep up appearances. “We’ve a new whiskey arrivin’ next week lads, they call it the water of life.”
“The water of life eh? You make it sound like holy water,” said Father Michael.
“There’s nothing holy about whiskey, I can tell you that now,” said one of the parishioners.
“I bet it’s not cheap either,” said another.
Mr Kelly puffed out his chest and inhaled deeply. Conall could tell his father may not hold his composure much longer.
“I can tell you it’s the best whiskey in the world and it’ll be comin’ here, straight from the distillery in Dublin,” said Conall, “but if you’re lookin’ for somethin’ on which to get drunk with a clean conscience, may I recommend ether. Even Father Michael could drink it.”
“And it’s cheap!” piped William, another of Mr Kelly’s sons. “Even the poorest of you could drink it two or three times a day.”
“Two or three times a day? We’d never get any work done,” called someone from the crowd.
“That’s the beauty of ether,” said Mr Kelly, “you’ll sober up just as quickly as you got drunk and I’ve never known anyone to suffer a hangover because of it.”
A parishioner caught Father Michael’s attention and took him aside, leaving the rest of the congregation to part ways.
“The tavern opens at noon!” called Conall.
“What’s this talk of whiskey and ether?” asked Mrs Kelly as they walked along the church path.
“Shhh! Keep your voice down woman,” said Mr Kelly. “You shouldn’t be questioning me in front of our friends. Connal lad, you’re a genius.”
The Kellys walked back to the tavern, Mr Kelly and the lads marching on ahead and Mrs Kelly and Keeva walking behind with the babes. Mrs Kelly stopped several times to adjust her shoe and switch arms with the child she was carrying. She was breathless and small beads of sweat glistened on her forehead even though it wasn’t particularly warm.
“Come on ma,” said Keeva.
“I don’t know what you’re in a hurry for lass. Thought you’d rather be out in this fresh air.”
“If we get enough punters I won’t have to go to the workhouse, will I?”
“And where d’you think we’ve the money to buy stock? I don’t know what your father’s thinkin’.”
Keeva stopped still in her tracks while her mother walked on.
When Keeva arrived back at the tavern the men were already setting up the bar in anticipation of a busy lunchtime, busier than they’d had of late.
“Don’t get your hopes up now,” said Mrs Kelly, “people are hard up, they’re not suddenly gonna have money to spend on booze.”
“If you’ve nothin’ productive to say, don’t say anythin’ at all,” grumbled Mr Kelly.
“Where’s all this stock comin’ from?” asked Mrs Kelly, “And where’d you find the money to pay for the whiskey?”
“The ether’s been lyin’ about for ages ma, we’ve just not had the punters in,” explained Conall.
“Even so, if they didn’t have the money yesterday, they’re not gonna have it today.’
“This town’s been miserable for long enough,” said Mr Kelly, poking at the fire in the kitchen. “People want to feel good, even if it’s short lived.”
“We told you, this stuff’s really cheap,” said William. “Get enough punters in and it could see us through the week at least.”
“And what about the whiskey? We can’t afford that.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” said Mr Kelly who was now standing in the doorway to the bar holding out his hand.
Mrs Kelly stepped forward to get a closer look at the aquamarine gemstones he was holding.
“Where did you get those?” she gasped.
“In the fire,” smiled Mr Kelly, “mixed in with the turf. And I’ll bet there’s more where these came from.”
Mr Kelly clenched the gems in his fist and hugged his wife, swinging her around in a circle.
“Lads, forget that sea wall tomorrow, you’re to get down that peat bog with Breck and start diggin’.”
Excited by what she’d heard, Keeva rushed out of the tavern to find Breck.
At the lighthouse that morning, Cordelia walked into breakfast to find her friends already sitting at their usual table.
“Hey,” said Cordelia, sheepishly.
Lana glanced up, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief.
“I’m sorry I’ve neglected you recently,” said Cordelia. “I wanted to get as much dive practise in as possible. I know I’m not as good as you, I need all the practise I can get.”
“Are you going to sit down?” asked Lana.
“I’m sorry,” said Cordelia, pulling out a chair, “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Don’t worry,” said Nerissa, “you’re here now.”
“You know, we’d be more than happy to help you with your diving,” said Masika.
“I know,” began Cordelia, “but look what happened with the ravens. I don’t want you to get hurt again. Not on my account.”
“Is that what all this disappearing off has been about?” asked Lana. “You’re worried we might get hurt?”
Cordelia shrugged. “Maybe Max was right. Maybe it’s me they’re after.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Lana.
“What if he’s right? What if you’re with me and they attack again?”
Cordelia studied her friends’ faces to gauge their reactions. They seemed genuinely concerned that she had been keeping all this worry to herself.
“Awww, that’s so sweet,” said Nerissa.
Cordelia gr
imaced inside. She hated that she wasn’t being completely honest, but, as Wade said, some things are best unknown.
Cordelia glanced over to the teachers’ table. Morwen’s chair sat empty. “Still no sign of her then?”
Lana followed Cordelia’s gaze. “No. Nothing. Father was saying on the way to breakfast how strange it all is. He’s expecting Triton and Mazu to return by this time tomorrow.”
“Really?!” asked Cordelia, a little more enthusiastic than necessary.
“You sound pleased about that,” said Masika.
“Just surprised, that’s all.”
“Well, they’ve got to really haven’t they?” said Nerissa.
“Triton does like a good mystery to solve,” said Lana.
“Enough about that, it’s your birthday soon, we need to get planning,” said Masika.
“Planning?”
“It’s a landmark birthday,” said Nerissa, “we’ll need to plan a party.”
Cordelia sat quietly, listening to her friends discuss her birthday. Her rebirth, as they called it. She’d never had a party before. This birthday was going to be different to all the others in more ways than one.
“Are you alright?” asked Lana.
“Does it hurt?”
“Does what hurt?”
“The rebirth. Growing a tail.”
Her friends looked at each other, realising that nobody had ever given Cordelia the talk. They looked at her sympathetically and shook their heads.
“Sounds like we need a girls’ day!” said Nerissa excitedly.
“Everyone grab your bathers,” said Lana, “we’ll meet by the cove in ten minutes.”
“Where are we going?”
“Your favourite place,” said Lana, “we’re not going to let a few birds spoil our fun.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” said Cordelia, but her friends had already gone.
When Cordelia reached the cove, Nerissa and Masika were already there, waiting in the rowing boat wearing nothing but their bathers.
“Where’s your clothes?” asked Cordelia.
“Who needs clothes to go swimming?” asked Masika.
ELEMENTS: Acquiesce Page 12