Rian
Rían & Liadh
The O’Malleys: Book 3
By Michelle McLoughney
Copyright © 2015 Michelle Mc Loughney
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under S.I No. 337/2011-European Communities (Electronic Communications Networks and Services) (Universal Service and User’s Rights) Regulations 2011.
This ebook or paperback is the sole property of the author, and may not be reproduced or transmitted without permission of the author. Please help prevent the piracy of ebooks. This book is a work of fiction. All names and characters are fictional, and any likeness to those living or dead including events, or occurrences, is completely coincidental.
This ebook or paperback is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook or paperback may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, then please return it to the author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of an independent author.
This author recognises and acknowledges the following real life names or places used in this book.
Bunratty castle and Folk Park, Durty Nellies pub, The Twilight saga and any characters named from this series, Armani. Bobby Sands, Poet and MP. Simon Cowell, Barbados, Oliver Cromwell, Skibbereen, County Cork. Sherkin Island.
My playlist for Rían is the CD I listened to on a loop, while writing this book.
The fantastic self-titled album, Hozier.
Visit Michelle’s Facebook author page
Dedications
This book is dedicated to every woman in my life. I’m so lucky to be surrounded by the most generous and wonderfully inspirational women.
To my Mothers Kit and Angie, my daughters Kate, June and Aoife, my sisters Karen, Pauline, Stacey and Shawneen and my nieces, Shannon, Saoirsé, Gemma, Laura-may and Jodie.
Each of you have impacted my life hugely and for that I am forever grateful.
To my friends Heidi Rundle, Rosie Snowdon, Caryn L. Denny, Susan Scott, Beth Diaz Jennifer Hanly, Gemma Wilson and Emma Mack, Layla Stevens and Marisa Oldham for all the pimping and support. I am eternally grateful.xx
To Mandy Dowson, Nick Taylor and Alisha Payne, Jessica Call, Siobhan Purcell and Audra Hart, Laura Chamberlaine, Gemma Wilson, Colette O’Daly and Eimear Dillon for the chats, updates of your feelings while reading Juice, or bizzare spider biting chats (tks Laura) and support, it’s been great to have you girls in my corner.
You girls are the biz, thank you for all you have done for me, every time you have shared, pimped and or encouraged me.
For the ladies of my hometowns of Bunratty, Shannon and Newmarket on Fergus County Clare, thank you for all your support.
And to my Juice ladies, that night was the best of my life, love the bones of ye.
To every woman who has ever loved, encouraged, mentored or showed kindness and affection to me. I cherish each and every one of you.
And lastly for my niece Saoirsé, happy birthday kiddo, you are so very lovely and I’m proud to know you..xx Enjoy your day.
Glossary
Irish names can be difficult to pronounce. I’ve sounded a few out for your reading pleasure
Aoife- Eefa
Rían- Reen
Liadh- Leah
Gearóid- Grr-road
Caoimhe- Queeva
Darragh- Dara
Seamus- shay-mus- shortened to Shay
Rua is Gaelic for Red.
Amadán -om-a-dawn is Irish for fool and widely used within the English language
A Hurley is a wooden stick like a larger hockey stick used in Irish sport.
Even as an eight year old, Liadh O’Neil knew that Sister Geraldine was not to be trifled with. She was tall for a woman, well over six feet. When she walked, her black habit swished and swayed behind her. Long heavy rosary beads, wooden and rounded, were crudely knotted around her stout waist. She looked as though she had no hair beneath her black veil and her face was stern and wizened. A criss-cross of lines around her mouth indicated that it was permanently turned downward in a scowl. The cane in her hand was a regular feature, made from the most beautiful knotted willow, she was always smacking it against her other hand as she walked passed the tables in the classroom. Liadh keep her head down as Sister Geraldine walked past feeling the heat that emanated from the nun’s body as she moved up and down the aisles of the classroom. Liadh held her breath as Sister Geraldine stopped at her table, pausing for only a second or two before she continued walking a slow, steady pace to the top of the classroom. Turning with purpose she smirked at the children in front of her.
“As I said to your teacher Mrs. Flynn, I am here today to talk about your first confession. This children, is a vital part of your first Holy Communion ceremony. You must release your sins; only then you can be pure and free to meet our Lord on May 14th. Hands up who knows what a sin is?”
Liadh watched as Caroline Murphy, raised her hand.
“Yes, Caroline.” Mrs Flynn, the teacher said.
“Please tell Sister Geraldine what a sin is.” Caroline looked at Sister Geraldine and spoke softly.
“A lie, miss.” Sister Geraldine smiled at Caroline and walked towards her.
Whack! The cane came out of nowhere.
“My name is Sister Geraldine not miss, you will address me and me alone, girl.”
Caroline clutched her hand and whimpered as she stuffed it into her armpit and bit her lip. The tension in the class immediately thickened and started to envelop Liadh, she looked over at her friend Rían O’Malley for comfort. Liadh’s eyes met his and he nodded to her, Liadh smiled nervously back at him.
“You girl.”
Liadh bit the inside of her lip until she tasted blood. She chanted ‘not me, not me, not me,’ over and over in her head. But she knew. She just instinctively knew, that it was her turn. She drew in a noiseless breath and looked to Sister Geraldine, who was staring at her stone-faced apart from a slight upward turn at the very corners of her mouth.
“Liadh O’Neill, stand up and answer Sister Geraldine.” Mrs Flynn couldn’t disguise the catch in her voice, which made her sound helpless and afraid.
Liadh raised her head and pushed her chair out as she stood up. The metal legs of her chair squeaked on the floor and Sister Geraldine’s lips become a thin line. A sneer.
“Come to the top of the class, Liadh O’Neill.” Liadh walked behind her all the way to the top and turned to face the class. She caught the eyes of some of the other children. They stared at her, their eyes wide and scared. Something was going to happen. Something bad.
“Children, when you commit a sin you become a sinner. And a sinner can be forgiven if they repent for their sin. Remember this and learn it well. You can forgive the sinner but not the sin. Repeat it.”
“You can forgive the sinner but not the sin.” The class repeated the line, quietly at first.
“LOUDER!” The cane cracked down on the table in front of Mrs Flynn. Liadh watched as the teacher jumped about a foot off her chair and put her hands to her face, cradling it softly between her fingertips.
“YOU CAN FORGIVE THE SINNER. BUT NOT THE SIN!”
Sister Geraldine turned her head to Liadh slowly, and pointed her cane in her direction. The tip touched the side of her chubby cheek.
“And this girls and boys. THIS, here. Is the sin.”
Liadh heard a soft intake of breath and made eye contact with Julie Byrne, her friend. Julie lowered her eyes and looked away. A sudden urge to empty her bladder came over Liadh, as she felt her knees start to shake. She understood from that moment that this whole lesson was designed specifically with her in mind.
“This child, Liadh O’Neill was created in sin, born of
sin. Her mother is a whore. And as a whore, she did what all whores do. She lay with a man before she was 16 years old. Unmarried in the eyes of the church, and the Lord. She ruined a boy. Tempted him into her body and corrupted him with her lies and want. She was then sent away. Away from the town and its good people. Away from the church and its followers. Do you know where she was sent, for her sins boy and girls?”
No one raised a hand.
“To St Patrick's in Dublin. That’s where. In a home filled with other sinners who wanted to repent and expel these sins from their bodies. Stand children.”
Each child stood and stared at Liadh, a mixture of pity and relief crossed their faces like waves of sunlight through a window. Pity for the one who was in the firing line. And relief that their mothers had not laid with a man, and had to expel their sin in a mother and baby home in Dublin, like Liadh O’Neill’s mother. Like so many young girls who got ‘into trouble’ around the towns and villages of Ireland. Returning home, with their heads bent in shame, leaving the burden of their sin behind them. Little neat blue and pink bundles, of shame and loss.
“I want each of you to walk up past the SIN and using God’s voice, I want you to tell her that she is a sin.”
“Sister Geraldine,” Mrs Flynn started to stand.
“Sit down woman, this does not concern you. Unless you would like a visit from Father Murphy to remind you of your position within the school.”
Liadh looked at Mrs Flynn, her eyes pleading with her to intervene. She closed her eyes tightly when she saw the teacher stand and walk towards the window, her back turned to Liadh and her tormentor. Liadh followed her gaze and wished that she too were outside at the hurling match that the bigger boys were playing in the field. She couldn’t even blame Mrs Flynn for her actions; everyone knew that the church controlled the appointment of the teachers in the school. Mrs Flynn had a family to feed, she needed the job. Liadh turned her face back to Sister Geraldine and waited.
“Come children, make haste.”
Each child in the class lined up and one by one each walked passed Liadh and whispered ‘sin’ into her left ear. Some, like Liam O’Brien seemed to take a kind of pleasure from it, smirking and saying the word loudly as his breath caressed her ear. “SIN,” he breathed, the wetness of his lips briefly connecting with Liadh’s earlobe.
“WAIT!” Sister Geraldine roared.
The children stopped in mid motion and looked to the bottom of the classroom, little heads turning in the direction of where Sister Geraldine’s cane was pointing. One lone child sat staring straight ahead.
Rían.
“You boy. What is your name?”
“Rían O’Malley, Sister.”
“Stand up and move into the line.”
“No sister. I will not.”
Liadh closed her eyes and started to pray for an intervention of any kind. If just once God would actually listen and do something. She looked at Rían and tried to meet his eyes, but he just stared straight ahead. And Liadh loved him, and feared for him in that one moment.
Sister Geraldine walked straight-backed to his desk and leaned down until her face was inches away from Rían. Liadh watched as his little jaw tightened, she could see the little pulse in his neck throbbing.
“What did you say to me boy?”
“I said no, Sister. I won’t be doing that to Liadh. She is not a sin. She is just a girl.”
Children murmured and gasped as Sister Geraldine dragged Rían out of his chair by his hair and launched him in front of her. She pushed him on the back, half pushing, and half dragging him along the length of the classroom. Liadh looked on in fright as Mrs Flynn moved past her to the classroom door and opened it running down the corridor to the principal’s office. Her eyes grew wider as she heard her teacher banging loudly on a door and shouting to Mr O’ Leary, the school principal.
“Conor, come quick, come quick.” The banging, the loud banging and knocking, over and over and over. She couldn’t get the noise to stop as it echoed around her head. Everything else seemed to be in a slow dreamlike state. Everything happening at once, too much to take in, too much to cope with.
Liadh didn’t remember much else, except the noise, the banging of the door replaced suddenly with the sounds of the cane. The noise of it as it came through the air, a beautiful sliding sound, a whoosh and then Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Over and over again against Rían’s back, shoulders and face. He stared at Liadh silently and she watched as he grimaced with every blow. He never cried or called out, he just stared into her eyes, a look of pure defiance in them. Liadh started screaming then and looked down at her legs as the pool of water grew bigger on the floor. Looking back on that day she couldn’t remember what had happened next, it all seemed disjointed somehow. The next thing she remembered, was being brought home by Mister O’Malley and his kindness to her.
Liadh waited in the car outside her house, as Rían’s father Gearóid went in to tell her mother what had happened. She had watched her mother cry at the doorstep. It was the first time she had seen her like that, her body wracked and shaking with sobs. Her lovely mammy had committed the worst crime of all; she had brought her little pink bundle of sin home with her. Refusing to leave Liadh behind in the mother and baby home to be brought to a new family, a new life. Instead she had brought her home and lived in a ramshackle cottage with her bachelor uncle, Neddy.
When Liadh’s mammy stopped working at the O’Brien’s house, she got a job helping at Rían’s house while his mammy was pregnant. Liadh came to work too and became a regular fixture in the O’Malley household. Over the next four years Rían and Liadh had millions of adventures together. They found an ant hill and drew pictures of the ants moving leaves around from one side of the hill to the other. They sat in silence as Granny O’Malley berated them for using her whole sack of flour to become ghosts. Running through the woods that backed onto Cherry tree farm, they found treasure in every corner and promised that they would be best friends forever. Liadh wondered sometimes if Rían was made of flesh and bones at all. He seemed so different to the others, he seemed perfectly made for her.
And now Rían sat beside her in the back of the car, his small hand covering hers, even at eight he was a head above Liadh, and always seemed bigger and stronger than the other boys. She cried softly beside him, heaving every now and then from the shock of it all.
“Shush Liadh. Hush now. It’ll be over soon. She will never hurt you again.”
She looked at him, confused. He was the one that was hurt, great welts already swelling across his face and arms, but as usual he was worried about her. Mister O’Malley opened her car door and looked at her, his eyes were soft and concerned and Liadh liked him. If she ever had a daddy, she would want him to be like Mister O’Malley. He knew she had wet her pants and hadn’t mentioned it. Instead he had simply taken a blanket from the boot of the car and wrapped it gently around her. And she knew he treated her mammy well too. When her mammy had worked at the O’Brien house, she had been sad. Until the day she had left early and never gone back. Liadh had heard Neddy fighting with Mr O’Brien telling him to keep his damn hands to himself. Mr O’Brien had told Neddy that her mammy was a ‘bitch and a prick tease.’ Liadh didn’t know what it meant, but she knew it wasn’t a good thing. And if it wasn’t good, then it wasn’t true. Because her mammy was good, and kind and lovely. She smelled like roses from the fancy soap Neddy had given her last Christmas. They had chosen it together, in the pharmacy in the village.
And she had cried when they had presented it to her. Liadh had watched her mammy’s hands shaking as she opened the fancy gold and red wrapping. The nicest thing anyone had ever given her, she had told them. And Neddy had smiled too, and muttered about not understanding women. And later that night they had all sat around the fire stuffed to the gills with turkey and ham. Neddy had played Spancil Hill on the accordion and Liadh and her mammy had sung along. Her mother had a beautiful voice, and when she sang, her face lit up
and Liadh thought she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, her yellow hair, long and straight.
“Out you pop, Liadh, there's a good girl.” Mister O’Malley shook his head sadly and waved at them both as he drove off. Liadh watched Rían as he appeared at the back window of the car and held his hand up in a silent wave to her. She raised her hand too, and kept looking as the car turned the corner of the lane and out of sight.
Her mother cradled her tight and whispered into Liadh’s hair.
“She will never hurt you again Liadh. Never again. None of them will.”
The next day they packed up their small amount of belongings and moved out of the town. Mister O’Malley had friends in Dublin, her mother would have work there, and never have to come back to this town; this town that had taken so much from her already. Liadh never got to say goodbye to Rían—that hurt the most. All that Lidah and her mammy left behind, were tiny footprints in the heart of the town. And all Liadh took with her, was the memory of a boy who cared for her, once.
Death leaves a heartache no one can heal,
Love leaves a memory no one can steal
- Irish blessing
Winter 2014 Dublin city
The things your mother wished you knew, but never told you.
When she was pregnant you made her sick, she loved you even then.
When you were born she cried inside as she held you, she felt overwhelming fear, joy and love.
She broke her back walking the floors at night when you wouldn’t sleep, she held you so tightly, as she whispered and sang to you, and then did it all again the next night.
She wished she could take every hurt away and shield you from pain, the saddest sound in the world was the sound of your cry.
When she looked at you she saw the best bits of herself reflected in your eyes.
Sometimes she wished she were a better mother, in her heart she felt that sometimes, her best was never quite good enough.
Rían: (The O'Malleys Book 3) Page 1