by Dermot Healy
Good luck, said Joejoe, and he immediately took off to the glasshouse to inspect the tomato plants, smell the herbs, the basil and rosemary while we watched him from afar. He returned like a man entranced.
So, she said, so I just want to welcome you all.
There you go, said the gentleman, then, tray in hand, he sat inside on a low stool behind the front door while she led us into the entrance hall. Joejoe walked around talking to himself as the rest of us made small chat. The gentleman sat in the distance looking out the front door like a man considering his hand in a game of poker. Joejoe felt the backs of the chairs wrapped in sheets; he studied the Indian, then headed for the stairs, and stopped on each step to gaze at the old faded whites of the ice and snow, the illuminated cloths of linen, the old bearded floating figures.
He put down his glass on the top banister and headed off across the landing on the first floor.
Uncle Joejoe, Ma called up.
Let him continue, said Miss Jilly.
She led us to the door of the drawing room and with a gesture invited us in, then went off up the stairs to join our Joejoe on his travels. Our waiter arrived with a fresh tray of drinks and put them on the round table; then stood a moment by the window looking out, and left the room. Da, sparkling water in hand, looked up the chimney and whistled. In the grate the makings of fire was set with paper knots, and twigs, and branches.
Who is Mister Lundy, whispered Ma.
He’s a famous architect, said Da.
And he’s gay, said Desmond, is Mister Lundy.
Now, said Gary.
A complete recluse, explained Da. Mister Lundy lives on the mountain. He is the only visitor she ever gets, maybe twice a year. He is an admirer of the house, and has done some restoration for her in the past. It was him apparently suggested the plans for the removal of the earth. He looked toward the door. I think I’ll go see if I can give him a hand.
Ma’s mobile rang, she searched her bag; Yes, she said. Well please let me know, thank you. She looked around.
They may be moving Tom Feeney soon, she said.
A quick shower of rain fell. Overhead we heard a gong sound. Then another. I wondered had Joejoe and Miss Jilly reached the ferrets. Anna unearthed a number of old books and sat perched in an armchair reading about pollution in the North Pacific Ocean, a life of Countess Markievicz, sparrowhawks and the First World War. Desmond and Gary sat like two little boys on the couch. Ma sat on a stiff chair touching her cheeks. Around the table were nine chairs facing mats decorated with pictures of may bushes.
Da came back with knives and forks and set the table.
Mister Lundy brought in a bowl of salad then he lifted a large box of matches from the mantelpiece and lit a sheet of paper in the grate. With a whoosh the fire took. We heard the other old pair chattering in the hallway, there was a burst of laughter and Joejoe my pretend Grandda sauntered in wearing a small cowboy’s hat belonging to a child from long ago. Then Miss Jilly entered lightly tapping her chest with her two hands, and handed Anna a violet tube of nail varnish and a small nailbrush. The very best from France, she said and sat at the table and opened her arms to us. Thank you, said Anna. Grandda took off his cap and slowly lowered himself into a chair to her side. Gary nodded, lifted the cap, tried it on then put it down on the side table beside his sombrero. We all sat down surrounded by portraits of people from another time on the wall. Mister Lundy reappeared with a large plate of fish, followed by Da carrying a bowl of potatoes. All were placed in front of Miss Jilly, then Mister Lundy handed her a plate from the pile sitting in front of her, and she began meticulously laying out the food.
Chives, iceberg lettuce, rocket, parsley and dill, she announced, and spooned out a section.
Wonderful, said Ma.
And next we have apple and celery. All from the garden. We have the hippies to thank for the weeding.
I met them, said Anna, Aaron and Angela and…
Tommy, I added.
And Tommy, said Grandda, yes, they are very tidy people.
Potatoes and spring onion, Miss Jilly said, and then sliding her fork under each portion, she added: and finally crab claws and a taste of mussels.
Da took each plate of food and handed them round to us. He had entered a new dimension. I had never been served at a table before by my father. He sat down with a sort of whimsical glance up at the ceiling as Ma took a long drink of wine and had her glass refilled.
Thank you, she said. Thank you for training in my husband.
I am delighted, said Miss Jilly. Such joy has no equal. Love makes lovers equal, as the musical goes. Who was it that said: If you really love me then you should stop loving me.
It would bring a tear to your eye, said my Grandda
Oh…Joejoe, said Anna.
Are you romantic or sentimental? Miss Jilly asked Anna.
I am…
…Which?
Both.
And very honest – to boot – I can see.
And just then Gary bowed his head and blessed himself, as Miss Jilly paused with a fork to her mouth. Mister Lundy popped a new bottle of wine, took the last chair and the space closed in around him.
Outside the sky darkened even more as the rain stopped.
You are all welcome, Miss Jilly said, and her accent took on a hunting sound as she leaned down to take the first bite. This is my first supper with visitors in years. A thousand thanks. I recall meals at this table when I was very young– it was like a puppet spectrum. A group of people filled with long, pleasant complaints. Then the tea dances. Feather was a very good girl, wasn’t she Joejoeing?
Yes.
Yes, said Miss Jilly, but on the breath at the end of the word yes the sound only stretched in half-agreement; there was another alternative coming into view, Yes, she continued, Feather was my sister. She had lots of doubt, anger and cherries. She is out in the New Forest now.
Mister Lundy rose and filled our glasses. Da moved onto lemonade. Suddenly away in the distance there was a great roll of thunder.
Do you know what your granduncle the cowboy wanted to do upstairs in the children’s room Mister Psyche? and she looked across at me, with her eyebrows raised. I will not hold you in suspense. The tinker wanted to ride a child’s tricycle across the floor. I ask you.
I lost the run of myself walking through the house, said Joejoe.
Did you let him, asked Gary, take a spin.
It was far too small for him. She glanced at the fire. Thank you for cleaning my chimney.
No problem, said Da.
We ate for a while.
You intend to build a tomb, enquired Ma.
Not quite, said Miss Jilly, and she looked childishly at Mister Lundy. I think I used the wrong word.
Is it to be a gallery?
No. Just a ring of stone. In fact, she said, still staring at Mister Lundy, what I have in mind is a small mausoleum.
Oh, said Anna.
And there was a silence.
Let us drink to a man who is not here, Miss Jilly said.
We all sat waiting, wondering.
And I hope that gentleman is himself having a drink at this very moment. This morning I brought him in a bottle of champagne and told him we would be seated at this table here at eight o’clock and that he was to raise a glass on the hour. Before I left I popped the cork. Then she rose her glass and said: To the Bird!
We all stood and drank in salute.
To the Bird! we all repeated.
Who is he? whispered Gary in my ear.
A neighbour.
Oh, thank you.
Overhead the thunder rolled as everyone sat. Then the sky started to light up as the storm flew overhead. And again came another roll of thunder.
Nature, said Miss Jilly, is upset.
Maister Gaoithe, said Desmond.
Oh translate please.
The churning wind, said Gary. Then there’s the leap of the mare, and the whin bush.
Very nice. And Mister Thomas F
eeney said that in his hospital bed he had been riding high next the sister of sorrow. I thought for a while on his words. Then I said: Mister Feeney you are making sense. And he said: if I am making sense, I am getting better. And he pointed sadly at the empty bed beside him. Then he said – Prepare yourself, do you hear that step in the corridor, you can always tell a doctor’s step, wait for it – and into the ward stepped a doctor.
No, said Anna, just like that?
Yes.
Unfortunately, in a hospital you get to know the sound of the bosses, said Ma, yes, you do after a while.
The jugglers, I said.
Cuckoo, said Joejoe, aping the bird.
And they will be moving him soon – probably tomorrow – into a nursing home, St Francis’s, said Ma. A bed, I think, became available there yesterday.
Life gets cold, said Miss Jilly.
Outside the thunder pitched wildly. We ate like old friends who were strangers. The crab was doused in butter and lemon. Joejoe picked at his teeth to unearth the parsley and chives. Anna’s mobile rang – Absolutely, grand, like, she said, then came the pause, and next – Look, chat you later. Absolutely, grand, repeated Miss Jilly, it is extraordinary how the local ear picks up the pure genteel without knowing.
Mister Lundy and Da stood and gathered the plates, and a few minutes later swung through the door with two trays of desserts. We got these tutti-fruttis – made of blackberries, strawberries, raspberries and apple juice. Anna looked at me and Joejoe, and pointed at both of us.
This is the second time in two days that pair have been served by a waiter, she said.
Oh, said Miss Jilly. We all have our own factotum. I had a servant once. My husband was a military man. He was my master. My master is dead.
Ma looked startled.
I’m sorry, said Grandda. He died on October 10th 1990.
Correct. You have an incredible memory Joejoeing –
– But I cannot see colours –
– And there are his ashes, and Miss Jilly pointed with a dessert spoon to the small vase positioned in the corner of the room on the small table, the same vase she had cradled to her chest the day we did the chimney. I have stood for years wondering where to put them, she continued, I must have stood in a thousand places, then as the earth began to leave here over the last few days, I thought out there, where the earth once was, facing the bay, they should sit…in a small mausoleum…where I can join him in time. You were digging a grave, gentlemen, she said to the two men.
Ah – it’s no wonder we got lost, said Gary.
Pray?
On our way out.
We were going round in circles, said Desmond.
And circles –
– Till finally –
– We hit Ballintra.
And then landed in Meenagorp, said Desmond.
Translate, please?
A smooth place of the dead, said Gary.
Thank you. The dead each year sprout out of the ground like daisies. That’s why I’d like to have a chime. When I was a young woman I found a dog walking the road, and knew it belonged to our house in another generation. It was a tall dog of a type I knew from a previous existence, so I said the words and it followed me up the avenue. And the dog lived till he was eighteen. You remember his name?
Tonto, I said.
Correct. She turned to our granduncle. And who buried him?
I did, said Joejoe.
Forgive my morbidity. When I wine and dine I grow sad and always blame someone.
And I look for signs.
Now it’s time I kept my promise, she said, and as the thunder rolled again we followed her upstairs to the Watch Room where all of us took a look up through the telescope at the lightning in the sky. And immediately into my head stepped the Russian sailors looking up at the ocean as Joejoe pondered the heavens. Then downstairs again Anna painted her nails a wild violet as Mister Lundy turned on a tape under instruction from Miss Jilly and on came The Pirates of Penzance, then later an old gent called Perry Como, singing, while the fire in the chimney roared; then the architect and the lady saw us to the door; the van went to town with Gary waving like a man demented, and Da sat in soberly behind the wheel of Ma’s car and drove us all home.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
My Story
I woke at five o’clock in the bed, and bit by bit the crew of my dreams reluctantly left me, then they were gone completely and I got up to find a low white haze over the fields. A cow stood looking through the mist with two calves at her udders, in the next field the horse was running in circles.
Then the mist grew deeper till there was nothing to be seen. All you could hear outside was the lewing cow. The sea went, and all that came in was the sound. I sat among the montbretia and watched them shake their red veins. The wild hollyhock was gone old and brown. The stiff rods of the arum lilies stood stiffly up in the air like a choir of gnarled heads. The white flowers were long dead. The branch of a poor sycamore, driven helpless by wind, looked at me like a woman’s head. The empty rose bush shuffled. I leaned down to look at the two purple heads of hydrangea that had survived the winds. Then the mist flattened and began to lift with just the slightest urge of a breeze. What was out there? I walked down the road to the pier and touched the wall, and found my way down to the boat. I sat there for an hour at the wheel watching the white world sifting past.
Then I made my way back up the road, and into bed, and did the crossword, and did the other one, then at last at seven I got up and put on the kettle. Ma came into the kitchen.
I called your father, she said, but not a budge.
Da, I called up the stairs.
Ma was on duty for just half a day; she had porridge and headed off into the mist. I put the hedge cutters and the strimmer in Da’s boot and waited. At last he appeared in his fishing gear.
I’m going to take out the boat for a run before the weather breaks, he said, where have I to bring you?
The Judge’s.
Oh yeh.
We set off in second gear. The road ahead was like one we had never been on before, but as we went inland the mist began to lift and he dropped me off at the Judge’s house where I did his lawns with his mower, and chopped timber, then cleared the tall weeds along his walls.
How is your uncle?
I have not seen him in a couple of days, but he seems OK.
Good.
He left me down to Miss Constance’s where I cut the weeds each side of the lane to her house. At twelve I stepped across the road and washed Miss Gurn’s windows and weeded her garden.
The sun was high in the sky. The sound of mowing was everywhere.
It grew hotter and hotter.
I did Father Grimes’s hedges. The roads were filled with tractors drawing hay. It was the second cut. Then I got a lift home in a tractor and trailer. As I entered the house the phone rang off. I looked out to sea and saw Da’s boat out towards the island.
The hare walked out the rocks and sat – ears up beside the heron – looking out to sea. Why does the hare go out the rocks? I once asked Joejoe. Because he is enchanted, he said. The hare is enchanted. He likes his salt. Then I worked the garden, laying more flags to make a path that would form an X that would run from corner to corner. Then I went to weed the potato and the carrot beds.
When Ma arrived home in the afternoon I was sitting in the studio going through a book of stamps that had travelled through the family. She looked in.
Hi, I said.
Hi! I have news. This morning I went up to see the Bird with a clean set of clothes and found his bed empty. I waited a while thinking he was at the toilet, then nurse Jean came along to say they had just moved him to St Francis’s Home for old folk.
Does that mean he won’t be coming back home?
I’m afraid so, for the time being. I just called to him on my way out. He is in ward Male 2.
How was he?
Discontented, she said, but there again he had a certain request.
&
nbsp; For what?
Champagne, yes, champagne, she said.
She changed her clothes and took up a rake and started to filter the clay. I set off down to the Bird’s house with a cardboard box. I dropped in to say Hallo to Joejoe and Cnoic raced out and joined me. I opened the door of the Bird’s and went to the toilet; the dog ran into the house, and started barking wildly, then ran out again. I filled the cardboard box, then stepped down to the pier and waited for Da to return.
About half an hour later Da landed, with two pollock and fourteen lobsters, and we drove off and dropped them at the Sea Café, then headed to the Nursing Home.
Outside St Francis’s a man was standing propped on his walking stick and beyond him was a wren singing sweet on a leafless tree. Flowers filled the sills. Gentlemen and ladies felt their way along the corridor as we went looking for Male 2. A scream was repeated as we walked along.
What have you got in the box, asked Da.
A present.
I see.
Then we reached the Male 2 that had eight beds. At the furthest remove below the window the Bird was in an armchair with his cap on his head and his eyes closed.
Tom, said Da.
Well?
Tom, repeated Da.
Aha Mister Feeney, he said wakening with a smile, and how is Mister Psyche?
Very good sir.
Did you get the dog?
I did.
Where is he now?
In Joejoe’s.
Aha, he said contentedly.
Just then a man entered the ward dressed in a shirt and trousers and bare feet. He came along to the Bird’s bed and sat on it. He looked at the three of us quizzically, as if we were in the way, or people he should have known, then, in one quick move, he took off his trousers.
Excuse me, said Da.
Is there something wrong? the man asked him, as he climbed into Tom’s bed and lay back beneath the sheets.
I think you are in the wrong place.
Pardon?
Please get up.
What do you mean?
That is my bed, said the Bird quietly, Mister James.
It’s my bed, he said, and he pulled the sheets to his chin.
I’m afraid you are making a mistake, said Da.