Across the River

by Alice Taylor

  “Nora, you’re a pain in the butt,” Peter told her.

  “Have you any news here?” Kate asked before an argument started.

  “Oh, we have,” Nora told her. “Tomorrow we’re going over to Mr Hobbs in Ross to hear something in Nana Nellie’s will.”

  Watching Kate’s face, Martha knew that she was startled.

  She had always assumed that Kate knew what was in the will, but now she knew differently. Hobbs had them all in the dark. She was glad that Kate knew nothing more than herself. Now, instead of her feeling an outsider with the Phelans, they were on level footing. Could it be possible that Jack knew something? But that was unlikely, because what Jack knew, Kate knew.

  “Did Old Hobbs send for you?” Kate asked. There was a slight pause, and Peter and Nora looked at Martha, who said briefly, “No, I was over about something else,” and she knew by Kate’s face that she was wondering how much Old Hobbs had told her about her own visit. Why do wills always make people feel uneasy, she wondered, or is it only when family relationships are strained? But then there were probably few families without some inner friction going on.

  “Did Fr Brady recover from the upheaval with Matt Conway?” she asked Kate, and was amused to sense that Kate was slightly embarrassed by the question. So Kate had heard the gossip about them.

  “It all sorted itself out,” Kate said. “The bishop was pretty decent about the whole thing.”

  “He had to go to the bishop?” Peter said in surprise. “So Fr Burke pulled the plug on him.”

  “Apparently, but the bishop was a lot more understanding than Fr Burke,” Kate said.

  “I should hope so,” Peter declared. “We’d be lost without him in the club. Davy thinks that he should start a boxing club.”

  “It could happen,” Kate smiled, “but I had better be off because I’ll call to Jack on the way home.”

  “He’s having problems trying to balance the advantage of the speed of tractor cutting against the damage to the wildlife,” Peter said.

  “I could see Jack having a problem with that all right.”

  “I’m having a problem with it, too,” Nora told her.

  “Don’t mind you,” Peter told her.

  “How would you like to be a pheasant with your two legs cut off?” Nora demanded.

  “That doesn’t happen. The pheasants aren’t that bloody stupid that they’d wait for that to happen to them.”

  “But what about their eggs or their babies?” Nora protested.

  “I think you’ve gone over all this before,” Martha said, “but while you do it again, I’ll walk up a bit with Aunty Kate and the two of you can tidy up.”

  Martha knew that Kate was amazed that she had offered to accompany her up the boreen. It was the first time she had walked up with Kate. Ned always had, and she had often envied their closeness as she watched them walk away together. Now that she saw the same closeness between Peter and Nora, she could better understand the bond between Ned and Kate. The offer was a gesture of friendship. She appreciated deeply that Kate had not used her mother’s will to make life difficult. She was not so sure that she would have been that kind in the circumstances. “I was very impressed that Fr Brady took on that sermon,” Martha began as they walked along. “It showed great courage.”

  “More courage than wisdom, I think,” Kate said ruefully. “It ran him into big trouble.”

  “Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to because they need to be done,” Martha said.

  “Well, maybe,” Kate answered, “but everything worked out for the better. He found the bishop a bit of a revelation, to say the least of it.”

  “Sarah Jones probably had the bishop filled in on the background,” Martha said.

  “Possibly,” Kate agreed.

  “They go back a long ways, don’t they?” Martha said, and because Kate seemed reluctant to say anything, she continued, “I visited the Miss Jacksons as well as Mark when we were young, and the bishop was a visitor there often. Sometimes Sarah Jones would be invited because she was an old friend of the bishop’s.”

  “The Miss Jacksons knew him since he was a curate, didn’t they?” Kate asked. “Strange the way all our lives intertwine.”

  “That’s because we’re all living in such a small bowl,” Martha said. “Sometimes we get knotted together and nearly choke each other.”

  “I hope that everything turns out all right tomorrow,” Kate said quietly.

  “Tomorrow should be an interesting day.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  JACK SAT INSIDE his window in the dusk and looked down over the fields. He kept the hedge in front of his window cut low so that he could enjoy the view when he sat at the table. Nolans’ cows were gathered in the corner beyond his hedge, some already lying down contentedly chewing the cud while others grazed beside them, having the last few bites before finally settling for the night. They are like our ourselves, Jack thought. Some of them can never have enough while others are more relaxed and ready to take things easy.

  Beyond Nolans’ farm he could see down over the village where the lights were beginning to come on in the houses. He had been without electricity so long himself that now, even though he had it, he preferred to wait until all God’s light was gone before he turned it on. It was pleasant sitting in the dusk and watching the shadows gathering in the corners of the fields. The darkening horizon was still shot through with streaks of crimson. Earlier on there had been a wonderful sunset, a ball of orange which had disappeared below the horizon shooting back rays of brilliant red. Tomorrow would be another good day. The trees and bushes were taking on strange shapes, and it was good to watch the sky darken and the first stars come out. The smell of his flowers, some of which came into their own at this time of day, wafted in the open window. His old favourite, the night-scented stock, was the lady of the dusk.

  He picked up his pipe from the deep windowsill and massaged the palm of his hand with the bowl of the fine briar. This was a special pipe. On the day of Ned’s accident Nora, who was about ten at the time, had money in her pocket to buy her father a pipe. Long afterwards the money was found knotted up in her small white handkerchief in the pocket of her torn coat. She had kept the money for a long time under her pillow, her last link with her father, and then one day she had gone to the village and bought this pipe for Jack. It was his greatest treasure, a physical connnection between Ned, Nora and himself.

  There was great satisfaction in cutting the little shreds of tobacco off the square plug. He rubbed them gently against his palm and sniffed the aromatic whiff. He eased the tobacco into the bowl and then cracked a match that threw his pipe into a little pool of light. Once the match touched the tobacco, he drew deeply and the bowl of his pipe glowed red. Putting the cover back on, he settled deep into his chair to savour his smoke.

  Smoking his pipe and thinking things out always went together in his mind. Now he cast his mind back over the day. He had suspected that Martha had something on her mind all day and now he wondered what it was. Actually, she had not been herself since the day of Davy’s grandmother’s funeral. Peter and himself had thought that she had gone to the funeral, and she had left them assume that, but from something that Davy had remarked, he realised that they were mistaken. So where had she been? Wherever it was, it hadn’t done her much good. Something had her upset, and it was not that easy to upset Martha.

  He found his mind rambling back over the years and became so immersed in his thoughts that he was not sure if a figure had flitted past the window or if he had imagined it, but when he heard the latch being raised he tensed in his chair. When Kate’s head came around the door, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  “God, Kate, I thought for one minute that you were Conway,” he breathed.

  “That’s twice in the one night.” she exclaimed. “Nora thought the same thing when I went in below.”

  “He must be taking our peace of mind,” Jack sighed.

  “What are you doing sitti
ng here in the dark?” Kate asked.

  “I nearly decided that you were gone to bed when there was no light, but then I thought, ‘I bet he is sitting in there looking out the window.’”

  “I love the sunset,” Jack told her. “Magnificent this evening. Watching it is as good as praying.”

  “Jack, the most amazing thing happened below this evening,” Kate told him. “Martha actually walked up the boreen with me.”

  “Oh boy!” Jack exclaimed. “That’s one for the book.”

  “I had to come in to tell you. If I told David, he would wonder what I was on about.”

  “That was the first crack in the ice after twenty-two years,” Jack declared.

  “Wasn’t it just that?” Kate confirmed.

  “What could have brought it on?” Jack wondered. “She hasn’t been herself with a few days, since the day of Davy’s grandmother’s funeral. She let us think that she was there, but from something Davy said I know that she wasn’t.”

  “Do you know where she was, Jack? She was over with Old Hobbs.”

  “What was she doing over with him?” Jack exclaimed, and then he thought back over the conversation between Peter and Martha about the Lehane meadows.

  “Is she wondering about the home farm?” Jack said slowly.

  “I knew when it came to an argument between Peter and herself about the meadows that there was something else bothering her. Would Mark and Agnes be deciding to give that land to Peter? Martha would resent that. Of course she knows now for sure that you knew all along about the clause in the will. She would appreciate that you never mentioned it, which is more than can be said for me.”

  “Did you say it to her, Jack?”

  “Well, it slipped out one day after a rough session between Peter and herself. You know, Kate, I have one dread, that some day she will push him so far and he will be gone.

  You know what Peter is like. He brought the Phelan quick temper, and he could fly off the handle one day and be out the gate. Wouldn’t we be in a right mess then, with me in my seventies. I know Martha is only skirting forty, but there are none of us getting younger and we need young blood around the place, otherwise we’ll be like an old people’s home in a few years’ time.”

  “Pity Martha wouldn’t hear you,” Kate told him.

  “Oh, I know that she is full of life now, but you need the young coming up on the land. We did not rear Peter for the gate; we reared him for Mossgrove.”

  “I can’t see Peter walking out on it,” Kate said.

  “There are some fair blow-ups below there sometimes, and the half of them are all about nothing. If only she would give him his head a bit. Sure, Ned was running the whole show at his age.”

  “Different woman of the house back then,” Kate sighed.

  “That’s for sure.”

  “I nearly forgot to tell you the next exciting bit of news: the three of them, Martha, Peter and Nora, are to go over to Mr Hobbs tomorrow.”

  “What’s that about?” Jack wondered.

  “Something about Nellie’s will, and the three of them must be there for it,” Kate said.

  “Boys, that’s a bit of a surprise,” Jack declared. “Nellie must have put in some other proviso.”

  “You mean Old Hobbs put it in,” Kate told him.

  “Well, yes, but they would only have put it in for the good of the Phelans and Mossgrove,” Jack decided.

  “Hope that it will not put Martha’s nose out of joint, now when she is just starting to thaw out,” Kate said thoughtfully

  “That will was made when Ned was getting married and Mossgrove was supposed to be signed over to him, but Hobbs had some other way of doing things. So far he has been proved right, and I think that Martha would agree now. That could be the reason for the thaw. Peter didn’t know about tomorrow when I was leaving, I’d say,” Jack surmised. “It wouldn’t be like him not to tell me.”

  “Sure, of course, he’d tell you. Peter thinks that you’re the next thing to God,” Kate told him.

  “It would be like Martha to give him a short running at it,” Jack decided.

  “Maybe better that way,” Kate said.

  “Well, I hope to God that whatever is in that will that Peter will be more settled after it.”

  “It was made before he was born,” Kate said slowly.

  “Strange when you think about that, isn’t it?”

  “But little changes could have been added over the years.”

  “The law is a strange thing,” Kate mused.

  They sat inside the window looking out into the moonlit fields where the cows were now dark shadows in the corner. Occasionally one of them coughed or made a snuffling noise that accentuated the quietness. Jack liked the way Kate could sit with you in silence. Herself and Nora had that in common, a trait that they had inherited from Nellie Phelan. She had been a very comforting presence, calm and wise, and Jack felt that whatever was in her will would be good for them all in the long run. Ned and the family had been well served by her, and only he and Kate, and probably Sarah Jones, knew what she had had to put up with from Martha. It was good to see now that Kate had no bitterness towards Martha, despite often having been made to feel a stranger in her old home. He knew that Kate had sometimes been deeply hurt and yet she had put it all behind her. She was obviously very happy with David. Jack was praying constantly that a child would make an appearance, even though he felt that the tide was running out. Surely Nellie, wherever she was, would not let him down. Kate deserved that, after all she had done for the parish with the new school, and he knew that she went above and beyond her call of duty as district nurse. She was back and forth to Ellen Shine every day since her mother had died. Poor Ellen seemed to have gone under a dark cloud and was finding it hard to shift it.

  “How’s Ellen Shine?” he asked now.

  “Not great. You know, the strange thing is that her mother was old and her death was expected, but still Ellen is taking it very badly.”

  “She never gave herself time to mourn Den when he died. She kept going, almost pretending that it never happened, so maybe this time she is double mourning,” Jack suggested.

  “So it was from you that Davy got that understanding,” Kate said, “because I was surprised when he came up with it. It’s helping him to help Ellen.”

  “Sometimes an old head is useful around the place,” Jack declared.

  “That’s what Sarah Jones told Fr Brady when she was advising him about cutting down his house calls to us,” Kate told him.

  “So you heard the gossip,” Jack said in an annoyed voice.

  “Even the PP had it,” Kate said.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, he had every stir from Lizzy.”

  “You knew that she had it?” Kate asked.

  “I did, Sarah told me,” Jack admitted.

  “So Sarah decided to take things in hand?” Kate asked.

  “She did. How did Fr Brady take it?” Jack asked.

  “Fine, and strangely enough the bishop had the same idea,” Kate mused.

  “Do you think that he was advised?” Jack smiled in the darkness.

  “Well, if he was she did a mighty job, because Fr Tim was delighted with him,” Kate said.

  “The bishop was always sound as a bell. I remember him years ago when Sarah was housekeeping for him.”

  “Isn’t friendship a wonderful relationship?”

  “In many ways more lasting than love.”

  He sensed Kate hesitate for a moment and then she said,

  “You loved Nellie, didn’t you?”

  In all the years that Kate and himself had known each other, it had never been mentioned, but here in the soft darkness of the summer night it was the sharing of a loving that they had both known about.

  “She brought joy into my life,” he told her. “Doing things with Nellie took the drudgery out of work. Even in school she was special. I was working here before she married your father, and when the drinking took him over I was glad to be there f
or her and to keep Mossgrove going.”

  “I always knew that there was something special between you,” Kate told him. “When I was growing up it made life warmer at home. Funny, you know, Ned was totally unaware of it, and it was the day before he was killed that we discussed it for the first time. I think that he was glad to know it.”

  Jack felt the tears come into his eyes to remember the two people whom he had loved so dearly. Part of him had died with Nellie, and he had thought that he could never again feel such pain until Ned had his accident. To bury the generation younger than you was unnatural. It shook your foundations. But it was good to have Peter and Nora in Mossgrove now. As much as Peter was a mixture of his mother and his grandfather, Billy Phelan, Jack was beginning to think recently that in the heel of the hunt he was going to be a second Edward Phelan. Strange how the back-breeding broke out, skipping two generations and here again now in the third.

  “You have been interwoven through so many Phelan lives,” Kate’s voice came gently.

  “They have all been good to me,” Jack said.

  “You are more Mossgrove than any of us,” Kate told him.

  “We’re only all caretakers, passing through,” Jack said with a sigh. “We can only hope that the next generation will pass on what we give them.”

  “You have a great belief in the continuity of things. I think that you passed that on to me. Rodney Jackson, even though he was born in America, has it as well about Kilmeen.”

  “He is one of the best things that ever happened to Kilmeen,” Jack declared. “Even myself, who is a total ignoramus where painting is concerned, can appreciate all those paintings on the walls of the school. As a matter of fact, earlier on as I watched that sunset, I envied Mark his talent.”

  “Jack, we’ll have you with a brush and canvas when you retire,” Kate teased him as she pushed back her chair.

  “I’ll die in harness,” Jack told her as he followed her out the door and along the narrow path to the little gate. Her small black Morris Minor was parked outside.