by Ann Bridge
“She didn’t tell me, but I have an idea it was Mrs. Martin from Achill who had actually brought it” Julia said.
“And what gave you that idea?” the priest enquired, but with perfect courtesy.
Julia described her encounter with the woman in the dark glasses in the white car—“So I can’t be absolutely positive it was her, and then. But finding Lady Browne counting the notes immediately afterwards gave me that impression.” Julia went on to mention that the old lady had first admitted that it was Mrs. Martin, and what she had said later about her being a nice neighbour.
“How pathetic!” Father O’Donnell said. “She obviously doesn’t know in the least what she is doing.”
“Pathetic my foot!” O’Hara exclaimed angrily. “She’s a rich, greedy old woman, who has all the money she needs already, and just wants more for money’s sake! Anyhow we know exactly what she’s doing, and I’m on my way to tell her so! O’Rahilly tried to buy out some of the people on our bay, remember, so we know what his plans are.”
“If you got them in detail directly from him, I should be grateful if you would repeat them to me, General” the priest said. “Such things are apt to get exaggerated in rumours, and rumour is all I have heard. I failed to get speech of Mr. O’Rahilly myself.”
“You would!” O’Hara replied with energy. “Trust him to steer clear of you! He had to speak to me about the water-supply for that scheme of his, so I was able to get a fair idea. He was going to put up an hotel, with a restaurant attached, but open to non-residents, and a dance-hall ditto; and a casino for gambling; and he wanted to build a mole out into the bay to make an anchorage for yachts, where people could hire boats—what’s this they call the things?”
“A marina?” the Father suggested.
“That’s it. And there was to be a heated swimming-pool as well.”
“You’ve forgotten the disgotax, General” Julia put in.
“The what?” Father O’Donnell not unnaturally asked.
“It was the local version for a discothèque” Julia explained. “One of the farmers’ wives asked Lady Helen what a ‘disgo-tax’ might be?” The priest laughed.
“That item is innocent enough in itself” he said.
“Yes, Father, but it gives a sort of smell of the type of people Billy’s hoping to attract” Julia said.
“I agree—and it’s a bad smell. The casino is the worst, of course; but the whole thing rather reeks of idle pleasure-seeking in artificial surroundings; not in the least the same thing as healthful relaxation in beautiful scenery, which is what people used to come here for. The sort of person who would put up with the very modest degree of comfort afforded by the Lettersall Hotel was not normally a great menace to the innocence of my flock—let alone those who would take rooms in a farm!”
“Yes. And then look at the gross over-employment it would bring for half the year, tempting all the boys and girls off the farms, and almost total unemployment for the other half” the General said vigorously.
“Is that really definite? I wanted to ask about that,” the Father said.
“O’Rahilly tried to beat me down over what he was to pay for his water, because he would only be using it at full blast for seven months of the year” O’Hara said drily. “And I hear that that Weber person down the coast shuts up his infernal outfit for a full six months.”
Julia had been keeping an eye on the speedometer, and as they approached a lane leading off on the left she slowed down. “Would this be your turn, Father? It’s just about a mile since we picked you up.”
“Ah, it is. What an observant, practical young lady!” He looked at his watch. “You wouldn’t be coming back this same way, General? If so I should be rather inclined to come on with you, if you had no objection, and join my remonstrances to yours. It was only a sick call I had to pay: there’s no great rush about it—it’s a chronic case.”
“Oh, I wish you would!” Julia exclaimed impulsively. “Couldn’t we?” she said, leaning back and turning dove’s eyes onto O’Hara.
“Don’t see why not, if you can spare the time, Father.” He too looked at his watch. “But we shall have to look sharp—it’s a good bit longer round through Lettersall.”
Julia trod on the accelerator, and they went on; she was careful however not to take the small by-road at a speed that would bounce the two men in the back—the great thing was to keep the General in a good temper. Her eagerness to have the priest’s company for the coming interview was largely due to her fear that General O’Hara might use language that would provoke old Lady Browne, as stubborn as she was quick-tempered, to take up in argument a position from which she would find it impossible to retreat afterwards, however much later pleas might make her wish to do so—this, she already felt, was much less likely to happen in Father O’Donnell’s presence. Once out on the main Galway road, however, with its good surface, she drove very fast indeed, and in a surprisingly short time they were turning in at the little lane that led down to the cottage.
The door was opened to them by an ancient domestic, whom the General greeted cheerfully with—“Hullo, Annie! I see you’re keeping in great form. Is your Mistress in?”
“She is, well, General O’Hara, Sir. And how is yourself, and Lady?”
“Grand, grand! Well bring us in, Annie—we’re a little short of time” O’Hara said impatiently.
“And his Reverence! Well isn’t it great to see you!” Annie was not easily hurried. “And who’s the young lady?”
At this point the door into the sitting-room was opened a crack.
“Now Annie, what’s all this nattering and chattering? Who have you got there?” Lady Browne’s voice asked sharply.
“May we come in, your Ladyship” Father O’Donnell asked, inserting his head into the crack.
“Of course, Father. Glad to see you.” Now the old lady opened the door. “And Michael! Have you come to fish?”
“No, to read you the Riot Act, Mary” the General responded. “You know Mrs. Jamieson already, I think.”
“Well come along in, all of you” Lady Browne said. “Annie, bring the sherry. Sit down—there’s plenty of chairs. How d’ye do, Mrs. James. Now, Michael, what are you here for, if it’s not fishing?”
“Lady Browne, may I begin?” the priest asked. “I’ve come to make an appeal to you on behalf of my flock?”
“Begging again! What does your flock need this time? They’ve got storage-heaters in the Church now, as well as the schools, haven’t they?”
“They have indeed, and very grateful we are to you for them. When people get to Mass wet through after walking three miles, ‘tis a great mercy not to have to sit in a cold damp church.”
“Yes, yes—you’ve been telling me that all along!” the old lady said impatiently. “But what do they want now?”
“It’s something they don’t want this time, and that I greatly wish they may not have thrust upon them, that I am asking your help about” the Father said earnestly.
“Now you’re talking in riddles! Speak out, man, and say what you mean!”
“He means he doesn’t want you to sell that strip south of Lettersall, to be turned in a Pally de Danse and a gambling-hell!” the General broke in. “And nor do I, and nor would any decent person! It’d ruin the district. We’ve both come on the same errand, only we met the Father on the road, so we brought him along.”
“Who says it’s going to be turned into a gambling-hell?” the old lady asked—but she looked rather disconcerted.
“I do! And what’s more I know it. That infernal chap O’Rahilly tried to buy land for the same scheme from some of my people, down the Bay, and of course had to come to me about the water, so I heard his plans in full detail. When I put a stop to him there he came on here.”
“Mr. O’Rahilly! He’s got nothing to do with it. I’d never sell a square foot to him!” the old lady protested vigorously, “as well you know, Michael.”
“Ah, but that’s just where you’re wrong
, Mary. He’s behind the whole thing, and if you complete the deal he’ll be living in Lettersall and running his hotel and casino and dance-hall. That’ll be a nice neighbour for you!” O’Hara said bitterly.
“I don’t believe a word of it” Lady Browne said. “He hasn’t got the money, for one thing. You’re just making this up to upset me.” She did indeed look very upset, in spite of her stout words.
“Your Ladyship, Mr. O’Rahilly has spent a lot of time near Lettersall lately” Father O’Donnell put in, “measuring and prospecting the land down to the South—I’ve seen him there myself, several times. He would hardly do that unless he had some definite plan in mind.”
“But the person who paid the deposit has nothing to do with Mr. O’Rahilly—it was someone quite different” the old lady said.
“Oh dear Lady Browne, she has, you know” Julia put in. “They see a lot of one another, and Mrs. Martin herself told me all about this development scheme. She didn’t actually say that she was backing him, but she knew that he was going to heat his swimming-pools.”
The General rounded sharply on Julia. “You never told us that Miss! When did she tell you that?”
“That time I went to see her in Achill.”
“You ought to have told us at once” the General said, indignantly.
Julia was silent. But now she was assailed with equal vigour from another quarter.
“Oh, so it was Mrs. James who told you that I was selling my land! That’s why you’ve come over to scold me, Michael.” She turned to Julia. “I thought you’d come to spy on me yesterday, only I fancied it was Gerald O’Brien sent you. I never believed that nonsense about wanting to buy my fur coat!”
“Dear Lady Browne, I couldn’t help it that I happened to come just when your deposit money was blowing all over the drive!” Julia protested. “Would you rather I hadn’t picked it up, and let it blow into the Lough?”
“Don’t you go dear Lady Browne-ing me! You’re a bad, deceitful girl, pretending to want to take me to the Bank and all!—and then going and telling everyone about my affairs.”
“Oh, so Helen and I are everyone now!” O’Hara broke out. “That’s a nice thing to hear!” But the priest held up his hand with a gesture of such authority that the angry old soldier subsided.
“Lady Browne” Father O’Donnell said, speaking very gently, “if you think that what you are doing is perfectly right, why should you mind General O’Hara hearing about it?”
“Because one doesn’t necessarily want one’s private business discussed, even by one’s friends” she said.
“No, I know that people have this curious shivering modesty, about their money-matters especially” the priest said with a smile of such amusement and sweetness combined that Julia was quite charmed. “It is almost as though they thought money was indecent! Perhaps it is—certainly some ways of making it are, like profiting out of prostitution.”
“Are you suggesting that I would ever dream of doing anything like that?” the old lady asked angrily.
“No, I accept that you acted in ignorance and had no idea who the real purchaser was, nor what his plans were. But now that you do know, do you not realise that the end result, if you complete this deal, will come close to that very thing, under this scheme of Mr. O’Rahilly’s? Who do you imagine will serve drinks in his casino and his dance-hall? Local girls, children whose souls are in my care! Do you seriously think that the kind of people who resort to that sort of place will not present any threat to their virtue, Lady Browne? You cannot know so little of the world as to believe that. And you will have made a profit on the sale of the land that made this possible! There isn’t much difference.”
“You can’t do it, Mary!” the General said. “No one will ever want to speak to you again if you do.”
“I won’t be dictated to by you, or by anyone else, Michael!” the old lady said furiously. “What I do with my own property is my business, not yours. Or anyone else’s, come to that!” she added, scowling at the priest. He smiled at her.
“I recognise your feelings, Lady Browne” he said quietly. “But you see you have been gravely misled as to the identity of the purchaser—through no fault of your own. You say yourself that you would not sell anything to Mr. O’Rahilly; nor, I imagine, to any associates of his.”
“Certainly not.”
“Quite so. But in these altered circumstances I am sure you see that you would do well to consider very carefully before completing this deal.”
The poor old thing snatched at this.
“Yes, I must have time to think. You are quite right, Father,” she said. “This has all been so sprung on me—first yesterday, and now today, with you all coming and harrying me!” she said rather plaintively.
“Indeed, I do see that it is all extremely trying for your Ladyship,” Father O’Donnell said. “I wonder if you would mind my asking you one thing? It is not idle curiosity.”
“Ask away—I shan’t answer unless I choose!”
“Did you actually sign anything—any papers—when this person called yesterday to make the offer, bringing the money?”
“Yes, I signed the receipt for the deposit.”
Julia felt she could not let this true, but very misleading, statement stand alone.
“Oh, but Lady Browne, surely you told me yesterday that there was a paper with details of the amount of land and so on, and that you signed that too?”
The old woman glared balefully at her. “What if I did?” she said. “What business is it of yours?”
“Well, did you, Mary?” O’Hara asked. “We want to know.”
“If your Ladyship signed any sort of agreement to sell a definite piece of your property here, I am sure you realise that it is very much my business” the priest said quietly, “since there is a strong probability of its being used for a purpose highly injurious to the district and to my parishioners.”
“Well, if I signed it, it’s signed” Lady Browne said blusteringly.
“Oh no, not if your signature was obtained on false pretences” Father O’Donnell said—“and without legal advice.”
“Come on, Mary—did you sign an agreement to sell or didn’t you?” O’Hara asked. But it became clear, as they pressed her, that the poor old lady really didn’t know what she had signed.
“Do you mean to say you signed something without reading it?” O’Hara eventually asked. “You must be mad!”
“I read the figures of the acreage, and saw a diagram showing where it was; I didn’t read it all” Lady Browne said. “There was such masses of it.”
“And you didn’t get a copy?” he asked.
“No.”
“Obviously, a signature obtained in such circumstances couldn’t be held binding for a moment” the priest said.
“Oh, do you think not?” Lady Browne looked relieved.
“I should not have thought so. But I am sure you ought to get a lawyer’s advice before you do anything else,” Father O’Donnell said.
“I hate lawyers and their advice!” the old lady protested. “Couldn’t you do it for me, Father? I could give you the money, and you could give it back to Mrs. Martin, and say I had changed my mind, and make her return that paper, and we could tear it up, and that would be the end of it.”
“Oh don’t be ridiculous, Mary! How can the Father do all that? He hasn’t got a car, for one thing, to go chasing about in!”
“And I should very much doubt if Mrs. Martin still has the agreement about selling” Julia put in.
“Why should you say that?” Lady Browne asked angrily. “You’ve nothing to go on.”
“I expect Mrs. Jamieson is right all the same. It’s probably in O’Rahilly’s hands by now” the General said.
“Or his chum Moran’s” Julia added.
Lady Browne got up, a determined look on her harsh old face.
“Well, you all stay here. I won’t be a minute!” She went out into the hall, shutting the door after her; a moment later they heard
the sound of a key turning in a lock.
“Well I’m damned! I believe she’s gone and locked us in!” the General said. The priest went and very softly tried the door-handle.
“Yes—but what does it matter?” he said, returning to his seat. “It will only be for a little while. The great thing is that she has decided to give up the sale, apparently.”
“Apparently will probably turn out to be the operative word!” O’Hara said sarcastically. “She chops and changes from one minute to the next. She’s really mad, you know!”
After a moment they heard the key turn in the lock again, and Lady Browne re-appeared carrying a bundle done up in newspaper; when she set it on the desk and began to undo it Julia noticed with amusement that a quantity of powdery white dust flew out—Terence White had obviously been right about the locality of the “safe place.” However, ashy or not, out came the six bundles of five-pound notes—the two men stared at them in astonishment.
“Good Heavens!” the General exclaimed.
“You’d better count them” Lady Browne said, handing them to the priest—“but I’m sure there’s a hundred in each; I counted them only yesterday.”
“Then please let me have one packet at a time, your Ladyship,” Father O’Donnell said; he drew his chair up to one end of the desk and began his task.
“Better look at them properly, to see if any are fakes” O’Hara suggested.
“Why should they be fakes?” the old lady asked indignantly.
“I couldn’t possibly tell the difference, anyhow,” the Father said and went quietly on with his counting. When he had finished he asked if he might borrow a sheet of writing-paper from the rack on the desk?—he wrote on it, and handed it to Lady Browne.
“What’s this?” she asked, after putting on her spectacles and studying it.
“A receipt—I think from now on we had better have everything properly documented.”
“But you haven’t said £3,000!” She looked rather dissatisfied.
“Just keep it” the Father said gently. “Now, General, I really ought to be getting back, if you will be so good.”
O’Hara glanced at his watch.