House of Memories

by Taylor, Alice

  Danny walked around the room, almost in awe of what he was seeing, and then went over to the window and stood silently looking out over the garden. Kate sat on the side of the bed and waited. She had known since she had told Danny about Jack’s money that he had been wrestling with some dilemma but had not filled her in. She had wondered if she would ever be told. Now he turned around from the window and came across the room and sat beside her on the bed. To her surprise there were tears in his eyes.

  “Kate,” he began hesitantly, “I think that I owe you an explanation.”

  “An explanation about what?” she asked.

  “About the fact that over the last few weeks I was so careful about the spending of the money.”

  “Well, I did think you were a trifle thrifty,” she admitted wryly.

  “I had a reason,” he began. “I was not going to tell this to anybody outside the family, but you have been so brilliant to me that I owe you this. When first you told me about Jack’s money, I was, as you know, dumbfounded. But the more I thought of it, the more certain I became that Jack was giving me more than money. He was giving me a chance to redeem myself and the family pride. Because of that, I have decided to give Mary and Kitty and the two in America the same as I gave Rory. It does not seem fair that he would get money for being greedy and that they would get nothing for being honourable. I don’t want anyone to be wronged.”

  “But that will leave you with nothing,” she protested.

  “Six months ago I had nothing, and now I could be greedy. I own all this,” he said with outstretched hand, “and I can work hard and reclaim the farm. I will enjoy the challenge. We were reared with no sense of self-respect because my father and grandfather stole it from us. Now I want to bring it back, and the starting point must be with the Barry sense of values. I think that Jack would have wanted it this way. He was an honourable man, and his was honourable money. I don’t want to taint it with greed.”

  As he spoke Kate felt a lump in her throat, and she wrapped her arms around him.

  “Danny, that is such a noble thing to do,” she said tremulously. “Jack always said that you never knew anybody until you had money dealings with them. He would have been so proud of you.”

  “I hope so,” he said. “He gave us the money, and it is up to me to give us the sense of honour.”

  “That’s a strange twist of fate,” she told him.

  “How?”

  “Well, my grandfather always felt guilty about being the cause of bringing the Conway name to this house, and now his money will buy it out.”

  “Old Mr Hobbs said something along those lines,” Danny remembered, “about the mills of God.”

  “Do you know something, Danny,” she smiled, “I’m glad that we got the house back to the way it should be before you decided to go all noble on me. If I had known, it might have cramped my style.”

  “Doubt it,” he smiled.

  “When are all these beneficiaries coming home?” she asked.

  “As soon as they come back from visiting my aunt,” he told her, “and the morning after they come home I am planning to have the stations here for the first time in decades. It will be a surprise welcome home for my mother.”

  “They are all in for some surprise,” she declared.

  They were so engrossed in their conversation that they had not heard Bill come up the stairs, and now he regarded them with amusement from the doorway.

  “What are the two of you up to in the parish priest’s bed?” he demanded.

  “Rewriting history,” Kate told him, “and preparing for the stations.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE DOOR WAS blue, a deep mystic blue creating a veiled invitation into the ivy-clad house. Then Bill decided to paint the gate the same colour, and when the old perennials in the curved border from the gate to the house began to bloom, they were interspersed with blue delphiniums, and the whole garden and house danced together.

  “We are simply unveiling the plan of the original gardener,” Bill told him. Danny had discovered who that was when he unearthed a small trunk of gardening books under the stairs, which had belonged to Rachel Barry, Molly’s mother. Most of them had notes and sheets of drawings.

  “I knew it,” Bill declared triumphantly as they went though the books. “There was a well-planned garden here, made by a person who knew her gardening. These gardening books are by names that I have only heard on BBC gardening programmes. This woman took her gardening seriously, and now with these plans we can bring it back to exactly the way she had it.”

  Bill spent all his time in the garden bringing it back to its former glory, but Danny’s days were spent out in the fields, because he knew that out there was the future of Furze Hill. A fine house with a non-viable farm would be a bubble waiting to burst. It had happened before. But now, because he had invested in a tractor that Peter had gone with him to buy, the work was easier. Slowly, with long hours of dedication, he would bring the farm around. It would take years, but this land was now his. He was free of the fetters of Rory, and the fact that all the others would get their share gave him a true sense of ownership. Jack had given him his freedom.

  Then he received a letter from Mary saying that they were home and would be down as soon as they had recovered from their trip to London. He wrote back instructing her not to drive into the old yard when she came but to park out in the road and come to the gate of Nana Molly’s old house. He wanted them to see it for the first time just as Jack had remembered it. Then he went to visit Fr Tim and asked about having the station mass in the house the morning after their homecoming. His mother had always regretted that she had never been allowed to have stations like the rest of her neighbours. She had a deep faith, and he knew that over the years it was at times all she had between her and total despair, so he knew that for her it would be a lovely homecoming welcome. It would also be a sign that they were no longer the outcasts their father had made them and that she could meet her neighbours as the woman of the house in the homeplace.

  Now he was waiting in the garden behind the weeping willow from where he could see the front gate but could not be seen. He had heard the car pull up and wanted to have the thrill of watching their faces as they came in. As he expected, Kitty was first in, and with her glowing red hair and resemblance to the old photograph, it was as if Molly Barry was coming in the gate. But Nana Molly would never have been turned out in the little bit of nonsense that Kitty called a dress. In total contrast came Mary, in her dark, sedate suit, with short dark hair framing a quiet, reserved face that was now incredulous with delight. If he was expecting a surprised reaction he was getting it.

  But he was not prepared for the surprise that awaited him. His mother was such a changed woman that at first he hardly recognised her. Gone was the skinny, frightened-faced woman with the clothes hanging off her and straight stringy hair pinned behind her ear with a steel clip. Now her hair was short and curled around a face that was smiling and relaxed, and she was dressed in a smart white suit that showed off her slim figure. Brigid Conway was a different person from the broken woman who had left a few months ago. He was so delighted at her transformation that he forgot his idea of watching her reaction and ran across the lawn. He hugged his mother and swung her around in delight, aware all of a sudden how much he had missed her gentle presence.

  “Danny, what have you done?” she asked breathlessly, looking around in awe. “How did you do it? Did a miracle happen?”

  “A miracle of money, I’d say,” Kitty gasped. “In the name of God, Danny, how did you manage it? Where did you get the money? The place is absolutely staggering.”

  “I thought that you were up to something,” a shocked Mary told him, her normally pale face flushed with excitement, “but not anything on this scale! How did all this happen?”

  They gathered around him in stunned but delighted amazement, wanting all their questions answered together until he had to hold up his hands and promise, “I will tell you all whe
n we have tea in the kitchen. But first, just walk around and see everything.”

  The girls ran to the front door and disappeared into the house, but his mother stood looking around in wonder.

  “What a beautiful, beautiful garden,” she whispered in an awed voice, and then walked slowly to the arch. He watched her stand there surveying the farmyard and then joined her. He stood beside her in silence.

  “I’m glad you took away the poke,” she told him quietly. “It is better gone.”

  They gathered in the kitchen, and he tried to fill them in on all that had happened. Questions poured out of the two girls. His mother sat quietly until the girls were finally satisfied and then she observed, looking at him thoughtfully, “Your grandmother always said you were a throwback.”

  When he told them about the station mass in the morning, her face lit up.

  “What a lovely welcome home, but what about the food?” she asked.

  “I brought what I thought we might need,” he told her, “but have a look, and we can get anything else we want in the village.”

  “Things have improved since we used to bring the big roast from Dublin to keep you fed for a week,” Mary laughed.

  “Thank God,” his mother said, rising from the table. “And now we will get ourselves sorted out and see what we need.”

  He was glad that his mother was taking charge, and when he took her to the window and showed her the kitchen garden outside, she smiled with satisfaction. Mary, looking over her shoulder, surprised him by quietly quoting, “Not to those who inflict the most but to those who can endure the most shall victory belong.” His mother’s eyes filled with tears, and Kitty lightened the moment by teasing Mary.

  “Always the history teacher, big sister.” Turning to Danny she laughed, “And now I’ll bring in the big roast, because we still brought it, not knowing that you had become a man of means. But at least now you have a proper oven to cook it in.”

  The house hummed with the laughter of the girls, and the smell of cooking filled the kitchen. Bill, coming in the door, said to Danny, “This place is turning into a home.” He sat at the kitchen table with Brigid and filled her in on the details of the garden and showed her the plans that he had found in Rachel Barry’s gardening books. Danny could see that his mother was more excited about the garden than the house and knew that she was going to have hours of pleasure working out there. But for the girls it was all the house, and they had settled themselves into the two back bedrooms. Kitty jokingly told him, “I want to be able to look over at Peter Phelan,” but he was not so sure that it was a joke. He had allocated the front bedroom at the other side of the house away from the yard to his mother. Kate, when he had told her that his mother’s favourite colour was yellow, had fitted it out accordingly and with everything that she had deemed a comfortable bedroom should have, and he was very pleased with the result. When his mother opened the door into it, her face lit up.

  “This is like walking into sunshine,” she declared. “Look at that beautiful bed. I never thought in my wildest dreams that I would ever have a bedroom of my own like this,” and then going to the window overlooking the garden she announced, “but the view is the best part of it.”

  “God, this room is lost on you, Mother,” Kitty declared.

  Later Kate called, and after a lot of kissing and crying, the women sat around the kitchen table. Danny knew that there were going to be hours of chat, so he went for the cows. Just as he was herding them out, Kate came across the yard to him.

  “Danny, I brought you two of Emily’s cloths for the stations tomorrow. They may even have been embroidered in this house, because you remember in the diary Molly made reference to Emily doing needlework in the kitchen. It would be nice to use the white lace-edged one on the altar because it would be a link between them all: Molly, Emily, Edward and Jack. The other one is a banqueting cloth which I’m sure was never used, but it would be ideal for that long table in the dining room. What Emily was doing embroidering a banquet cloth defies logic.”

  “Thanks, Kate, that’s a lovely idea,” he said appreciatively, loving her sense of occasion.

  “You never told them about the diary,” she said.

  “No,” he told her, “that’s a decision for another day.”

  “Agnes and Ellen have arrived,” she smiled. “Agnes is laden down with lace curtains that she has been sewing up for weeks, and Ellen has rounded up cutlery and ware from all the neighbours.”

  “But did they mind?” he asked in surprise.

  “No, no,” she assured him. “People always do that for the stations. Nellie’s candlesticks used to go around to all the houses for the stations.”

  “Wasn’t that great,” he said. “We knew nothing about that kind of thing. It’s so good having our first stations here.”

  “Well, with Agnes and Ellen you have two great women with you for the night before the stations, and Sarah will be on shortly.”

  It was one of the things that pleased him most about the whole restoration, the way the neighbours now felt free to come and go to Furze Hill. For so long he had had no sense of belonging in his homeplace. Even in school he had realised that they were not part of the sharing that went on between the neighbours, and as he had grown up it had become more evident. It was not the neighbours who isolated them but his father. Now Rory was gone and the neighbours were back. At least the most of them were back. He was hoping that Martha would come to the stations tomorrow.

  When they went back into the house, it smelt of wax polish, and there was a clatter of activity coming from the kitchen. Kate and himself turned into the dining room and spread the flowing cloth over the table. Along the edge it was embroidered with tiny blue flowers that blended in perfectly with the delicate blues of the room. They both looked at it thoughtfully, and then he went over to the window and called Kate to join him. They looked out at the blue border.

  “She must have done it for this table,” he said in awe.

  “This house is coming into its own,” Kate declared.

  They went across to the drawing room where the mass would be said and wondered about a suitable table for the altar.

  “I know,” Kate told him. “We will bring in our first purchase, the hall table, an ideal altar, and the white cloth will be the right size.”

  The following morning he was up with the sunrise to get the milking done early and be home from the creamery in time, but when he went into the yard, Shiner was bringing in the cows.

  “Shiner, you’re great to come,” he told him.

  “Well, we can’t have you messing up your first stations with a yard full of cow’s scutter,” Shiner smiled, “and Peter is going to call for the milk on his way to the creamery, so all we have to do is clean up the place after these ladies.”

  “That’s the job,” Danny told him, “that will take the rush off us.”

  “You’ll be on show today, Danny boy, you know,” Shiner informed him. “There will be more than prayers on some of their minds when they come. A lot of the ould wans will be dying to see the house, but it will be this corner that the men will be looking at. So we’re going to be ready for curiosity boxes and showing no weakness.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” he agreed, “but I never thought about it.”

  “You’re still a bit wet behind the ears yet, Danny boy,” Shiner assured him.

  Later on, Danny stood on the doorstep and welcomed the neighbours as they trooped in. There was a big crowd, and he smiled remembering what Shiner had said. Then he felt a flutter of excitement when he saw Nora coming in looking like one of the border flowers. “How’s the man of the house?” she teased.

  “I suppose I am,” he answered in surprise.

  Kate and David joined her and they all moved into the hall, and Mark passed him in carrying a big parcel, and saying, “I’ll put this under the stairs.” Then the priests arrived, and Fr Tim winked conspiratorially at him behind Fr Burke’s back.

  He had been watch
ing out for one face, but now that the priests were here, he decided that she was not going to come. He felt a stab of disappointment. But just as he was turning to go in the door, he saw Martha coming in the gate.

  He had been mesmerised as he had watched her that night when she had cut the wires over Yalla Hole and laid the trap for his father. Not for a moment had she wavered, and it had taken him a while to figure out what she had in mind. He had been stunned at the simplicity of her plan and the calm unhurried way she had implemented it. At one point a rabbit or a bird had stirred in the ditch beyond him, and she had turned around and looked straight in his direction, and for one terrifying moment he had thought that she had seen him. But after a few minutes she had resumed loosening the stakes and cutting the wires. When all was to her satisfaction, she had crept quietly back across the river. He had remained where he was until the first streaks of dawn had started to creep across the sky.

  It had been decision time for him then. He could let it all happen as she had planned or he could warn his father. But why should he warn him? Hours later, as he lay hidden in the trees across from Yalla Hole, he had heard the sound of the new tractor up the fields in Mossgrove. He had known at once that it was part of her strategy to bring his father running down the high field. From then on her whole plan had unfolded perfectly. He had felt as if he was watching a play where he already had the script. When it was over they were all free.

  Now, in a straight black dress with her glossy hair coiled to the back of her head, Martha was a picture of understated elegance. As she approached the door, he went forward to welcome her.

  “Well done, young Danny,” she said, holding out her hand with an enigmatic smile on her face.

  “Thank you, and welcome to Furze Hill,” he replied.

  He was glad that it was Fr Tim who was saying the mass and wondered how he had persuaded Fr Burke to take a back seat. From where he stood by the door, he looked around the room. His mother’s face was full of peace, and with a start he saw that she now looked as young as Martha, who was standing a little apart from the rest of them. Then he noticed Kitty looking at Peter with an appraising look on her face, and he thought, If she sets her sights in that direction, there will be trouble with Martha. Then he saw Rosie watching Kitty and decided that there could be trouble from more directions than one. It looked as if the road to Mossgrove could be stormy!