by Paul Cuddihy
He gently knocked on the door and waited. Kate seemed surprised to see him but stood aside to let him into the room. She walked over to the table and sat down but Thomas paced the room, trying to form the right words in his head before he blurted them out. His nervousness was obvious, and there was still part of his mind telling him just to speak about her imminent departure and then make his excuses and leave.
‘Will you not sit down?’ Kate said and he nodded, though as he sat, she stood up. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ he said, almost stumbling over the words.
‘You seem a bit on edge.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘I’ll get you a wee cup of tea. That always helps.’
He watched her as she danced round the stove, wondering if this was how it would be if they were together, perhaps with a baby sleeping in the corner or one crying in his arms. It was a picture of a happy family that he knew he shouldn’t dare imagine, yet the only alternative for him was a remote Scottish island with about a hundred people and a thousand sheep, where he would count down the years till he died, lonely and unloved.
Kate brought the tea-pot over to the table and then filled two mugs with hot brown liquid, blowing the steam off the top of her own mug and then handing the other one to Thomas, who smiled gratefully. He took a gulp, not even bothering with the fact the tea was still boiling and it burned his mouth and throat. At least the physical pain would take his mind off the mental one he was suffering at this moment.
‘I love you,’ he mouthed, unable to find his voice but fearing that he would start crying in frustration if he didn’t. Kate glanced up at him.
‘I love you,’ he said, this time out loud. He knew that it was audible and that he’d heard it himself. The look on Kate’s face told him she’d heard it too.
‘What?’ she said, embarrassment creeping over her face like a bright red veil had been drawn across her.
Now was the moment to laugh it off, perhaps offer a lame excuse or try to pretend that he hadn’t said anything at all and she had just imagined it. It might make Kate feel less scared than she looked at that moment.
‘I love you,’ he said again, staring into Kate’s eyes as she held his gaze, her eyes piercing his, looking for clues as to whether he was serious or not. She knew, however, within seconds of studying his face, that this was not a joke.
‘What did you say?’ she mumbled and Thomas presumed she was playing for time or still trying to register the enormity of what he’d just said. He took another gulp of tea. It was still boiling.
‘I love you, Kate.’
‘But … but you’re a priest.’
‘I know, and I wish I didn’t feel like this, God forgive me, but I can’t help it.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘I’m leaving Glasgow in a couple of days,’ he said.
‘Why? Where are you going?’
‘It’s a long story, but I’m going up north – one of the islands.’ Kate frowned.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,’ Thomas mumbled.
‘No, it’s not that.’
He took a deep breath, knowing that this was the moment.
‘When I go to bed every night, you are the last thing I think about before I fall asleep and then when I wake up the next morning, you are the first thing on my mind. I feel sick all the time because I want to see you and hear you speak and make you laugh, and then when I do see you, my heart feels like it’s going to explode.’
‘But you’re a priest.’
Thomas laughed. ‘And right now, I wish I wasn’t.’
‘But Mick…’
‘He’s safe,’ said Thomas. ‘I managed to get him freed and he’s now somewhere they’ll never think of looking for him.’
Kate groaned and buried her head in her hands.
‘I know it’s strange,’ said Thomas. ‘I’m a priest and then there’s you and Mick. He’s my brother and I know I shouldn’t feel this way about you because you were with him. I shouldn’t feel this way about anyone, I know, but I can’t help it, Kate. I wish I could but I can’t.’
Kate groaned again.
‘I love you, Kate.’
‘But Mick’s still here,’ she said.
‘No, he’s not.’
‘Yes, he is.’
‘But he’s on his way back to Ireland. I left him at the dock with money for a ticket home.’
Kate took Thomas’ hand but he pulled it away, seeing the pity in her eyes.
‘He came back here … for me.’
‘What?’
‘I’m sorry, Thomas. I’m going home with him.’
Thomas stood up and backed away towards the door, not sure whether to feel angry or embarrassed; he felt like he was going to be sick.
‘I love him, Thomas. I’m sorry, but I really do, even after everything he’s done.’
Thomas nodded and stood in the middle of the room, head bowed, the colour draining from his face. He closed his eyes and prayed that the ground would open up at that very moment and swallow him. He heard a chair scrape and gentle footsteps approaching him. A hand was on his neck and his head was being pulled down. Still, he kept his eyes closed. Then her lips were on his and they were kissing. At first he wasn’t sure what to do, but then he responded and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t want to open his eyes and spoil the moment but it felt perfect, better than anything he had ever imagined. It could only have lasted ten seconds at most and then she let him go.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was crying.
‘So am I,’ he said and turned towards the door.
‘Thomas, wait!’ she said.
‘He makes you happy and you make him happy, I know that for sure,’ he said. ‘It’s for the best.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
Thomas shook his head. ‘It’s fine,’ he whispered before walking out of the room, resisting the urge to sprint as fast as he could. Instead he walked slowly back to St Mary’s, and every few minutes he would touch his lips with his fingertips.
29
PARTING OF THE WAYS
Mick and Kate were already at the train station when they saw Thomas walking towards them. He was carrying a black case, and he would tip his hat every few minutes when he passed someone who offered him a greeting. They watched as the priest approached. Kate hadn’t wanted to come to the station but Mick had insisted.
‘It’s your brother,’ she said. ‘You don’t need me there.’
‘But you’re practically family,’ he laughed, dragging her back into bed as she tried to slip out from under the covers, squeezing her waist until she started giggling.
Still, as they walked towards the city centre, she was quiet and muttered a couple of times about not wanting to be there but Mick just ignored her. They strolled arm in arm, and it seemed to Mick like the sun was tracking them as they made their way to the station. It wasn’t a warm day and most people they passed were still wrapped up with hats and scarves and heavy winter coats, but Mick didn’t feel any winter chill. He would just glance to his right and catch sight of Kate’s black hair, shimmering in the gentle breeze, and he felt as happy as he had ever done in his life.
Even the aches and pains which wracked his body seemed to have eased up ever since Kate said she’d go back to Ireland with him. He didn’t know what he would have done if she’d said no but he felt like the luckiest man in the world when she agreed. He had wanted to carry her onto the mattress that very moment, rip off all her clothes and make love to her until they both collapsed with exhaustion, but while she had been happy enough to kiss him, she said she wasn’t quite ready for anything else, not after all that she’d heard. He told her he’d wait forever as long as she was with him, though he’d only had to be patient until the following day when Eileen and the kids had left the house. Kate pushed the table up against the door so that no one could burst in unexpecte
dly and he was almost falling out of his clothes in his eagerness as she led him to bed.
If there were moments when he felt he couldn’t be any happier – and he knew it would still be a long time before Kate never mentioned the name of Agnes Flaherty again – there was still sadness that he was having to say goodbye to his brother. Thomas hadn’t said anything beyond telling him where he was being sent but Mick guessed it wasn’t a request but a punishment. He would miss him. They’d become closer these past couple of months and it now seemed like they were heading to the opposite ends of the world.
Mick knew that they weren’t likely to see each other too often in the future, if at all, and it felt strange to think that this might be the last time they’d ever stand face to face. Thomas reached them and automatically tipped his hat.
‘Travelling light?’ Mick said, nodding at the case.
‘I don’t think I’ll need much where I’m going,’ Thomas said.
Mick had never heard of Benbecula before – ‘I thought it was a mountain,’ he said – and when Thomas described the journey he’d have to make, it did seem like he was heading for another continent. There was a six-hour train journey to Oban, followed by a ten-hour boat trip to get to the island. Even if at some point in the future Mick had any inclination to visit his brother, the length of that journey made it unlikely he’d ever act on it.
‘When’s the train leaving?’ Mick asked as Thomas glanced up at the clock.
‘Eleven o’clock,’ he said. ‘About ten minutes.’
Mick lit up a cigarette in the silence that followed, offering one to Kate and Thomas, though it was only his brother who took one, accepting a light with a grateful nod. They’d both started smoking with roll-ups stolen from their dad’s tin when he was lying drunk on the bed, and even when he’d sobered up, he never realised any were missing. Mick smiled at the memory and wondered whether Thomas would remember it too.
‘When are you leaving?’ Thomas asked Mick, though he looked at Kate.
‘Tomorrow morning,’ said Mick. ‘We’ll get the train to Liverpool and then the boat home the next day. I can’t wait to get back to Ireland. I’ve had my fill of this place.’
‘I don’t think this city will see us again,’ Thomas said.
‘Will they never let you come back?’ Kate asked nervously.
‘I don’t think so,’ Thomas said, shaking his head.
‘So why go then?’ said Mick ‘Just say no. What can they do?’
‘I’m a priest. I have to do what I’m told. And there’s nothing for me anywhere else, anyway. This is all I know.’
The three of them stood watching the large clock hanging down from the ceiling of the station as the hands slowly crept towards eleven o’clock. With about three minutes to go, Thomas picked up the case at his feet and held out his hand.
‘What’s that for?’ Mick asked.
‘Goodbye?’
‘We’re brothers,’ he said. ‘Come on,’ and he hugged his brother who dropped the case and returned the hug.
‘Look after yourself,’ Mick said and Thomas nodded.
The priest looked at Kate and then moved forward, giving her a gentle but brief hug.
‘Take care,’ she whispered.
‘And you look after my brother for me,’ he said.
Mick and Kate held hands as Thomas moved up the platform, only briefly stopping to look round and wave before he opened the door of one of the carriages and stepped inside, closing it behind him.
They began walking back to Eileen’s house in silence. A whistle sounded in the distance and Mick thought that was probably the signal for Thomas’ train to pull out from the platform, taking him to a new life in a strange land. He would miss his brother, he realised, and any prayers that he was ever likely to say in the future, even if they were to be few and far between, would be for him. There was not much they could have said to each other on the platform. Irishmen weren’t like that, he knew, whether they were brothers or not, but he hoped that his brother knew how he felt.
‘If we ever have a son, we’ll call him Thomas,’ he said as they walked through George Square.
‘Is that right?’ Kate said. ‘So who says you get to choose the name?’
‘And if it’s a girl, she’ll be Kathleen, and she’ll turn out as beautiful as her mother.’ Mick grinned as he leant over and kissed her. ‘But I’ll let no Irishman near her,’ he said. ‘Certainly not one like me.’
‘God forbid,’ laughed Kate.
He wanted to take his time walking back to the house, soaking in every inch of this city. He didn’t think he would ever return but it would always be the place where he met Kate so he knew he’d remember it fondly. It also felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, even though Walsh would continue to hunt for him. He’d probably never truly be free and it might even be when he was an old man, sitting on a mound of earth outside his cottage in Cork, that Walsh would finally catch up with him. Still, as long as Kate was with him, he knew he’d be happy wherever he was and whatever happened. He stopped walking and stood facing her.
‘I think we should get married,’ he said.
‘What, right now?’
‘As soon as we get home. I want to lie in bed beside Mrs Kate Costello and when we meet people, I want to say, “This is my wife, Kate.”’
‘I think maybe that bump on the head’s affected you,’ she said, but she smiled and he knew that she was thinking about it now, if she hadn’t been already.
They had now passed through Glasgow Cross, standing for almost five minutes until there was a gap in the traffic and they could race across, Mick pulling Kate by the hand. The air was filled with a thousand city noises – men selling pots and pans from hastily assembled stalls, babies crying, mother’s shouting at badly behaved toddlers, carts rattling up and down the street, and the occasional song from a drunken man staggering to or from the pub. Mick looked forward to the tranquillity of home.
He imagined being out on a summer’s afternoon in Cork, the smell of freshly cut grass hanging in the air and tingling his nose. He would be driving the cart, his left arm hopefully mended enough so that he’d be able use it, while Kate sat beside him, snuggling in so close her own aroma fought for attention with the grass. In her arms was a baby – it would be their son, Thomas. He was sleeping contently, resting against his mother’s swollen belly that was carrying their second child, the daughter he would love and protect forever.
People would shout greetings to them – Mr and Mrs Costello – as they drove out into the countryside, not really knowing where they were going, but just enjoying being together as one happy family. He sighed contentedly and squeezed Kate’s hand. They were going to get married as soon as they got to Cork. A visit to the priest would be the first thing he’d do after they’d got settled. He liked the sound of that – Mrs Kate Costello. It fitted together perfectly, like it had always meant to be.
A sudden pain shot through his back and he could feel the air being sucked out of him like someone had reached a hand in and ripped out his lungs. He was instantly breathless and he tried to squeeze out a sound from his mouth but there was nothing. He was gargling now as his throat quickly filled up with blood and it felt like he was back in the barrel of water again, a drowning man counting down the last seconds of his life, thrashing about in a desperate attempt to save himself. Only this time there was no one to pull him out with seconds to spare.
His legs began to buckle and he was pulling Kate down with him, though as he got nearer the ground he could feel her hand slipping away from his. He tried to hold on but there was no strength in his arm. He didn’t know why that would be the case since it was his good arm but the more he grasped, the more it felt like he was trying to get a firm hold of water. His mouth was filling up with blood now and it was pouring down his chin. He kept trying to take deep breaths to fill up his lungs but nothing seemed to help.
He was on his knees, and his arm thrashed around blindly looking for Kate. W
here was she? Why had she let him go? He felt cold, like the winter air had rushed into his body through his back and he tried shouting out her name, ‘Kate! Kate!’ though he knew nothing made sense when his mouth was overflowing with blood.
Then the voice of the devil was at his ear and he knew that this was what had sent the chill through his body.
‘You can run but you can’t hide.’
There were dull screams as he toppled over onto the ground and he saw Kate. Her mouth was open and he presumed she was screaming but the noise was getting fainter and fainter. He held up his arm again and a hand grasped his as he began choking. I’m drowning, he wanted to shout. Help me! But he knew there would be no words now.
He was rolled over onto his side and it felt for a moment that everything would be okay as the liquid ran clear of his throat, but it was only a temporary respite. He wanted to keep his eyes open to see Kate but they were blurring over and he rolled them to try and stay focused on her face. He could hear nothing now but he knew she was close to him, the smell of freshly picked apples drifting up through his nostrils and he smiled. The dull pain in his back was now throbbing and he felt like his whole body had been plunged into an icy river.
Hold me, Kate Costello, he tried to say and she must have read his mind because her arms dragged his body up off the ground and she was hugging him. It seemed like it was raining now, salty drops of water splashing onto his face. His eyes were closing over and there was nothing he could do about it. His head felt light, like he’d stood up too quickly and got dizzy and he could only take tiny breaths, which fought for space in his throat alongside the torrent of blood which now spilled onto the pavement, mixing with the liquid pouring from the wound in his back and turning the cobbles an ominous black colour.
His eyes flickered and when he saw her face he realised that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. He smiled again as his eyes closed for the last time.
30
NO NEWS IS GOOD NEWS
Thomas could hear the roar of the sea which built to a crescendo as it crashed against the shore, then there would be a lull for a few moments until the next wave came rolling in, and it never seemed to end. It had taken him weeks to become accustomed to the noise and even now it would startle him when he wasn’t expecting it. He looked out the window of his cottage, his eyes gazing beyond the endless fields which surrounded him on all sides and focusing on the angry waters of the Atlantic Ocean. They looked chilly and uninviting and he knew that they had devoured many bodies down through the years.