The Butterfly State

by Carol Coffey

As Kate rose, she put her arm protectively around her sister who did not flinch at the touch and moved her from the office.

  “Come on, Tess, let’s go home.”

  When detectives called to Kate’s home the following morning, she’d had a chance to talk to Tess and find out exactly what had happened that day. The police wanted to hear it from Tess’s own mouth which Kate had dreaded, not wanting to drag her sister through it all again. As they sat in the sitting room, Kate assured Tess that she didn’t have to keep the secret any more, that she was safe. Tess explained how she had gone to the lake early that morning to see the butterflies as she always did even when Kate got angry with her. She saw her father asleep at the lake and he smelt of whiskey. She told the police that she did not wake him and had stood by the lake and looked at the pretty rock. After a few minutes the man with the broken tooth came towards her and grabbed her and put blood on her dress. She started to cry and he placed his hand over her mouth which put blood on her face so she screamed. He stared into her face and asked her who her mother was and shook her because she couldn’t speak. When she at last told him he pushed her back onto the grass and stood looking at her, shaking his head. He put his face too close to hers and told her she had better not tell anyone that she saw him. She had better keep it quiet or something terrible would happen to her. Then he ran away.

  Tess stopped talking and looked at the two policemen who stared back at her.

  “What did you do then?”

  Tess swallowed hard. Kate put her arm around her.

  “Then a fisherman came up and he said that Daddy was dead. He called other fishermen who called the police. When they came, they brought me to a police station and wouldn’t let me go home to see Kate.”

  “Tess,” one of the detectives said softly, “did you see this man murder your father?”

  Tess looked over the seated man’s shoulder and replayed the event in her mind again before answering. “No.”

  The detective sighed. They had motive and could place McCracken at the scene of the crime but the girl had not actually seen him doing it so it was still possible that the smart lawyer would get off with it.

  Tess, who had given the details of that day in perfect detail and without emotion, began to cry now, the memory of being separated from her sister overwhelming her. Kate cried too as they sat holding each other, finally knowing what happened that day when their lives changed forever.

  The police left a uniformed officer outside the house all night as McCracken was known to them and while he was never convicted of any crime, they knew many of his associates whom they considered dangerous. They didn’t tell the women that and said the policeman outside was just a precaution, but this didn’t fool Kate as she and Tess faced a sleepless night.

  Chapter 47

  1981

  Sam Moran was finding it hard to ignore what he now knew about Seán Byrne’s true parentage. He also knew that even if he proved his theory, there was nothing he could do with the information but if nothing else it would satisfy the one burning issue in his head. How did a country girl like Maura Kelly meet up with Éamonn McCracken? Dublin wasn’t far away but she wouldn’t have been going that far to dances and, as a single girl, she certainly wouldn’t have been allowed to stay in Dublin overnight, not back then. He reasoned that McCracken must have had some connection to Árd Glen and he needed his birth cert to prove it. He didn’t know what age McCracken was and if he didn’t have an ex-girlfriend working in the Births, Deaths and Marriages office, he would have had no chance of finding it. McCracken was an unusual name so it shouldn’t be too hard to find, he reasoned.

  He saw Sylvia O’Reilly before she saw him. She had gained about three stone and two chins since he last walked her down the canal for a late-night feel. Her hair, once jet black, was badly dyed and a long white streak ran along her parting making her look like a badger. She reddened slightly when she called the next number and saw him walk towards the counter.

  “Sam, how are ya?” she asked in her flat Dublin accent, glancing over her shoulder in case her work colleagues were listening.

  “Grand, Sylvia – you look great.”

  “Liar,” she said quietly. “I’m like an elephant. That’s what four kids does to ya.”

  “Who did you marry?”

  “Eamo Martin, ’member him?”

  Sam tried to think. “Yeah, he was a nutter!” he finally said.

  “Still is . . . bastard!” She looked at Sam, wondering what he wanted.

  “Well, that’s a coincidence as it just so happens it’s another Éamonn I’m looking for.”

  “Oh, yeah?” she asked suspiciously. “Got his date of birth?”

  “No but here’s his name –”

  “Can’t do it so.”

  “Ah, come on, Sylvia, for old times’ sake, wha’?”

  Sylvia smiled and snapped the piece of paper from his hands.

  “It’ll cost ya,” she said as she turned, her huge thighs quivering as she walked away.

  By the time Sam Moran obtained Éamonn McCracken’s birth certificate, he had already been located in a safe house in County Antrim and was awaiting extradition to Dublin. Sam, realising it was now safe to run his story, joined the media frenzy outside the police station in Dublin where McCracken was due to be taken that evening. His suspicions had proved right and McCracken’s mother’s maiden name was Elizabeth Dillon, born in Árd Glen, Wicklow. Following her marriage to McCracken’s father, she had obviously returned to Árd Glen for holidays, bringing her son with her. There he had met Maura Kelly, eventually making her pregnant and running off, leaving the girl in the lurch.

  Dermot Lynch sat with his family as they watched the life slip from their father. The doctor said it was a blessing as he would never have regained the use of his legs. Dermot knew his father would not have liked to live like that. Despite their differences, they were both men who loved being outdoors, who loved to walk through the land and watch the seasons change.

  The funeral was simple and befitting to the man, with Dermot’s sister returning from America with her two daughters just in time. His aunt had travelled from Árd Glen and he had to resist his urge to ask after Kate. He felt she sensed this and told him she had seen Kate in town with Tess, that she had looked well but terribly thin even in a heavy winter coat. Dermot could see his aunt wanted to question him about his plans. She had liked having family in Árd Glen and Mattie missed him helping in the pub. When the house emptied and his siblings went back to their normal lives Dermot felt lonelier than ever. He hung around the farm helping his younger brother who had stopped talking about going to America. He suspected his mother knew about Kate, especially when she asked if he was missing “the people” in Wicklow.

  At last Dermot decided he would go back to Árd Glen to see if there was anything there for him to return to. His father’s will had not been changed and the farm, if he wanted it, was his. He had a lot of time to think these past weeks. He missed Kate and knew he would spend his life wondering what might have been if he didn’t make this one last journey to see her.

  The day came when he decided to make the journey back to Wicklow. His mother eyed him from the bedroom door. She missed his father and wanted Dermot to run the farm. He knew this even if she didn’t say it out loud. But he knew that what she wanted more than anything was for him to be happy.

  She stood and watched him throw a few things in a bag and smiling asked, “Is that all you’re taking with you?”

  Dermot laughed, knowing she was teasing him.

  “We’ll see,” he said as he threw the bag into the car and headed east. If he made good time, he would be there before dark.

  On the Byrne farm, Kate and Tess walked together towards the far field where the row of spruce Seán had planted almost completely blocked out the view of Tess’s butterfly lake. And at last Tess opened up and talked freely about the day that had changed her young life. She explained as best she could that because McCracken looked so much
like Seán, she thought they might be the same person and drew them together each time she drew the lake. She explained how she thought caterpillars were ugly and nasty things. Seán, she said, had been nice to her but became nasty and she didn’t know why. She painted him as a butterfly losing his wings and returning to a pupal state. She tried to explain that she had tried to apologise to Seán so that he would not shout at her but that he would not let her.

  “Is that what your list was about, Tess? Making things right?”

  Tess nodded. “But it didn’t work,” she replied flatly. “Sometimes you cannot put things back together, Kate.”

  Kate thought she could sense some sadness in her sister’s voice.

  As they walked together through the land, Kate at last explained to Tess how their mother had become pregnant and that because Éamonn McCracken had not married her, she was forced to marry Michael Byrne. Their grandfather had given them the farm as Uncle Jimmy was ill and they did not think he would live.

  Tess listened intently to all of these things that she never knew, things that people had kept from her, and decided that she would have to put Uncle Jimmy on her list. They stood there together looking over the land as the December sky darkened and night fell on them like a comforting blanket. Brilliant stars lit up the midnight blue sky. The moon shone down on the lake creating long streaks of light on the almost still water. They could see Venus shining brightly above them and it seemed to the sisters that somehow everything would be different now. Tess looked at her sister who even dressed in her winter coat, showed obvious signs of pregnancy.

  “What about you, Kate, will you marry Dermot?”

  “If she’ll have me,” a voice said softly behind them.

  Both women turned and in the fading light saw Dermot standing in front of them. Tears sprang in his eyes when he saw that Kate was expecting his baby. Tess ran to him as Kate stood transfixed to the spot, her eyes welling up. She had thought she would never see him again.

  “Dermot!” Tess said, hugging him awkwardly. She looked back at her sister and, sensing they needed to talk, walked towards the house leaving the couple alone.

  “I didn’t think you’d come back,” Kate finally said. “I wanted you to, but never imagined it.” She was sobbing now, deep gulps of warm heavy tears, the events of the past few weeks suddenly seeming too much to bear. She wrapped her arms around her body, comforting herself and blocking out the cold wind that was now blowing down the valley.

  Dermot searched for the words he had rehearsed during the three-hour journey but none of them seemed right now.

  “I’d have come back from the first day, if you’d asked, Kate. I meant what I said. I want to marry you. Will you, Kate? Will you marry me?”

  Kate put her hands to her face, wiping the tears that flowed freely down her pale face. Dermot walked to her and wrapped her tightly in his arms and they stood for what seemed like an eternity.

  “Yes,” she finally whispered.

  Tess, who had only walked far enough to be out of sight, shouted out “Yippee!” when she heard her sister’s answer and ran towards the house. The couple laughed together and walked hand in hand towards the house, towards home.

  Chapter 48

  1982

  In Beech Street Station, Éamonn McCracken awaited his trial for the murder of Michael Byrne. As he sat in his cramped cell, he was already trying to build his defence. He knew no one would believe that he came upon the girl standing over the body, that Byrne was already dead by then and that he had only gone there to warn him off disinheriting Seán from the will. When Michael Byrne came to his office all those years back he was amazed that Byrne did not recognise him. Although Éamonn was a good bit younger than Byrne and had not yet started going into pubs, he had seen Michael around the town. Éamonn acknowledged that he had put on weight over the years but he thought that Byrne would have recognised his face. But he hadn’t. Byrne had found the firm’s business card in Maura’s handbag and had come to the firm in an agitated state. It saddened Éamonn that Maura had kept his number for all those years. He had thought of her too and of their children. He knew a little about the life Byrne had subjected her to and had to exercise a good deal of self-control when he learned that Byrne had come there to disinherit Seán.

  McCracken knew it was going to be tough to prove his innocence. A witness had placed him at the scene and he had motive. He considered saying that he had seen Seán there and had kept his mouth shut to save his son, an act of loyalty. Seán was dead now so at worst McCracken would do time for being an accomplice.

  He sat back on the narrow bunk and smiled to himself. In a way this was his justice, justice for abandoning Maura when she needed him. There was no point in saying he was sorry for he was under no illusions about himself. He was a weak, spineless man who would do the exact same thing if it were happening today. He laughed aloud to himself and heard someone shout at him from another cell.

  He had returned to Árd Glen once in all those years to finally do something right, the one thing he was good at: intimidation. When he arrived on the outskirts of the town that night he had hidden his car by the lower lake and had walked the rest of the way with only the moonlight to guide him. It had been a mild summer night but when light rain began to fall he took shelter in the now abandoned Kelly house, the front door of which was rotting. He could hear pigeons nesting in the roof as he walked down the hallway of the tiny stone cottage to the door of what had been Maura’s room. He felt like a giant as he bent his head to enter the tiny bedroom. He stood there for the longest time listening in the quiet for the rain to ease off. Memories of the man he had been resurfaced and seemed at odds with the person now standing in the room where they had first made love, where Seán had been conceived, and he felt that this was somehow symbolic. Memories of another lifetime began to unfold before him, memories of him chasing Maura through the fields, memories of her laugh, her smile. God, she had been beautiful! But he had put his future before her and before their children. He knew Maura had stayed with Byrne to give their son a future and in some way he felt that returning to threaten Byrne might compensate Seán for what he did to her. But his son was dead now and it was all for nothing. He felt that Maura must be laughing her head off at him now and this made him smile to himself in a self-deprecating way.

  When the rain finally eased and died, a light breeze blew up from the valley and Éamonn left the cottage without looking back as he walked to the road that ran alongside the lake’s edge. He knew Byrne would pass this way sooner or later after a hard night’s drinking and that he would be able to approach him without being seen by anyone else. No witnesses, no proof. Éamonn lowered himself into the wet grass and waited.

  After almost four long cold hours, he heard footsteps and hunched down lower into the wet grass. He could not see Byrne on the road but heard him shout out before tumbling down towards the lake’s edge. He could hear more footsteps, another person walking on the road and did not raise his head, hoping to remain out of sight until a better opportunity presented itself. The sky was filled with bright silver streaks as the sun made its way onto the horizon. McCracken had hoped to be gone well before daylight and worried now that his car might be seen but he could not risk coming back here again and had to wait it out. The second pair of footsteps seemed to be running towards McCracken so he stood and moved as swiftly and as quietly away as he could but found himself misjudging the landscape and falling down a steep ridge. He placed his hands out in front of him and felt them rip against jagged rocks as he groaned softly. He hid in the long reeds and tried to wipe the blood from his wounds. He could hear Byrne shouting, followed by several dull thuds and knew someone was giving Byrne a going over. He stood and began to walk in the opposite direction but heard the footsteps begin to run through the wet grass towards him and hid again in the long reeds, thankful that the sun had not risen fully and that he might still get away unnoticed. The attacker seemed to fall to his knees and Éamonn thought he heard someon
e sobbing and then starting to vomit. He did not recognise the voice and could not tell if it was a man or a woman and had no choice but to wait until the person moved away. It would take him at least fifteen minutes to walk back to his car and time was not on his side. This had not gone as he had planned.

  When he was sure it was safe he stood up and walked the long way around to the water’s edge to wash the blood from his hands. Then he saw her, a young girl the image of Maura standing over the body of Michael Byrne. Looking back now it seemed ridiculous to have approached her but something drew him to her, something that even now he did not understand. He looked at Byrne who was face down in the water as the girl stared coldly at him. She had the strangest eyes he had ever seen. He tried to hide his face but knew it was too late. He wondered if it was her that he heard hitting Byrne and was amazed as the child looked frail and delicate. He didn’t care either way and needed to be sure that she would keep quiet. There was something odd about the girl. He tried to talk to her but she moved backwards, afraid of him. He asked her who her mother was but she would not tell him until he grabbed her. Then she began to scream. He tried to quieten her and placed his hand over her mouth but she screamed louder. Éamonn warned her not to tell a soul that she saw him and it seemed that she hadn’t, until now.

  It had briefly occurred to him that day to silence the girl permanently but he was not a murderer, not then and not now and he knew he was beat. He knew there was no point in mentioning the footsteps he had heard or the noise of Byrne receiving a beating. They would pin this on him and he would spend the rest of his life in jail for something he did not do, justice perhaps for all the wrong he had done. The wrong done to this family and especially to Maura.

  In east London, Liam Kelly read the Irish newspaper in the cold damp bedsit he had recently rented. He read the article twice, focusing on the section about the upcoming trial relating to a murder that had happened almost eleven years previously and wondered if he could go home now. Even though he had only been here a few months, he knew he wasn’t settling into life here and he missed his father. He had fled when the reporter started asking him questions and was worried that the case was somehow being reopened.