“Out you go boys. You have lots to do. Leave him to us now,” she instructed, shooing the men out of her kitchen. They went reluctantly with dark looks towards Peter.
“We won’t be far away,” the farmer offered.
Jenny came to the door. First she hesitated. Then she ran to Peter. “Peter are you all right? They didn’t hurt you dearest?”
As she asked her eyes searched him for any sign of injury.
“No Jenny. I am O.K. Just a bit shook up.”
“I’m not surprised. The men who brought you are dangerous men.”
She began to soap Peter and sing him a lullaby. Her mother poured in another kettle and began to fry up a breakfast. Peter felt life coming back into his fingers. The water was nice and warm.
“Take your time. I’ll put a cup of tea in your hand,” Monsey fussed. “I’ll get you a loan of some clothes in a minute.”
Jenny produced a large towel from one of the closets and indicated to Peter to stand up. She wrapped him in the towel and began to dry him down. When Monsey returned Jenny helped her carry the tub to the door.
“Aloysius!” Monsey shouted.
Both Peader and Aloysius appeared instantaneously.
“Put the bath water on the potato bed,” Monsey instructed and they disappeared with the tub.
Peter dressed in the wellies and rough clothes provided and sat himself at the breakfast table. Monsey brought him rashers, eggs and black pudding together with toast tea and jam. Peter wolfed it down and finished off with a slice of Madeira cake.
The farmer and his sons returned and Monsey put an equally large breakfast in front of them. They all ate silently while Peter finished a mug of tea and said nothing.
There was an air of expectancy. They were looking at him. Serious faces. Then Peter realized. He put down his cup. He was expected to do the decent thing. But if he could just get out of the kitchen.
He stood up his chair rasping on the rough floor, seeming loud in the silence.
“Jenny,” he began.
Jenny came to him with big expectant eyes. “Come outside for a minute,” he said leading her towards the door.
The family looked uneasily at the farmer, as did Peter. The farmer seemed unconcerned.
Just as he reached the door the two large loose Dobermans in the yard bared their teeth at Peter but wagged their tails when Jenny said, “Hush.”
It struck Peter that there was nowhere to run.
“Jenny, it appears we are to be married,” he began.
“Oh yes!” she agreed and threw her arms around his neck.
The dogs growled, disturbed by the sudden display but held their position. Jenny pulled Peter back into the kitchen.
“He did it,” she announced.
“He asked me.”
She was beaming.
“Oh darling,” Monsey said and hugged Jenny.
“Well done lad,” the farmer said, putting away his penknife.
The farmer and his two boys vigorously shook Peters hand. Then the farmer put an arm around Peter’s shoulder and led him into the parlour.
“We’ll have a bottle of stout to mark the occasion. And a talk about the dowry,” he said.
Peter settled himself gingerly on the old couch. The room was dark and quiet and seemed little used. There was a slight mustiness in the air. His eyes took in the memorabilia of generations, photographs, dried flowers and sports medals.
“Here we are,” the farmer said, handing Peter a poured glass of stout. “Good health!” he added and took a sup of his own. Politely Peter took a sip.
“Now young man, I was young once,” the farmer said with a gruff heartiness, sitting himself opposite Peter. “You may be thinking Peter, go along with the old fool and when he lets me go, I’m off.”
Peter grinned weakly and said nothing. These were his thoughts exactly.
“The men who lifted you Peter. They work for money and can do it anywhere, anytime. Do you understand that?”
Peter nodded glumly.
“They are good friends of mine Peter, professionals, always ready to oblige.”
The farmer let his words sink in, taking another swig, which almost emptied his glass.
“Now Peter,” he continued. “I understand the situation you are in. You should understand mine. My standing in the community and so on, I must see that my daughter is taken care of. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Peter nodded again. His head was beginning to hurt.
“Well I don’t expect miracles Peter. You marry Jenny and you have your baby. Give it a couple of years. Try to make her happy. I can’t ask more than that. If it goes wrong after that, well it’s not in my hands, understood, marriages don’t last forever these days. I understand that. But you treat her right and decent. Understood. Jenny is very good at being agreeable. You could do worse you know.”
“You mean I could divorce her in time?” Peter stammered.
“Ah, now boy. There’s no divorce in this family. But to be sure there is many living together but living separate lives. Who knows? There is one thing though.”
“What?”
“Don’t ever hit her. She’s my darling girl. Hit her and it’s to the pigs for you boy.”
The farmers voice had turned cold, pathological.
“Understood,” Peter gulped.
“Now to the dowry. I’m not rich Peter. But you are well set. So you will not be needing much of dowry, now will you?”
“I suppose not.”
“No. Considering the position, that is Jenny’s condition, Monsey and me, we think that it would be a good thing for you and Jenny to marry quickly, discretely.”
“Discretely?”
“Yes. Monsey thinks Rome. A lot of young couples go to Rome these days. Cuts out the fuss, you’d agree?”
“Yes.”
“Good, the dowry will be that I’ll pay for the trip and the honeymoon.”
Resignedly Peter drank his glass of stout. The farmer called in the family and they opened more drinks. Aloysius produced a bottle of Paddy whiskey. The farmer remembered some poteen and sent Peader out to the barn to get it.
With a couple of whiskeys on top of the stout Peter began to cheer up. With the money he’d get from the AF deal, a bit of flexibility from Jenny and he’d be all right. The farmer would be happy once he married her and he did not hit her, after that she’d be on her own. He’d always liked her. Then depression hit again. What about his Janet, this situation would take some explanation.
Jenny snuggled up beside Peter. He remembered what he had found attractive about her. Her breasts, and she had soft rounded figure and a warm face. Her perfume, he could buy her a more expensive bottle. And she had seemed willing to try anything he suggested. A great laugh in bed. What the hell, worry about things when he was back home, clear of these people? After the third whiskey he put his arm around her and they all beamed at the happy couple.
The farmer was regretting persuading Peter to try the poteen. Monsey suggested they put him to bed.
“I have to get home,” Peter protested.
“Nonsense,” Monsey contradicted. “Sure it’s still early.”
“Will you take Jenny with you?” the farmer cut in.
“Of course. I’ll have to introduce her to the family,” Peter said trying not to slur his words. His legs gave in and he slumped back on the couch.
“Don’t let me down boy. My marriage is a terror to behold, but others can be happy.”
“Don’t worry I’ll marry her,” Peter slurred and kissed Jenny on the cheek. They all relaxed and Peter felt his head swimming.
“Let him sleep it off on the couch,” Monsey suggested ignoring the remarks about her marriage. “Jenny fetch a blanket to cover him. He needs a little sleep. I’d say he got precious little rest last night.”
Jenny took Peter into the parlour and sat him on the couch.
Peter smiled and touched Jenny’s cheek. “What a mess you have gotten me into,” he whispered.
“You are the one who took me knickers down Peter O’Byrne. I told you it would cause trouble but you ignored me.”
“You seemed to enjoy.”
Jenny giggled and Peter kissed her neck. Jenny sighed.
“Come and show me how you will be a good wife,” he suggested.
With a giggle Jenny slipped in beside him and helped him to take off his clothes.
Monsey heard movements from the kitchen and smiled to herself. He might be skinny but at least he was healthy.
Monsey put a cup of tea in front of her husband who was listening to a farming program on the radio. He was intent on writing down the pig prices report from the mart. She pecked him on the cheek and he looked up surprised but smiled. He’s a good husband Monsey thought. Sure hadn’t he made it right for Jenny? Now it was up to Jenny and her young man.
When Peter awoke he was alone.
The house was quiet.
He dressed and went silently to the parlour door. One of the Doberman dogs was in the hall and he lifted his head and looked at Peter. It opened its mouth and made to stand. Peter quickly shut the parlour door, with himself inside.
He went to the window, yes it would open. Then he wondered where the other Doberman dog was.
With a sigh he went back to the couch. He was trapped. The farmer was probably right. Those men could lift him at any time. He could either marry the girl or look over his shoulder for the rest of his life. Pig farmers in Kildare were not known for having forgiving natures. The family would avenge itself. What a fool he had been.
He got back under the blanket and lay still as Jenny came in with a steaming mug of tea and a slice of Madeira cake.
“Daddy says you can go when you want. That you are bringing me to meet your people,” Jenny said.
“That’s right,” Peter said.
He took the tea and she kissed him. Jenny sat on the couch and watched him.
“You’ll stay the weekend,” Peter said. “We have some people down, but there is plenty room in the house.”
“Aloysius will be disappointed,” Jenny said happily.
“Why?” Peter asked through a mouthful of cake.
“He’s been waiting with the other dog. Watching the parlour window. He bet Daddy that you would make a run for it. He wanted a chance to feed you to the pigs. Sometimes I think that boy is wicked.”
Peter sighed and drank his tea. Jenny watched with adoring eyes. She had prayed to the blessed virgin for deliverance and there he was. She made a mental note to say an extra decade of the rosary that night.
It was another hour before he left the parlour. Then the farmer insisted he walk the land and see the farm. Monsey insisted Peter keep the clothes she had lent him for the present. He could return them another time and she would clean his nice clothes.
Jenny came out dressed in her best frock. Its startling lack of taste and colour combination made Peter clench his teeth. His mother would have raised eyebrows. But then he thought, Jenny is a clever girl. He’d have to teach her some style, who knows, it might be fun.
However Jenny was unwilling to walk up the farm in her good clothes and Jimmy led the way with Peter in tow, followed at a distance by Aloysius and Peader following on holding the two Dobermans on leads.
Jimmy explained pig farming with love and in great detail. Peter was never more bored in his life.
Then he sensed an opening and became fully alert.
Jimmy the farmer was explaining his ambitions for himself and his two sons. His intention was clear, it was to replace and rebuild his existing piggery and replace it with the best in Kildare. One day he would be the talk of the county and the biggest pig farmer.
“But the investment?” Peter prompted. “Will you do it on grants from the government?”
“Oh there are grants all right,” Jimmy explained. “Not from the government, but from the European Union, like all grants these days.”
“Why not get them, the grants I mean and get started?” Peter asked politely.
“Because Peter, I need about half a million Euro up front for my share. The EU is generous but they are not mad entirely. They require the farmer to make a significant investment. I could get a big demonstration grant if I had an innovative approach to pig rearing, which I have. I love the little darlings and give then the best of treatment. But I need capital and like many the farmers; capital is something the banks have. Unfortunately I am already in hock to the bank. They won’t give me a brass farthing, bad luck to them.”
Peter walked on a bit thinking and listening as his prospective Father in law, Jimmy waxed lyrical about one of his breeding sows.
Peter stopped.
Jimmy stopped talking, wondering why?
Peter Aloysius and Peader came a few paces nearer and stopped.
“You know,” Peter said. “I have a small trust fund. It invests for me now and then. I think we might be able to help you.”
“Aragh, don’t be foolish boy, I need about a half million and a young whippersnapper like yourself wouldn’t have a smell of that sort of money.”
“I could you know,” Peter offered.
Looking Jimmy in the eye he added, “but it would need an agreement I was comfortable with.”
Jimmy looked at Peter.
“Am I catching your drift? Are you suggesting you might wheedle out of marrying Jenny?” he asked, his voice rising.
The two boys moved closer and the dogs, sensing the change of atmosphere, began to growl.
Peter gathered his courage and thought of Janet. The thought of beautiful Janet made him reckless.
“There is only way that I my trust would invest in your scheme,” Peter said, as businesslike as he could sound in the circumstances. “They would insist that I was a detached third party investor. My trust fund would not allow me to put money anywhere near relations, especially if they were in-laws.”
Jimmy looked at Peter, his eyes like burning coals, it seemed to Peter. But Peter held his gaze.
“It might be better to think of a settlement, which might not be a marriage settlement that might end in tears. I’m not good enough for Jenny,” he stated.
“True enough, but she had her heart set on you young Peter. I’d hate to disappoint her.”
“You’d be very proud if you were the biggest pig farmer in Kildare,” Peter countered, sensing the farmer was wavering.
“I’d have to send her to her aunt in England,” Jimmy said.
“I’ll sign an agreement,” Peter offered. “I will undertake to put up all the non-grant money for a fifty percent share in your new pig enterprise.”
“Twenty percent,” Jimmy countered, seduced by the need to negotiate.
They haggled. The boys soon joined in. Peter settled for twenty-five percent and agreed to sign for an investment of half a million.
“You can’t change your mind now,” Jimmy insisted, “it would be a good investment.”
“I have to marry someone else for business reasons. Joining properties, my dad has it arranged. It is a long-standing arrangement. I am promised elsewhere but I’ll always love Jenny and the baby.”
“I can understand. The commitment of the landed gentry, you have to maintain the estate. Jenny will be disappointed. And you’ll pay maintenance for the baby?”
“Of course.”
“Sound man, put it there.”
Jimmy spat on his hand.
Peter did the same and they shook on the deal.
“We’ll have to smuggle you out, the wife will be mad for a while,” Jimmy said he sent the boys to get the van.
“They’ll drop you in Kildare town,” Jimmy offered. “You can get the train to Dublin. I’m afraid your fine car was stolen as part of the arrangement to get you here. I’m sure it is insured.”
“It is,” Peter said agreeably.
“You know we can lift you anytime?” Jimmy checked.
“Don’t worry, I’ll honour the deal. You get the paperwork ready and show me where to sign
.”
On the train back to Dublin Peter whistled to himself. He had signed a paper at Jimmy’s insistence. It was a hand written biro effort that might not stand up in court. But the handshake made it a deal for Jimmy the farmer.
Peter knew he would have to keep the deal and make the investment. That or look over his shoulder for the rest of his life. Who knows the investment might pay off in the long term? He could borrow against the trust fund, no problem. But even if he got nothing back, the main thing was, he was now free to marry his Janet. And he was in partnership with a man who intended to be the biggest pig farmer in Kildare.
Bright side up, he reasoned, he had to get back to O’Byrne’s for the crucial meetings with Crawford.
Chapter forty
Kenny sat in the reading room of the premises of his Saint Stephens Green Club. He had just finished Breakfast in the dining room and had sought a moment to read the Irish Times and relax.
Kenny’s youngest son Kevin was studying law and was using the facilities of the premises and Kenny hoped his timing would enable him to take Kevin home to an early lunch.
The morning had gone well. He had arrived at six to meet John O’Malley. John looked a little tired but took Kenny through his presentation on the figures.
“Very good,” Kenny had remarked. “Without the AF business, O’Byrne’s as a growth company hits a brick wall.”
“Aptly put.”
“We have a busy schedule John,” Kenny explained. “I want you to put together and frame a proposal, which would set a value on O’Byrne’s and Howlett holdings, such that Colm O’Byrne will remain with just over fifty percent of the new company, without any loss of personal asset value. You have to accommodate the O’Byrne Debenture holders, the share option scheme and the trust fund.”
Twisted Love and Money Page 28