Then the break of thunder.
A scream and Luke turns and looks across the lagoon, sees himself standing at the far side, watching. Sees his cousin Rose run free of the patch of rhubarb to embrace her cousin.
It starts to rain.
His mother and father take each other’s hands.
And his father says to him softly, My son, perhaps we can say this: that the brightness of this afternoon may pass, but it will not die. Perhaps a person’s happiness can outlive them. Perhaps, in some way, we shall always stand here together in the sun.
So much dark, two boys standing at the heart of it –
There is nothing more to see.
The Gloaming has given up its secrets!
And yet …
So much more to come.
I cannot go back.
What? asks Killian. Where will you go?
I must do what my father wanted, says Luke and from his pocket takes his father’s notebook. He says, I shall restore wonder and imagination to Ireland. I have a feeling that, in the future, we are going to need as much of it as possible.
They stand in silence.
Luke asks, Come with me?
Why? asks Killian, and already is half-turning away. What for?
The adventure! says Luke.
My place for belonging is not the same as yours, says Killian.
It can be, says Luke.
I don’t want to keep wandering, says Killian, and keeps his face turned away because he is crying now. Tries to keep it from his voice when he says, I should find my father, find my own way in the world.
And at their feet, two paths are beginning to creep in two different directions – one crimson and one emerald.
Luke: Take my father’s key. Keep it. It will lead you back.
Killian: Where to now?
Luke: Home.
I have no home, says Killian. He closes his eyes.
And already – so very slowly – he feels Luke’s hand leaving his. Hears a whisper, You will find home. Just hope for it. And when you’re ready, you will.
And when Killian opens his eyes once more, he is alone.
Sees only this final thing: a single starling flying fast, following the light of the crimson path, vanishing into the dark.
PART SIX
THE GHOST
Goreland Hall
Co Wexford
15th June 1926
Dear Luke,
I’m being followed. They’re looking for me.
Looks like I’m still on the run. Maybe always will be!
I’ll tell how it happened.
I was standing in the breakfast room when the bell went and one of the maids went to the front door. I was all for earwigging but one of the gentleman guests (he’s no gentleman though, only a mean old bastard who seems to have taken a bit of a shine to me) called me over asking for more coffee. Drinks gallons of the bloody stuff! (I can’t stomach the taste of coffee no matter how many times I try it.) Anyway, he calls me over saying, ‘Here, boy!’ And I went and I was pouring the man’s coffee when I heard someone in the hall saying, ‘I’d like to speak to the head of the hotel, if I may. Right away. It’s very urgent.’
And I was as sure as anything soon as I heard him that it was a Peeler.
I heard the maid who answered the door saying, ‘I’ll go get her. Want to wait here or what?’
I tell you, this used to be a big grand place (but not as grand or big as your place was), but the staff here are not a bit like they were at Mountfathom. The maids are cheeky as hell and they like nothing more than sitting skiving or when new guests arrive they always make sure they’re about so they can have a good gawk at any fellas. They all have dreams of getting married and getting out and going to America. That’s the big dream for most of them – America! I remember this movie star came two weeks back to stay and you should’ve seen them all drooling and falling over each other to take his breakfast up! First time I’ve seen them all so keen to work. I didn’t recognise the fella. He had a driver and two people to look after him and a big red car like a cherry on wheels. I used to be fierce into films but not any more. I don’t like spending so much time sitting in the dark watching things happen that don’t really exist.
Anyway, Clodagh (she’s the one in charge here) went to the front door and I heard her chatting to the Peeler and she told him to come in and she took him into her wee office to chat. They were in there a long time. I still had to keep going around pouring coffee like normal and collecting plates with the hands on me shaking like leaves!
Eventually Clodagh and this Peeler came out of her office behind the front desk and she was saying, ‘Yes, Detective. I will certainly, Detective. Absolutely. If I hear anything I shall let you know.’
This detective tipped his hat and left.
When Clodagh checked the breakfast room to make sure everything was ship-shape she gave me a bit of a funny look. She always gives funny looks though so it could be nothing. I can’t ever tell what she’s thinking. She said, ‘Alright there?’ I said, ‘Yes, madam, everything is in order.’ And she said, ‘I should hope so.’
She’s a sharp one.
I’ll keep my head down now, I think, and just keep working away and hopefully it’ll all be grand.
I hope you get to read this. I know you probably don’t have much time. You’re probably very busy but if you could maybe send a letter back, I would like that.
Your friend,
Killian
Goreland Hall
Co Wexford
17th June 1926
Dear Luke,
A new fella started here today called Johnny. He’ll be a waiter like me but a barman too because he has some experience of that. He used to work in The Belvedere in Dublin so he’s used to hard work, he says. He’s sharing my room but has a fierce amount of stuff with him – he likes reading and must have about two dozen different books with him. He says I can borrow them if I’m careful and don’t break the spines. Your father would’ve liked him – he was into his books in a big way, I remember.
Johnny tells me he’s trying to get himself educated and reading is the best way there is. Says he’ll hopefully go on and do something with his life. He has it down to go to London because he says there’s more to do and see and that’s where it’s all happening now. He says there are all sorts in London and it isn’t as straight-laced and uptight as Ireland. He doesn’t want to be a servant forever, he says. I said to him, ‘You’re only arrived and you want to go already!’ He says to me, ‘You always need to have a plan! Nothing lasts forever so you need to be ready to know where you want to go next. Life’s too short for messing.’
Well, he’s right there. He seems decent enough.
The detective hasn’t come back so that’s good news. When the phone rings at reception I’m always keeping an ear out to hear what’s being said but I don’t think he’s phoned either.
I’ve been at Goreland Hall a month now and I feel well settled in. It’s better than the last place I worked in Belfast. It was a pub and there used to be awful fights in it especially at shutting-up time. It’s mad up North now – all the hassle over the Union and people disagreeing, I can’t see it calming down anytime soon. I left there because I didn’t like it. I also left because someone was pinching money out of the till and drinking between times and they started pointing the finger so I says to them, ‘To hell with this! I’m away!’
Best get out before the arguments start. I couldn’t be bothered with it.
I only stayed one more night in Belfast after that. Thumbed my way to Dublin and then Enniscorthy and I heard they were looking for people with experience of serving customers so I came here and got a job just like that! Always with Lady Luck on my side, you know me.
I’d like to get a bit more educated too.
Been five years since, but I still remember well the animals you showed me when I first got to Mountfathom. Remember you had them all labelled and all? I asked Johnny if he had any a
nimal books and he says all he has are Moby Dick and The Jungle Book so he’ll lend me them to read.
I’ll leave it at that for now. Write if you get a minute.
Your good friend,
Killian
Goreland Hall
Co Wexford
19th June 1926
Dear Luke,
You’ll not believe this but I found out today I’m working with someone from Mountfathom! She’s called Clodagh and I think I mentioned her before? She was the one interviewed me for the position so I met her the first day I started but didn’t know her background till now. What kind of luck would you call that? She’s a sharp thing, but I don’t mind that. She’s fair enough, if you do as she says. Plenty don’t though and you should hear her shouting! Sometimes she swears like a trooper, and I said to her today, ‘I bet they didn’t let you talk like that at Mountfathom!’
She gave me a look and didn’t say anything.
She says she remembers when you were born. She told me about the biggest, strangest party ever at Mountfathom! (I didn’t tell her I had seen some of it – how could I go about explaining that to her or anyone!) She said they were cleaning the whole place for days and even your mother mucked in but your father just sat in his library like always, reading. She says she never saw the like of it then or ever since. She says she still has wild dreams about it. Then she says to me suddenly that she thinks she recognises me. And when I ask her where from she says, ‘You were there at the party. That night, I remember you.’ Then she looked to shake herself a bit and said, ‘But of course you couldn’t have been. You would’ve been hardly even born!’
I said, ‘I know, aye. That would be a strange thing, wouldn’t it?’
She says to me, ‘It would be strange indeed. But it was a strange place, Mountfathom.’
I don’t say much. I don’t want to let on how much time I spent there. I tell her I just visited once because my father was a tea-merchant in Belfast and he had some dealings with Lord Mountfathom. I says to her, ‘I was only there the once and a good few years ago but I got a powerful impression of the place!’
She says, ‘It’s a very different place now of course. Like most of the Big Houses it was destroyed. Like this one was, once upon a time. It’d be very different now.’
I says, ‘Maybe it’ll be a hotel like this one. Would you go back to work there if it was?’
I don’t think she liked that idea. She got up right quick then and said she better get back to doing the rounds else the maids will be sitting having a gossip and the rooms won’t be done properly. I said, ‘Aye, probably best.’ And she gives me a long look.
On second thoughts, maybe I’ll keep my distance from her. Wouldn’t want the poor woman to think she’s losing her mind!
Johnny says he doesn’t like her. He calls her a ‘job’s worth’. Says she isn’t educated and shouldn’t be put in charge of people just because she’s spent her life at places being a servant. I said to him, ‘She’s good at what she does. She has experience.’ He didn’t think much of that. He says being a good servant is about as worthwhile as being a good toilet brush. I think that was a bit harsh of him but I didn’t say anything. I don’t want to start any arguments. Want to keep my head down, as I say.
But Johnny and me have great chats. We were awake the pair of us last night till after twelve talking about life and other things. All the mysteries of the universe! He likes talking about science and religion. He’s reading a book at the moment that he just got delivered called On the Origin of Species. Have you read it? It’s about animals too so I might read it after him. (I’m struggling with Moby Dick – there’s a fierce amount of water in it and not enough of the whale. I told Johnny and he says to me, ‘That’s the whole point! Tension!’). He says he’s agnostic (I got him to write it down for me I can get the spelling right). He says this means he does not believe in no God or yes definitely there is a God. I told him my problem wasn’t God because it makes no odds to me whether God exists or not – each to their own. I says to him, ‘My problem is all the other stuff. The Church and all the money they make!’
I said to him I just cannot be believing in Heaven or Hell.
I tell you why I can’t – because it doesn’t let people change. Some ones I’ve known have been real wicked but then when you don’t expect it they do something nice, so where do they go? Heaven or Hell? Where will I go? I thieved a lot before Mountfathom but haven’t since. Or not much anyway – I took a few coins from the collection box when I left the chapel after speaking to that priest, but he deserved it. It’s not even his money anyway! I know you’re reading this thinking I’m very stupid but I look at my life like this – I was born in the tenements and I got out, so that’s things changing. But if you die and end up down below in Hell you’re going nowhere, are you? Doesn’t say anywhere in the Bible that you can be put there but maybe if you do some good work or help people, you can work your way up and have a shot at getting into Heaven, does it? There’s no early release for good behaviour when you go to Hell, is there? You’re feckin stuck.
Makes me feel trapped just thinking about it.
Anyway, I better go. Johnny just knocked on the door and said Clodagh is looking for me. You’d like him. He’s interested in lots of things. To be honest with you, he’s helping me get through the days. I look forward to the nights when we can sit and have a smoke and chat. He’s a bit interested in what I have to say. We get on well together and I can talk to him very easy.
I’ll say goodbye for now.
Still your best mate,
Killian
Goreland Hall
Co Wexford
19th June 1926
Dear Luke,
I nearly choked when I saw the headline on the front of the Enquirer today! Usually just all that boring political stuff but here was something that I knew about! I wanted to shout when I saw it. Instead I just kept it all in. I tore out the headline and enclose it with this letter.
GYANTS SIGHTED NEAR KILARNEY:
SPECIES REAPPEARS AFTER FIFTY-YEAR ABSENCE!
It’s you, isn’t it? Like you said about restoring imagination to Ireland – this is what your father wanted to do and now you’re doing it!
Will have to stop there. Clodagh wants a word with me.
So I’ve decided – today is my last day here! I’ve had enough. I know you’re thinking – you can’t just leave a job just like that! But I can. I have to. I saw that headline in the paper this morning and it inspired me!
Also, I can’t stand that Clodagh.
She called me into her office this morning and was being more stiff and sarcastic than usual. She sat me down and says to me very serious, ‘Now look. There’s been some whispers. Some hints of an impropriety and we can’t have that here. Not at Goreland Hall.’
I says to her, ‘Whispers about what? About me?’
She says, ‘I won’t go into details but I think maybe you should think about seeking another position.’
I says, ‘Well, I would like you to tell me more about what these whispers are, Missus!’
She said, ‘Don’t call me Missus. And please let’s not embarrass ourselves. Now. I’ll write you a good reference and you’ll get your full pay up until the end of the week. By the end of the day Friday you should see that you’ve taken all your things from your room and moved on.’
I sat there. I could’ve said a lot. I could’ve said how no one works as hard as me – how the other fellas spend most of their time necking with the maids and swiping food from the breakfast trays. I could’ve said how I know what she gets up to herself – I’ve seen her slipping pennies here and pennies there into her handbag. Or about how she always reeks of the drink. Tell you the truth, I could have called her a cow and spat in her eye, and still I’d have walked out with my head held high and more dignity than anybody else here!
But I didn’t.
Times like this is when you realise you’ve changed. I’m not like I was. I don’t know if
I like it or if it’s a good thing or not. I used to always say what I wanted (you’ll remember that, I’m sure!) and to hell with what people thought. And now, well I don’t know what I am.
I did say to Clodagh, ‘I am more respectable than any of the rest of you put together.’
She looked at me and had a big smirk on her face when she said, ‘Is that right? So tell me this – why is there a detective from the North down looking for you? Something about some thieving and someone being stabbed in Belfast at a bar you used to work at? What’s that about, Mr High And Mighty And Respectable?’
I could’ve punched her but I didn’t. I just left.
Mountfathom has done this to me. Has made me soft.
I feel like I’m somewhere between things all the time. You won’t like me reminding you of Mr Findlater but I keep thinking about something he said to me. I think he might’ve been right about some things even though he was a real bastard too.
I think when you’re young you can be whatever you like and no one bothers about it. They like it when you get new ideas about things you want to do. But when you get a bit older, people want you to know where you belong. They want you to be put in your place and stay there.
I won’t say goodbye to Johnny. I’m still reading Moby Dick so I’ll take that with me. I’m sure he can afford another copy when he gets educated and goes to London and makes it big. It’s a bit his fault anyway, all this.
I’ll pack my things up – there isn’t much except Moby Dick and some clothes and the photo of my mum when she was a girl and something I keep to myself and will never show anyone so I won’t even mention it in this letter in case someone reads it.
I will leave here but not because I’ve been told to. I’ll leave on my own terms because I want to. And what I want is to go back to what I was before.
What I want is to come back to Mountfathom.
Best wishes,
Killian
Dublin City
20th June 1926
The House of Mountfathom Page 26