The Light of Evening
Page 25
Dear Eleanora,
The electric blanket you gave me conked out and they said in the factory it wanted a new control. In case I should pass away we will get the mapping done for the kitchen garden when you are here. Somehow I have been thinking of you every moment. I went to a drama in the town hall but see one drama and you see the lot. A fella on his way to a ballad session called in, said he wanted to send you poems of his a bit simple I had to tell him for a finish to go he’s not all square. I don’t think he had eaten for a week. Never again will I rear a chicken. Another colt has been bought, it’s a disease. With your money I got one and a half tons of anthracite. People here say they’ll take an action against you for putting them in books and the dead people would take an action against you if they were alive. Your father gets tired from tearing after horses, he has to sleep on a board bed for his back. You seem to be traveling a lot but maybe it agrees with you. Land and houses here are sky-high. My old friend Mrs. Veller is blind and has to be led across the street. They moved from Foxrock out to Wicklow, her daughter went to Australia and is lonely there, the nearest neighbor one hundred miles away. I wish you’d come oftener, it would be a change for you. You said you have thought of moving to America, well I had a man here visiting who spent forty-five years in it and his account is frightening, your life in danger even in daytime. He couldn’t get over how nice Rusheen is. I never want to think of it all weeds and briars and overgrown, never. I keep a few guests now for B and B, I am not materially minded but they fill in a few lonely hours. I would not like you to live in the USA but if you go for a visit I will ask you to locate somebody for me. I was given an address but the letter returned after six months having been interfered with, steamed. Television in and out of the repair hospital. Your enclosures are a godsend, to have a pound is pure freedom but I don’t let on you send it. I am enclosing you a little ivory letter opener as something tells me you don’t open my letters regularly. I staggered and fell on the back kitchen step, took me an age to get to the phone to call a doctor in emergency and that’s not like me. He said I was carrying surplus water and surplus weight, a pure eejit, it turned out it was cataracts in both eyes. The girl in Todd’s showed me a cashmere cardigan at the old price of twenty pounds but needless to say I wouldn’t spend that on my whole body. I went to an eye doctor because of fainting and told him that I’d lost the sight in my left eye for five or six minutes and he said it was a stroke and lucky the sight came back at all. A big ashtray I bought you got crushed on the way home. My eyes are better now but not my feet. If I had good feet I’d walk down the avenue to the gate to see folks passing. I dream of you most nights and the other night I thought you had turned into a beautiful black cat that spoke. I got the breakfast room painted a buff yellow.
Dear Eleanora,
The birds are singing gloriously all day but I can’t say that it’s spring. You’d go to your knees in muck and wet in the lawn and your father having to fodder cattle in the night when the youngster comes from his factory work, it’s impossible to get help anywhere. The domestic economy instructress swore to me that she could get the stain off my first piece of embroidery, done fifty-five years ago, but instead burned it with whatever acid she applied to it. I’ve had to do a little invisible mending before I give it to you. Your brother rang, I could tell from his voice he was full of alcohol, they think of nobody only themselves, they covet this place but they have another guess coming. The little shrub you planted is flowering, an orange bell flower, I talk to it because I know it’s part of you. Please put some savings aside for your rainy day.
Dear Eleanora,
We got two new pups, mischief-makers. I had left clothes on the line all night, the ground in the morning pure white like it had snowed. They had got to work on the sheets and the pillowslips, chewed them to bits. I could have killed them. The chimneys are full of crows’ nests even though they were cleaned last spring, they clawed the pots off. We are four weeks sitting up close to an oil heater and the paraffin gives off a foul smell. Yes, your brother thinks Rusheen is his, all settled, she’s the one driving him on though he was born selfish. If he got it you or your children would not be let inside the bottom gate. He was so vexed last Christmas night that he drove away from here and killed one of the pups and we cried and cried. He didn’t even stop, only drove on and didn’t tell us until we found out about it for ourselves. He loves neither man or beast. Some have nature and some have not. The comrade mourned her pal, couldn’t get her into the kitchen to warm up and when she hears a dog barking in the distance she listens to see where the sound is coming from. Your father weeps and so do I. The paling around the house is all rusty and the posts will take forty pounds’ worth of paint. That house you thought you might buy, Gore House, is a disaster. We brought a man that knows all about timbers, he said it’s only fit to demolish, roof also rotten. A German man bought it many years ago but never came back, saw it from the air, so forget about it. I’d like you to persevere and build in the kitchen garden, an old stone wall all around you. No price for cattle, people killing their own beef now as most have got deep freezers. Do you recall the leak above your bed in the blue room when you were here, well I woke and saw a light shining and I couldn’t believe it and went across and found the light on though the switch was off and when I went to turn it off I felt a current. Got so alarmed that I rang Graham and the creature came at midnight and found the carpet and boards of the floor all wet, all rotten and said lucky I didn’t stand on that spot or I’d be in Kingdom Come. Your brother has never said would I or his father like a drive in one of their two cars, he isn’t worth worrying about.
Dear Eleanora,
I have the head of that statue you gave me worn from tapping it; you won it for catechism, a black saint, blessed Martin de Porres. It will be laid on my breast and buried with me. At seventy-eight it’s time to think. If I ask you something don’t be cross, can we be buried in the same plot? I know you love this country in spite of the ugly things people have said about you and we could be near a nice grassy corner under trees, could you promise me that, if you can’t then we won’t worry. I have a nice Dutch man staying, the only thing is he has to have his breakfast at six-thirty. Your brother and herself called and said they wanted things here settled once and for all, shameless at getting what they consider theirs, said his beautiful wife did not intend to be a caretaker for you and yours. We sang dumb. Earlier he’d offered to bring me to Limerick to a specialist, the next day going out your father said, “We’ll see you tomorrow” and he said, “You’ll see me no more.” He said you had pots of money from scribbling and I said you’d have pots of money if you didn’t part with it so easily. They live for road and big hotels and race meetings and she going around buying clothes and furniture nonstop. They don’t see their parents’ plight and what their parents did for them. There was a time when I could go up to the yard to boil pots of meal ten times a day and still do the cooking and baking and have the house spic and span and pick the elderberries to make the wine unbeknownst, to have for visitors. I hope you didn’t tuck those cushions away in some press, that you weren’t ashamed of them, I wouldn’t want you to deny your mother like Peter who denied Christ as the cock crowed thrice. We make a good fire and sit by it, me thinking and your father thinking and scratching his head, the wind going all around the house fierce. My father used to tell of the night of the big wind in 1839 a poor man and his poor wife with their roof shot off he tying his wife to a tree to go back in and collect their utensils and when he came out again neither trace nor tidings of her swept away. But maybe death is not that terrible, no more fight, no more fighting but I do want to see Coney Island before I die. I heard it’s not as big an attraction as it used to be but for me it has associations.
Dear Eleanora,
Michael Patrick died and we have learned on the grapevine that twenty-three first cousins are remembered in his will, your father being one, but as you would expect, relatives in close touch will have got in the
re quick. What we want to find out is if your father is mentioned in the residues which would be worthwhile as the farm is very valuable. He’d moved in with neighbors since he got feeble and most likely they’ll get the major portion. Also we don’t know if there is a second will there could be and we mightn’t get a look-in. He’d lost three stone and was waiting to see his solicitor when he dropped dead. My wants are few as I grow older but there are things we could do by way of improving the place, phosphate and lime for the fields, good gates and fences as animals are breaking in and breaking out at all hours. We had Michael Patrick prayed for on Sunday at the first Mass. I hear on good authority that your brother is hitting the bottle and so is she, we are trying to put them out of our minds completely, all they think of is racing, drinking, and hotels. Poor Ellie had a three in one operation, slow to heal. Henry Brady’s funeral miles long. Miss Conheady the cookery instructress is very sad. She lost her only sister Moira who died on her eighth baby. It was the saddest thing I ever saw to see her laid out in the morgue and at her feet was this little dead baby. Men and women in tears. Price of postage, telephone rental, and electricity all gone up. Your father went to Lisdoonvarna for the waters and your Aunt Bride and I went for the drive, people singing and dancing down at the wells all day and all night, some hoping to find husbands. Our puppies are getting big and oh so mischievous. They got up on the table for a fletch of bacon, got their teeth into one of my Dr. Scholl’s elastic stockings, two good nightgowns, and a pajamas. They jump feet high. The tea-maker you sent us is a gift, especially in the mornings. Tom Lahiffe died milking a cow, sister of his broke her neck running to him to pick him up. Your last week’s enclosure was too much but I am getting the dining room papered. It’s sixteen years up and was done badly and I put emulsion over it two years ago, a botched job, so I am hoping it will pass your admiration test. I often wish I had a bank account like you. We never seem to be able to keep a pound, I reckon we are fools. I think of you hourly. Got another flu and then relapse and didn’t know or care if I died. Bride had it too, all crocks, but I’m up and even made jelly, a tedious task as sometimes it doesn’t thicken. I wouldn’t have made it at all only the apples were knocked down in the wind and rain and I thought what a sin and the world starving. Cattle down to twenty pounds per head, six of ours gone with tuberculosis and the Department bought them for half nothing, newborn calves have been sold at a pound whereas a chicken costs one pound fifty. Didn’t someone ring up to wish us happy anniversary and that’s how I remembered the fifty long years, no big party. I’m not able to cater for anybody and bad colds and cold sores and itch is woeful. If I could feel like myself I’d thank God but I don’t feel and never will. Had a crowd of men making silage for three days and had to feed them, nearly killed me. We have a heat wave now and it’s sweltering. Silage making is more practical than saving hay. When you watch an animal die you think how sad it must be to see a human die. My best days I have seen out.
Dear Eleanora,
I’m sure you will be pleased by our news. The mare won in Limerick, her second time to run. I enclose the cutting. Your father was thrilled, as Sabre Point was a sure winner and people had bet thousands on her and also there were two other great horses and nobody gave our Shannon Rose even a chance but she surprised many and disappointed many more. The trainer’s son Bobby was about to get on her for the race when a demon, a trainer that she was with earlier at huge cost, went up to him and said that’s the greatest pig of a mare was ever ridden and she’s liable to run against a wall and throw you off, well had it been a strange jockey was riding her he wouldn’t have gone out into the race, but Bobby knowing her so well after two months knew her to be the gentlest creature alive. The Galway Hobo never wanted her to win and absolutely starved her when he had her. After the race a couple of prime boys wanted to buy her when they thought your father couldn’t pay for her any longer and that he’d sell her cheap. He is absolutely ecstatic. It’s not what she won, the two hundred pounds, but it will put up her value and he’ll try her over hurdles now and if she takes to them he’ll race her again. We were invited out to the trainer’s house for a cup of tea, a mansion. I hadn’t been outside the door, only to Mass and the henhouse. Sometimes I’d love for a spin on a Sunday evening but no such luck. People preach about Christianity and all the rest but how many act like Christians? When I’m dying I hope you will be with me, I always hope for that. The green chaise upstairs I’m getting new legs on it and plush cover, maybe red, maybe purple. The carpet sweeper you got me is a boon, better than the electric, they pick up more. Everything twice the price since decimalization came in. You’ll find this strange but I was in Limerick recently and was introduced to a lady as your mother and she said I saw your daughter at Phoenix Park races two weeks ago with two very good-looking men. I said you are mistaken it wasn’t my daughter as she was not home and she said the friends with whom she was with said it was you and as a matter of fact she said you wore a velvet coat very long and very unusual and that was what attracted them to you so I said you must have a double. The only peculiar bit was concerning the coat, velvet with gold braiding, the image of yours. Were you or were you not at Phoenix Park races last month? Strange that and I not to know it. Please do not fuss too much to keep your figure; your health must go before all else. God help anyone dealing with tradesmen, they come and go as suits them. There was a letter in the paper saying your writing is tripe, written by a man in Carrickmines. I did see a lovely picture of you taken at an oyster festival; so near and yet so far. I like your hair down. It will be exciting to go to Finland but I’m always frightened for you in airplanes. Your father can’t go anywhere as there are a couple of cows to calve and sometimes young cows don’t calve right. We had one a week ago and the calf was dead and we have to find another calf to suckle her but they don’t always take on to them; so many drawbacks in farming. I have to herd in cows and calves with him, it’s beyond me. I can’t run but it has to be done. I enclose medals of Saint Benedict blessed by the mission fathers at the rails and they carry a special blessing so keep one in the house and put the other on your clothing as you travel so much.
Dear Eleanora,
Your father has been gone now for fourteen days. He was asleep after the operation when we got to the hospital so we went out for a cup of tea and went back and stayed twenty minutes. He looked worn. The surgeon said it was a very big operation, two thirds of his stomach taken away. The ulcer was very far up and hard to get to, but that it was well it was taken out as malignancy had set in. Your father says he’d die before he’d go through it all again, you’d feel sorry for him to see him all tubed up, the nurses are very rough and the matron who knows him would be kind except she’s on leave. Many pints of blood had to be put into him. I suppose I wasn’t really sympathetic for a long time, I felt it was nerves and contrariness but now I see I was wrong. I am so relieved to see him well. Do drop him a line when you can. Another sick cow was taken away to Limerick on the lorry for the knackers yard. Farming is an utter nightmare. You are lucky to have brains and to use them, not like the foolish virgins in the parable. I go for a checkup next month, I should have gone long ago. It would be worse to be out on the roadside like our forebears were. A Cecilia Long who nursed in the USA for thirty-five years took retirement and came home to nurse her sister Lilly a cripple. Last Sunday a niece visited them but by the time she’d got home in the evening word awaited her that Aunt Cecilia fell going up the stairs and broke her neck. Pitiful. I felt so sad after Ellie’s death I couldn’t bring myself to go to the funeral. I went to see her sick and when I went into the room I took fright with the roaring of her, I’ll never forget it. I’m tired from nothing and then tired from something. I did ring Bea Minogue one morning for the locum’s number and before I knew it she was here on the doorstep and drove me over to him. He gave me an injection which pained me for one and a half hours but I suppose it helped because I slept and I raved all day. Bea said he came again to make sure the fever was abatin
g. Bea is the soul of kindness. I fear you are mixed-up about things which is why you did not come this year. The teacher said he will look for the book you want, he will try a trunk. The breach has come with your brother: they want too much and assumed there was no one else in the family.
Dear Eleanora,
Now for the bombshell, we might have to sell Rusheen. Things are getting on top of us. Your brother is making demands. We know it’s her, she’s cracked but he is not man enough to stand up to her. We have said goodbye to them for the last time. We might build a bungalow. He demanded ten thousand pounds immediately and let everyone else go to hell. We hear now they have gone to Spain to recuperate. We’re not the only ones who had to sell their homesteads, nobody ever counted with him only her and I believe his life is hell, a brother of hers let it out at a funeral. The animal that won the race is now one and a half years in training at seven guineas a week plus jockey’s fees, plus stablemen, plus fifty pounds to the jockey every so often, a dead loss but if I say anything there’s ructions so I sing dumb. Some critic commented that you as a writer are trying to present a false and malevolent picture of your country, said your works will not live on. Another critic to outsmart him wrote that your work is hocus pocus so you see how controversial you are but sometimes we get the sting of it. I regret to tell you that more trouble is brewing regarding your most recent book. Some have written to publishers to say they are going to take an action against you. Of course they are money mad but they are also out for your blood. I say that I do not want to hear about it but they are evidently upset and very sore with you. They did not expect you to go back years and years to make them objects of ridicule and humiliation. Your father and I do not discuss it as I feel it hurts him too. Yet I know I can go to you if I am in need. I have heard indirectly that you were seen crying in public. I hope it does not bode some fresh disaster. With the last money you sent me, I’m going to buy myself a rocking chair and rock away for the remainder of my life. Gore House that you enquired after went for thirty-five thousand and you could drive a car through the woodworm in it, fungus all over the place and everything rotten. The report is you bought it and as late as last night three people congratulated your father on the purchase. When shall I see you again? You hinted about living in New York, but I pray you don’t. A bank strike and shipping strike so tourists have canceled as they can’t bring their cars. Your father cried a lot before his operation as he was afraid it would perforate at any time. I am telling you it would be better to be married to a man in a cottage earning a weekly wage as there is no money in farming. Last night I had a dream of being back at home in Middleline and looking from the field in front of the door in through the window and seeing a beautiful metal crucifix and white beads hanging on the wall and saying to myself the room is changed, it means change and what does it signify? When you have a minute, would you ever draw a sketch of your black jacket with the grosgrain reveres, I am getting one made like it as I have black skirts but no good jacket.