In Turbulent Times

excerpt

‘Sit down, Joe, and I’ll wet a pot of tea. I haven’t had a thing since breakfast.’
‘You’ve been busy then?’
‘Oh the usual chores. How are things at home?’ Nora was calling from the kitchen now, washing her hands at the sink.
‘Returning slowly to normal,’ Joe replied. ‘A new normal, if you can say that. One without my Da.’
He heard the rattle of teacups, saucers, milk-jug, sugar-bowl, spoons. He could see in his mind’s eye Nora’s every movement in the kitchen. Then she came in and knelt by the fender.
She filled a teapot with boiling water from the kettle.
‘It’ll be ready in a few minutes,’ she said.
The only change his mind’s eye had missed was the removal of her apron. She sat in the rocking chair that Liam had bought for her as a wedding gift.
‘And how are you, Joe?’
‘I’m OK, I suppose.’ He almost added, ‘And you?’ but the conversation was already too stilted and strained for that. His eyes and hers met squarely for the first time. They gazed unwavering at each other, almost as in the staring game they used to play as children, and Joe’s emotional bleeding began again. His whole body was a raw, bloody wound. He tore his eyes away as they filled with tears. He chewed the inside of his lip, biting off bits of the wet flesh.
Nora’s eyes did not move. ‘I’d cry too, Joe. But I have done that so much I have no tears left. I’ve dried up inside.’
Joe, recovering, sniffed a couple of times and gave out a long, fervent sigh.
Nora, her hands washed clean of the flour she had been baking with, poured two cups of tea and added milk and sugar. She gave a cup to Joe who took it and sipped it. But neither of them spoke.
Then Joe asked, ‘What happened, Nora? Was it something I wrote? Was it something I did or didn’t do?’
‘You didn’t get my letter?’
‘No.’
‘Oh Joe, I’m so sorry. I assumed you knew. I wrote and told you everything.’
‘I didn’t get your last letters. That’s not unusual. So tell me now, Nora. How did it end like this? What happened?’
Nora took a long time to answer. She felt guilty. She felt dirty. She felt sick with shame. ‘I sinned, Joe. I sinned with Liam Dooley. In here, one afternoon after school.

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The Unquiet Land

excerpt

Mother Ross looked again at what was left of her cottage. A clump of smouldering thatch fell from the roof-beams, and a cough of smoke and dust filled the doorway. Her grandfather, Cain Hogan, had built this wee house from stone cut in the stone yard, a typical Drumard cottage with low roof, low door and tiny windows.
“Satan finds more mischief for idle tongues than idle hands, Jinnie.” Finn felt anger swell within him. “Did you save anything at all?”
“A torn nightie.”
“Nothing else?”
“Not a stitch nor a stick, Finn.” Then a smile brightened Mother Ross’s face like sunlight between clouds.
“What’s so funny about that?” Finn was unable to see anything in the situation to make a body smile.
“Well, he didn’t either,” said Mother Ross. “He bolted out the door like a whippet with a rabbit, his shirt tail flapping and his front tail flopping. The last I saw was his bare arse disappearing into the dark outside.” Mother Ross was grinning like a three-day moon.
“Finn, I shouldn’t talk this way,” she went on with more contrition. “But you know what I am. He was one of them. As big a hypocrite as the rest. Obviously I don’t want to name names. He’s stayed with me before. His wife is one of those frigid women who think that men are only to be used in bed for making babies. All else is dirty and sinful. So she deprives the poor man of his marital rights. God, what a way to live. What an attitude to life. I felt sorry for him when I first met him. I did my best to play wife for him. A real wife, with love in my heart, not stone. He’s been coming more and more often. And I suppose that was his ruin.”
“And yours, Jinnie.”
“Ach, I didn’t have much to ruin, Finn.”
Mother Ross glanced again at the wreckings of her home. She had gone back to live there with her widowed mother after her own husband and six crewmen had drowned at sea when their long-line fishing yawl went down in a wild January storm.
“It was a pretty cottage, Finn, but there wasn’t all that much in it to fret over. A few old pictures I’m sorry to lose. Some savings I’d put by.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But why worry?”
“What will you do now?” Finn placed his right foot on the boulder behind Mother Ross and leaned forward with his arms crossed on his knee.
“I don’t know, Finn. I’ve a widowed sister in the city.

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In Turbulent Times

excerpt

George’s Market. Men, women, young people, children, infants. Some were whole, Liam wrote; others barely resembled human beings. The first shock he got was a burned hand lying in the entrance to the market.’
‘Poor Liam,’ Joe said. ‘Having to go through all that. I heard horrendous reports on the wireless, but it brings the horror of it home when someone you know is in the city, seeing the worst of it.’
‘Tragic though it is,’ said Caitlin, ‘there’s not much we can do down here, is there? Except pray for the souls of the dead and for the comfort of the living.’ She paused reflectively, looking first at the fire in the range and then at Joe. ‘Go and see Nora, Joe. She’ll want to see you. You know that.’
Joe said nothing for a moment. Nor did he change his position. Then he said, ‘Wouldn’t it look bad for me to go visiting Nora at this time of night and her alone in the house?’
‘It’s not late,’ Michael pointed out. ‘There’s still a lot of daylight left. Double summer time, Joe.’
‘No, I don’t like the thought of it all the same. I’ll wait till after the funeral. If Liam’s back before I leave again, I’ll go and give both of them my best wishes and congratulations.’ Joe’s voice faltered again.
Staring at the fire he bit his lip, unseen by either Michael or Caitlin. Then he stood up straight and with a visible effort said, ‘I won’t stop for tea after all, Mrs Carrick, if you don’t mind. I’d rather be alone for a while. Perhaps I’ll see you both tomorrow.’
‘That’s all right, Joe,’ said Michael. ‘We understand. We’ll be at your father’s funeral.’
‘I’ll say goodnight to you both then.’
‘Goodnight, Joe.’
҂
He sat on a lonely rock on the shore near the harbour. He watched the waves’ white glow in the darkness but he saw only Nora. He recalled their happy times together: their walks, their dances, their hands touching in the pew at church, their embraces in the dark rows of the picture house in Carraghlin or Lisnaglass. He remembered the sad times too: the arguments, the periods of separation, the coming of the war, the bitter sweetness of his trips home on leave, the partings. And now to be parted from her for good.
Joe thought back to when he believed it all had started: that day in the village square above the harbour when Nora had taken one of her epileptic fits. Many of the men and women and the older adolescents in the village…

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The Unquiet Land

excerpt

“Caitlin loved you, Padraig.” Finn’s voice seemed far away.
“She was my sister,” Padraig said defensively. He licked his thin lips and glanced away.
“She wasn’t—and she isn’t—your sister.” Finn’s voice returned, hardened, to the present. He paused, watching Padraig carefully. “She was desperately unhappy and miserable when you went away. Did you know that?”
“No.”
“You’re lying like a politician.” Finn lifted the wine bottle and filled his glass again.
Padraig raised his hand to indicate that he wanted no more.
“She’s happy again now,” Finn said in a gentler voice. “She was young and recovered quickly. She’s the kind of woman who has many male admirers. Half the village, I dare say.” He was deliberately taunting Padraig. “Liam Dooley fawns on her like a puppy. Clifford Hamilton has been chasing her for a long time. Maybe since that day she pushed him into the harbour. Clifford likes a show of spirit, you know. He’s his father’s son.”
“Is it because of Caitlin that he comes to your parties?” Padraig asked with disapproval.
“Probably. Almost certainly.” Finn grinned. “First Friday in every month. He’s a medical student at Queen’s, but he comes home at the weekend.”
“And Liam Dooley?”
“Young Liam. Your precious lamb.” Finn gave Padraig a scornful, mocking look. “If I could have picked one person in the village to be your doting disciple, I’d have picked Liam Dooley. He has set you on a pedestal, Padraig, and worships you like an idol.”
“The very first commandment, Finn, prohibits idolatry. I doubt if Liam would approve of your choice of words. I certainly don’t.”
Finn shrugged. “You fanatics are so touchy. Anyway, have no fears about young Liam. He was here last night but only to welcome you home. He’s not a regular participant in our monthly revelries. He’s hardly the out-going, hard-drinking type now, is he? And besides he’s not on good terms with Clifford Hamilton, as you probably know. I’d go so far as to say he can’t stand Clifford Hamilton. I don’t know what happened between them, but Liam and Clifford are scarcely on speaking terms.”
Finn reached for his glass and clumsily knocked the bottle of wine off the edge of the table. It fell with a thud on the wooden floor and rolled towards the fireplace, spilling an arc of wine across the polished boards.

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In Turbulent Times

excerpt

Tom was having a rough time with the King’s Royal Rifle Corps in Greece, a frightened infantryman who wrote the most hilariously funny letters. Joe envied and admired his brother Tom, blessed with the bravery of fatalism and the stoic resignation of one who knew there was no God and who cursed God for not existing. Tom, if he made it home on time, would carry his father to the church but shun the funeral Mass and the graveside prayers. It would be good to see Tom again.
And Nora.
҂
‘Come in, Joe,’ said Michael Carrick. ‘Boy, it’s great to see you. You’re looking well.’ Michael shook his hand with that powerful grip of his and ushered him inside. Caitlin sat by the fire knitting.
Joe crossed the floor and kissed her cheek. ‘It’s good to see you again too, Mrs Carrick.’
She looked older and heavier than the last time Joe had seen her. Her black hair was turning as grey as pewter, and she wore it rolled into a tight bun on the back of her head. ‘Well you’re a welcome sight yourself, young Joe,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry it has to be under such sad circumstances.’
‘Sit down, son, sit down,’ Michael said. ‘I don’t have to tell you how sorry we are about your father.’
‘I know, Michael; and thank you.’
‘Your mother’s bearing up right and well, Joe.’ Caitlin mechanically turned her knitting to begin another row. Her hands darted, her fingers flicked, the needles clicked, and all so fast that Joe could see only a blur of speed.
‘I think the doctor had her well prepared,’ Joe said.
‘I saw Tom and Stephen last night,’ said Michael. ‘Tom’s as wild as ever, and Stephen’s still quiet and sober. But he’s putting on weight.’
‘It’s getting married that did that to Stephen,’ said Caitlin. ‘What Tom needs is a strong woman to bring him to heel.’
‘Ach, Tom’s all right,’ Michael said.
‘Oh I didn’t say he wasn’t,’ Caitlin responded. ‘I’ve long had a soft spot for Tom Carney.’
‘He reminds me of your father,’ Michael said.
‘In his ways I suppose he does,’ Caitlin agreed.
Michael turned to Joe. ‘What do you think of Stephen getting married, Joe?’

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