No Enemy but Time (14 page)

He swallowed and said, ‘Mammy, this is Mary Rose.'

She peered past him. ‘Who? Who'd ye say?'

‘My wife, Mary Rose.' He repeated it slowly, guiding her hand for Mary Rose to take.

‘'Tis a pretty name,' Mrs Ryan said gently. ‘I can't see ye too well.' She let the stranger touch her for a minute, and then the woman bent and kissed her on the cheek. She smelt like a rose too, the old woman thought. She wished she could see her better. But it was Kevin she wanted. Mary Rose gave place gracefully, and with some relief. There was a uriny smell about the old lady, and she remembered what her sister-in-law had said. She sat down and decided that although it was so early in the morning, she wouldn't mind a drink.

The meeting lasted almost two hours. Kevin and his brother were putting back the whiskeys and talking about things that meant nothing to her. She made conversation with Bridget, who pressed more gin and lime upon her. They began to drift into amiable silence when they had asked each other questions about their children and the schools, and the plans they had for their holiday in Ireland. It certainly was warm and they were really dear people. It was just great the way they took care of the old lady. Back home she'd have been in some nice comfortable clinic. They kept the real values in Ireland, just like Kevin said.

She was glad they weren't going to stay at the farm, though. It would have been too much for poor Bridget, looking after them, when she had so much to do. After a while Bridget asked if she'd like to see over the house, and Kevin's room, which he'd shared with Shamus, of course. Her three daughters were in it now. It was a dark house, Mary Rose thought, climbing the stairs to the first floor. It needed fresh paint and bright drapes, and her high heel caught in the floorboards.

‘Kevin's room,' she said, standing in the open doorway. ‘It's just wonderful to think of him being a little boy …'

Three beds cluttered one wall. It wasn't at all tidy. A large picture of the Sacred Heart gazed down at her, the blue-eyed Saviour with his smooth red hair and silky beard looked faintly sorrowful. A red devotional oil lamp burned on the table below. Mary Rose had listened to a TV debate once when one of the panel had derided the sentimental Aryan view of Jesus Christ. ‘He was a black Jew; the Church has turned him into some kind of Barbie doll.' Mary Rose was so shocked she'd switched the set off.

‘It's just wonderful to see all this,' she murmured.

They went back downstairs. She said to Bridget, ‘Kevin's told me all about his sister. What a sad thing to happen to you all.'

‘She got what she deserved,' Bridget Ryan said. ‘Deserting her family and her faith. She broke the auld one's heart!'

Mary Rose couldn't believe she'd heard her properly. But there was no mistaking the bitterness of the voice or the gleam in her sister-in-law's eyes. Eileen was a saint to Kevin, but perhaps the folks at home knew more than he did. Deserted her faith. That was very shocking.

‘Oh,' she said. ‘I didn't know. Kevin didn't say anything about that …'

Bridget Ryan shrugged. ‘He was the only one had time for her,' she said. ‘She was no good, that one. For the love of God, don't mention her name. It's never spoken in this house. We'd best go on down and I'll show ye the sittin' room. I wanted to bring ye both in there, but Shamus says, for Christ's sake they're me own brother and his wife. We're not entertainin' strangers.'

Kevin got up when they came in.

‘I've been showin' Mary Rose the house,' Bridget announced proudly.

Her husband laughed. He was a little drunk. ‘Sure and she wanted us sittin' in that draughty old morgue of a sittin' room. If she's not polishing the auld bits and pieces, she's naggin' me for new curtains!'

‘We're going out tonight, the four of us,' Kevin announced. ‘I'm takin' us all out to the Cill Dara and we'll have a fine dinner and a few drinks.'

He too was a little high, his wife noticed. She also noticed that his brogue had thickened and he'd lost his American accent. He had his coat off and was standing in front of the range, with a glass in his hand, rocking on his heels, one hand stuck in his trouser pocket. He looked different. Coarser. She put the thought aside, ashamed of her disloyalty. It was strange to her, that was all. They were nice, friendly people, with all the good-heartedness she'd expected, but they were different from her own family. Different from their friends at home. Her mother hadn't been too pleased with Kevin as a son-in-law. She was a snob; Mary Rose knew her mother wanted a lawyer or a doctor, but there was no one she liked as well as the sharp young Irishman who was working his way up in Heraghty's business. He was a bit too horny to start with, but she had the four children and it wasn't a problem now. From time to time he slept with her and showed he loved her, but business and politics were his priority.

He came towards her and threw his arm round her.

‘Isn't she a grand girl?' he demanded. She felt his fingers digging into the side of her breast. Too hard; it hurt. ‘Aren't I a lucky fella?' he demanded of them again.

She put her hand up and eased his fingers off. ‘Kevin …' she whispered.

‘We're off to the hotel,' he said. ‘A little sleep, eh, me darlin'? Then we'll meet ye all at the Curragh Bar for a few good old jars, and then we'll go on to the hotel. Mind ye dress up, Bridget. Mary Rose has got a trunkful of bloody glad rags …'

They left, with Shamus and Bridget waving them goodbye at the door.

‘Ye'd best drive,' Kevin told her. ‘I don't want the feckin' Gardai pullin' me up for drunken drivin'.' He dozed on the short drive, but unfortunately he was wide awake and very horny when they reached their hotel room. Before he fell asleep he held her in his arms and said, ‘Ye don't know what it means to me, coming home again. My heart's here in Ireland, Rose.'

‘I know it is,' she answered. She wasn't really thinking about that. She was worrying that they'd made love at the wrong time of the month. Drink never diminished his sexual powers; he was more potent and demanding drunk than sober. She really didn't want a fifth child. He slept for most of the afternoon.

They met in the bar as arranged. The Curragh Bar was a smoky place, its walls plastered with racing pictures and signed photographs of famous jockeys drinking with the landlord. Horse brasses and horse memorabilia everywhere. Mary Rose had no affinity with them or with racing.

Kevin kept on meeting old friends. The drinks were bought and finished and bought again. The talk was loud and nostalgic, incomprehensible to her. She heard Kevin say, ‘Jaysus, I'd like to have a place of my own here,' and felt quite shaken. Not a house like that grim old farm, set in the middle of nowhere, with dank trees and mud clinging to you every step you took. It was the drink making him talk like that. She smiled resolutely and decided to get a little high herself. It seemed the only thing to do. Women were drinking in the bar along with their men. It wasn't frowned upon for a woman to start talking loud and making a fool of herself. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, as her father used to say. Mary Rose switched to vodka and tonic, with plenty of ice and a twist of lemon. Kevin was paying her compliments again, squeezing her waist and showing her off. She did look nice, she admitted, not being a vain woman. Blue suited her and she'd worn her pearl and diamond brooch because he wanted everyone to see it. Her sister-in-law's glad rags were not very glad. She had such a bad figure, that was the trouble. Irish women didn't seem to take any care of themselves. She needed a good diet sheet and daily workouts, Mary Rose decided, and began advising her how to go about it. Bridget listened and nodded and thought to herself ‘the silly bitch is jarred' and took no notice.

When they were about to leave for the restaurant, a man standing near the bar came up to Kevin and said, ‘If ye're wanting a place here, the Half House is on the market.'

‘We might look at it,' Kevin suggested the next day. ‘There's no harm.'

He was in high spirits in spite of a hangover after last night. Dinner had been cheerful and alcoholic, Kevin playing host to his family and slipping back into his old environment as if he had never been away. Mary Rose was happy for him and when he suggested looking at the house with its quaint-sounding name, she was enthusiastic. The estate agent came down from Dublin to show them over. He saw what appeared to be rich American clients and insisted on taking them to lunch first. In the middle of his sales talk about the land and the area, it gave Kevin satisfaction to say, ‘I was born here, my brother farms up at Bryanstown.'

They drove up the short drive, past a lodge with a roof that looked in need of mending, good grass fields and post-and-rail fencing like broken teeth after years of neglect. The Half House met them round a corner, and Mary Rose exclaimed.

‘Oh, isn't it just beautiful!'

The estate agent beamed at her. ‘Women bought houses, men bought land', was a proven saying in the business.

Kevin had never been there before. They got out and he stood looking at it for a moment or two before he walked to the door after Mary Rose. It was well named. The wing of a Victorian Gothic pile, with handsome windows and a fine mahogany front door. Three floors of it, and the ubiquitous Irish basement. Splendid trees and a glimpse of garden that had run down badly. The hunting, shooting Hamiltons, so grand in their heyday, were bankrupt and gone. He walked into the hall. He didn't listen to the sales talk, he wandered slowly through the rooms, aware that Mary Rose was showing far too much enthusiasm if he was going to knock the price down. It was a fine big house and the more he saw, the more it pleased him.

On the first floor, his wife slipped her arm through his and said, ‘Honey, just look at that view.' The hills were purple in the distance and the magic sky of Ireland smiled in sunny blue above them. Green fields, a coppice of trees, and not a roof in sight.

‘Punchestown racecourse is on the right,' the agent announced. ‘Only a few minutes' drive away.'

Kevin remembered his father going to the spring meeting, and coming back rolling drunk, with or without winnings in his pocket. Kevin was not a racing man. ‘Let's see the roof,' he said.

They were there for most of the morning. They toured the house a second time and Mary Rose began to think about drapes and colour schemes. The whole idea was too romantic and the awful prospect of the Ryan farmhouse or its equivalent vanished like a nasty dream. If Kevin wanted a root in the old country, then this, she decided, must be it. And wouldn't the children go wild, when they came over? Wouldn't it be just wonderful to own a gracious old house in the heart of Ireland? They could visit and bring friends over. Kevin was a politician and of course his life was in the States, but hadn't he said only the night before, ‘My heart's here in Ireland, Rose.' It would do his election chances good to have the status of a place like this in back of him.

There were outbuildings and stables, all of them run down and needing money spent; or the bulldozer, Kevin decided. The garden could be brought back; a swimming pool could replace the old kitchen garden with its drystone wall.

At the end he said to the agent, ‘It needs a fortune spending on it. The roof's bad, there's no central heating, there's damp and the cellars are full of rot. I'm interested, but not at anything like the price.'

‘The land's worth it,' he protested.

‘Then why isn't it sold?' Kevin demanded. ‘Lookit, I'm local and I know the way of things here. I'll need a survey, but I'm not going to pay good money for it unless they bring the price down.' And he named a ruthless sum.

The agent hesitated. The wife wanted it, that was his best hope of a sale. But the man was hard and not likely to be influenced unless he got a bargain. And there hadn't been a serious offer for the property in the last twelve months. He nodded and said, ‘I'll have a word with the solicitor looking after Captain Hamilton's affairs. He's in England at the moment. I think we can come to some compromise, Mr Ryan, if you're really interested.'

When they were alone Mary Rose said to him, ‘You're not going to lose it, are you?'

Kevin put his arm round her. ‘No, Rose, I'm not. But I'll get it at my price, not theirs. I'm not putting money in the pocket of the bloody Hamiltons more than I can help. You want it, don't you?'

‘I think it's the most romantic place,' she sighed. ‘Just beautiful.'

‘Then that's good enough,' he said.

Captain Hamilton, living in a modest flat in Fulham, was only too relieved to get rid of the house and the whole burden of debt. Ryan got the property at half the asking price, and the contracts were signed by proxy when he had returned to America. Two months later the first of the workmen moved in.

Chapter 4

‘I'm so excited,' Claire said, ‘I can't believe he'll be here any minute.'

Claudia lit a cigarette. ‘The plane could be late,' she remarked. ‘Don't get too worked up, darling.'

‘No, it landed dead on time,' Claire answered. ‘I rang the airport. Mummy, don't you realize I haven't seen Frank for two whole years?'

She was bobbing up and down, looking through the window, head on one side listening for the sound of the car. Philip had gone to meet his son. Tactfully, and without Claire realizing the true reason, Claudia had dissuaded her from going to the airport with him.

‘Daddy wants to be the first to congratulate him,' she explained. ‘It's good for them to have some time alone together.'

Claire was so easy to manipulate, she thought sadly. All anyone needed was to appeal to her kind heart. Finishing school in London and a year in Switzerland had turned the pretty teenage girl into a beautiful and sophisticated young woman of twenty, on the surface. Underneath the excited child held sway, bubbling over because her brother was coming home to Ireland for good. Claudia was disappointed. She had hoped that long separation and new friends would have loosened the bond between them. Maybe he'd changed and Claire wouldn't find him such a hero now that they were both grown up.