Secrets of the Lighthouse (12 page)

‘She can base a story around the castle and the lighthouse,’ Peg suggested.

‘Why?’ he asked.

‘Because they’re surrounded by mystery,’ his mother answered.

‘Do you want to write a
murder
mystery?’ he asked Ellen.

‘Now that’s enough, Ronan!’ Peg exclaimed crossly. ‘I don’t want to hear any of your nonsense on that subject. I wish I hadn’t brought it up.’

‘Because there’s one hell of a story for you here.’

Ellen interrupted. ‘Oh, I’m not going to write
their
story. Goodness, I know nothing about it. I simply find the ruined lighthouse and castle romantic.’

‘Not a lot of romance there, I don’t think,’ he said, chuckling cynically. ‘The two of them were at each other’s throats like a pair of rats.’

‘Now why speak of them like that, Ronan? You were once full of admiration for her,’ said Peg.

‘I saw her portrait today. She was very beautiful, wasn’t she?’ Ellen commented.

Ronan cut himself a slice of cake. ‘But that counts for nothing now she’s dead,’ he said.

Ellen put down her mug. ‘Tell me, why did he take everything out of the castle and leave only that painting? Why would he do that? Wouldn’t he want to take the painting with
him?’

Ronan sighed impatiently. ‘Perhaps it’s too big to put up in his house? I don’t know. What does it matter?’

‘I’m curious. I mean, why not pack it away? But to leave it in the house is spooky, isn’t it? It’s like she’s still there.’

‘I don’t know, Ellen, and I don’t care,’ he replied gruffly.

Peg smiled at her son indulgently. ‘Don’t mind Ronan, Ellen, he’s just tired of it all.’

‘Spend a little more time here and you’ll tire of it all, too, I promise you,’ said Ronan. ‘It’s all anyone can talk about, still!’ He bit into the cake and
chewed vigorously.

Now Peg nodded in agreement. ‘Well, you’re right about that, Ronan. Five years on and they’re still talking about it. Mind you, it’s hard not to when the lighthouse is
sitting in front of their noses as a constant reminder.’

‘Is that why you don’t go to the pub, Aunt Peg?’ Ellen asked. ‘Because you’re sick of the gossip?’

‘No, I don’t go to the pub because I like to keep myself to myself,’ she replied tightly. ‘Why don’t you take Ellen, Ronan? Joe said he would, but I’ll tell
him you’ve already gone. You can introduce her to the rest of the family.’

He looked at his cousin quizzically, raising an eyebrow. ‘Do you think you’re ready for an overdose of Byrnes?’

‘I don’t know. I might be happier staying here playing cards with Oswald and Aunt Peg.’

‘You said you don’t play cards, pet, and there’s no television. So, you might as well go with Ronan. He’ll look after you, won’t you, Ronan?’

‘You’ll be just grand,’ he said, but he still hadn’t given her a smile. Ellen hoped she could coax one out of him in the Pot of Gold. ‘I have to drop my tools off
at home first,’ he said, getting up. ‘If you don’t mind stopping by at mine then I’ll take you.’

‘I don’t mind at all,’ said Ellen, compensating for his sulkiness by being overenthusiastic. ‘I’d love to see where you work.’

‘Oh, Ronan’s workshop is a treasure trove,’ Peg gushed.

‘Yes, Mam, like Michelangelo’s!’ he retorted, but when he looked at her his face softened and one corner of his lips grinned reluctantly.

It didn’t take long to drive to Ronan’s cottage. Positioned between his mother’s and Ballymaldoon, it had the same spellbinding view of the sea. He pulled up
his van in front of the house and hauled his heavy toolbox out of the back. ‘You can come and have a look if you want,’ he said to Ellen. ‘My workshop is round the back.’
She followed him along a path that cut through the long grasses and weeds to the end of a very unkempt garden. The light was fading now, the early stars twinkling in the darkening sky like distant
boats approaching through mist. The air was damp and chilly and a sharp wind blew in off the sea. Ellen pulled the coat she had borrowed from her aunt tightly across her body and shivered.

Ronan’s workshop was a large wooden shed, built up against a high grassy bank. It looked unremarkable from the outside, yet when he opened the door and switched on the lights, Ellen
realized that this was indeed a treasure trove as Peg had said. Rows of tools hung in neat racks on the walls, planks of wood lay in tidy piles, strange machines rose out of mounds of wood shavings
and a sturdy workbench was positioned in the middle of the room with various tools slotted into ingenious, tailor-made slots. That in itself was like a work of art. She ran her fingers along the
surface, marvelling at the cleverness of design. ‘You invented this, didn’t you?’ she said and he must have detected the admiration in her voice, for he put down his toolbox and
began to show her around.

‘Necessity is the mother of invention,’ he told her. ‘So, I’ve made things along the way for my own use, as I’ve needed them, to make my work more
efficient.’

‘Your mother is right, you really can fashion anything out of wood.’

‘Oh, this is nothing. This is just my workplace,’ he replied. ‘Would you like to see my portfolio?’

‘I’d love to,’ she replied, watching the pride turn his cheeks pink as he pulled out a large black book of photographs from behind his desk and brushed the dust off with his
fingers. ‘I don’t show it very often, as everyone knows me here and most of my jobs come by word of mouth. But I keep a record of everything I’ve made, for my sake more than
anything else. I’m fond of them, I suppose.’ At that, he finally smiled. Ellen felt her spirits rise on it, like a glider on a thermal. They sat at the workbench and Ronan showed her
all his commissions. There were complete kitchens and bathrooms, a child’s Wendy house, dressers, tables and chairs.

‘How did you learn to do this?’ she asked, taking a closer look at the intricate heart carvings in the shutters of the playhouse.

‘Well, my uncle Ryan has a building company and his carpenter, Lee, is a wizard with wood. He taught me everything.’

‘You were apprenticed?’

‘For eight years. Then Lee retired and I worked for Ryan, then set up on my own. I had made a name for myself by then.’

Ellen turned the page and instantly recognized a bench by the castle lake. ‘Ah, this must have been for Caitlin Macausland.’ She felt him stiffen beside her. ‘It’s a
lovely bench,’ she added, hastily. She soon realized, as she turned the pages, that Ronan had made her more than just a bench. There was a seat that encircled a tree, a pentagon-shaped summer
house, a swing chair, a garden gate and cold frames in the vegetable garden. ‘Goodness, you’re prolific. I bet you didn’t have time to work for anyone else when you were working
for her.’

He nodded. ‘That’s true. She gave me the chance to make things most carpenters only dream about.’

‘You must have known her very well,’ she murmured without thinking. Then, remembering his earlier reaction to the subject, she added, ‘I’m sorry. I know how sick you are
of the whole business.’

‘I’m sick of the lies, Ellen,’ he replied, to her surprise, then took a deep breath. ‘Everybody claims to know something, but they know nothing. There are only two people
who know what really happened that night at the lighthouse. One won’t talk and the other can’t.’

‘So, if you don’t know anything either, how come you’re so sure he killed her?’ she asked, smiling to make light of her comment. ‘Aren’t you just as bad as
everyone else?’

He inhaled through dilated nostrils. ‘I knew her and I know that she was frightened of him. He has one hell of a temper on him. I think he’d be capable of anything, in a fit of
anger.’

‘So, we’re not talking about murder then?’

‘Well, if you’re going to nit-pick, call it manslaughter. But he killed her one way or another.’

‘But you don’t really know.’

‘No, I don’t,’ he agreed, grudgingly. Then, without being able to find anything more substantial on which to base his opinion, he closed the book. ‘But he’s to
blame, all right. I’d bet my life on it,’ he added resolutely, and Ellen deduced from the hardening of his profile that he
wanted
to believe it. She wondered whether there was
a man in Ballymaldoon who wasn’t a little in love with Caitlin. ‘I don’t know about you, but I need a drink,’ he said, getting up. He replaced the portfolio behind his desk
and switched off the lights.

When Ellen and Ronan arrived at the Pot of Gold it was full of locals. The air was misty with body heat and smoke from the open fireplace, and it was very noisy. The clamour of
voices hushed a little, however, when Ellen walked in, and she could see unfamiliar faces craning their necks to get a better look at her. She was relieved to see Johnny and Joe at a table against
the wall and hurried over to join them.

‘You’re like a film star,’ Johnny commented when she reached him. ‘They’ll be asking for your autograph next.’

‘And I’ll be charging a pound a turn,’ Joe added, rubbing his hands together. Ellen recognized Desmond, who introduced her to his wife Alanna, a fair-skinned, fine-boned woman
with strawberry-blonde hair falling in curls over her narrow shoulders. She smiled and patted the bench beside her.

‘Come and sit next to me, love. I’ve heard nothing all day except how beautiful you are. Joe, go and get her something to drink. What would you like? I’m having a vodka
tonic.’

‘I know what she
won’t
be having, right, Ellen?’ He grinned playfully and winked at her.

She smiled back, his teasing giving her a pleasant sense of belonging. ‘I wanted to impress you,’ she retorted.

‘Well, you might have fooled Dad but you didn’t fool me.’ He threw his head back and laughed.

Alanna was confused. ‘What’s all this about?’

‘You should have seen the look on her face when she tried to drink a Guinness this afternoon. Priceless, it was!’

‘Oh, quit codding about, Joe!’ Alanna jumped to Ellen’s defence. ‘Don’t listen to him, he’s always acting the maggot and no one takes any notice!’

‘Don’t think I won’t get my own back, Joe Byrne!’ Ellen answered.

‘I wait with bated breath. So, what’ll it be, then?’

‘The same as Alanna, please.’

‘Good, I’d be ashamed to ask for water!’ Joe disappeared into the crowd.

‘Now who else don’t you know here?’ Alanna wondered, narrowing her eyes and looking about the room.

Ellen noticed Dylan’s dark presence at the bar. He was deep in conversation with Ronan, drinking a glass of Guinness. Occasionally, he looked up beneath his wild black fringe and his
piercing black eyes watched her like a buzzard watching his prey. She tried to ignore him. After all, there was nothing she could do about his hopeless love for her mother. She wondered whether, if
he met her now, he’d regret having wasted so many years in pining.

Ellen concentrated on meeting her uncles’ wives and grown-up children. She couldn’t imagine ever remembering all their names. She had more cousins than she could have dreamed of. Her
family life in London seemed sterile and dull by comparison with this jolly clan of Byrnes. They certainly made a lot of noise. It wasn’t long before a sea-weathered fisherman called Eddie
began to play the accordion and the pub burst into raucous singing.

Ellen thought of Caitlin Macausland, singing along with the best of them, as Joe had put it. She could imagine her in the midst of all these people, shining brighter and more beautiful than an
angel, among them but tantalizingly out of reach. No wonder her death still shocked and saddened people. Ellen suspected she had grown more intriguing in death than she had been in life. That was
always the way.

‘So, how are you enjoying staying with Peg?’ Alanna asked when the singing had died down and people started to leave.

‘I love Aunt Peg already,’ Ellen replied truthfully. ‘She’s such a sweet lady.’

‘She must love having you around the house.’

‘I hope I’m not going to be a burden.’

‘Not at all. I’m sure she’ll be very happy with the company.’

‘She has Ronan.’

‘Yes, he looks out for his mam. He’s a good boy, complicated though, I warn you.’

‘He’s serious, not like Joe.’

She laughed. ‘Oh, we have the craic all right with Joe!’

‘I really like Johnny and Joe. I don’t ever want to go back to London.’

‘Of course you don’t. You’ve only just arrived.’

‘I feel at home already.’

‘Connemara does that to people.’ She laughed lightly. ‘Look, I was born here, as were all the Byrnes, and we’re all still here. Is there any reason why you have to go
back?’

Ellen sighed. She longed to be honest and tell her new family that she had left a fiancé in London but she cared too much about what they thought of her. ‘Well, I haven’t told
my mother that I’m here,’ she said, which was true, at least.

‘Yes, Desmond told me.’

‘So, I’ll have to let her know at some stage, won’t I?’

‘Just let her know you’re safe. That’s all mothers worry about. Then she’ll leave you in peace.’

‘I’m not so sure. I think she’ll be furious with me for digging up her past.’

‘Do you have to tell her?’

‘Well, I’m not letting on at the moment. I’m going to stay with Aunt Peg for a while and write my novel . . . ’

‘What’s it about?’

‘I’m not sure. I’m hoping to be inspired here.’

‘Oh, you’ll definitely be inspired,’ she laughed.

‘I could write about Aunt Peg and all her animals. That alone would make an amusing read.’

‘I know, she fills the place with them, doesn’t she? And animals aren’t stupid; if there’s a wounded one, or perhaps one who just wants a warm night’s sleep,
he’ll find his way to Peg’s.’

‘It’s a shame she doesn’t come to the pub.’

Alanna’s face grew serious. ‘She doesn’t feel comfortable with all the gossip.’

‘That’s what she said.’

‘There’s
always
gossip in a small town like Ballymaldoon.’

‘Astonishing still to be gossiping about Caitlin and Conor Macausland after all these years.’

‘Oh, it’s not that kind of gossip that stops her coming to the pub. It’s gossip about
her
.’