Secrets of the Lighthouse (48 page)

Ida smiled, satisfied. ‘Night, Ellen.’

Ellen kissed her forehead. ‘Night, Ida.’

Just as she was leaving, Finbar called for her. She turned. ‘What do you think she’d think of you living here with us?’ he asked. It was a bold question and one that Ellen had
been expecting for some time.

‘I think she’s happy that I’m looking after you, and wherever she is, she’s looking after you too, only you can’t see her.’

‘Do you think she likes you?’

‘I hope so. What do
you
think she thinks of me?’ He didn’t reply, but lay in bed thinking deeply.

‘I think she likes you,’ said Ida without hesitation.

Finbar remained silent beneath the covers. He was considering her question very carefully, trying to remember his mother. Then he rolled over and pulled his fluffy toy rabbit into his arms.
‘I think she thinks you’re all right,’ he added and closed his eyes.

Ellen laughed. ‘All right is good enough for me. Good night, Finbar. Night-night, Ida.’

The following afternoon, while Conor was on a conference call with Los Angeles, Ellen took Magnum for a walk. It was bitterly cold. The wind was laced with ice and snow lay
thick and hard on the ground. Ellen loved the romance of the snow and the way it twinkled in the sunshine, although today the sun was snug beneath a duvet of cloud. She gazed about her at the bleak
landscape and the grey sea and found a haunting beauty in its desolation.

She climbed the hills, warming up beneath her sheepskin coat, watching her breath mist on the frosty air. Magnum loped on ahead, following a trail of scent in the snow. Soon she reached the
little chapel where Caitlin was buried. The church looked lost and lonely on the hill, as if it was staring out to sea, hopelessly searching the horizon for someone who was never coming home.

As she opened the wooden gate she saw to her left a grey figure hunched over Caitlin’s grave. She looked closer and saw that he was replacing the dead rose with a fresh one.

‘Ronan?’ she called out. The man turned. To her surprise it wasn’t Ronan beneath the brown hat, but Johnny. ‘Johnny, what are
you
doing here?’

He stood up stiffly. ‘I loved her, Ellen.’ He shrugged and thrust his hands into his pockets.

‘You too?’

He frowned. ‘Oh, Ronan didn’t love her. She broke him in two. He can barely hear her name mentioned without grimacing.’

‘You know about Ronan and Caitlin?’

‘Of course I do. I saw it all going on and I knew right from the start that it was going to end badly. Though I couldn’t have predicted that it would end like it did.’

‘You knew Ronan was on the island that night?’ He nodded. ‘How?’

‘Dylan saw him rowing back to shore, but I found him sobbing on the road on my way home from Peg’s. He told me everything. Poor lad, he was in a terrible state.’

‘And you still love her?’

He looked at her steadily. ‘I love her in spite of her faults, Ellen. She wasn’t in her right mind. She was fragile and lost.’ He turned his eyes to the sea. ‘But now
she’s gone and the lighthouse is gone. Nothing left of either of them.’

‘Does anyone else know about Ronan besides you and Dylan?’

‘No, and I have no intention of telling anyone.’ He glanced at her warily. ‘And this will remain between us, all right?’

‘Of course.’

‘I just loved her from afar, Ellen.’ He dropped his eyes to the grave. ‘I know she’s not in there. She’s in heaven with the Lord, but I like to remember her.’
He grinned sadly. ‘I’m a ridiculous old romantic. That’s all there is to it.’

‘You’re not ridiculous, Johnny. I think it’s a lovely thing that you come here and remember her. I think this little place has got great charm. I mean, Dylan used to come here
to compose love songs and I came here when Conor and I broke up; it made me feel better. Of course, the chapel was built by a sailor for his dead wife. It was built on love and it seems to have
nurtured love in one way or another ever since.’

‘You have a writer’s imagination,’ Johnny chuckled, scratching his beard.

‘But it’s true. The more I learn of life the more I realize that love is the only important thing in it.’

Johnny linked his arm through hers and they set off down the hill, followed by Magnum. ‘You and Conor are right for each other,’ he said. ‘Like they say, the pot has rolled
over and found its lid.’

‘I’m very happy,’ Ellen replied.

‘He’s a good man. Though if he gives you any trouble you know who to call.’

‘I most certainly do.’

‘You’re not an island, Ellen. You’re a Byrne.’

She laughed. ‘And a Murphy.’

Johnny nodded. ‘You can’t do better than that combination. Fancy a quick drink to warm up?’

‘Sure. I can see the alluring glow of the Pot of Gold from here. It’s whispering to me.’ She laughed and leaned into him affectionately.

‘You see, you
are
all Byrne and Murphy.’ He frowned a moment then grinned at her broadly. ‘No one appreciates that more than Dylan.’

‘
Dear
Dylan,’ she said fondly. ‘Do you think he’ll ever make an honest woman of Martha?’

‘Dylan will never settle down. Not now. He’s been too many years on his own.’

‘Doesn’t Martha long to get married?’

‘I’d say she’s past caring about marriage. She knows her man. She knows there’s no taming him and I bet she’s content with that.’ He sniffed in the cold air.
‘I wouldn’t want to live with Dylan if I was a woman. It’s living apart that keeps them together.’

‘I think you’re probably right.’

‘Shall we go and find him?’

‘I don’t think we have to look too far, do you?’ They both laughed.

‘Not at this time of day,’ said Johnny.

Magnum squeezed into the well of the passenger seat of Johnny’s truck and the three of them made their way slowly around the icy lanes into town. The sun was setting behind the hills,
saturating the snowy landscape with a soft pink hue. A spray of small birds took to the skies, silhouetted against the diminishing light like bullets, and to the left the capricious sea stretched
out to the horizon. Beneath the waves, the lighthouse lay in eternal sleep. Silent, still and at peace.

They parked the car and wandered around to the Pot of Gold. Magnum followed dutifully behind. ‘I’ll call Conor and tell him to come and join us,’ said Ellen, as Johnny opened
the door. Yellow light spilled onto the pavement and the animated sound of voices wafted out into the damp air. Dylan’s face lit up when he saw Ellen. He waved at her and she weaved through
the crowd to join him. Tables were full of Byrnes, and in the far corner, Oswald and Peg were sitting with Ronan and an attractive young woman Ellen had never seen before. ‘What’ll you
have?’ Dylan asked. ‘Your usual?’

‘My usual,’ she replied with a satisfied smile. The word ‘usual’ had a cosy ring to it; the same ring as ‘belonging’ and ‘home’.

The morning of the wedding could not have been more beautiful. Spring breathed her warm breath onto the yellow and purple flowers that opened to attract the butterflies and
bees playing about the heather. The sun shone warmly from a cloudless sky and greedy gulls circled the long tables piled high with the wedding feast in the castle gardens. A white-and-yellow tent
had been put up on the front lawn, which Johnny and Joe had mown as immaculately as a cricket pitch, and the drive was an avenue of red tulips, yellow daffodils and sweet-smelling daphne odora. At
the end, where the burr oaks gave way to the castle, the once forbidding stone walls looked radiant and welcoming in the cheerful morning light. The windows had been thrown wide open and pigeons
cooed from the turrets as they watched the busy goings-on below. The shadow of sorrow had long gone, dispelled by the brilliance of love that now shone into every corner.

Ellen ran excitedly from the kitchens to the hall to the gardens in her curlers and dressing gown, checking that everything was as it should be on this very important day. The caterers were busy
in the kitchen, cooking for the two hundred guests, and the florist, who had flown over from Dublin especially, had finished adorning the tent and was now decorating the donkey with yellow roses.
Ronan had fashioned a little cart out of oak for the children to sit in, but whether the donkey would ever pull it was a question not even Peg was able to answer. It would all depend upon his mood
on the day. He stood dozily, munching on the carrot the florist had given him, swishing his tail every now and then to brush away the odd fly. Ellen sighed with pleasure at the sight of such
splendour and her eyes grew moist with happiness. To think that only a year ago she had believed she had lost Conor and Connemara for ever. She inhaled deeply, and silently thanked the God who had
brought her this far and allowed her this much contentment. Dare she believe that He had given with
both
hands this time? She looked at her watch. It wouldn’t be long before the
guests started arriving and she had to be ready. Hastily she hurried back up the stairs, jumping two at a time.

Her bedroom was quiet and smelt of the bouquet of white roses and freesias Conor had given her at breakfast. She pulled a rose to her nose and savoured the sweet, powdery smell. She could hear
Finbar and Ida down the corridor with Daphne. Their peals of laughter filled the castle with joy. She paused a moment and listened, her gaze lost in the half-distance, her hand resting gently on
her belly.

Her dreaming was interrupted by the first cars motoring slowly through the tunnel of ancient oak trees and parking in the field in front of the castle. She peered out of the window from behind a
curtain and watched as the wedding guests made their way across the garden to the tent. She turned to find Ida in the doorway, staring at her with wide eyes. ‘Where’s your dress?’
the little girl asked.

‘Do you want to help me put it on?’ Ellen suggested, and the child’s face lit up. ‘You look beautiful, Ida. Daddy is going to be so proud of you when he sees you!’
Ida squirmed with pleasure and looked down at the sparkly pink shoes Ellen had chosen for her in Dublin. ‘Right, I’d better hurry up, hadn’t I? I mustn’t keep you and Finbar
waiting. Will you help me take my curlers out?’

Conor greeted the guests enthusiastically, and Joe and three of his cousins acted as ushers, showing people to their chairs. It wasn’t long before the tent was full to capacity with people
clothed in their best Sunday suits and dresses. Small bouquets of yellow roses were arranged at the end of every row of chairs and larger arrangements spilled over vases to the left and right of
the altar like elaborate waterfalls, saturating the air with the sweet scent of spring. The Byrnes took up the first eight rows on the right of the aisle. Peg’s elder boys, Declan and Dermot,
had come with their wives and children, and the sound of their chattering rose above the low murmur of anticipation. The English all sat together on the other side, conspicuous in their beautifully
tailored morning coats.

Anthony and Madeline Trawton sat with Leonora, Lavinia and their aristocratic husbands. Leonora and Lavinia looked as out of place in their designer dresses and Philip Treacy fascinators as they
felt. They were used to the formality of churches and found this rustic improvisation at once quaint and disconcerting. As they gazed about them, they discovered, to their added distress, not a
single recognizable face. In London they knew everybody – and those they didn’t know, weren’t worth knowing. Their husbands whispered to each other behind their service sheets,
loftily observing the provincial-looking locals who eyed them suspiciously and a little enviously, for they had an air of privilege about which
they
could only dream.

At last, the groom took his place at the end of the aisle in his perfectly pressed morning coat and shiny black shoes. He chatted nervously to the priest who had come from a neighbouring parish
to wed them, occasionally glancing at his pocket watch to check the time and looking back expectantly for his bride.

A moment later, Ellen walked down the aisle with Finbar, Ida and Conor. Ellen wore a pale-blue dress embroidered with little yellow flowers and Ida’s nails sparkled with pink glitter to
match her pink satin dress. Finbar held his father’s hand and Conor smiled down at him proudly, for he looked so handsome in his long trousers and jacket. They grinned encouragingly at Oswald
and took their places in the front row. Oswald’s heart began to accelerate. He could sense his bride was about to appear and fixed his eyes on the opening of the tent.

Suddenly it opened wide and Peg appeared with Ronan. The congregation rose to its feet and turned to get its first glimpse of the bride. She stood a little self-consciously in a simple ivory
dress that Ellen had helped her choose in Dublin. It was adorned with mother-of-pearl beads and each one now shone in the soft light of the tent. She took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the sight of
so many people and such beautiful flowers, and threaded her arm through her son’s, looking up at him for reassurance. He bent down and whispered something in her ear, which made her cheeks
flush with pleasure. Then she lifted her eyes and saw Oswald waiting for her at the end of the avenue of yellow roses, his admiration so clearly displayed in his wide and loving smile. She smiled
back hesitantly before taking the first step towards him and their future.

As Peg and Ronan walked slowly down the aisle, Dylan played a classical piano piece that Oswald had requested especially for Peg. The tent fell silent as they listened with admiration to
Dylan’s accomplished rendition and watched the bride make her way towards the groom. Ronan gave his mother a kiss before handing her over to Oswald.

‘Hello, old girl,’ he whispered affectionately, and Peg beamed up at him, proud to be
his
girl and not at all worried about being old.

The service was unconventional. Peg hadn’t wanted a religious service but she had very much wanted God to be present. They sang hymns, said prayers, Dermot and Desmond each gave a short
reading and the priest gave an inspiring sermon. Finally, at the end of the service, Ronan stood in front of the congregation and unfolded a piece of paper with trembling hands. He turned to his
mother and was about to speak, but seeing her there with Oswald, looking so happy, caused the words to catch in his throat. He swallowed hard and blinked back his emotion.