No Going Back

by Mick Moran

  Mary shrugged, which Teresa took as “go ahead.” Handing one of the letters to Mary, Teresa sat on the bed to read the other one. Sitting on the only chair Mary nervously did the same.

 

  “Sad,” said Teresa, after reading the letter. Brothers not seeing each other for over forty years; not since they were kids.”

 

  “I think Andy Horan once mentioned that he knew Martin’s brother in Ireland. They come from the same part. But, Martin never talked about family.”

 

  Teresa suddenly remembered that she was playing the role of Martin’s niece. She knew nothing about Martins family either. She could easily get caught out. She considered whether to continue with the facade. She liked Mary. She deserved the truth. But that would mean betraying Martins secret. She couldn’t do that.

  “Yes. My Uncle Jim,” she said as they swapped letters.

 

  Both letters were from Martin’s brother Jim to Martin. In the first letter Jim expressed delight in discovering where Martin was, and that he was in good health.

 

  He was grateful to Andy Horan, who, when writing to his mother, had given her Martin’s address. She lived close to Jim.

 

  Jim was living on a farm in the west of Ireland: the family farm that Martin grew up on. Jim wrote about his family: his wife that Martin should remember (he grew up with her) his daughter who he was proud of. She was in the convent school; also his other two children. He wrote about the farm; the changes he had made to it and the features that were still the same as when Martin was there.

 

  Teresa could picture it. She had an uncle who lived on what she imagined to be a similar farm. Only once did she visit it when she was just a child. Nevertheless, such was the impression it made on her, that she understood at least some of what Jim was describing.

 

  He also wrote about the neighbours. He told who was then living in the houses Martin would have remembered and who was married to whom. Martin would have remembered them as schoolchildren. He wrote about houses that were then empty: some had fallen down. Those were houses that Martin would have remembered families living in.

 

  Jim invited Martin to visit. There was a spare room, he said, now that his daughter was in the convent. He said that Martin would be welcome stay as long as he wished. In any case, he said, please write.

 

  The second letter, written about six weeks later, was shorter. In that letter Jim expressed disappointment that Martin had not replied to his first letter. He also apologised for the way he had written it. “I know,” he said. “It must have been a shock hearing from me after so long. I’m sorry if in my letter I made it seem that I was pressurising you in any way. That was not what I meant at all. It would be wonderful to hear from you, but, please don’t feel that you’re in any way under pressure to do so.”

 

  After reading both letters it was Mary who spoke first. “He’s grateful to Andy,” she said. “Well I don’t think Martin was very grateful.”

 

  “Why do you say that?”

 

  “Well, when Andy called round to see him one evening, Martin was very annoyed with him. Now I know why. Stop interfering in my life, he said. Andy was upset about it.”

 

  “It seems he wants nothing to do with his brother or his family,” said Mary. “I wonder what happened to make him like that.” Mary gave Teresa a questioning look.

 

  Teresa wished she could tell Mary what she knew. Also, she suspected Mary was having some doubts about whether she was actually Martin’s niece. Luckily Mary knew nothing about Martin’s family. “We’re a strange family,” was all she said.

 

  “Did you know Martin in Birmingham?” The question was more demanding.

 

  “No. Like I said, we’re a strange family,” repeated Teresa. Then, seeing Mary’s bemused look, she added, “I never met Martin. “I didn’t even know that he existed until after he left Birmingham.”

 

  To Teresa’s relief, that seemed to satisfy Mary. “He never mentioned family to you then?” asked Teresa

 

  “No. Me and him often had a chat, but he never mentioned any relatives of any kind.”

 

  “Well, there’s certainly no evidence of family here.” Teresa looked round the room. “It’s sad,” she said. “No photos or anything like that.”

  “The only place we haven’t looked is in the suitcase.”

 

  “We might as well have a quick look.” Mary slid the suitcase from under the bed. “It feels empty,” she said. She picked it up. “It’s light there’s nothing in it.” She placed it on the floor. “It’s locked. I wonder why he locked an empty suitcase.”

 

  Teresa felt the weight too. “It certainly feels empty. Maybe locking it is just habit.” She replaced it under the bed. Then turning to Teresa asked,

  “This Andy Horan? You say he comes from the same part of Ireland as Martin?”

 

  “Yes. As far as I know they were next-door neighbours, or nearly next- door neighbours at least: Andy and Martin’s brother, that is.”

 

  “I haven’t much time, but if I could I’d like to meet him.”

 

  “He wouldn’t be able to tell you much about Martin. Martin would have left before he was born.”

 

  Teresa got the impression that Mary was trying to put her off. However she pressed on. “I’d still like to meet him,” she said. “If you could tell me where he lives.”

 

  “It’s a bit out of town. He lives with Maggie. She used to keep a lodging house like me. But, now Andy’s her only lodger, if that’s what he is. I think he’s more like a son to her. She’s his aunt.”

 

  “Just tell me where he lives. I’ll pay him a quick visit.”

 

  “I don’t know if he’ll be in now.” Mary was clearly being evasive. Seeing that Teresa was not satisfied, however, she continued. “Jimmy might know. He works with him. I heard him go down stairs. Come on.”

 

  Teresa followed Mary down the stairs.

  ***

 

 

 

  Jesus, thought Paddy, as he hurried towards Maggie’s house, I’ve married a demanding woman. He didn’t normally mind. He knew what she was like when he married her. Her attitude then, just before he left the house, however, was bewildering. She seemed uncharacteristically panicky: rushing round, searching for the note Martin had left. Then, the urgency in her voice, when she whispered, “go and tell Andy Horan that Martin’s niece is here,” caused him to jump up off the settee. And he only had half the tale. “No time to tell you any more,” she’d hissed. “Just go. Hurry.”

 

  He was hurrying, going as fast as he could. He always obeyed Mary, although, that time the point of it all was beyond him. Did she want Andy to go over there? He didn’t know. He didn’t even know the girl’s name. Ah, well, he thought as he knocked on Maggie’s door, I’m sure it will all sort itself out.

 

  “Paddy. Paddy Foley. Maggie was surprised to see him. “Come in.” Paddy followed her into the living room.

 

  “Have you some news?”

 

  “No: not exactly. Is Andy in?”

 

  “I think he’s having a wash. Take your coat off and sit down.” Mary left the room.

 

  As Paddy removed his coat he heard Mary shout for Andy. Paddy sat on a chair with his coat on his knees.

 

  Mary returned. “He’s coming down,” she said. “Here, let me take your
coat.”

 

  “No. I’m all right. I’m not stopping long.”

 

  “Have a cup of tea at least.”

 

  “Well, if you insist.”

 

  She did. She also took his coat and again left the room.

 

  Shortly after, Andy entered, looking worried. “Paddy, you want to see me?”

 

  “I do. But, don’t worry. It’s nothing bad. In fact you’ll like what I have to tell you.” Paddy smiled. “There’s a gorgeous young girl in our house,” he continued. “She’s Martin’s niece. Mary told me to tell you she’s there.”

 

  Mary Prendergast, thought Andy. But, how could it be? Surely, he’d have heard if she was coming over. “What’s her name,” he asked, getting all excited.

 

  “I didn’t catch her name.”

 

  Mary was Martin’s only niece that Andy knew of, although, he though, it was possible that she had a niece, or maybe more in America.

 

  “Did she sound American?” asked Andy.

 

  “No. No definitely not American.”

 

  It’s Mary Prendergast. It must be, though Andy, his excitement growing. “Did she ask for me?” His voice was quivering.

 

  Paddy didn’t know whether she did or not. But, seeing the effect the mention of her had on Andy he answered mischievously. “Of course. Why do think I’m here?” Also, it was the best way to ensure that Andy accompanied him back to the house.

 

  Maggie appeared at the door with a mug of tea for Paddy.

  “Will you have one Andy?” she asked.

 

  “No thank you.” Not waiting for Maggie to fully enter the room, Andy rushed past her, almost spilling the tea. “I’m going for a wash and change he said. Startled, Maggie watched him take the stairs two at a time.

 

  “What’s up with him?” asked Maggie. “He’s just had a wash and changed his clothes.”

 

  “Leave him be,” said Paddy. “I think he’s in love.”

  ***

 

 

 

  In Mary’s living room Jimmy was sat on his own watching the television, until Mary interrupted him. “Jimmy, will Andy be home now?” she asked.

 

  “Oh, he will. We both came home on the wagon together.”

 

  “I would like to see him,” said Teresa.

 

  “Wait here. I’ll go and get him.” Jimmy stood up.

 

  “Good on you,” said Mary. She turned the television off. Then she turned to Teresa. “Sit down. I’ll make you a drink while you wait, and something to eat. You must be starving.”

 

  Clearly, Andy was the one she must meet, thought Teresa. Much as she needed to get back to Birmingham, she couldn’t leave Broadfield without meeting him. He came from the same place as Martin, and despite the fact that he wouldn’t have known Martin over there, she was confidence that there was much Andy could tell her about him.

 

  Her knowledge of the area that Martin came from may be somewhat scant. However her father came from somewhere nearby and after years of listening to her father and friends of his, one thing she had no doubt about was that the people knew their neighbours. As her father once crudely put it, “You couldn’t have a shit without the neighbours knowing.”

 

  Her uncle’s death would be still remembered. She was certain of it: also Martin’s involvement in the death. Andy, no doubt would have heard it discussed on numerous occasions. It would be interesting to hear what people, not so close to the case as her father, thought about it.

 

  On problem, though; with Andy she wouldn’t get away with pretending to be Martin’s niece. Andy would know the family too well. But, thought Teresa, Andy would know all about Martin’s past. What she felt that she couldn’t tell Mary, Andy would be familiar with. Therefore, there would be no need to pretend to Andy. She could tell him her real reason for wishing to meet Martin.

 

  Not in Mary’s presence, however. That would lose Teresa’s credibility in Mary’s eyes. She had no wish for that. Therefore, she must go to Andy. Allowing Andy to come to her was out of the question. Both Mary and Jimmy, however, were almost demanding that she wait there while Jimmy got Andy. She couldn’t allow it.

 

  “No. That’s too much trouble,” insisted Teresa. “I need to be getting going anyway. I’ll get the car. Just tell me where he lives. I’ll pay him a quick visit on my way.”

 

  “Ah, sure it’s no trouble. No trouble at all.” Jimmy was resolute. “Sit down. Have something to eat. I’ll be back with Andy before you know it.”

 

  “You’d have a job to find the house anyway,” added Mary. “It’s a bit off the road.”

 

  Teresa was fighting an uphill battle against the two of them. Turning to Jimmy she tried another tactic. “O K,” she said, using what charms she could muster, “come with me then. Show me where the house is. I’ll drop you back after.”

 

  That did it. She had found Jimmy’s weakness. He clearly warmed to the idea. “OK,” he said. Then turning to Mary, “no use arguing with her any more.

 

  Mary just shook her head.

  ***

 

 

 

  “I left the car at the church,” Teresa informed Jimmy as he closed the door.

 

  “I wondered where it was,” replied Jimmy, as they set off walking at a fast pace. “I thought I’d have noticed it when I came in if it was on the street. We don’t get many cars on this street.”

 

  “Well, the children are safer for that.” Many children, Teresa observed, were playing on the street.

 

  “I suppose. It’s just as well. There’s no where else for them to play.”

 

  “Isn’t there a park?”

 

  “There is. But it’s a long way off. Sure the mothers don’t have time to take them there. Most of them are working full time in the cotton mill down the road.”

 

  “How do they manage that, with such small children?”

 

  “I think it’s a matter of having to. Mostly, I think, they’re working different shifts and taking turns looking after each others kids.”

 

  “Your very knowledgeable on the social arrangements.”

 

  “I wouldn’t say that. Just certain things you couldn’t but know.”

 

  “Your accent is like my father’s,” said Teresa, changing the subject. “Are you from Mayo too?”

 

  “Oh, I am, but a long way from where Martin and Andy comes from. It’s a big county; Mayo.”

 

  “Is there anyone left there now? They seem to be all over here.”

 

  “I, there’s a lot of Mayo people here all right. But there’s still plenty there. There’s a lot going back and over, as they say. They come to this country to make a bit of money and then go back. Their homes are still over there.”

 

  “Do you still think of over there as home?”

 

  “I suppose I do. But it might be a good while before I see the place again.”

 

  “Do you thing Martin still thinks of over there as home.”

 

  Jimmy hesitated before answering. “It’s hard to know what Martin thinks. It’s over forty years since he was there, but he’s still the most Irish I
rishman I know. Sure, you only have to look at him to see that he’s a Kiltimaugh man. I’m told he used to like talking about the place, but lately even the mention of Ireland annoys him.”

 

  “Martin is a moody man then?”

 

  “Only lately. I don’t know what’s come over him. I’m told he’s normally a jovial kind of man. I thought that myself when I first came here. I’ve only been at Mary’s for about a month. Martin was very friendly at first. But, then he changed. I thought it was me at first: that I’d done something to upset him. But he’s been the same with everyone.”

 

  “And now he’s gone away. You’ve no idea where he is?”

 

  “No. No idea. Mary says she’s going to the police, but I don’t thing that they’ll be much help. They won’t care about a missing man, especially an Irishman. They might only use it as an excuse to harass us all.”

 

  “Yes. I’m afraid you’d better be prepared for your place being the centre of a police investigation.”

 

  “What?” Jimmy gave Teresa an incredulous look. “Over Martin going missing?”

 

  “Yes, That, and have you heard about Michael O’Malley?”

 

  “He was assaulted last week. But, what has that got to do with us?”

 

  “I’m afraid it’s worse than that. The man’s dead.”

 

  The curious look on Jimmy’s face was saying, how can you, a stranger to the area know that? Teresa explained. “I called on Father Downey earlier. He was informed of the death while I was there.

 

  “That’s bad news, but I still don’t see what it’s got to do with us”

 

  Teresa had said too much. She couldn’t reveal any more of what she knew. “It’s just a feeling I have,” she said dismissively.

 

  Jimmy, however, was not put off so easily. “You think Martin going away has something to do with the assault on Michael O’Malley?”

 

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what I think.”

 

  To Teresa’s relief Jimmy didn’t pursue the matter any further. Nevertheless, as they continued walking in a kind of uneasy silence, she sensed that he knew that she was not telling all she knew. Then Jimmy broke the silence.

 

  “There’s Paddy. Paddy Foley, and I think its Andy, the man you want to see, that’s with him.

 

  Teresa could see two figures approaching. “It’s definitely Paddy,” continued Jimmy. “There’s no mistaking big Paddy in that donkey jacket and flat cap.” Jimmy waited until they got closed before proclaiming, “Yes it’s Andy all right, still not wearing a coat. Silly man.”

  ***

 

 

 

  “Did she have an Irish accent,” asked Andy as he and Paddy hurried along at a fast pace.