To Keep a Bird Singing

by Kevin Doyle

  Martin spoke. ‘I went to an internet cafe and duplicated the good digital copy of the film. I uploaded one to Wikileaks and they confirmed receipt of the footage immediately. They said they’d hold it pending instructions. A second copy is in an online filing system I’ve access to. It’ll be safe there for the moment.’

  Black Gary produced the film reel. It was tightly wound, with a piece of Scotch tape holding the end in place.

  Noelie and Meabh told Black Gary and Martin about what had happened at Keogh’s place and what they had been told; it was information that was probably meant to go with them to the bottom of the ocean.

  They now knew all about the conspiracy around the identity of Brian Boru and about the murder of Jim Dalton. They also knew that there had been serious conflict between Albert and Sean Sugrue inside Let There Be Light. Noelie wondered whether the organisation was more significant than they had realised.

  Another interesting thing that they had found out was that Albert and Special Branch were at loggerheads. Albert wasn’t trusted by Branch but he appeared to be untouchable also.

  ‘The question is why,’ said Noelie.

  ‘There are few enough people that Special Branch are afraid of,’ remarked Black Gary.

  Noelie mentioned to the others about the odd comment that Keogh had made about the Rosminians. ‘He claimed that his move to Belfast was his route out of the order and to freedom. The way he put it was that he had been “raised” by them, whatever that meant. But he didn’t seem to like them either. I wonder was he abused too?’

  ‘Keogh’s story isn’t that unusual,’ said Black Gary. ‘Some orders took children straight from the crib and raised them as their own. Particularly bright kids. But they were often preyed on just as much as any of the others. The odd thing is that these abused kids sometimes turned into abusers themselves.’

  Meabh told them that before the rescue, while lying on the floor, she could hear what was being said to Noelie. She could also see Albert and Keogh’s faces. ‘When you mentioned the film, Noelie, it was like you had shot them.’

  ‘Keogh probably knew that the film spelled the end for him. If they could get their hands on it, they were safe, but if it fell into the wrong hands then they were done for. At Anglesea Street Station it was the same,’ Noelie added. ‘One minute Lynch was talking to me like I was going down for Cronin’s murder. The next it was “Oh, we’re only gathering information, you’re free to go if you like.”’

  He told the others about the ultimatum delivered to Lynch. ‘I think it’s the only way we’ll get justice for the Daltons. If they do provide that information, it will verify what Sugrue’s statement alleges. It will be proof.’

  ‘And if they don’t?’ asked Meabh.

  ‘We should publish anyway.’

  Black Gary nodded. Martin too. Meabh looked less sure.

  ‘What is it?’ Black Gary asked her.

  ‘I’ve been thinking, I suppose. If there are more people involved in this, who are they? Also, are there more films? If we publish now they’ll go to ground. I’d prefer to gather more information quietly. I think we need to do that.’ She went on. ‘There’s something else. What about the boys themselves, the victims? We need to think about them. We don’t know where they are now or how their lives are. We can’t put a film like that on the web without trying to find them first.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Meabh’s right,’ said Black Gary.

  ‘On both counts,’ added Martin. We should proceed carefully. ‘This is not straightforward.’

  ‘I don’t think we’ll be publishing, Meabh,’ said Noelie, ‘I really don’t. Branch won’t want to risk an open viewing of the film. It’s explosive material.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, by the way,’ added Meabh. ‘I want to publish but I think there’s a right way and a wrong way to do it. There’s a right time and a wrong time too.’

  They agreed to keep an open mind until it got closer to the deadline. Finally they discussed how to protect the hard copy, and how they would keep a channel of communication open with Wikileaks.

  Martin reckoned that from now on everything any of them did online would be scrutinised. ‘I don’t know much about encryption but I guess I had better learn the basics. We all had.’

  They settled for the night on some mattresses on the floor. Noelie lay awake for a long while, unable to sleep. He thought about Hannah. She had worried about him staying safe but he hadn’t been as vigilant about her. And he had underestimated the danger they were in, whereas she had been much more aware. He recalled their conversation in the car at Upton and how they had both acknowledged how close they had become. He felt they would’ve got together, that that was what they had both been saying in a roundabout way. It was too sad. He fell asleep with anger and sadness mixed up inside him.

  42

  Meabh went to get coffees while Noelie waited at the Arrivals gate. The Echo was carrying a full front page report of the fire: ‘Bodies Found at Fire Scene’. The article described how a number of people had been rescued from the blaze at the cliff-side home. Two bodies had been recovered. One of the dead was understood to have been a victim of the fire, but the other death was believed to have taken place before the fire broke out. The owner of the house, retired journalist Tommy Keogh, had been observed leaving the scene of the fire in a disorientated state. The gardaí were working on the theory that he could have fallen and injured himself somewhere along the cliff face. A number of people were also helping the gardaí with their enquiries.

  Noelie folded the newspaper. He watched a bleary-eyed man in his late thirties coming through the Arrivals gate. He was met by a gaggle of excited family members: parents, siblings and a recent newborn. Noelie heard Canada mentioned and guessed that the man was one of a wave of new Irish migrants that had gone over to those shores. An elderly man followed next. He had wispy, grey-white hair and a tanned face. He looked smart in cream trousers, black shoes and a dark olive shirt. Noelie approached him.

  ‘James Irwin?’

  ‘Noel Sullivan?’

  Noelie offered his hand to the older man but Irwin drew back in shock. He stared at Noelie’s battered, swollen face. There were tears in his eyes. ‘I should’ve come forward sooner,’ he said.

  A young man was with Irwin. He had a head of bleached hair and a smattering of freckles on his cheeks and across his nose. He struggled with a large covered surfboard and the luggage.

  ‘This is my bodyguard, my grandson Garret.’

  Noelie had managed to get in touch with Irwin a few hours earlier, while he was on his layover at London Heathrow. They had had a long conversation and Noelie updated him on events and told him of Hannah’s death. Although he didn’t tell Irwin that Keogh and Albert had planned to meet and kill him, he did warn him that the situation could still be dangerous.

  Noelie shook Garret’s hand. He was no more than twenty. Meabh arrived at that moment with some coffees and Noelie introduced her to Irwin and his grandson. She didn’t look in good shape either; the bruising on her face was just turning purple. Irwin kissed her gently.

  ‘I owe you all so much,’ he said. ‘We all do.’

  Irwin had booked a room at the Imperial Hotel in the centre of Cork. He told them that, back when he had worked in Cork – before he left for London – he had once made a delivery to the hotel.

  ‘It’s different,’ he conceded, looking around.

  Noelie figured The Imperial had been through a substantial renovation in the nineties when a restaurant was added to the downstairs area.

  Irwin stood on the main stairwell. ‘I think these stairs are the same.’

  While Irwin and his grandson got settled, Noelie went to the bar with Meabh. She had decided to return to Amsterdam the next morning, providing there weren’t any legal objections to her departure. When she told Noelie her plan he had jokingly said, ‘Can I come too?’ Her response was immediate. ‘Why not? In a while, even next week, you should come.’ Sin
ce the exchange, he had found himself thinking more and more about the idea. Getting away from Cork, even for a short while, was what he needed.

  Earlier in the day, they had returned to Anglesea Street Station to make their statements. Byrne, the detective who had investigated Shane’s death, had presented herself and suggested that she smooth the process and act as a liaison. Noelie was glad to see her and immediately agreed; they definitely needed an ally.

  Byrne had some news about their case too. The gardaí had gone to Llanes in the early hours of the morning. There was no sign of Albert or Keogh at the house. Robert Donnelly was being cared for by a nurse who had informed the gardaí that she had been contracted over the phone to mind him shortly after midnight; she had been engaged in that way before and didn’t suspect anything. Albert was not at Llanes when she got there.

  The other information that Byrne had was confirmation that the second body found at Church Bay was that of an adult male. Noelie suspected that this was Big Ears. His identity wasn’t yet known. Noelie told Byrne that he had heard him being addressed as Paul by both Keogh and Albert, if that was of any help.

  Just after they finished making their statements, Hannah’s mother arrived. She was a thin woman in her mid-sixties with the same dark-brown eyes as Hannah. After her husband died, she had returned to college as a mature student and got a degree in social studies. She was retired now but still worked in that area in a voluntary capacity.

  She held Noelie for a long time. He understood that she was numbed by the terrible news. It was very difficult to look at her and see her pain. Noelie knew that mother and daughter were close. Hannah’s brother lived and worked in Manchester and was still trying to get a flight to Cork. Noelie attempted to apologise but Hannah’s mother would not entertain it; she did not blame him in any way.

  She asked him to accompany her to the morgue and Noelie agreed. However, Hannah’s brother then got in touch to say that his flight would get in at around noon and she decided to wait for him so that they could go together to make the formal identification. Noelie would meet them later at the apartment.

  When Irwin had settled in he invited Noelie and Meabh up to his room. There was a table by the window and they all sat around it. Some tea and food had been ordered but it hadn’t arrived yet.

  Irwin took in the view. Cork’s South Mall was a wide, tree-lined street long associated with the city’s commercial and legal affairs. In Irwin’s opinion it hadn’t changed a great deal in the forty or so years since he was last in Cork.

  A summer downpour brightened his mood. ‘One of the things I miss in Australia is the rain.’ He looked at an incredulous Noelie and laughed. ‘I see you’d like me to begin.’

  There were four of them, all ex-Danesfort boys. They had met in London. Two worked in the building trade – Michael Egan and Alan Copley – while Irwin had a job in London Transport as he had a decent Inter Certificate from his time at Danesfort. The fourth man, Peter Spitere, worked in Cricklewood as a barman. Irwin’s dream was to eventually go to Australia or New Zealand. He was saving for that when disaster struck.

  ‘When we got together we’d often talk about Danesfort and our time there. Therapy, I guess. Copley often talked about a boy at the school who went missing. A lot of us were loaned out to local farms to work for free. One of these arrangements was with the Donnelly place in an area called Ballyvolane.’

  ‘We know it,’ said Noelie.

  ‘It was a harvest-time posting mostly. A bunch of us would be sent there in a lorry and we’d stay for a week or two at most. We were put up in outhouses.’ Irwin paused. ‘But there was another arrangement too. These visits lasted for an extended period and usually involved just one or maybe two boys at a time. Troublesome kids were often picked. It was seen as punishment and you were worked hard, day and night.’ Irwin paused. ‘This boy that Copley knew of had been one of those kids. He was from Youghal, as was Copley. It turned out that this boy’s sister had heard about Copley and that he had been to Danesfort. She had made contact with him to ask about her little brother, if he could help with tracing him. There were rumours. One had it that the boy had run away. The Donnelly farm was big so it was easy enough to get out of view, if you wanted to. The story went that the kid had made good his escape, left Cork and never looked back. Another version claimed that Albert had caught him after he attempted to escape and had beaten him really badly as punishment. Some said the boy died from his injuries – which would explain why he was never seen again.’

  ‘This was when, roughly?’ asked Meabh.

  ‘The boy’s sister had been in an institution herself. So it was quite a bit later, 1967 or ’68 or thereabouts that she was in contact. I think the boy went missing long before that, more like the early sixties. Not that long after the family was broken up by the courts. But I’m not certain.’

  Meabh and Noelie exchanged looks.

  ‘In 1970, Copley returned to Cork without telling the rest of us. Building work had been going on in an area not far from the Donnelly farm, on the edge of Cork. The Glen as it is known, I believe. Human bones had been found. Copley was on it like a hawk, suspicious immediately. Later he admitted that he had visited the Donnelly farm. Basically he broke in. Albert had always been open enough about his movie camera interests. In those days it went everywhere with him. He filmed us at the farm and he regularly filmed events at Danesfort. Occasionally, if he was in good form, he would even arrange for us boys who went to the farm to view the films. All above board now. It was actually nice. Films were an incredible novelty back then.’

  Irwin continued, telling them that Copley had stolen a few of Albert’s films. ‘He used to say later that it was just an opportunity presenting itself but Copley knew that Albert loved his films. In other words it was a way of sticking it to him. So he took some films at random. One turned out to be féis day at Danesfort. Another was of Cork. In one part, there was a motor car race out on the Straight Road, if that’s still there?’

  ‘It is but there hasn’t been a speed car race on it for decades,’ Noelie said.

  Irwin looked out the window. The sunshine outside was bright on his face. However his mood had turned sombre.

  ‘The third film was very different. Even now it makes me shiver. It showed a couple of young boys naked with a group of men. I remember a boy was crying.’ Irwin hesitated. ‘I’ll never forget the helpless look on the little fellow’s face.’

  Meabh interrupted to tell Irwin about the film that they had found. Irwin nodded.

  ‘We all got a right shock when we saw that film. There was a priest in it as well. The men were on the young side. Early twenties I’d guess. There was one elderly man. He could’ve been in his fifties. That’s about all I remember.’

  Noelie asked Irwin if he had ever heard rumours about goings-on at the Ballyvolane farm. Irwin shook his head.

  ‘We weren’t innocent, mind. We had made it in London the hard way. We weren’t unaware of what went on. There was quite a scene around Paddington where vulnerable boys just off the boats or those in from the borstals were handed about and used. It was widely known that wealthy people were involved. But we were shocked at the same time. Holy Cork and all that.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘For a while, nothing. We considered going to the police, in London that is, but realistically that wasn’t going to happen. We didn’t trust anyone in authority. I never have and I still don’t.’ Irwin’s expression turned grim. ‘When we finally did do something we made a big mistake.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘This was 1970 and the film was from early in the sixties. There were five or six men in that film alone. If we had stopped to think we might have realised that the film probably wasn’t a one-off, that it was likely that there were more films and more people involved. And we didn’t give a thought to the boy from Youghal who had disappeared. If we had thought about any of this, we might have realised that there could be quite a few people around Albert with lots t
o hide. None of that crossed our minds though.’

  Meabh looked at Noelie once more. This was what they were thinking, that there could be a lot more to all of this. Noelie thought of Cronin’s reference to ‘that crowd’. Were these the people that he was alluding to?

  ‘Copley got it into his head to blackmail Albert. I was against the plan from the beginning. I knew it was too dangerous. I should’ve objected more strongly. It might have saved all of us from what was to come.’

  Irwin moved from the window. He lifted one of the complimentary bottles of water, opened it and took a drink.

  ‘It was hard to stand up to the others. And there was the prospect of money. We viewed it as a type of compensation. When we were at Danesfort there was never any idea that one day we might be due something, even for all the work we did for free on those farms. So this was our due, we felt. Although that wasn’t what motivated Copley. He just hated Albert. The idea that he could get at him was irresistible.’

  ‘So you returned to Cork?’

  ‘We came back with this half-worked-out plan to make Albert pay up.’ Irwin shook his head bitterly. ‘There had been other changes too though. Although the Donnelly place was still in Ballyvolane, the farm itself was in the process of being broken up. I found out later that some of it was rezoned as residential land and that they made quite a bit of money out of that. Albert was no longer farming. He had been taken on at a law office, just up the street from here in fact. So Copley and Spitere arranged to call in there to see him.

  Irwin looked upset and vulnerable. Noelie was about to suggest a break but Irwin continued, ‘They were trying to take him by surprise but, looking back on it, Albert was ready. He understood the threat. He knew the film had gone missing and he knew what was on it too.’

  Noelie got up now as well. The room was generous in size but it suddenly felt quite confined. He stood beside the bathroom door. ‘Copley and Spitere went to visit Albert – what then?’

  ‘I am the only one who survived.’