In a Great Southern Land

by Mary-Anne O'Connor

  And land of their own. Oh, how her dear parents would have wept at the news. Autonomy at last.

  Eileen could barely hold all the joy she felt inside her petite body. It was as if someone had opened up her chest and filled it with sunshine, and her Rory was basking in it too, kissing her more times in public tonight than was decent and drinking far too much ale. But how could she possibly chastise him when she was downing a fair share of the stuff herself? And the kisses, well, she never tired of those.

  Her husband held up his glass in the air and began to sing ‘Whisky in the Jar’, his handsome face alight, eyes twinkling at her with more moisture than usual. How kind life could be when tears were for joy, not sorrow.

  The little pub filled with voices as one by one all their friends and neighbours joined in and she acknowledged that she would miss her home, feeling a little misty herself. But such independence wasn’t something any one of them would turn down. It had simmered there all along, in their Clancy blood, and her grandfather John had spilt his in the name of rebellion, trying to bring it home. Perhaps one day independence would be gained in Ireland too but until then his descendants would find it on far-flung land. On soil of their very own.

  ‘Singing Tooral liooral liaddity,’ Rory boomed and the throng joined in, swaying and drinking as one.

  Singing Tooral liooral liay

  Singing Tooral liooral liaddity

  And we’re bound for Botany Bay!

  Liam came over and put his arm around her and she hugged her youngest brother close. He’d always been a special boy, kind to a fault, but it was his wonderful mind beneath their mother’s fair hair that had given them all this opportunity and she knew she’d be forever grateful.

  She looked around for their middle sibling and spied him in the corner, singing to that Maeve O’Shannassey who looked far too buxom and ripe for the picking to Eileen’s liking. It was one thing if Kieran wanted to marry the girl but quite another if he was just having his usual fun. Her brother was a wild one when it came to drinking and womanising but Maeve wasn’t just some local wench; in fact, she was quite likely out of his reach.

  Still, he did look quite smitten, Eileen had to admit. Maeve looked to be so too, her pretty face shining as Kieran bent his dark head towards hers to whisper goodness-knows-what. Perhaps she would have a sister-in-law for company on the long voyage south, Eileen mused, pleased at the prospect, but the idea faded as she noted Maeve’s glowering father nearby.

  Just then the pub door banged open and to her annoyance Lord Whitely walked in with a young man in evening dress. It was his eldest son, William, Eileen realised, recognising the red hair and rat-like features of the teen who’d plagued her in her youth. He was a man now, of one-and-twenty years, same as herself, and on the lookout for a wife, she’d heard, now that he’d finished university. Education was just one of the many advantages he’d always had over her. Shame he’d do nothing useful with it, Eileen mused, figuring he’d likely be set to join his father in managing their estate and making Irish lives miserable. Quite an aspiration, she thought darkly, then shook herself out of such bleak reveries. Tonight was a celebration.

  Lord Whitely and William were greeted by Mr O’Shannassey, and Eileen watched as Maeve was summoned to join them, their party taking a table at the back, as far away from commoners as was possible in this cramped pub. Maeve didn’t look very keen to go and Kieran was doing a poor job of hiding his disappointment as he worked his way towards the bar. Eileen moved to stand alongside him.

  ‘Drink?’ he offered, tossing two pennies on the counter.

  ‘Aye,’ Eileen said, ‘if you’re offering.’ She studied her brother’s dark expression as he tapped impatiently, waiting. ‘Don’t tell me you’re giving up on the lass already.’

  Kieran shot her a glance, his blue eyes flashing. ‘Don’t meddle, Eiles.’

  ‘Who’s meddling?’ she said, shrugging her shoulders and taking the arriving ale. ‘Although it seems to me news of our good fortune hasn’t got around to all corners of this room as yet. Might even things up a bit.’

  Kieran sipped his drink and gave the table in the corner a thoughtful glance. ‘Aye,’ he said, flicking his gaze back to his sister and flashing a quick, sudden grin. Eileen couldn’t help but feel a sense of gleeful anticipation as he pushed away from the bar and she followed his weave towards the Whitely–O’Shannassey party.

  The crowd began to quieten down as everyone in the room paused to watch, all keen to see how the high and mighty Whitelys would react to the news that they were about to lose their long- suffering, hardworking tenants.

  ‘Good evening, my lord,’ Kieran said jovially.

  ‘Evening, Clancy.’ Whitely’s greeting was reluctant at best.

  ‘And what brings you out on such a cold night as this?’ Kieran continued.

  Whitely gave Kieran a weary look, unused to being addressed so casually, no doubt. ‘William’s in town and wanted to have a nightcap at the village,’ Whitely replied shortly.

  ‘Ah yes, William. Marvellous to have you back, sir.’

  William’s eyes narrowed as he stroked a white silver-tipped cane that he held by his side. ‘Who is this person?’ he said, raking his eyes over Kieran with disdain.

  ‘Just one of your tenants, sir. Be off with you, Clancy. None of us are interested in listening to your nonsense,’ Mr O’Shannassey said, leaning forward in front of Maeve to shield her from view. Apparently, Kieran’s earlier familiarity with his daughter had taken its toll.

  ‘Certainly, sir, although there was one thing I wanted to address with Lord Whitely…’

  ‘Tell it on the morrow,’ Whitely said dismissively. ‘I’ll be coming to inspect the state of those southern fences. They won’t do for my Moileds once the snow comes.’ The man was obsessed with his prize herd of cattle, valuing their wellbeing far more highly than that of the humans who tended them.

  ‘No, sir, only I’m afraid it may prove impossible to get them rebuilt in time.’ Eileen and Liam had moved to stand close during this exchange and Eileen watched the scene with held breath, noting the entire pub seemed to be doing the same.

  Whitely flicked his eyes around the crowd, taking in the engaged audience, then stared down his long nose at Kieran, contempt in his voice now. ‘If I say they be built, they be built. That’s the end of it.’

  ‘Yes, sir, only I’m afraid it won’t be by me. Or by any of my family,’ Kieran added, clapping his hand on Liam’s shoulder and nodding at Eileen and Rory who stood behind.

  ‘Are you refusing to do your job?’ Whitely spat.

  ‘Not refusing, sir, we just won’t be able to physically do it from south of the equator.’

  There were quite a few chuckles rippling through the crowd as Whitely’s jaw fell open.

  ‘What…what are you saying? Are you joining the navy or something?’ It was William who spoke and it caused quite a few more sniggers.

  ‘Well, that wouldn’t be possible for a woman and three infants now, would it? Can’t see much use for a sailor who hasn’t learnt to use his legs properly yet, let alone find sea ones.’

  This made Rory chortle and Eileen had to dig him in the ribs, fighting laughter herself.

  ‘Out with it, man, and watch your tongue,’ Whitely said, his face red by now. ‘Are you seeking servant work in the colonies – is that it? I won’t be giving any of you Clancys letters, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  ‘Oh, we won’t be requiring letters from you, my lord. We’ve one of our own, in fact. Shall I read it to you or perhaps just give you the general gist?’ He paused to observe a furious Whitely then smiled broadly. ‘Just the bottom line, I take it then? Very well. The fact is we have been given paid passage to Australia; the entire family.’ The Whitelys and Mr O’Shannassey all gaped as Kieran continued on. ‘Oh, and we’ve been given a land grant too. Choice farming area in New South Wales as it happens. We’re thinking sheep, isn’t that right, Liam?’

  Liam nodded, grinni
ng at his brother. ‘Perhaps, although cattle seems tempting. I wonder if we can purchase a few Moileds to take with us.’

  ‘Marvellous idea. Interested in making a sale, my lord?’

  Whitely looked tempted to punch him in the face but instead he slammed his drink down and stood abruptly. ‘Come along, William,’ he grated before marching straight out of the pub, the O’Shannasseys in tow, although Maeve managed to sneak a conspiratorial smile at Kieran as they went.

  No sooner had the door slammed shut than the place erupted with applause and laughter.

  ‘Ah, but that did feel good,’ Kieran said, shaking his head, Liam still chuckling alongside him. ‘Drinks all round!’ he declared and the violinist in the corner struck a merry tune as the crowd resumed their dancing.

  ‘Whitely’s got no answer to that now, does he?’ Rory said in Eileen’s ear happily. ‘We’ll have the open seas between us and them in no time, Mrs Murphy.’

  ‘Aye,’ Eileen said, but as she looked over at the door she couldn’t help but feel there would be more obstacles ahead of them yet, not the least the contest over a pretty girl. Still, that was Kieran’s battle, not hers, Eileen decided, turning to wrap her arms around Rory who kissed her soundly for the umpteenth time that evening. It probably wasn’t doing the family reputation any good but she just couldn’t bring herself to care. Not tonight. Not when they’d made their declaration and at long last had thrown off the shackles that had weighed on their clan for generations.

  ‘To Australia,’ Rory said, handing her another ale and clinking her glass. ‘And to you, my lovely. I’ll have you draped in finery like a queen in no time.’

  Eileen laughed but such nonsense meant nil to a girl such as herself. ‘The only riches I’ve ever wanted are right in here,’ she said, placing her hand over his heart, ‘with no lord or master to dictate our lives.’

  ‘The fates will be kind from now on,’ he promised, breaking back into another song with the crowd.

  Over the mountains high and steep,

  Over the waters wide and deep;

  Oh Séarlas Óg will win the day,

  Over the hills and far away.

  Eileen joined in, the yearning she’d always found in the song replaced with something new, something foreign to her until this day. She knew she’d seek it again and again from now on. It was powerful, this first taste of freedom.

  Three

  Liam heaved the bale onto the wagon, sweat running down his back despite the cold. It was exhausting work but Whitely had put William in charge and he was riding them hard up until the last of the month. Liam couldn’t wait until they finally set off on their journey and could leave the bastard to his own devices. He pitied the Collins family who would take over their tenancy. The son was only fourteen but would be expected to do the work of a man, Liam well knew.

  Kieran was working alongside him but was distracted, and with good cause. Maeve O’Shannassey was standing next to William outside her parents’ store and had been listening to whatever inanities came out of the man’s mouth the good part of half an hour. Not something an interested suitor welcomed at the eleventh hour of their almost-courtship, especially when the other man had her father’s approval, something Liam was fairly certain Kieran had little hope of now.

  She was the first girl his brother had ever taken seriously and having the wealthiest heir in the county showing an interest in her was dire news indeed. He doubted land on the other side of the globe held much weight in comparison.

  ‘She won’t be genteel enough for his father’s liking,’ Liam muttered to Kieran, trying to ease the sting.

  ‘She’s far too bloody good for the likes of him,’ Kieran returned, throwing a bale angrily. It slipped and fell to the road and William turned at the sound.

  ‘Watch what you’re doing there, Clancy,’ he called loftily, pointing his white silver-tipped cane. The brothers now knew it to be his constant companion. ‘Father’s expecting the herd fed and watered by sundown and won’t put up with your slackness today.’

  Kieran stood, hands on his hips, and if looks could kill Liam figured William would evaporate in a puff of smoke.

  ‘Don’t just stand there, man, get a move on,’ William ordered before turning back to Maeve and offering what sounded like some kind of apology. Kieran picked up the bale and threw it on the tray furiously, not noticing Maeve’s look of pity, which was probably for the best.

  Liam wondered at the true extent of William’s intentions and supposed they could well be serious. The connection to an earl, however distant, was certainly in Maeve’s favour and O’Shannassey had a fair bit of coin, owning both their house and the large shop as well as a merchant ship in Kilrush, by all reports. It wasn’t great wealth by Whitely standards but with a face and a figure like Maeve’s thrown into the deal a marriage arrangement wasn’t unrealistic.

  Not that he would say such a thing to Kieran. His brother had been in a foul temper all week since Maeve’s family had gone up to the Whitely estate for high tea the previous Sunday. They hadn’t returned until dark; a fact his brother knew because he’d waited hours in the freezing street to watch for their return. Liam wouldn’t put it past the Whitelys to be considering a betrothal partly as revenge against the Clancys; punishment for the ‘betrayal’ of leaving.

  The last bale was loaded and the brothers boarded the wagon, setting off down the street, past the rows of brightly coloured houses towards the couple on the corner.

  ‘Wait,’ William called, halting their progress. He walked around to the back of the wagon and inspected the load, his pointed face looking for any fault he could find, Liam knew. He hadn’t long been overseeing their running of the farm but already he was proving himself every bit as condescending and unreasonable as his father. Maeve watched anxiously nearby, her expression transparently guilty as she studied Kieran’s face, but he stared straight ahead, ignoring her, his mouth set in a grim line.

  ‘There’s twenty bales on here. I thought father instructed only eighteen.’

  Liam spoke, halting anything derisive Kieran might have come out with. ‘Mr Leary gave a good price for twenty at fifteen per cent off the usual cost.’

  ‘How would you know how to calculate such a thing?’ William scoffed. ‘I’m sure he played you for a fool. How much was it?’

  ‘Seventeen shillings.’

  ‘Good God, man,’ William exploded. ‘How dare you waste my father’s money in such a manner!’

  ‘Please, sir, the cost of a bale is usually a shilling each so…’

  ‘So you’ve wasted a shilling on your purchase, you stupid oaf.’

  Kieran was gripping the reins tightly now and turned to stare William in the face. ‘You may want to calculate that again, sir.’

  William’s face was contorting in self-righteous anger but he paused as he opened his mouth to respond, his mathematical error obviously registering.

  ‘I was…just making sure you weren’t lying. I’ve met enough crooked Irishmen in my life to necessitate laying such traps; apologies, Miss Maeve. Irish people of your class withstanding, of course.’ He bowed slightly towards her and attempted a smile that did little to improve his sharp features.

  ‘Of course,’ Maeve said, but she looked upset. Liam found himself sorry for her, having to put up with such a man’s intentions, especially as her worried gaze drew back again to Kieran and he saw genuine affection there. Kieran was still avoiding her eyes, looking straight ahead once more.

  ‘If there isn’t anything else, sir?’ Liam queried.

  ‘No, get back to work and make sure you remember to lock the northern gate this time.’

  Liam didn’t bother reminding him that the gate had been left open by William himself. The afternoon was already escaping them.

  It was another two hours and near dark by the time they’d finished tending to the Moileds. Within that time neither brother had spoken a word but they broke their silence now that they could draw breath, sitting alongside each other on th
e bench outside the barn to light their pipes.

  Liam stared out to a clearing sky, the horizon ablaze in pink and gold above the rich emerald folds of the hills below. The thick blanket of greenery dominated the greater landscape but it was split by the Shannon River, which shone like a satin ribbon as it flowed steadily through the town. Brightly painted village walls were richly reflected and the arches beneath the long stone bridge glowed in the burnished light, adding to the overall prettiness of the scene. There was something almost penitent in a Killaloe sunset, Liam reflected. Like the cold and the wet were apologising for the discomfort they caused by offering this brief, glorious beauty in atonement.

  This view outside the barn was one they had taken in every day of their lives once the work was done, rain, hail or shine, just as their father and forefathers had done before them, through their characteristically clear blue Clancy eyes. It was something he would miss, Liam knew, committing it to his memory as early stars began to appear. It wouldn’t be long until a different set of stars soared above them, southern constellations that they would follow to the other side of the world.

  ‘Fifteen days and counting,’ he reflected out loud, ‘and we’ll have different skies above us.’

  ‘Aye,’ Kieran said, glancing up as a crow sailed against the spectacular sky. ‘I was wishing them away but now I feel as if I…’ He stopped with a shrug.

  ‘That you’re running out of time?’

  Kieran nodded, dragging on his pipe.

  ‘If you want her then court her. It’s no use sitting back and letting William take over – it’s not only up to her father.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘I know you know that. You wrote the book on chasing lasses but this is different. If it’s marriage you want, you’ll have to get serious about this, Kieran.’

  ‘I am serious about it.’

  ‘Well, ignoring her and brooding about it isn’t a very good plan. You really are running out of time; every minute counts now.’