by Paula Clamp
With the shade of the oak now in the distance, the summer sun was now intense. Without the assistance of Paddy, the barbed-wire fence tore further rips in Ellie’s jeans. Tiny beads of perspiration trickled out.
Back in the centre of Lusty, Paddy’s hammering still filled the air. The screech of wheels on loose stones could be heard down the lane and then a car turned the corner past the conifers. Ena was out of the car before it had stopped, without pausing for breath.
“And the nerve of it. There was no way her ball landed on the fairway…Hi Ellie…I saw the water splash for heaven's sake. Had a good morning?”
“Hello, Ena. Yeah, I did.” Ellie shouted after her, “I was just wondering who lives next door.”
“No one. It’s been empty for years. Can you think of anything more villainous than cheating at golf, Ellie?”
“GBH, perhaps?” Soupy whispered to Ellie as he carried the two golf bags in the wake of his wife as she raced into the Airbnb.
“Come in, come in.” Ena hollered as she opened the door into the living room. Ellie followed, only to be engulfed once again in all things floral.
“Fancy a tea? Soupy’s just putting the kettle on. He's made some nice scones.”
“Sure.” Ellie joined her host on the sofa and they were both sucked down into the soft sponge.
“Such a rush this morning. We’re both on the local charity-fundraising committee and there’s a meeting in less than an hour. Soupy, put the kettle on, Dear.”
Ellie felt the sponge seat begin to swallow her up.
“Which charities do you support?” Ellie asked, genuinely interested.
“At the moment we’re trying to raise enough for a local kid with Down’s Syndrome to go to Graceland in Memphis. It’s Soupy’s nephew actually, Frankie. There’s so much to get organised and I want to spring clean the house from top to bottom before I go. Frankie’s popping over later with his Da.”
Ena patted the sofa, but there were no flecks of dust. Soupy placed a tea tray on the coffee table before them.
Embarrassed, but not quite sure why she should be, Ellie slurped her tea to fill the moment's silence. She was out of her depth when it came to idle conversation at the best of times, so she decided that she’d find safer ground with the one topic that really mattered to her.
Ellie took out the notepad and pen from her backpack, “Before you have to go to the meeting, Ena, do you mind if I ask you and Soupy a few questions?” She was instantly annoyed with herself for sounding so nosy, “I’m just here in Lusty for a few days to find out about my mother, Niamh Byrne, and the Liberty Tree she had a connection to. Do you recognise the name?”
Ena’s face instantly whitened, leaving the heavy powder on her cheeks dull and flaky. “We don’t know any Niamhs or Byrnes.” Her voice trembled slightly, “Are you sure Lusty is the right place?”
“From a photo I have of the Liberty Tree, I was hoping so.”
Soupy, suddenly, became agitated and rested his hand on his wife's, “I know a little about the history of the tree, if that’s any use.”
“That would be great.” Ellie was desperate for anything relating to the old photograph.
“There was that time Conor Sullivan found those druids dancing around it and chased after them with a big stick. They’d scratched ruddy great symbols and the like on its bark.”
Ena had yet to regain her composure. Her bleached-blonde, heavily lacquered short-bob, wobbled.
Ellie was slightly disappointed, “Is that all you know?”
“Sorry, Ellie,” Ena hauled herself out of the sponge. There was an unusual combination of both anger and pity in her voice. “Look, why don’t you finish your tea and what about coming to our meeting this afternoon. We really could do with a young one’s input when it comes to fundraising ideas.”
Ena swept out of the room into the hallway, with Soupy behind, carrying the tea tray balanced on his left arm like a waiter. Apparently, unaware that he was still in Ellie's vision, Soupy then gently rested his right hand on his wife's shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Ellie stared numbly ahead. The name of the stranger she had met on the bus kept coming back to her like light drizzle; not quite enough to warrant an umbrella, but the name ‘Sullivan’ soaked her none the less.
Over on the marble fireplace was an assortment of framed family photos. A tiny silver frame at the far end looked to be the most recently taken. Ellie stood up and walked over and lifted the frame. Ena was instantly recognisable in her pinks and violets and so was the handsome, young boy standing beside her, about the same age as Ellie. Only the last time she’d seen him he was jogging away from her and she was transfixed.
“Your photos are beautiful, Ena.” Ellie called out to Ena, who she could hear half-whispering to her husband in the kitchen.
“The boy on the more recent one is my son, Ronan.” Ena shouted back, sounding far more composed and on more comfortable territory. “I’ll introduce you.”
Now things really were starting to get interesting. Ellie sat back and felt the pressure of the tin box in her backpack, push against her spine. The guilt of taking it from its hiding place hadn’t been strong enough to stop her.
Chapter 9
Ellie had less than half-an-hour before the village meeting at four o’clock, where she now saw an opportunity to chat to as many of the locals as possible. This meant she had to quickly escape up to her room and read the next letter. She couldn’t resist finding out more about Roisin and Ciaran, the newlyweds, and the connection between the Liberty Tree and the boy she first met on the bus to Lusty. Ellie’s plan was to return the letters before she went back home. No one would ever know.
Ellie kicked off her muddy boots and undid the top button on her jeans. Lying flat on her back, she reached over, turned the bottle of holy water away from her and then unfolded the third letter.
New Year’s Day 1992
Dear Liberty Tree
Our Past
Alleluia! Ciaran finally got a pay rise off that stingy bugger Sullivan. God forgive me, but he really is a tight so-and-so. We now have half the money saved to start afresh and move away from here. I’ve had a tiring year working all hours in the bar. But it’ll be worth it.
We spent a bit of time doing up the wee house. We hadn’t planned still being in it, but it was in a bad way. The improvements took up much more of our savings than I would have liked, but Ciaran says we’ll get the money back when we sell it. We had planned to get some more modern stuff for the house from Belfast, but there’s been all sorts of trouble brewing. With all that’s going on, I would just rather we kept ourselves to ourselves and stayed away from the big towns, for a while anyway.
Last summer, I organised a surprise birthday party for Ciaran in the bar. He looked like he enjoyed it, but afterwards he said there comes a time when you should stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday - “And that time is age eleven.”
I must admit, I’m starting to feel different. I’m twenty-seven now and there’s a wholeness that I didn't feel when I was younger. I find it hard to explain. It’s like my heart was physically made bigger when I got married, just to allow Ciaran into my life. I’m literally ‘all heart’. Which might explain the half a stone I’ve put on in the past year!
Our Present
We’re both slightly hung-over having spent New Year’s Eve, our anniversary, down at Doherty's. It’s bad enough having to work there without having to go in on my day off. Paddy, the owner, had his wee ones up singing and dancing on the bar. Ciaran thought this was great craic. Me, I could have given it a miss as I’m not big into wee ones, especially when Paddy junior pulled down his pants and tried to pee into my Babycham.
This morning, Ciaran made me scrambled eggs with wild mushrooms on toast and brought it up to me in bed. He really is turning into a terrific cook. Old Man Sullivan has invited all the ones who work for him on the estate around for New Year’s Day dinner. He’s on his last legs, (isn't he always?) and I
reckon his new-found generosity is an attempt to bribe himself past St Peter at the gate.
Our Future
Definitely, absolutely, without question - we’ll be away and leading a bohemian life in Dublin or London…anywhere. The money we’ll make on the sale of our house should be enough for a deposit on something small. I know, there’s not a huge demand for river bailiffs in the cities, so I’ve been working on persuading Ciaran to do something with his cooking. I won't repeat his answer.
Not much else planned for the year really – just to love and be loved. (That’s not corny is it? I said it to Ciaran this morning and he nearly choked on his eggs.)
Bye for now, Old Tree
Roisin
Ellie closed her eyes and attempted to visualise what Roisin would have looked like. When she struggled, she simply imagined her own mother instead. Everywhere Ellie’s mother went, she would turn heads. But that wasn’t what she wanted. Her mother seemed to want to be invisible; hidden away in an alterations shop where she worked long hours as a seamstress. Or at home, sewing extensions on the trousers that her daughter grew out of within weeks.
Whatever had happened to Ellie’s mother in the past, had stayed with her right through to the very end.
Chapter 10
Ellie just about heard her name being called from downstairs, before the sound of the front door slamming shut. Silence returned. Stroking the signature on the letter with her thumb, Ellie wished she had come to Lusty when she was a child and together with her mother, they could have found Roisin and hugged the Liberty Tree together.
She checked her watch, Ellie only had a couple of minutes to run across to the bar and make the four o’clock meeting.
The music had been switched off and three tables had been pulled together in the centre of Doherty’s. Ellie immediately spotted Ena seated at the head of the table, with Soupy at her side. The others had their backs to her. There were three seats free. Ena waved at Ellie to take one of them.
“Fellow parishioners, this is my young lodger, Ellie, who I’ve asked to come along as my guest. Soupy…”
Soupy stood up and held one of the chairs out for Ellie to sit down.
“Maybe, we would be kind enough to go around the table and introduce ourselves.”
Soupy was about to speak, but was silenced by his wife’s scowl.
“No, Soupy, she knows you already.” And she pointed to Rosie.
“We’ve already met too.” Rosie smiled, creating an explosion of fine lines across her delicate face.
Ellie’s heart sang at the sight of a friendly face.
“So have we, eh, Big English Girl?” Paddy was next along the table and he too smiled broadly and Ellie just couldn’t help but smile broadly back.
“Hiya Paddy. Hiya Rosie. Lovely to meet you both again.” Ellie enthusiastically shook their outstretched hands.
Then the priest, who was sat beside Paddy, stood up and he too offered his hand to Ellie, “We’ve met too, but haven’t been introduced. Hi Ellie, I’m Father Daly.”
Ellie shook the old man’s hand, with slightly less informality than the first two.
“Hello again, Father.”
“You have been around a bit, Ellie.” Ena was taken off-guard. She pointed to the last person at the table, “Well, I doubt if you will have met…”
But Ellie didn’t have to wait for introductions this time either.
“Hello, Ellie.” Conor Sullivan, the boy from the bus, gave Ellie a mischievous wink.
Apparently, Ellie had acquired the ‘full house’ when it came to Lusty, which she felt was pretty impressive for a couple of hours work. Whilst everyone else didn’t appear to think this was any big deal and quickly got on with their business, Conor continued to stare at her intently. Ellie didn’t like it. She was used to people staring at her for all the wrong reasons. But she was thankful that he was there; if anyone knew anything about the Liberty Tree, or possibly why it should have such a significance to her mother, it had to be the boy whose family owned the land it was on.
Ena tapped her long nails on the table, “Father Daly, ladies and gentlemen - if I can call this meeting to order. Any apologies please, Conor.”
Conor was duly brought back in line and opened his laptop on the bar table in front of him. He stared at the small screen and with the middle finger on his right hand he began to caress the control pad, as he scrolled down his notes.
“The Burkes send their apologies. Mrs Burke’s getting her veins pulled…”
Conor went on to scroll down his list and call out half a dozen names and excuses. But after Mrs Burke’s veins, all was a blur to Ellie. She was completely fixated with Conor’s middle finger. His fingers were long and tanned and strong - but his touch on the pad was so delicate and so smooth. The precise movements were slow and deliberate.
Ena stroked a tick on her notepad, “Thank you, Conor. Now for item number one on the agenda – tonight’s Karaoke. Over to you, Rosie.”
Rosie nervously uncrossed and re-crossed her arms several times, “Paddy’s got the karaoke booked for tonight, followed by a hot supper.”
“Now, Paddy...” Ena rested her reading glasses on the end of her nose, “No passing on the leftovers from last week’s pub quiz.”
Paddy scoffed, “What do you take me for? The stuff from two weeks ago needs using up first.”
Ena ignored him, “Continue, Rosie.”
“Tomorrow morning is the fundraising bazaar,” Rosie read her notes carefully, “Frankie will be guest of honour. Conor has got permission from his mother to let us use the field behind the chapel.”
“A vote of thanks for the Sullivans.” A moments silence followed Ena’s vote and she glared at her husband for him to follow suit.
“Seconded.” He obediently replied.
Ena clapped her hands and everyone else around the table duly copied her, “And, Father Daly, don’t you have the programme for the bazaar?”
“Well, there’s yourself and Soupy down to do the rickety wheel. I doubt if Mrs Burke's legs will be up to the salsa class, in which case Rosie has kindly offered to teach watercolour. Paddy’s doing a raffle.”
“A vote of thanks to Rosie and Paddy.”
“Seconded.” This time Soupy took his cue on time.
Ena applauded again, but the support quickly died down, “Maybe, this would be a good time to get an outsider’s point of view on possible additional fundraising activities. Ellie?”
Ellie froze. All eyes were on her. She looked across to Conor, the only other young person there, for his help.
Conor’s only input was an enthusiastic, “Aye, Ellie, what ideas do you have?”
Ellie didn’t really perform well under a spotlight. With all faces now on her, she felt all moisture in her mouth evaporate.
“Well…kids like treasure hunts,” She desperately struggled to come up with a sensible idea, "When I was a kid, I loved it when my Mum and Dad hid stuff around the house.”
There was silence.
Ellie wasn’t really selling it to them, “I thought our house was coming down with sweets, until I realised that it was the same three or four wine-gums that were getting re-circulated when I wasn't looking." She self-consciously added in a last ditch effort to impress, “You could hide things.”
Ena didn’t look convinced, “What sort of things?”
“Bits of broken glass and razor blades.” Paddy offered cheekily.
“I dunno, maybe, sweets, plastic toys.” Ellie tentatively suggested.
Ena still didn’t look convinced, “I’m not sure the Sullivans would like a squad of wee ones digging up their land…”
“I think it’s a great idea.” Came a rich voice, suddenly, from across the bar and over at the door, “Sorry, I’m late.” The deep voice came from a beautifully shaped mouth that belonged to a gloriously formed, handsome face.
“I should think so,” Ena scowled, “Well, Ellie, here’s someone you won’t have met, my son…”
“A
h, the Big English Girl.” Ronan bounded over to the empty chair, right beside Ellie.
Ellie felt a drop of perspiration trickle along her spine.
“I have to go.” Conor, abruptly, stood up and wedged his laptop under his gangly arm.
Ena pointed to the outstanding items on her agenda, “But…”
“Oh, Conor, don’t go yet.” Ronan added, with a smirk that Ellie sensed was not in the least bit friendly.
“Sorry, Ena, Father…I have to get back.” With that, Conor was gone, along with Ellie’s hopes for at least one informative chat that afternoon.
As the meeting was about to continue without Conor, Ellie felt stuck somehow; paralysed by the convergence of the past, present and the future. Her thoughts were divided between the past of her mother and the letters, the present and her situation with all these new acquaintances in Lusty and the future that remained murky and dark.
“I’m so sorry, but I think I’d better get going too.” Ellie cautiously stood up and in doing so, sensed the soft hairs on Ronan’s arm, as they brushed past her own.
A trace of that feeling stayed with Ellie as she then left the bar. Outside, Conor’s long strides already had him a full twenty-metres ahead of her, in the direction of his land.
“Conor! Conor!” Ellie ran after him and Conor stopped immediately, “Please, have you a minute or two?”
“Five or ten.” He smiled broadly, enough for Ellie to forget she had just chased after a complete stranger. “Now, Ellie, don’t get any ideas, I’d have to get to know you a bit first before you go asking me out.”
