Moonshine

by Clayton, Victoria

  ‘Is she now?’ Another pause. I felt his grip slacken. ‘Well, I’m sorry for it. It’s a sore thing to be in love and get no return for it.’

  I slipped from his arms and went to supervise the stacking of plates and the soaking of knives and forks. When I returned to the hall I found Sissy standing alone with her back to the fire, warming her fish-tail and bare back. There was a cool wind blowing from the ever open front door. I scanned the bobbing crowd. Of Michael there was no sign.

  ‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Are you enjoying yourself?’

  ‘I am not. Have you seen Finn?’

  ‘No.’

  Sissy looked crosser than ever. ‘I never saw such a lot of gobshites under one roof.’

  ‘There’s someone I know who’d be deeply hurt to hear you’ve a low opinion of him. He thinks a great deal of you.’

  ‘So what! Don’t care if he does.’ Sissy’s flat little nose went up higher. ‘Who do you mean?’

  ‘I’m not going to tell you if you don’t care. It would be too cruel.’

  ‘Ah, go on. I don’t believe you know anything about it, cold-blodded as you are, you Sasanach.’ When I said nothing she lowered her chin a little and said gruffly, ‘Well? Do you want me to knock it out of you?’

  ‘Promise you’ll be kind to him?’

  ‘Tell me or I’ll pinch you.’ She held her thumb and first finger against my bare arm.

  ‘All right. It’s Michael McOstrich.’

  She pinched me hard and I jumped. ‘Don’t do that!’

  ‘Liar! ’Tis yourself he wants to spoon with.’

  ‘That can never be. I’m only the housekeeper. He’s got his family honour to think of. He told me if there was one girl in Galway he’d like to make mistress of Ballyboggin, it was you.’

  ‘If you’re having me on I’ll bite you!’ She lifted her lip to show her teeth.

  This was no time to be faint-hearted. ‘He was telling me just now how pretty and original he thinks you are.’

  ‘More likely he was thinking of his precious cows.’

  ‘A man’s all the better for having an interest. I’m told he’s a rich man.’

  ‘I care nothing about money.’

  And to give Sissy her due, I believed her. ‘He’s taller than any man in the room by a head. And good-looking. And pretty passionate, I imagine.’

  ‘That’s what you think about in the night, is it?’ She gave me another pinch but it was gentler than the first.

  ‘Come on, Bobbie,’ said Kit’s voice in my ear as he put his arm round me. ‘I’ve danced with every matron, maid and jade. Now it’s your turn.’

  The musicians, their faces dripping with their exertions, were playing jigs and reels, rhythm and melody pouring forth from their very souls. Neither of us knew the steps, of course, but nobody troubled to be accurate and we skipped, swung and cantered, too breathless to talk, for twenty minutes.

  ‘Mercy,’ cried Kit at last. ‘I must have holes in the soles of my shoes you could put your fist through. Let’s go to the library where I’ve hidden a bottle of champagne.’

  ‘The library? Do we dare?’

  ‘I asked Finn if he’d mind and he fetched the bottle himself.’

  In the drawing room a card table had been set up. Maud, Colonel Molesworth, Lady Butler-Maddox and her companion, Miss Thrope, were playing bridge with furious concentration. The library was deserted but the fire was burning well. On the desk was a tray bearing a bucket of ice, a bottle and two glasses.

  ‘Cosy, isn’t it?’ Kit handed me a glass.

  ‘Not quite the word I’d have chosen. I can’t forget I’m on forbidden territory. But this seems to be an evening of Bacchic intemperance when anything goes. I’ve never seen so many people so thoroughly drunk.’

  ‘The Irish know how to enjoy themselves,’ said Kit. ‘It’s forgetfulness of self that’s crucial.’

  I pushed back strands of hair that had fallen over my face. ‘Whatever the formula, I’ll subscribe to it.’

  ‘Constance has asked me to come back at Christmas.’

  ‘They’re so hospitable.’

  ‘Constance is a shameless matchmaker. That’s the truth of it,’ said Kit. I looked at the bubbles springing in my glass and smiled vaguely. ‘Will you still be here?’ he asked, walking about the room, examining the spines of books that caught his eye.

  ‘I don’t know. I might go home to see how my mother is. I’m rather worried about her. But if things are all right at Cutham, I’d like to come back if Constance still wants me. I’ve formed a scheme for the regeneration of Curraghcourt. Sooner or later I’ll have to get a proper job now there’s nothing to keep me out of England. But …’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘Nothing. Anyway,’ I went on after a pause, ‘you’re a friend of the Macchuin family in your own right. My comings and goings needn’t affect you.’

  Kit smiled. ‘It’s rather too late for that.’ When I didn’t say anything he held out his hand. ‘They’re playing something quieter now. Dance with me.’

  ‘What, here? In this holy of holies? I’m not sure I can. It’s the equivalent of playing shove ha’penny on the altar of the Sistine Chapel.’

  ‘Are you afraid of Finn? Or is it me you’re afraid of?’

  ‘Your Honour, Learned Counsel is leading the witness. Of course I’m not afraid of either of you.’

  I put myself in his arms and together we drifted round the room to the distant strains of ‘Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, That’s an Irish lullaby’, beneath the indifferent gaze of Plato, Socrates and Augustus, whose busts adorned the bookshelves and who had no doubt seen it all before. Kit held me close, put his cheek against my brow and hummed gently in my ear.

  ‘Isn’t this nice,’ he said after a while.

  ‘Very nice.’

  ‘When our headmaster said our schooldays would be the happiest of our lives he didn’t know about you.’

  ‘Or he didn’t know what a smooth-tongued Lothario you’d become.’

  ‘You mistake my character entirely. I am the soul of truth. Nanny always said with ears that stuck out like mine I’d only get a girl to love me for my noble nature.’

  ‘And how have you got on?’

  ‘If you really want to know: a handful of full-time girlfriends; one broken engagement – she broke it off; and one failed marriage. I was the one who fell out of love.’

  ‘Really?’ I lifted my head to look at him. ‘You never told me you’ve been married.’

  ‘It’s never seemed particularly important. Is it now?’

  ‘No. Though, naturally, as a friend I’m interested.’

  I returned my temple to his cheek while I thought. The fact was that I knew almost nothing about Kit, though I felt so comfortable with him. He was well educated, amusing, charming. But he was more complicated than that.

  ‘I can hear the hum of machinery, cogs turning, ratchets clicking. You’re thinking about my having been married. Wondering what she was like. Why it went wrong.’

  ‘I’m curious,’ I admitted. ‘Somehow I find it difficult to imagine you in the grip of dark emotions.’

  ‘You think me superficial?’

  ‘Not a bit. But too easy-going to quarrel.’

  ‘Well, as it happens we didn’t quarrel much. I married her because she was kind enough to fancy herself in love with me and, having taken Nanny’s chastening words to heart, I thought it was too good to pass up. She was – is – a sweet, pretty girl. Devoted not only to me but to puppies, ponies, kittens, sugar and the colour pink. Romantic novels and musicals. Anything fluffy and soft. Then I discovered that I was horribly bored. Not her fault but mine. Luckily we hadn’t had time to breed. I was twenty-three. Much too young. I’m not proud of it.’

  ‘Poor girl!’

  ‘Don’t worry about her. She married again. A rich old lord who worships her.’

  I contemplated this picture. ‘I must say I think you’re rather particular. She sounds attractive.’

  ‘I�
��ve grown very particular. Particularly particular in the last few weeks, since coming to Ireland.’

  ‘I’m fond of ponies and puppies and kittens. Nor do I scorn certain shades of pink if used judiciously. Jane Eyre is a romantic novel. As is Pride and Prejudice. I like Top Hat.’

  ‘In that case I’m doomed to go on repeating my mistakes. I’ve already detected a regrettable habit you have of thinking well of animals and badly of men. Repeat after me: two legs good, four legs bad.’

  I freed myself from his embrace. ‘That reminds me, I must go and see if the tabby cat’s had her kittens yet. I promised Flavia I’d keep an eye on her.’

  Kit sighed. ‘Can I come? There might be an opportunity for a spot of midwifery. I’ve had plenty of experience with puppies and it can’t be all that different. That would put me in your good books, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Certainly. I won’t know what to do if anything goes wrong.’ But in the hall Father Deglan, one of the few guests not completely drunk, was talking to Liddy in scolding tones. She looked sulky and mutinous. I put my hand on Kit’s arm. ‘Ask Liddy to dance, will you, and be kind to her? I’ll come down when I’ve checked the cat.’

  ‘I’d rather warm the runt in the bosom of my evening shirt.’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘Don’t be long then.’

  The light was on in my bedroom. Flavia was lying on my bed, fully dressed and asleep. I pulled the eiderdown over her. From the depths of the cupboard a very pregnant cat looked gloomily out. I assured her with specious cheerfulness that all would soon be well and gave her some milk. I wondered whether Pegeen, whom I had last seen in the drunken embrace of Turlough McGurn, had remembered to give Violet something to drink. Taking the jug of milk I went up to the attic floor.

  Except for one candle burning before the Blessed Virgin, Violet’s room was dark. I switched on the bedside lamp. She was turned towards the wall. I lifted her so that she lay facing me in the pool of light. Her forehead was puckered in a slight frown, her eyes closed as usual.

  ‘Hello, Violet. How are you?’

  Her forehead felt hot so I untucked the bed, put her arms over the blanket and smoothed back a lock of hair that had fallen across her cheek.

  ‘I wish you were downstairs so you could hear the music. The party’s going well, judging from the level of intoxication. There’s a man clinging to the newel of the staircase, assuring it of his undying affection.’ I began to spoon drops of milk into Violet’s mouth. ‘Liddy’s dancing with Kit. She’ll be safe with him. He’s a decent man. And intelligent. And he makes me laugh. He’s dependable. That should be enough, shouldn’t it? Though somehow, Violet, I get the impression that wouldn’t be a quality you’d put top of the list. Don’t ask me how I know that. Perhaps it’s your clothes, all the things you’ve chosen, that lipstick. I think you’d find Kit too nice … not dangerous enough. But I never want danger again.’ I wiped her mouth and put some Vaseline on her lips. Then I patted cold cream into her face and neck. Her nostrils flared and her lips quivered as though she might be going to say something. But she remained mute. I stroked her hair. ‘Oh, Violet, I wish you’d wake up and talk to me. Do try! If you could see Flavia lying asleep on my bed – she’s been looking after that tabby cat I told you about – she looks so adorable. Flavia, I mean. It’s so sad for her to grow up without you.’

  No response. I walked out of the pool of light towards the basin to fetch her toothbrush. I pulled the cord that switched on the light over the mirror and then screamed aloud.

  ‘Ssh! Don’t get upset. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’ Mr Macchuin was sitting on the window seat.

  ‘You terrified me. How could you do that: hiding there in the dark all that time. I nearly had a heart attack!’

  His eyes were glittering in the hard light cast by the fluorescent tube. His bow tie and the top button of his shirt were undone. He had a glass in his hand and a bottle of what looked like whiskey on the seat beside him.

  ‘I’m sorry. I came upstairs for a little peace. I was banking on your going away any minute.’

  ‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you!’ The shock had made me angry. ‘If you can put up with me for another two minutes I’ll go away as soon as I’ve cleaned Violet’s teeth. Unless you’d like to do it?’ I held out the toothbrush and toothpaste.

  ‘I wouldn’t do it as well as you. Don’t be cross. Can’t you understand that a man might want a little quiet in his own house?’

  ‘You needn’t sound so martyred. It wasn’t my idea to celebrate Lughnasa. I’m by no means addicted to society. And I delight in silence.’

  ‘Really? You can scream though. Any seagull would be jealous.’

  ‘Ha, ha! Very funny.’ I was trying to remember exactly what nonsense I had been telling Violet.

  ‘Have a drink, Miss Norton.’

  ‘No, thank you, Mr Macchuin,’ I said coldly. ‘I dislike whiskey. Besides, I’m interrupting your precious solitude.’

  ‘Can’t you get off your high horse for once?’ He must be drunker than he looked. ‘Why do the English have to be so stiff? Call me Finn, for God’s sake.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with being English. You always call me Miss Norton.’

  ‘I’d be afraid to do anything else without an invitation.’

  ‘Well … if you like you can call me Bobbie. It’s a matter of complete indifference to me.’

  ‘“It’s a metter of complete indiff’rence to meah”,’ he mimicked in a high voice with exaggeratedly anglicized vowels. ‘I can’t imagine how you people ever get together to increase your race. It must be a ghastly embarrassment.’

  ‘I like that! When you can’t produce a sentence that doesn’t sound like an instruction manual.’

  He looked surprised, then laughed. ‘Liddy says I’m getting pompous. The influence of the Senate, I suppose. All right, Bobbie – what a ridiculous name for a girl – let’s have a drink and declare a truce between Ireland and England. It’s not whiskey,’ he added, ‘it’s Armagnac. A good one.’ He stood up. ‘Sit there’ – he pointed to the window seat – ‘and I’ll get you a glass.’ He went to the basin and rinsed out Violet’s tooth-mug.

  It seemed easier to comply. And I happen to like Armagnac. After Mr Macchuin (I could not think of him as Finn) had given me the mug filled to half way with amber fluid he made no move to sit beside me. Instead he walked round the room and paused beside Violet’s bed.

  ‘I was wrong, wasn’t I?’ He took his wife’s lifeless hand in his. ‘In my heart of hearts I can’t persuade myself she’ll recover. But one ought to try to hope. Wasn’t it Wordsworth who said we live by admiration, hope and love? We can’t survive in a bleak world of reason, common sense and duty.’ He continued to hold Violet’s hand but he looked at me. ‘What do you say to that, Bobbie, sensible, industrious and rational as you are? Florence Nightingale to my wife, bosom friend of my sister, guardian angel of my children. Also doing sterling work in your subsidiary role as animal protection officer.’ He raised his glass in a toast and smiled. ‘Not forgetting the power you have over the wild mountainy men.’

  I turned round as something tapped on the window behind me. A trickle of water caught the light as it ran down through the dust on the outside of the pane. ‘It’s the first time it’s rained since the night I arrived.’

  ‘Unusual for Ireland. As you’ll find out. If you stay. We’ve made almost a virtue of our weather. It’s a matter of national pride that most of the time we’re up to our knees in mud.’

  In the distance bright splashes of orange and red glowed against the blackness of the night. ‘What are those lights?’

  ‘Bonfires. It’s traditional at Lughnasa to drink as much as you possibly can and jump over them. The Garda are trying to make it illegal because several people have been burned to death.’

  I said nothing at that moment because I saw that Violet’s eyes were open. She was staring up at Mr Macchuin.

  ‘I’m going back to Dublin
tomorrow,’ he said after a pause during which Violet had closed her eyes.

  ‘Will you be away long?’ I asked just to keep him talking. It had occurred to me that it might be her husband’s voice that drew Violet from her deep sleep. The first time she had opened them he had been standing beside the bed, arguing with me.

  ‘I don’t know. The implications of the legalization of the sale of contraception for bona fide family planning seem to require lengthy discussion.’ Violet’s eyes were open again. ‘I think we’d do better to put our weight behind getting all restrictions whatsoever on the sale of contraception removed. The numbers of unmarried girls crossing to England for abortions grows by leaps each year.’ The senator was frowning now. He returned Violet’s hand to the bedclothes and began to stroll about the room. I was almost sure that her eyes were following him. Which meant that she could see. ‘Who are we trying to kid, anyway? The black market in contraceptives is hurting the people who can least afford it: people with too many children already; young men earning a pittance as agricultural workers. Almost the only people who still believe in the Humanae vitae – the papal encyclical of nineteen sixty-eight – are the priests and the ancient die-hards who don’t want sex anyway.’ He stopped pacing to look at me. ‘I’m not shocking you, am I?’

  ‘Not in the least. It’s obviously of crucial importance to people’s welfare and happiness.’ The moment he stopped talking Violet closed her eyes.

  ‘I suppose Ireland seems extraordinarily backward to you?’

  ‘I think it’s charming.’ He seemed to be waiting for me to say something else but I wanted him to talk. ‘Life in Dublin must be quite a contrast to Curraghcourt.’

  ‘It’s a lovely city. Do you know it?’ I shook my head. ‘We used to have the most infamous slums in all Europe. Foreigners went on guided tours of the worst parts just to marvel at our poverty and degradation, but we’ve come a long way since then. Now we see ourselves as having something to offer culturally and historically and we’re beginning to take pride in our architecture. I have a handsome set of rooms overlooking St Stephen’s Green. But when I’m there I want to be here. I miss the children, the house, the quiet … the beauty of the mountains. The wildness.’ He drained his glass, unaware that his wife was staring at him with unblinking intensity. ‘Then when I get home there are so many … difficulties … that usually it isn’t long before I’m yearning for the distractions of city life which leave one no time for reflection. It seems impossible to settle anywhere. Perhaps the truth is I don’t know how to be happy any more.’ He stood thinking for a moment and then shook his head and ran his hand over his forehead. ‘I’m getting maudlin. I’ve had too much to drink. What about you? What keeps you here, wasting your talents in a job that’s dull, dirty and repetitive—’