‘Indeed, so it is,’ echoed Dr Duffy. He recollected himself. ‘But without speech training and physiotherapy it could not have happened.’
They glared at each other. Before battle could be joined, a young lady of bold demeanour and impressive size forced her way into the centre of the hall. I felt a flutter of nervousness. This was the piece of meddling I had both looked forward to and feared in equal parts. The stir created by her arrival could not compare with the furore caused by Violet’s resurgence. It was altogether a lesser phenomenon but it sent a slight frisson through the company all the same. The musicians were taking a breather just then so I was able to overhear the exchange between the man of God and the man of science.
‘I’ll be blowed! Isn’t that Larkie Lynch?’ Dr Duffy peered over his spectacles at the young woman who was staring about her with an expression of defiance.
‘May the good Lord preserve us!’ said Father Deglan. ‘Little Larkie! I’d heard a rumour she was back but I didn’t expect her to show herself here.’
‘Not so little now. She must have put on three stones at least.’
‘Nor Lynch neither. I’ve been told that though ’twas in a benighted, heathen place, there was a ceremony in a Catholic church and the vows were taken before Sam O’Kelly laid so much as a finger on her.’
Dr Duffy sniggered. ‘If you believe that, you’ll believe the earth is flat.’
‘Aye, well, it may be, for me. What matters is how you behave yourself when you’re on it.’
‘And can you tell me’ – Dr Duffy’s voice was condescending, as from a savant to a credulous bigot – ‘where exactly was this benighted, heathen place?’
‘’Twas in New Jersey.’
The news that Larkie Lynch had returned from America had not yet reached Curraghcourt. I had only discovered it myself two days before. I had been making a last-minute visit to Dicky Dooley’s grocery in Kilmuree before the shops closed for the festivities. At the counter a young woman had been asking for tubs of marshmallow whip, strawberry-flavoured peanut butter bars and fudge-flavoured popcorn. Her voice was loud, her accent a mix of Irish and American, her manner dissatisfied. I sat on a chair to rest my throbbing ankle and waited.
‘Ha, ha! Miss Lynch, bouchaleen – Mrs O’Kelly, I should say.’ Dicky Dooley’s voice was deferential. ‘Without a word of a lie, we’ve the best selection of goods this side of Galway.’ I leaned sideways to see round the young lady’s well-padded shoulders and plump arms encased in a leather coat as tight as the skin on a black pudding. Dicky’s good-natured freckled face was screwed into an expression I knew well: one of infinite regret at his inability to accommodate his customers’ fantastical requests. ‘Sure there’d be no call at all for that kind of thing. If I got it in for you I’d sell one out of the box and be left with the others on my hands until the mice nesting in them’d be of the tenth generation.’
This was what he always told me when I asked for things like olive oil and black peppercorns. I had supposed this was reasonable but Mrs O’Kelly disagreed with me.
‘Will you listen to him, the old lazybones.’ As I was the only other person in the shop Mrs O’Kelly turned to appeal to me. ‘If a ten-pound note lay at his feet ’twould be too much trouble for him to stoop and pick it up. He has as much enterprise as a fly stuck in a web.’ She had stamped her foot, making her round cheeks wobble and the floorboards shudder. Remnants of prettiness – fine blue eyes, a delicate nose and a rosebud mouth – were buried in curves of flesh. ‘And here’s me spending my savings to come back and pay my respects to Sam’s mother in her last illness only to find the wake over and done.’ She made a sound of disgust at this unlucky turn of events. ‘Well, I’ll not stay in this hole. Sam and me’ll go to Dublin to earn our passage back to where the stores stay open twenty-four hours and you can buy things to eat that’d make your mouth water like the Niagara Falls.’
I had put on my most sympathetic face. ‘Would your name be Larkie, by any chance?’
After introductions had taken place we exchanged views on the vibrancy and vitality of the United States, the pleasures of drive-in cinemas, big cars, efficient central heating, and the non-existence of Baskin Robbins ice cream in Ireland. Though Larkie seemed to have given her heart to America, she had retained her native sociability and readily agreed to accompany me to Katy’s Kauldron to cement our new-found friendship. I just had a cup of tea but Larkie settled for coffee with whipped cream and a doughnut filled with custard and fluorescent pink jam. While she feasted I said how much I hoped she would come to our party on the day after Christmas.
‘Up at the castle? And what for?’ She put up her three chins. ‘I’m much obliged to you for the invitation but the Macchuins are nothing to me nor me to them. I don’t hold with some thinking they’re better than the rest of us. That’s not the way of the modern world.’
Larkie had espoused sound democratic principles during her two years in the United States. There was about her a forthright intelligence that was attractive. I decided to trust her. As soon as I mentioned Eugene she turned the colour of the jam.
‘What you must think of me I don’t know. ’Twas very bad, running off like that, but Sam and I were that desperate to get away. And we’d not a cent between us. I’ll admit when I’ve thought what Mr Devlin must’ve felt when I didn’t turn up at the church I’ve cried like a baby with the pity of it. I never meant any of it to happen, Bobbie. I didn’t love him at all. I couldn’t understand half what he said, with all those fancy words. He never stopped trying to better my manners and stuff my head with facts that wouldn’t stay in. It wouldn’t have worked. There wasn’t a thing he liked about me but my face and figure. ’Twas lust he felt and there was no more to it than that.’
‘I can see there’s a great deal about you that any man in his senses might really love but men always make fools of themselves over pretty girls. They can’t help themselves. I’m sure you didn’t lead him on.’
Larkie wiped away a coffee moustache and stared at me with grave eyes. ‘I did not. But I shouldn’t have taken the money, I know. Sam says it was only sharing things out a little more equal between the haves and the have-nots but then men can always reason with themselves to justify a bad action, can’t they?’ She searched in her bag and drew out a purse shaped like the head of Mickey Mouse. ‘To tell the truth, Bobbie, I can’t be easy about it. Perhaps you’ll oblige me and give him this, with my sincere regrets.’ She put down three twenty-pound notes. ‘’Tis only a tenth of what he gave me but it’s all that’s left of what we saved.’
‘Come and give it to him yourself,’ I suggested. ‘I’ll arrange for you to be alone with him if that would help.’
‘No, thanks. Sam’s a jealous man.’ She smiled as though she liked this. ‘He’d be wondering if there was something in it after all though I’ve swore to him I never loved anyone else. Which is God’s truth. He knocked a tooth out of the last man that put his hand on me.’
‘Well, then, bring Sam. It’s important,’ I hurried on seeing that Larkie was on the point of refusing once more. ‘When you went away without saying goodbye Eugene was left with a dream of you which he’s clung to ever since. I think seeing you again, a real flesh-and-blood woman, happy with another man, would force him to give up that dream. It would be a shock – the unexpectedness – but that would be good for him.’
Larkie’s eyes filled with sentimental tears. ‘The poor man! I understand you. ’Tis called making a closure. It’s all the rage in the States just now.’
‘I think you owe him that. More than the money, actually.’
Larkie had stared at me for a moment, biting her lip and tapping the table-top with pearly lilac fingernails while she thought. ‘You’re right, Bobbie.’ She waved to the waitress. ‘Let’s have a rum truffle.’
Larkie had been as good as her word. At the appointed hour there she was in the great hall of Curraghcourt, dressed like a Hollywood star in a gold lurex siren suit stretched to tearing point over
her large hips, her startlingly blonde hair bouffant, her lips gleaming with pink lipstick. She was on the arm of a very tall young man, who looked as though he wished himself elsewhere. I limped between the dancers to welcome them.
‘Hello, Bobbie.’ Larkie’s voice was challenging as she returned the stares of the other guests. ‘My, but nothing’s changed here, has it?’ She looked with disapproval at the panelled walls with their displays of weaponry half hidden by boughs of ivy, holly and yew, at the vaulted ceiling, blackened with the smoke of centuries. ‘For heaven’s sake! I suppose some folks like things old, with wind whistling through the cracks and a fire that smokes like the funnel of an ocean liner.’
I offered my hand to Sam.
‘How are you, miss?’ He knuckled his forehead then dropped his arm smartly to his side on catching Larkie’s furious glance. His mien suggested a gentle giant but his nose was spread over his face and his ears were crumpled and torn so I guessed that when drunk he became a fighter. On the grounds of size alone I should not have liked to see poor Eugene on the receiving end of Sam’s displeasure.
‘Take your cap off, Sam,’ Larkie instructed him. He whisked it off and stood folding it into quarters and eighths while Larkie and I conversed.
‘I’m so glad you could come,’ I said. ‘I expect you know everyone here far better than I do.’
‘That’s true enough.’ Larkie’s head was high.
‘Hello, Larkie.’ One of the men who daily travelled the path between Kilmuree and the apple store came up to her. ‘Heard you were back. You’re looking swell, as they say. Hello, Sam, you old dog.’ He punched Larkie’s husband in the ribs. ‘Ran off with the first prize under our very noses.’ He leered at Larkie and Sam’s brow knitted.
‘Perhaps we ought to start supper,’ I suggested. It was earlier than I had planned but I had noticed Eugene wandering towards the dining room five minutes before.
‘I’m ready for a bite.’ Larkie strode forward. ‘This way, is it?’
Eugene was sitting on one of the window seats eating a large plate of smoked salmon. He looked up, waved a fork amiably then returned to his food.
‘Hello, Mr Devlin,’ said Larkie. ‘Don’t you recognize me?’
FORTY
It was then that the evening seemed to gather pace and an element of unreality took over. It may have had something to do with the punchbowl, which like the magic porridge-pot was able mysteriously to replenish itself no matter how much was taken out of it.
Poor Eugene. As his brain made the connection and informed him that this portly girl standing before him was the turtle-dove of his dreams, his princesse lointaine, his Maud Gonne, beyond reach but forever enthroned in his heart, his jaw dropped and the smoked salmon fell to the ground. I bent to catch the plate as it bowled across the room towards us. He tried to speak but could only make a gasping noise. He attempted to stand but his legs were enfeebled by shock and he fell back upon the cushioned window seat, cracking his head against the shutter.
‘I’ve given you a bit of a surprise, haven’t I?’ Larkie walked over to him and held out her hand. Eugene offered her his fork, then collected himself enough to put it down on the cushion (where it made a greasy stain that proved difficult, later, to remove) and put out lifeless fingers. Larkie shook them vigorously.
‘This is Sam. My husband.’
Sam smiled bashfully, no doubt conscious of the six hundred pounds, and lifted his knuckles to his forehead until another glare from Larkie encouraged him to drop them. Eugene’s cheeks and forehead were changing from white to red and back to white again like the lantern fish that signals its desirability through dark waters with flashing bands of colour. There was a brief disturbance as Maria and Osgar quarrelled over the smoked salmon scattered on the floor.
‘You’re looking well, Mr Devlin.’ Larkie retained her presence of mind admirably. She glanced round the dining room. ‘Bobbie says you’ve been living here a long time. I expect it’s just your kind of place. Antiquated, like those poems you was so fond of.’ She sniffed. ‘It’s got a peculiar smell. Sort of fusty. Meself, I like things bang up-to-date. Contemporary. Picture windows, wall-to-wall carpets and a cocktail bar.’
Eugene stared at Larkie like a man with fairy ointment on his eyes, a useful preparation which permits the anointed to see things as they really are.
Constance came in with Eugene’s spectacles. ‘I’ve found them. They were in the fridge, as I suspected. How we’re going to get the butter out of your waistcoat pocket I don’t know. Do you think fuller’s earth, Bobbie—?’ She opened her eyes wide and let out a sound like ‘pwhoof!’ as though she had been winded, before saying in a weak voice, ‘It can’t be. It is. Larkie!’
I slipped away to check on Violet. She was surrounded by admirers. Her eyes were huge in her small face as she lisped her thanks for their kind attentions. Her good hand held a cigarette, her curled right hand lay hidden beneath a cushion. She had eaten little but had drunk two glasses of champagne. Her hectic gaiety overlaid what looked to me like exhaustion. Maud sat beside her, accepting compliments on her daughter’s remarkable recovery with every appearance of satisfaction. I hesitated to interfere.
When Finn bent over the sofa and took Violet into his arms, there were protests from the circle that had gathered round the invalid.
‘It won’t do for Violet to tire herself,’ he said firmly.
‘You make a beautiful picture, the pair of you,’ sighed Lady Butler-Maddox. ‘And one I never thought I’d see again.’
Violet giggled and rested her head against her husband’s shoulder, throwing her arm about his neck.
‘You’re a sentimental fool, Laura,’ said Maud. ‘You’d better come and play a rubber.’
‘What do you think, Bobbie?’ Basil Molesworth murmured into my ear, as we watched Finn thread his way through the crowd bearing his fragile burden, his dark head bent over her charming face. ‘Make a handsome couple, don’t they?’ They certainly did. ‘Yes, a romantic sight, there’s no doubt of that,’ Basil continued, ‘but it’s not quite the happy ending it appears, eh? There’s the little circus girl, for one thing.’ Sissy, standing by herself nearby, also watching Finn, was dressed fetchingly as a wood nymph with a green and gold dress, the sleeves and hem of which were cut into tatters. She wore a necklace of leaves and had made up her face and bare arms with green greasepaint. She looked like an ethereal being, an enchanting pixie, but her expression was demoniac. ‘What’s Finn going to do about her?’
‘Come on, Basil,’ called Maud. ‘We need you to make up a four. You can have Laura as your partner and I’ll take Miss Thrope. She’s the perfect dummy.’
‘I’d better go,’ muttered Basil. ‘I’d rather stay and talk to you but Maud’s a terrifying woman. Keep an eye on those two, will you?’ He pointed to Liddy and Nigel who were dancing, glued lip to lip and hand (his) to buttock (hers). ‘I shall have to concentrate on my game if I’m not to be flayed by Maud’s tongue.’
Should I intervene? Though Liddy’s and Nigel’s behaviour was indecorous it was hardly criminal. Before I could decide my view of the room was abruptly cut off. Someone standing behind me had put their hands over my eyes. The smell of expensive cologne filled my nostrils as a voice with a marked Irish lilt growled in my ear, ‘Guess who?’
‘Kit!’ I struggled free and turned quickly.
‘Damn! I hoped you’d think it was Michael McOstrich or some other lusty suitor. How are you, my darling?’ Kit was grinning widely. I put my arms round his neck and pressed my mouth to his cheek. ‘Well, you are pleased to see me!’ For answer I kissed his other cheek.
He looked marvellous. His face was so intelligent and good-humoured; his evening clothes were of the finest barathea and lawn without a speck of mould; his patent pumps were well polished; everything about him was elegant.
‘When did you? How did you? It’s the most wonderful surprise!’
‘I came over on the afternoon ferry. I’ve been driving ever since. I j
ust stopped at the Fitzgeorge Arms to change and grab a drink and then came on. I’m ravenous.’ He put his hands round my waist and looked at me hungrily.
‘Come quickly into the dining room then, before everything’s eaten.’
He pulled me closer. ‘When you look at me like that, as though you were just a little fond of me, food seems unimportant. Let’s dance instead.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t. My foot.’ I lifted the hem of my dress to display the bandaged ankle in its zippered boot.
‘You mean I’ve driven like the wind to dance with you and it’s all been for nothing?’
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with my conversation.’
‘I love talking to you but I wanted to able to hold you tightly in my arms all evening without causing a scandal. What happened?’
‘I fell out of a tree. It’s nearly better. Just a temporary deterioration because of Christmas.’
Kit frowned. ‘They work you too hard.’
‘Not at all. Constance begs me every day to go to bed and let her wait on me. Whenever Eugene finds me carrying anything he insists on relieving me of my load. It’s highly inconvenient because he always forgets what he’s supposed to do with it. This morning I discovered Maud’s breakfast tray, untouched and completely cold, in the airing cupboard and the clean sheets on the desk in the library.’
‘I’d like to take you away to a charming house where everything boring and sordid is done for you so you could do just as you liked. And when I came home you’d be able to tell me about the books you’d written, the music you’d played, the flowers you’d planted and the pictures you’d painted.’
‘It sounds like heaven. But I haven’t deserved it yet. I need to serve my apprenticeship on earth milking cows and cleaning ovens and unblocking drains. Besides, too much sweetness without alloy might make one ungrateful.’
‘That just shows how long it’s been since you wrote a poem or did any sketching if you think that composition is without its own pain and struggle. You should hear my authors grumble. You’d think they were personally responsible for keeping the world spinning on its axis.’
Moonshine Page 58
