Mary Kate

by Nadine Dorries

  He turned to Cat and his eyes travelled over her face, feasting, drinking in her expression, her upturned nose, her now flushed cheekbones, her mussed hair, bruised lips and after-sex glow that radiated contentment. He smiled as her eyes questioned the intensity of his gaze.

  The room was filling with morning sunlight as once more his hands began to roam over her aching, love-sore body. Bending his head, his tongue circled her nipples and as he moved his hands to her upturned knees, her legs fell wide and parted, yielding willingly as his fingers caressed and aroused her once more. She felt insatiable, that he could do that forever and she would never want him to stop.

  Halting, he leant over and kissed her nose.

  She smiled back up at him. ‘What?’ she whispered.

  He stared deep into her eyes, his expression altered, sombre, and as her image burnt onto his memory, they both luxuriated in the moment. It felt as though time had stopped. Her head was light and almost dizzy and nothing else in the entire world mattered but the two of them.

  The church bells rang out for first mass as the clock struck six o’clock, exactly as they did in Tarabeg every morning. Michael turned towards the window and the spire towering over the rooftops, and the peal of the bells transported him all the way across the Irish Sea and landed his thoughts back in Tarabeg.

  Cat felt him slipping away. Stretching up, she kissed his nose and pulled him back to her, smiling, beckoning, imploring. She lifted her head and put the tip of her tongue between his lips, reached up with her hands and turned his face to hers.

  He was back. He kissed her lips and neck, and as he lowered his mouth to explore her body, with the bells ringing in the distance and the two of them feeling as close to heaven as mortals could get, they both knew it would be for the very last time.

  24

  Rosie alighted from the bus in Ballycroy with Keeva at her side.

  Keeva linked her arm through Rosie’s. ‘There is only one bus back,’ she said, ‘so we have time, but we can’t miss it or Tig will be out of his mind with the worry. He doesn’t like me leaving Tarabeg unless he’s there to look after me. Do you know which house it is?’

  ‘I don’t,’ said Rosie. ‘I haven’t a clue. And do you know, it just occurred to me I don’t know anyone who would. Captain Bob and Bee were always very secretive.’

  ‘Well, there’s the pub, Carey’s. Everyone in Tarabeg says that Carey’s is where you find everything out. Seems to me that will be a good place to start.’

  ‘Do you mind walking into a pub in broad daylight?’ asked Rosie.

  Keeva laughed. ‘Rosie, I live in a pub. Come on, you follow me.’

  Twenty minutes later, Rosie and Keeva were walking with confidence to the address they’d been given. But when they reached the gate they both stopped dead in their tracks. Before them stood the most ominous-looking cottage either had ever seen. It had dirty windows, flaking paint, and dead flowers in the window box, and the front was overgrown with tufts of wild grass and a tree that clung dejectedly to the wall above the front door. The cottage faced the sea and was next to a filleting shed.

  ‘This can’t be it,’ said Keeva. ‘He was always so particular.’

  Rosie looked at the piece of paper in her hand. ‘It is. This is it.’

  Both stood and for a moment considered walking away.

  ‘Shall we go?’ said Keeva, already taking a step back.

  ‘No, don’t be daft, we can’t come all this way and not ask. What would we say to Bee?’

  ‘Nothing. She doesn’t even know we’re here.’

  ‘Leave it to me, I’ll do the talking,’ said Rosie.

  ‘That’s fine by me,’ said Keeva. ‘After what the pot man in Carey’s has just told us about Captain Bob’s daughter and her affliction, I’m quite keen to get that bus home as soon as possible. He said we wouldn’t get through the door anyway.’ She tightened her grip on the handbag Josie had lent her for the day, as if she was worried it might be ripped away from her at any moment.

  Rosie was reading the roughly scribbled map the landlord had given them, hoping beyond the odds that they’d taken a wrong turn. ‘Aye, but I’m more worried about what he said about Captain Bob and the fact that no one has seen him since the day of the funeral. Do you think he knew that everyone other than his eldest daughter had already left for America?’

  Keeva shook her head in disbelief and dismay. ‘Bee never said. And surely, if he’s gone away somewhere, he would have called to see Bee and tell her. The landlord said he was in a bad way altogether, keen to leave. I’m worried for Bee. There is something not quite right and I want to know what it is, for Bee’s sake as much as his.’ Her hair, neatly tied back into a tail any pony would envy, swished behind her as she looked from Rosie to the house and back again.

  ‘Right, well, here goes then. With a bit of luck, he might be in there and be wanting to come back with us. Imagine! Wouldn’t that be just grand.’ Rosie took a deep breath and pushed back her shoulders. ‘Come on then, let’s get on with it. We’ll find nothing good stood here gawping.’

  The gate was broken and to open it Rosie had to lift it and shove hard. It creaked in protest, opening just enough to allow her and Keeva to squeeze through.

  ‘God, when was the last time someone came through that?’ hissed Keeva, hesitantly following Rosie up the path. As she looked up at the lone upstairs window she saw a net curtain fall into place. Their arrival had been noted by someone.

  ‘Will I knock?’ whispered Rosie as they reached the door.

  ‘How else will we get in? It might be locked,’ Keeva whispered back.

  ‘Yes, but there might be some benefit in an element of surprise, do you not think? If we just step inside, like?’

  ‘Rosie, you aren’t in a fecking film. Just open the door. I don’t like this place, it gives me the creeps. No wonder he upped and left for Liverpool.’

  As Keeva pulled her cardigan tighter across her chest, Rosie reached out to the latch. But before her hand could make contact, the door was flung open and there before them stood the most forbidding woman they had ever laid eyes on. Her hair resembled a bird’s nest perched on the top of her head, pins protruding like twigs and escaped wisps forming an unruly halo. Her face was round and ruddy and she was dressed from top to toe in a high-necked, long-sleeved black dress, tied at the waist with a strip of leather. Her eyes were narrow and she squinted at them, all the while keeping one hand on the door, rocking it back and forth as though at any moment she would slam it in their faces, as fast as she had opened it.

  There was a crow on the tiled roof. Surveying the scene below, it lifted its head and cawed a warning, sending a shiver down Keeva’s spine. She looked behind her to check had anyone seen them turn into the short boreen that led to the house. She could still see the main road, such as it was. It was empty; no one had seen them. Her heart pounded and she wondered why she’d agreed to come. But of course she knew the answer. Bee’s pain was as visible as if she was wearing it for all to see, and Keeva and Rosie were determined that her pride would not prevent them from finding out just what had happened to Captain Bob.

  ‘This is a house of mourning. What do you want? Who are you?’ the voice barked.

  Rosie recoiled. The woman’s tone was aggressive, not at all like that of someone in mourning, and her wide-set eyes and flat features bore no trace of a welcoming smile. Rosie stammered her response. ‘I’m sorry for your troubles. I am enquiring about the whereabouts of a work friend of my husband’s – Captain Bob. We haven’t seen him for some time and we are calling to see is he about and well?’

  The woman peered intently into Rosie’s face. ‘I’m his daughter, Nell. I can tell you all you need to know. Are you her? Because if you are, you can get off our land, and if you don’t, I’ll be taking the gun to you, I will, and I know how.’

  Rosie glanced nervously at Keeva, who slipped her arm through Rosie’s in a gesture of protection and unity.

  ‘Am I who?’ asked Ro
sie with more confidence than she felt.

  ‘The woman from Liverpool. Are you her? Because if you are, you can’t take my daddy – he has to stay, because everyone has gone now, so go away, will you.’ She reached behind the door and brought out a long-barrelled shotgun, the type kept on farms for shooting wildlife and pigs.

  Keeva squeezed Rosie’s arm and moved a step closer to her side. Captain Bob had clearly kept Bee’s identity secret from his wife and daughters, and they instantly understood why.

  ‘I’ve never been to Liverpool,’ said Rosie. ‘My husband is there though.’ She felt inclined to bless herself and then it dawned on her that she wasn’t telling a lie; right now, Michael was in Liverpool. ‘He wants to know if Captain Bob is well enough as they haven’t seen anything of him. He was expected back to work, you know. How is he? Will I be giving my husband good news?’

  She didn’t know where the words came from; they were unplanned and she was almost impressed at how easily they fell from her lips.

  Nell appeared satisfied with Rosie’s answer. Her gaze travelled the full length of the two women, both of whom were well dressed. Rosie had an air about her that took the sting out of Nell’s aggressiveness.

  ‘Why aren’t you in Liverpool?’ she asked.

  Rosie and Keeva could both tell there was something not quite right. Nell was the afflicted one. Then Rosie had a brainwave; she decided to play the authority card. ‘I’m a schoolteacher,’ she said. ‘My husband works in Liverpool, but I can’t leave my job here.’

  ‘A headmistress,’ added Keeva, straightaway understanding what Rosie was up to. Both left out the fact that they were from Tarabeg. Rosie and Keeva’s instincts were in perfect accord and they had no need to confer.

  On hearing that, Nell immediately set down the gun and opened the door wide, in fear and awe at having such a person as her visitor. ‘You can step inside,’ she said. ‘Don’t be standing in the doorway now in case anyone sees you and thinks I have no manners and left a headmistress on the doorstep. But you can’t be seeing Captain Bob. He’s taken to his bed with grief since Mammy’s death and he won’t be going back to work, or anywhere else for that matter. He doesn’t want to. He can’t. He has to stay here with me now.’

  Rosie and Keeva took in the appearance of the cottage as she spoke. It was as dirty and untidy on the inside as it was outside. Although the day was bright, the thickly ingrained weather and salt smears on the windows meant the light struggled to reach into the room, creating a gloomy and oppressive atmosphere. The truckle bed near the fire was unmade and the furniture was sparse. In the corner near the scullery sink stood some fifty dark brown, long-necked bottles which Keeva recognised as having once held porter. She guessed they would be from the wake. The branches of the overgrown tree pushed against the pane next to the door, making a high-pitched screeching noise as they swayed, setting Keeva’s nerves on edge. They both looked towards a hissing from the fire grate, where two peat bricks smouldered in the hearth. A pot simmered on the black cast-iron griddle, emitting a smell of cabbage and potatoes.

  ‘We are both sorry for your troubles,’ said Rosie. ‘Was it a shock to you or had you been nursing your mammy at home?’ She felt the best way was to humour Nell, to try and appeal to her better nature, if she had one.

  ‘It was the biggest shock of me life. We was here, peeling the potatoes, and then she was on the floor. She died in the hospital.’

  Rosie tutted. ‘That must have been an awful shock for you all. Are you all alone?’ She already knew the answers to her questions from the pot man but was trying to coax Nell into admitting that she was there by herself. Bee had told her there was more than one daughter, but she had no idea how many or what their names were.

  ‘Gone,’ hissed Nell, her face darkening. ‘They all ran off, every one of them, as soon as they got the chance. Helped each other, they did, without Mammy’s say-so. They went to Daddy’s sister and she won’t send them back, even though I’ve written and asked her.’

  ‘Oh dear, that’s a shame for you,’ said Rosie. Before the words had left her mouth, they heard a bang from upstairs. ‘Who’s that?’ she asked gently. ‘Is that Captain Bob?’

  Nell looked to the ceiling. ‘It may be. He can’t have visitors though. He can wait for me until you’ve gone. He’s looking after me now – he has to. The priest says that if I’m on my own, I’ll have to go to the asylum in the convent, and Mammy told me it’s a bad place. She always said to me that if I ran away like the others, she would find me and put me there.’

  Nell had become very distressed as she spoke. Her nose was running and the tears poured from her eyes.

  ‘You look exhausted, Nell. Would you like me to make you some tea?’ asked Rosie. ‘It must have been awful for you, having to deal with everything all by yourself. You must be run off your feet as well, with your loss, and your daddy needing so much help too.’ She placed her arm around Nell’s shoulders, guided her to the chair beside the fire and eased her down.

  Nell stared into the fire and began talking. ‘Took the boat, they did, and not one of them told me or Mammy when they were off. Mammy was told by the Regans – their daughter left on the same boat, and they knew all about it, but they didn’t tell us a thing until the boat had sailed and it was too late. I thought they might have gone to Liverpool. Could you ask your husband has he seen any Tooleys? They might not have gone to America at all. Daddy wants to go away again, but he can’t leave me on my own.’

  Keeva gestured at the ceiling with her finger and mouthed to Rosie, ‘You talk, I’ll look.’

  Rosie spoke in a brighter and louder voice as Keeva silently depressed the latch on the door that led to the stairs. ‘Oh look, you have the mint drying by the fire – did you grow it in the garden? It’s my favourite, mint tea. We sell it in the shop too. Bridget said it’s the best thing for people with gastric problems, to aid the digestion.’ She clanged the kettle onto the griddle, making as much noise as possible while Keeva climbed the first stairs.

  ‘What shop?’ said Nell, pulling her gaze from the fire. ‘I thought your husband was a seaman like Daddy.’

  ‘Oh, he is, he is. It’s my relatives’ shop. Here, let me make you some mint tea. Should we take some up to your daddy?’

  ‘No!’ Nell was not to be diverted. ‘I will take him some when you’ve gone. You can’t see Daddy.’

  ‘Of course, forgive me. You have a lot on here – it isn’t my place to disturb your routine. But I’m so glad I came, because now I can tell my husband that all is well. Here you go, drink the tea and take a rest.’

  She held out the tin mug full of mint leaves and boiling water. It was obvious that all was not well in this house and her heart felt as though it was gripped in a hand of ice. Danger was nearby, but she didn’t know where or in what form it would appear.

  ‘Did you manage to get to the hospital yourself before your mammy died?’ she asked, sitting herself down in the chair opposite Nell, who appeared to have forgotten about Keeva.

  Rosie hoped Keeva would hurry back down soon or else she’d be running out of questions to keep Nell distracted. But Keeva had other things on her mind as she entered the room space at the top of the stairs.

  ‘Oh Mother of God,’ she exclaimed when she opened the door.

  The smell hit her in the face with the force of a slap and she slammed the palm of her hand to her mouth in an attempt to filter out the worst of it. She was frozen to the spot, unable to move as her eyes adjusted to both the light and the sight before her.

  Thinner than she remembered him, Captain Bob looked towards her, a shrunken man with bloodshot, pleading eyes.

  ‘Keeva, is that you? Help me,’ he gasped. ‘God in heaven, help me, please.’

  *

  Joe Malone paced up and down outside the airport terminal, waiting for his taxi as instructed. Just as he was about to give up and go in search of a telephone to call Miss Carroll, he spotted a pale blue 1935 Austin 7 motoring towards him with the top do
wn. It was almost too late when he realised that whoever it was who was driving – hidden beneath goggles and a hat tied down with a headscarf – would not be able to stop in time. With a single leap he saved his own life by diving four feet to the side. Unfortunately, his landing was not so graceful: his suitcase hit the corner of the pavement, taking him with it, and its lock snapped, spilling his belongings in front of him.

  Teresa Gallagher clambered out of the car as fast as her stiff legs and her stick would allow. ‘What were you doing, standing in the way like that?’ she said as she attempted to crouch down on the ground beside him. ‘Do ye have a death wish or what?’

  It was clearly going be too much of a struggle to lower herself any further, so instead she gripped the top of her stick with both hands and held herself steady in an upright position. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t get down to help ye,’ she said. ‘I can’t walk too well.’

  Joe was already up on his feet, scooping his belongings back into his case. ‘You can’t drive too well either,’ he snapped.

  ‘Well now, there aren’t many who hold that opinion in Tarabeg,’ she lied. ‘Would ye be wanting a lift or not, because I would be saying that if ye do, a little more politeness would be required. ’Tis a long drive and I won’t be looking forward to sitting next to a scold like yourself all that way. A Malone, are you? I think I can tell.’

  Teresa understated her point. She wasn’t about to tell this young man that the reason she’d forgotten to brake was that the sight of him had transported her back over sixty years and for the briefest moment she’d thought it was the young Daedio standing there. The man she had carried a torch for but whom Annie had won. This was no chancer or murderer; this man really was a great-great-nephew of Daedio Malone.