‘Yay!’ Juliet squealed, ‘and we can show you the tree with the shape of a dog’s head on the bark, Daddy!’
‘I’m showing him,’ James said. ‘I found it.’
Bending down and wrapping his arms around them, Richard held them close.
‘You can both show me,’ he said, not wanting to let them go.
‘Daddy, you’re squishing us,’ James giggled, wriggling free.
Solange, meanwhile, was having a quiet word with Eddie, outlining the events in the house. He seemed to understand perfectly and was not in the least surprised. He smiled when Solange told him how Mrs Canty had given Edith what for.
The children scampered happily through the fuchsia wood as the late September sunshine flooded through the trees, dappling the path in front of Solange and Richard as they walked.
‘Did you know?’ Richard asked.
‘Know what?’
‘All of it, any of it. That there was someone else. About the twins. That she was planning to leave?’ He spoke quietly so the children couldn’t hear him, even though they were far ahead on the track.
‘Of course I didn’t know. How could I have known that, Richard? Edith never spoke to me except to tell me how to dress the children or what they should not be doing. I knew she received and wrote a lot of letters, and Mrs Canty said she had spent a lot of time in Dublin when you were in France, but apart from that, no, I knew nothing.’
Solange wondered whether she should offer some comfort to him, touch him or try to console him in some way. She tried to imagine what Jeremy would have done. She often spoke to her husband when she lay in bed alone at night, telling him of the events of her day. She could hear him in her mind reacting to Edith’s departure, outraged that someone could treat his dearest friend so callously. Jeremy had always been fiercely loyal to those he loved. ‘Good riddance, old chap, she was a cold, old fish, anyhow. What you need is a passionate Frenchwoman to take your breath away; it’s all that sunshine you see, warm blood!’ She could hear his infectious laugh and see him clapping Richard on the back, lifting him out of this black humour that had descended on him.
She wished there was something she could say, but she struggled to find the words. They walked silently together, following the course set by James and Juliet.
‘They are your children, Richard, it’s as plain as anything. They are so like you, and those eyes of theirs are exactly yours – very unusual. You know, I thought all Irish people had those bright green eyes until I got here. You were the first Irish person I met. And even if you were not their biological father – and believe me, you are – then what would that matter? It is you who has loved them, played with them, read stories to them since they were born. We both know how life can take sudden turns for the worse but what matters is love. Nothing else. You love James and Juliet more than anyone in the world, and now you will have to love them even more.’
Solange hoped she was saying the right thing. Richard sat down on a mossy rock and watched the children as they climbed a large beech tree.
‘What if she wants them? Tries to take them from me? If you and Mrs Canty hadn’t been there today, to stand up to her… I never thought that she’d try to do that. I never even realised she might leave.’
The normally capable and stoic Richard Buckley seemed broken and unsure of himself.
‘I did love her, you know. She was so pleasant when we met, so calm and restful, not demanding like some other girls. I was never very good with women, I suppose, not having had sisters maybe. I always wished I could have been more like Jeremy. He would enter a room and light it up. Everyone wanted to talk to him, all the girls flirted with him, and he was so cheery, so confident, but I just wasn’t like that. I’ve learned to be confident in my job. I know what I’m doing most of the time, but socially I’m still hopeless. I know I am. Edith was a city girl, lots of friends and social engagements. She mixed with a very sophisticated group in Dublin. Of course Dunderrig suffocated her. She never understood about my joining up, you know. She hated me for that. She thought I was betraying her father, whom she adored. He was a real Irish patriot, she said; he died for Ireland. She never understood that I didn’t join up because I wanted to fight with the British. I just wanted to help our own poor Irish lads in France. And I think I went because I missed Jeremy, too. When I was around him, I felt a little less dull, I suppose. Without him…’ Richard smiled sadly. ‘I really miss him, you know.’
‘I miss him, too,’ Solange replied. ‘As we walked along there, I was trying to imagine what he would have said to you if he were here now. He cared so much for you, Richard, you know that. You were the first person he told me about when we met, and when you said you were coming to France, he was so angry. Not because he didn’t want to see you, but because he loved you and the war was no place for someone you loved. I must admit, I found you a little strange at first. You and he had such very different personalities; I was puzzled you were friends. I remember once, Jeremy telling me that you were all the bits of him that he wished were better: a better doctor, a better friend. I think he would have told you that Edith was wrong for you, that you needed someone fun and lively. And he would have loved the twins. Sometimes, I can see him laughing at their tricks. They are naughty and lovable and brave, just as he was.’
Richard smiled, idly scraping moss from the rock. ‘They would have been mad about him, too. Can you imagine what he would have let them do? I think they’d need a doctor each if Jeremy was left in charge. He never saw danger, even over there, where every day survival seemed unlikely.’
A pensive silence descended between them. Eventually, Richard spoke again, ‘So what now, Solange? What do I do now?’
‘You carry on. You tell people that Edith has left and won’t be coming back. Don’t explain any further.’ She gave a small chuckle. ‘You’ll be good at that part. You don’t ever feel the need to explain yourself, anyway. Most importantly, we must tell James and Juliet.’
Richard looked up; the twins were coming slowly towards them, bearing huge armfuls of the red and purple fuchsia that grew in such profusion around West Cork. ‘I suppose you’re right. Will we tell them now?’
‘Would you like to tell them on your own? Explain without me being there?’
‘No, Solange, it would frighten them. They know if you’re there everything is going to be all right. It would be better coming from you. I’m not great at this kind of thing. I wouldn’t know what to say to them…’ His voice betrayed his panic.
She soothed him, ‘They are your children, they trust you. Just tell them the truth, gently. Obviously, not anything about Edith questioning their parentage, just that she has gone away and you don’t know when she will be back. Children are resilient, but those two are clever. They’ll know if you lie to them, so a simple version of the truth is best.’
She stood and went to meet the twins. ‘Mon dieu! What a big bunch of flowers! You are so strong to be able to carry so much!’
She shepherded the children towards their father.
‘James, Juliet, I want to tell you something,’ said Richard, taking the fuchsia from them and then holding their hands. ‘Today, Mammy decided she was going to go away for… Well, for a while… I don’t know how long…’ He searched Solange’s face for the right words. She smiled encouragingly. He went on, ‘Well, maybe for a long time. But Solange and Mrs Canty, and Eddie and I will be staying in Dunderrig with you to take care of you, so you mustn’t worry.’
The children looked questioningly at their father. Then the braver of the two, Juliet, piped up, ‘Does that mean we don’t have to wear those scratchy dresses anymore?’
Richard suppressed a smile and drew both his children to him, enveloping them in a hug. ‘No, pet, you don’t.’
James, taking in this new and exciting information, asked excitedly, ‘Can we have our tea in the barn, with the new kittens?’
Solange decided it was time to intervene. ‘Well, perhap
s not in the barn. But you can have it at the kitchen table with Mrs Canty and me, and of course, with your Daddy. And after tea, perhaps, we can bring the kittens inside for a little while, and you can both play with them.’
The twins’ eyes lit up with excitement; this was a wonderful development.
‘And what about the bedrooms? Can we stay in your room, Solange, and not have to pretend to sleep in our own rooms?’ Juliet asked with wide innocent eyes.
Solange had not realised that the children knew they were supposed to sleep all night in the fancy rooms Edith had decorated for them. It seemed they were aware all along of the conflict.
‘Yes, you can both sleep in my room all the time until you are seven years old – that is a very long time away.’ Solange was laughing as she ruffled Juliet’s curls.
‘Will Mammy be back when we are seven?’ James enquired.
Richard caught Solange’s eye. Her look told him it was better to be honest now rather than face endless questions later. Also, the little pair seemed not remotely upset by a life without her.
‘I don’t think so, James. I think Mammy might not come back for years and years.’
James and Juliet struggled home under the weight of the huge branches of fuchsia that they had insisted on bringing with them for Mrs Canty. Richard and Solange walked behind them, listening to their animated chatter. It confirmed what they’d always suspected – no one in Dunderrig was going to miss Edith.
Chapter 10
June 1937
‘Solange! Solange! We’re home! Nous sommes rentrés! Solange? Où es-tu? Solange!’
Solange looked out the bedroom window of Dunderrig to see James and Juliet tumble out of their father’s car amid a sea of tennis racquets, violins, hurleys, and bags. They’d made better time than she’d thought they would.
Solange and the Cantys had been counting down the days. Having the twins home after their final summer term was an event the entire household had awaited with growing excitement.
It had been so hard to see them grow up and go off to boarding school – Juliet to the Ursuline Convent and James to Farranferris College, both in Cork city – but now the six years were over. Mrs Canty had been baking and cooking all week in honour of the grand homecoming, so they would have a happy family dinner in the kitchen and – as at the beginning of every holiday – everyone would be regaled with the stories of the antics the twins had got up to in school.
James was a model student. Always completing homework in full and on time; he never cheeked the teachers and had two close friends who remained unchanged throughout his six years at the school. He was the captain of the school hurling team and always returned home proudly brandishing his medals.
Juliet, on the other hand, had been quite a handful, as the nuns had told Richard on more than one occasion. The only area she excelled in was music; after years of playing by ear, a sweet octogenarian teacher convinced her to read music, and whenever she came home, she delighted her father and Solange with her recitals. Otherwise, she displayed a slapdash attitude to her work; she was inclined to be a little too vocal with her opinions, leading to several sanctions, which seemed to enrage her and lead to even more unacceptable behaviour. In October of their last year, in desperation and with the threat of expulsion looming, Richard had begged Solange to speak to her.
Solange had refused Richard’s offer of a lift and had caught the bus to the city, where she had arranged to meet Juliet. The warm hug that enveloped her as she entered the steamy café quickly dispelled any firm words she had intended to say. Poor Juliet was high-spirited, funny, and brave as a lion – qualities the nuns did not seem to rate very highly.
Juliet had poured her heart out – in flawless French, much to Solange’s pride, lest she be overheard by what she called spies from the school – about the horrible regime she was being subjected to. She hated pinning her hair up, she couldn’t help talking in the corridors, she couldn’t get up in time for morning mass – the list was endless. Solange soothed and calmed her and managed to convince her that if she managed to behave until after the final exams, she would be free of the nuns forever. She confided to Solange that she wanted to study medicine, but that she believed her father wouldn’t agree. Nursing, perhaps – but a doctor? Never. Her father was too old-fashioned. The role of doctor was reserved for his son, James. James, however, had no interest whatsoever in medicine and wanted to be an artist, something he too was dreading to reveal to his father.
Solange told Juliet that she was underestimating their father and that her and James’s happiness was all that mattered to him. She assured her that Richard would support them in whatever career they chose when they finished school. She hoped she was right. It was difficult to know with him.
Richard loved his children, but he was also sure he knew what was best for them. She knew he did indeed assume that Juliet would stay at home, presumably until she found an eligible young man to marry her, and that James would follow in his footsteps and train as a doctor. If Solange knew her twins, they would make up their own minds about their futures.
James and Juliet loved their father, of that there was no doubt, but in general, they confided only in her. It was she who was given the role of go-between whenever they wanted to ask something big of their father. Over the years, she sometimes wished that he could have been different, more open; but Richard had remained pleasant and calm, and a bit of a mystery. He showed no interest in any other women; clearly, as far as he was concerned, he was still married. Edith, to the best of Solange’s knowledge, had never resurfaced. No letters, either from her or anyone representing her, had ever landed on the rug inside the front door of Dunderrig. She had never once enquired after the health or happiness of her children and after the first few weeks following her abrupt departure, they had stopped asking about her. It was as if she had never existed.
She and Richard had rubbed along together quite well over the years. At his suggestion, her role as a nanny had evolved into medical secretary for the practice, and everything ran smoothly. She still spent two consecutive days away from Dunderrig every month, and she would not be drawn on where or with whom she spent them despite Mrs Canty’s less than subtle questioning.
She and Richard had never become closer though she knew that, secretly, Mrs Canty had high hopes that they might. She was surprised at the older woman’s attitude, given that she was such a devout Catholic, but it seemed the old woman’s values went out the window when it came to Dr Richard’s happiness. She still held the long-departed Edith in the lowest of contempt and was even heard to say that the church should, in very special circumstances, allow people to remarry. Mrs Canty’s rather ham-fisted attempts at matchmaking thankfully seemed to go unnoticed by Richard. It was as if that aspect of his life had simply ceased to be.
She was contented with her life; it was certainly not the one she had envisaged as a young girl in France, but it was a nice life, and she was happy. The twins had suffered no ill-effects from the loss of their mother all those years ago and had grown up to be wonderful people whom she adored with every fibre of her being. Very rarely, Juliet and James wondered whatever became of Edith. They had imagined all sorts of amazing tales when they were younger, reducing each other into fits of giggles, imagining their mother as a lion tamer or as a magician’s assistant. Yet they spoke of her as if she were a character in a story rather than their mother. Though Solange never encouraged them to verbalise it for fear of confusing them, she knew that to all intents and purposes she was their real mother.
Now she ran down the stairs to greet them.
‘Me voilà mes petits chous! Bienvenue! Oh, how we have missed you.’ She embraced both twins, simultaneously. ‘How are you? Bien? James! My goodness how grown up you look! Et si beau!’ She squeezed his face playfully. ‘My darling Juliet, you are so pretty but so thin! Are those nuns feeding you at all?’
Her greeting was interrupted by a familiar voice emerging from the kitche
n.
‘Well, if it isn’t trouble in the house back again! Come here to me ye pair of divils till I get a proper look at ye!’ The twins ran to Mrs Canty as they always had done. ‘Aisy, aisy, let ye! I’m an old woman and ye are two fine big people to be launching ye’rselves on top of me! Juliet Buckley! I don’t know if ’tis the fashion up in Cork now, but there isn’t a pick on you! Come in to me till I feed you up, God almighty girl, you’re like a twig, you’re so skinny! James, there isn’t a fear of you then, growing up to be a fine handsome man like your father and grandfather before you, God rest his soul. Come in let ye, come in, come in…’
Dinner was a loud affair with James and Juliet both bursting to tell their stories. Solange and Richard gazed at them proudly. Juliet was exceptionally beautiful. The blond hair of her childhood had never darkened or faded, and she had all the poise and grace of her mother but with a warm, engaging presence. Her flashing green eyes were always full of fun and her petite frame made her look like a mischievous fairy. James, on the other hand, had grown up more like his father, physically and in temperament. Solange had been worried when they were children that he would always be as petite as his sister, but he was much taller and broader than Juliet now – a fine, strong young man bulked out from playing so much hurling and football in school. Their personalities, as always, were polar opposites: Juliet, bubbly and headstrong while her brother was quieter and more sensitive. The bond between them was as strong as ever, even with the term-time separation; they still finished each other’s sentences and seemed happiest when left to their own conversations.
Over dinner, the discussion turned to political matters.
‘It seems things are really heating up in Europe,’ James began. ‘We listen to the wireless at school and one of the lads’ fathers is in the Department of External Affairs. He’s fairly sure that there’s going to be another war. The priests were telling us that Hitler had a hundred and fifty Catholic youth workers shot for treason and that now he’s looking greedily at Austria.’
Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars Page 9
