Patrick was lying on his belly and took a cigarette from Hugo’s packet. Two more exams in the Intermediate Certificate to finish and then the long summer stretched ahead. They were finishing third year and the holidays beckoned. Liam’s eyes were stinging from the cigarette smoke, but he didn’t complain. Patrick was a year older than him, and Hugo and most lads his age smoked. Having said that, if they got caught by the priests, they were dead.
‘Xavier caught Johnny Cleary smoking after class last week, and he got a desperate hiding altogether,’ Patrick said as he exhaled.
‘Well, wouldn’t you think that’s a good reason to give the filthy things up then?’ Liam said as he wafted the smoke away from his face. ‘Don’t be drawing him on you.’
The headmaster was a viciously violent man, and they all agreed it was best to stay out of his way. He taught them Maths, and Liam always had his homework done and paid attention in class. It was the worst class of the day. He walked around with the metal-studded leather strap dangling from his belt, everyone hated him. Liam noted once again that when the priest was mentioned, Hugo clammed up. Patrick noticed too, and they tried to talk to him about it, but any efforts to draw him out failed.
Luckily for Hugo, he was in Brother Martin’s Maths class. He was old and kind of doddery so Hugo got away with murder.
Changing the subject back to the visit to Greyrock, Hugo went on. ‘What do you say, Liam? Do you agree with the cigarette thief here?’ Hugo asked as he struck a match.
‘Well, I suppose he’s right, we would look a bit out of place,’ Liam conceded.
‘Oh, really? And that’s a problem, is it? You two don’t exactly fit in here with your patched trousers and second-hand books, but I don’t see either of you giving up. Being so intimidated, hmm? I thought you were braver than that.’ Hugo gave Liam an almost imperceptible wink. He knew Patrick would rise to the suggestion that he was scared. ‘If it would make you feel more at home Patrick, I could have you woken at five o’clock each morning for you to go down and muck out the stables.’ Liam stifled a chuckle.
‘How would we even get there?’ Patrick asked. ‘It’s miles away.’
‘By motorcar, my dear fellow. You’ve surely seen them, four wheels, steering wheel, runs on petrol? The one my dear mama will send for me in two days’ time. Oh, for goodness sake! I know all you Cork boys imagine there is nothing beyond Midleton, but honestly, if you two are to make anything of yourselves, you will have to travel the world a little bit. Waterford is a good start.’
Liam and Patrick exchanged a look.
‘I’ll ask,’ Liam agreed.
‘All right, all right,’ Patrick sighed, raising his hands in defeat.
‘Excellent!’ Hugo declared. ‘I’ll telegram her now.’
Two days later, Liam found himself travelling in a very luxurious motor car, driven by a chauffeur. The only other time he’d been in a car was when Daddy’s friend used to take them to a match, none of the neighbours had a car. He looked out in amazement at the sea as they travelled along the South Coast of Ireland. They stopped in the seaside town of Tramore, and the three boys ate ice creams as the sun set over the Atlantic. There was a large dance hall near the beach and girls were queuing up outside to get in. Liam was glad his mother wasn’t there to see the outfits, which were very tight, and some of the skirts were very short. He could imagine her disapproval.
He wondered if Annie and Molly dressed like that when they went out in Dublin. They probably did. And God alone knew what kinds of things Kate got up to. The longer she stayed in England, the more different she seemed. He wondered if Cork would ever again be glamorous enough for his sisters. Patrick thumped him on the arm.
‘Oi! Don’t you know that all girls are nothing but occasions of sin?’ he teased.
‘I wasn’t looking at them,’ Liam reddened, embarrassed that Patrick thought he was looking lustfully at the girls when he had been thinking about his sisters.
‘Oh yes you were, Liam Tobin, you can’t lie to me! I don’t blame you either, though. Look at the one in the yellow, she’s a cracker.’ Patrick craned his neck to get a better look. Hugo was busy sucking ice cream out of the end of the cone, and Patrick threw his eyes heavenward.
He gave Hugo a kick on the ankle to direct his attention, but he was too busy eating his ice cream.
‘Ow! You ruffian! Always so violent, you working class.’ He smiled.
‘I don’t know what we’ll do with you, Hugo. There’s a whole gang of gorgeous women not fifty yards away and you are too busy stuffing your face to notice them. Anyone of them would be thrilled to bag the lord of the manor, though your mama probably has some nice, horse-faced young one lined up for you.’ He nudged Hugo who nearly choked on a blob of ice cream.
‘God forbid!’ he announced spluttering. ‘Utterly mystifying creatures. No, I shall be steering well clear of any such entanglement, thank you very much.’
‘Ah, but you do want to get married, don’t you? When you grow up?’ Liam asked. ‘Like, it’s what you do, unless you go for the priesthood.’
For a reason Liam couldn’t understand, his two best friends collapsed into hysterical laughter.
Hugo wiped his eyes eventually, ‘My dear Liam, there are few guarantees in this life, death and taxes, my father was fond of saying, but another is that I will never, ever, ever even consider in my wildest dreams—no scratch that—wildest nightmares, consider becoming a priest.’
‘Really?’ Liam asked. ‘What about you, Patrick? Would you think about it? The priesthood, I mean?’
Patrick gave Liam a sidelong glance. Hugo was watching curiously, awaiting his answer. While St Bart’s was a seminary for the education of priests, plenty of boys never expressed an interest in a religious life.
‘No, Liam, I think I like girls too much to give up that whole thing. How about you?’
Liam spoke quietly, he hadn’t intended blurting out his dearest wish. ‘If God calls me to the priesthood, I’ll go. I’d love to have a vocation, but it’s probably too early to tell if I have one yet or not.’
The great thing about Patrick, Hugo, and himself was that even though they laughed together all the time, they never laughed at each other. He knew by their faces that they thought he was mad to even consider it, but they wouldn’t laugh at him.
‘Well, if you do feel a vocation coming on, resist it for a while at least. We’ve a lot to do before you shackle yourself to Holy Orders!’ Hugo grinned as he threw his arm around Liam’s shoulders while they walked back to the car. Patrick laughed and kicked a lemonade bottle along the path in front of him.
The journey continued, and his friends dozed off as the setting sun streamed in the windows. Liam thought about what it would be like to join the priesthood. The overriding feeling he got when he thought about it was the joy he could bring to his mother. She’d had so much pain and heartbreak in her life, and she had been so devout in her faith. Her favourite son to become a priest of the Lord would make her so proud and happy. He had more trouble trying to work out what Daddy might think about it. Though he never said it outright, he suspected his father didn’t see the church as the faultless paragon of perfection his mother did. Whatever happened, he hoped his father would be proud of him.
He had no interest in girls, not the way Patrick and Con were always going on about fashion models and the actresses in the pictures. Hugo wasn’t into girls either, but then as Patrick pointed out, he was too in love with himself to have room for anyone else. Liam smiled at the memory, Patrick was always teasing Hugo, but they were fond of each other under it all.
Liam was nervous about visiting Hugo’s home despite his assurances that they would be welcome. Both his and Patrick’s mother had spent the previous two days darning and ironing clothes for the adventure. Someone like Hugo would most likely have been sent to one of the really posh boarding schools up the country if his mother hadn’t decided that Cork was far enough. There were lots of fancy sch
ools, even for Catholics, that played rugby and cricket but, for some reason, she decided St Bart’s was the place for him. Liam always got the impression that Hugo played down how rich his family were—the car and the chauffeur certainly weren’t like anything he’d ever experienced before. He wondered how much Hugo had told his mother about them, did she know that they come from small terraced houses in a working-class part of the city? Did she know about Daddy dying in England or about Patrick’s father being a drunk? He had no idea how he should behave, though Mammy kept warning him to mind his manners and not make a show of her—he hadn’t a clue what manners she was on about. He suspected that neither did she.
Con had burst out laughing when he told him about the upcoming trip. He called last Friday for his tea as normal when Mammy was getting his suitcase ready for Liam’s first ever holiday.
‘Off mixing with the quality, are ya boy? Sure you won’t even look at us by the time you come back, you’ll be so full of airs and graces,’ he said, putting on a silly posh voice.
Mammy snapped at him, ‘Hugo FitzHenry has sat at this table more times than I can count, and a nicer boy you couldn’t meet. Don’t you be making Liam feel like he’s getting notions above his station by being friends with him.’
‘I was only messing,’ Con replied sullenly.
Mammy instantly relented. ‘Ah, I know you were, love. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s just we are all nervous. Liam doesn’t know what kind of a set-up he’s going into down there.’
‘Sure won’t he be grand? Patrick Lynch will be with him, and your man Hugo is sound out, for all his talking like he has a boiled spud in his gob!’ Con nudged Liam, and he chuckled.
‘You’re no better or worse than anyone else, Liam Tobin, just remember that, and you’ll be fine. That’s what Daddy would have said to you. Now, Hilda wants me to go to an anniversary Mass for her grand-aunt so I better make tracks. I’ll see ye, and good luck in the castle, Liamo! Bye, Mam.’
Things were still a bit frosty, but Liam sensed a thaw in the relationship between his mother and Con of late. He was different to the girls; he couldn’t hold a grudge forever. Con then did something he hadn’t done since Daddy died, he kissed his mother on the cheek. It was just a peck, Con would hate it if anyone made a big thing of it, but Mammy went red with pleasure and ran out after him with an apple sponge she had made for him, all wrapped up in greaseproof paper. She caught up with him in the hall as he was putting on his coat.
‘Thanks, Mam, Willy and I would have nothing nice after dinner if it weren’t for you,’ and he left, whistling down the street. Liam felt relieved, at least one of the family was being nice to Mammy. He prayed each night after he said his usual prayers that the girls would soften their hearts too in time.
Eventually, the car turned off the main road and drove through a set of very ornate gates. On the left of the gates was a large red-bricked cottage, which Hugo pointed out as the gatekeeper’s lodge. ‘Though of course there’s no need for a full-time gatekeeper anymore, so the estate manager lives there now. His name’s Tom Courtney and his daughter Martha. She and I used to play together as children but she works in the house now so it’s not the same. She says she likes it, but it feels strange for me. Still, it’s impossible to get people for that sort of work nowadays; nobody wants to live like this anymore, servants and so on. You can’t blame them, it’s 1971 not 1871.’
Liam and Patrick nodded knowledgeably as if the hiring or otherwise of people to open gates or iron newspapers was a daily part of their lives. The car jolted as they drove over cattle bars sunk into the ground. Hugo noted their looks of alarm and explained, ‘There is a herd of deer on the estate, as well as cattle, been here for years, my father hunted as a boy, so mother keeps them for posterity. I think she hopes that I might go out one day and get pleasure from shooting the poor beasts, but she is, in this, as in most other things when it comes to me, utterly wrong.’
The car drove on for what seemed like ages and eventually the avenue snaked around to the left and the most incredible house was revealed. Liam had only seen pictures of houses like this in books, he never saw one in real life and the idea that his friend lived in such a place was amazing.
‘I knew it would be big and fancier than our places but I never imagined...’ Liam panicked. There was no way he and Patrick could go into that huge mansion as guests. Hugo’s mother would know straight away what kind they were. He looked down at his hand-me-down shoes—painstakingly polished by his mother—his darned socks, and his patched trousers, and a sudden sense of inferiority threatened to overwhelm him. He caught Patrick’s eye and knew he felt the same.
Hugo tapped on the glass between them and the driver and asked him to stop. They were about a hundred yards from the house. He turned to his friends and with a sigh said, ‘You both look like you’d rather write out Latin declensions for the next week than go any further.’
Liam wanted to reassure him, ‘It’s not that, Hugo, sure it’s so good of you to ask us, but it’s just, well you’ve been to our houses, and we...’
‘We don’t know how to behave or what to say...’ Patrick finished, unusually vulnerable.
‘Look, I know it’s different, not better, just different. When you both let me join you that first day, it made me think maybe I could bear it at St Bart’s and I have. I never really had friends, not being really English or really Irish, and then the whole C of E and Catholic thing, well, I never fitted in anywhere, but I feel like I fit in at St Bart’s and that’s because of you two. Liam, your mother makes the most marvellous dinners, and we chat by the fire for hours, and your mother, Patrick, making me cakes and biscuits to keep me alive in between visits. I...well, I think I’d have gone insane these past years without that. You and your families saved me. I know it sounds dramatic, but honestly, you did. Going back there on Thursday nights with my belly full and a bag of cakes and buns, putting on my bed socks or wrapping myself in the lovely knitted quilt you mother made me, Patrick, well, it made me feel like someone cared about me. I can’t describe…well…I won’t ever forget it. To you it may not seem like much, but to me, that kindness meant the world. I just wanted to repay your hospitality a little bit, I suppose. Please don’t feel intimidated, it’s smaller than St Bart’s and you walk around there as if you own the place, don’t you? So, just treat Greyrock the same, all right?’
Liam and Patrick tried to relax. Hugo really wanted them to enjoy the trip, and he was such a decent lad even if he was as posh as anything. Liam felt a huge rush of affection for him; he had visited their homes and wanted his friends to visit his.
The imposing grey stone facade was gleaming in the late evening light. Being June, it wouldn’t get dark until after ten so the lovely, yellow buttery light made the house seem more welcoming. There were at least fifteen windows across the two upper floors, and the entrance was via a bright red door with a huge doorknob and knocker—double the width of Liam’s front door—accessed by a set of carved stone steps. The red of the door was the only relief from the grey cut stone of the house, though in front of the entrance were carved lions and beneath them stone troughs full of bright red flowers. The house looked down over a huge garden with ornamental trees and a pond and, in the distance, a huge belt of trees to the right. The entire place had an uninterrupted view of the ocean. The car drew to a halt on the gravel driveway in front of the house and immediately the front door opened. A man in a dove-grey-and-black uniform appeared and Liam wondered who he was. Hugo’s father was dead so maybe he was a relative. Behind him appeared a glamorous woman, with ash-blond hair pinned back from her face. She was thin as a rake and was dressed like she was going somewhere very fancy in a pink and scarlet dress and red high-heeled shoes. She wore a lot of silver jewellery that caught the sun as it shone. She waited for the man to open the car door and as they gathered their belongings, Hugo turned to them.
‘Welcome to Greyrock,’ he said with a half-apologetic smile.
‘Er, right.’ The normally confident Patrick was bemused.
The man held the car door open and Hugo got out first.
‘Welcome home, Master Hugo,’ he said in a deep voice. He stood aside to allow the woman to hug her son. Liam couldn’t believe this woman was Hugo’s mother. She looked like one of the models out of the magazines the twins were always stuck in. Mothers were generally thin or fat, but they always looked like mothers, he’d never seen one so beautiful.
‘Thank you, Patterson, it’s good to be back,’ Hugo replied warmly.
‘Hugo, darling! I thought you would never get here! Honestly, you’d have been home from England quicker—that dratted road. And now, you must introduce me,’ she trilled in a strong English accent.
‘Mother, these are my friends, Liam Tobin and Patrick Lynch. Lads, this is, as you’ve probably guessed, my mother, Lily Auden-FitzHenry.’ He took out his handkerchief to wipe lipstick off his cheek as he introduced them.
Liam put out his hand to shake hers as his mother had instructed him. She’d even consulted with Father Mac about how to greet people of the gentry so she was fairly sure that’s what you did. Before he knew it, she had moved forward and was offering her cheek so he almost punched her in the stomach. She smelled of flowers and something else, something spicy, and he was confused for a moment. She seemed to think he should kiss her. He leaned forward awkwardly and gave her a peck on the cheek, reddening as he did so. He rarely kissed his own mother let alone someone else’s. Patrick followed his lead and looked equally uncomfortable, Liam noted with relief.
Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars Page 87
