Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars

by Jean Grainger

  ‘So Hugo, what does one do at an Irish-Catholic ceremony? While it was the religion of choice of my parents, I must confess to having quite forgotten it all. Yet another cause of my eternal damnation, no doubt. Flagellate oneself in guilt, confess all? Denounce that upstart Luther for scuttling the whole applecart back in sixteen whatever?’ Piers asked with a mischievous wink over delicious kippers and poached eggs in the dining room.

  ‘Leave him alone, Piers,’ d’Alton demanded as he filled his plate from the bain marie placed on the sideboard so the guests could help themselves. Hugo was busy pouring tea and serving toast and grinning. Tom was back on his feet and crankier than ever, but it meant that Hugo got to take off to France once a month for a few days. It was the perfect combination. He loved Greyrock and was always happy to get home, but he also looked forward to his visits to Piers and d’Alton.

  ‘Yes, leave me alone! I’m not exactly the most devout or anything, but it means a lot to my friends so no smart remarks please, Uncle.’ Hugo knew Piers was only teasing him. They’d got in touch after the trial and, within five minutes of the first telephone conversation, it felt like they’d been close for years.

  Piers and d’Alton arrived from France yesterday and had spent the day out on horseback as Hugo showed them all over the estate. Hugo had taken Piers to the family plot where for the first time he saw his brother’s grave. Piers loved Hugo’s father and regretted not returning for his funeral, but he hated the prospect of returning to Ireland. He had been threatened with exposure and arrest when he was discovered with a young man in his late teens and only escaped because he was the earl’s brother, on the promise that he would go and never return. He’d only come now under the considerable joint persuasive powers of d’Alton and Hugo. They left the graveyard and went for a walk, allowing Piers some time alone to say goodbye properly.

  They wandered down to the seashore and found themselves on the same little beach where Hugo had confided in Liam all those years ago. As Hugo recounted the story, reliving the dread and despair of those years, d’Alton sat on a rock, listening intently. They were so happy and relaxed in each other’s company, they saw as much as possible of each other. Hugo had been to France four times and had been amazed and delighted at the life he found there. D’Alton took him to clubs filled with people like them and where Hugo felt inconspicuous. It was wonderful. Of course, caution was paramount and d’Alton was ultra vigilant, but Hugo didn’t doubt even for a moment how he felt. They loved each other, and Hugo knew he could face anything once d’Alton was by his side.

  The visit to Birmingham was better than he could ever have imagined. D’Alton went with him, and they met Martha and Terence and, of course, little William. Martha was right, Terence was exactly like Tom, though friendlier, and Martha whispered to Hugo that Terence’s brother was also ‘one of your lot’ and they were best of friends, so there was nothing to fear.

  William sat on his father’s knee and smiled and drooled at everyone. Photos were taken and d’Alton and Terence took William for a walk while Hugo and Martha talked.

  ‘Thanks, Martha. I can’t believe I have a son, he’s so beautiful and smiley and everything. It’s just amazing.’ Hugo thought his heart would burst with joy.

  ‘He’s a little dote, all right. So, what are we going to do?’ Martha was ever practical.

  ‘Well, I’ll go with whatever you want. I’d like to support him financially if you and Terence would allow me, and be in his life, visit him, and someday if you could bear it, have him come to Greyrock.’

  ‘Do you want him to know who his father is?’ Martha fixed Hugo with a clear eye.

  ‘Absolutely, if you are happy to have him know, though the hardship if there is any, will be on you, the gossip, and all of that back at home.’

  ‘That doesn’t bother me. I can’t imagine living there again, but I want William to know who he is, who his father is, and where he came from.’ Martha was confident. She seemed different to the way she was in Greyrock. The move had been good for her.

  Hugo held his childhood friend’s hand, and they chatted about the future of the next Earl of Drummond in the evening sunlight in the back garden of a terraced house in Birmingham.

  Liam and Patrick had never met Piers, but Hugo knew they would love him. He was hilarious and outrageous and made no apologies for his homosexuality, but in public he was every inch the respectable older gentleman. Hugo knew they would welcome him into the family. He was excited to bring all his people together. Of course, they all knew d’Alton and while Liam and Patrick knew the nature of the relationship, the others didn’t. D’Alton half-hinted that he had a lady friend in England, and people seemed to accept it. He said he enjoyed coming to Greyrock for the hunting and fishing. Since it was so far from their experience, they accepted that as well. Piers told people that his better half passed away, which was true, neglecting to mention that they weren’t married and that she was a he.

  ‘Oh, how I yearn for the days of the carriage, all that leg room,’ Piers moaned as he folded himself into the back seat of Hugo’s car.

  ‘Yes, but you’d have had to have left yesterday.’ Hugo smiled. ‘This is so much quicker.’

  ‘I am an elderly man, Hugo, be gentle and please slow down,’ Piers howled theatrically at his nephew.

  D’Alton winked at him over the roof as they settled into the front seats.

  Hugo drove slower than usual though still fast by anyone’s standards, and as they passed the turn-off for d’Alton’s little house on the lake shore, d’Alton leaned over and placed his hand on Hugo’s. They’d gone there overnight for the first time a few weeks earlier, and it was the most wonderful night of Hugo’s life.

  Liam shaved carefully with the water basin he’d brought up from the kitchen; he didn’t want any nicks on his face today. He fixed the Roman collar and made sure that the buttons of his soutane were done up correctly. He brushed his hair back and looked in the small mirror on the wall of the bedroom he’d slept in his whole life. Con was gone already and he had to admit it had felt nice to have him in the other bed last night. He even threatened to throw a hob-nailed boot at Liam for old time’s sake. Hilda reprimanded him saying he’d go straight to hell for injuring a man of the cloth, causing laughter from everyone as they drank endless cups of tea and devoured the huge amount of baking Mammy had done in preparation for their arrival. Hilda was good for Con and brought out the best in him. The girls were arguing over access to the newly installed bathroom, and Liam hoped they wouldn’t look too much like showgirls when they were finished. They seemed to be carrying lots of bags of war paint and he’d caught a glimpse of some very garish outfits hanging on the wardrobe door yesterday. Still, it was great to have them home and seemingly at peace with each other. He knew they found the sight of him in clerical garb hilarious, but he was happy to take the slagging. It was better than the reverential looks he got from the neighbours.

  He went over to his small dressing table and took out the book he kept at the back of the top drawer. It was an old cowboy novel about Indians and the Wild West, one Daddy used to read to him when he was a small boy. In it was the only photograph he had of his father, in the background at a wedding. The photo was blurred and out of focus and time had faded it further, but Liam still recognised his father smiling in the back row.

  ‘We’ll never ever forget you, Daddy, and I pray you are happy and at peace now. Today is going to be a lovely day but you know you’re in the heart and thoughts of every one of us. Look down on us and help for everything to go smoothly, will you? ’ Liam said to him. He spoke to his father regularly and felt his reassuring presence often.

  He walked across the street and up the hill to St Teresa’s, stopping to admire the Goldie Fish that was glistening in the bright July sunshine. Father Aquinas once said that all human life was here, under the Goldie Fish, and how right he was. Liam had originally hoped to go on the missions when he was ordained, but he was changing his mind. W
hat he’d really love was a parish, just like this one, where he understood the people and might be able, even in a small way, to help them with all the trials life would throw at them.

  Donal McMullan was standing outside, looking slightly nervous, and was only paying half attention to his brother Brendan, who as best man, was trying to keep him calm.

  ‘Ah Liam, don’t you look every inch the priest now in your soutane. Your Mam will be so proud of you.’ Donal said sincerely, shaking Liam’s hand.

  ‘You scrub up well yourself, Donal,’ Liam said with a smile. ‘I think Mam is on her way, the girls are bringing her over so you better go in, in case she sees you.’

  ‘Right-o, Liam, she’ll murder me if I see her first, let’s go, Brendan.’

  Liam could see the church was full, and he was pleased for Mam and Donal. She had been worried at the start that people wouldn’t approve of their relationship. Even though Seán was dead for many years as was Donal’s first wife, there was still stigma to a second marriage. Not that widows shouldn’t remarry, but courting again at their age was a little unseemly. But as Father Aquinas often observed, the people that lived beneath the Goldie Fish might not be the most cosmopolitan in the world, but they looked after their own, and there were many in that church who remembered big Seán Tobin and wished his wife all the happiness in the world.

  Liam was giving the bride away and then the Mass was to be concelebrated with Father Mac and Father Aquinas with him on the altar. He had resisted, saying he was happy to be in the congregation, but when Father Aquinas said his mother would be so happy to have him up there with the priests, he felt he had to do it. One of the aspects of the priesthood that didn’t sit right with him, maybe it never would, was how respectful people were, even people who’d known him his whole life. Suddenly, they spoke in hushed tones to him and seemed excessively devout. He’d love just once for one of his former school friends to tell him a dirty joke or have a neighbour tease him about Maynooth losing the inter-college hurling final, but it seemed priests, even student ones, were above all that. He thanked God once again for Patrick and Hugo, they never treated him differently.

  He and Helen were getting married in a few weeks’ time. Patrick wanted to be back at work first so that he’d have a few bob to make it a really nice day for her. Hugo didn’t offer to pay, though both Liam and Patrick knew that he would be happy to. Hugo understood that Patrick needed to restore his pride after his ordeal, and he wanted to restore his life by himself. They made such a happy little family, Patrick, Helen, and the girls. The months in prison went quickly, and it was lovely to see Connie and Anna smile again.

  Hugo too, seemed so much happier. The life he had with d’Alton was difficult, and it must be a terrible strain to have to hide, but they travelled to meet each other often. Hugo was bringing both d’Alton and his uncle Piers to the wedding today so everyone was looking forward to meeting him. Little William was visiting Greyrock with Martha and Terence soon, and they were all being invited down to meet him. Mam had been a bit shocked when he told her about the baby, but she soon recovered. Hugo FitzHenry could do no wrong in her eyes.

  Con dashed across the road along with another few stragglers, late as usual. He’d joined a few of the neighbours in the Glue Pot for a quick one before the Mass. If Hilda smelled the beer on his breath, she’d kill him so he was sucking mints furiously. The two brothers shared a conspiratorial smile as he slipped into the church.

  At last, the door of their little house opened and Mam came out. She was looking lovely in a lilac dress and jacket. The girls had been fussing over her since dawn and though she claimed they were driving her cracked, Liam knew she was thrilled they were there. The twins had calmed down a bit, though they did still look a little on the racy side, and Kate was in really good form. She confided that she was seeing a man in England, a divorced man at that, and was worried how everyone at home would take to it. Liam reassured her that in the light of the madness that went on regularly around there, it would be a five-day wonder. He urged her to bring him home for a visit, and anyway, what business was it of anyone’s what went on in his past? He counselled her to bring him home and say nothing about any former wives to the neighbours.

  ‘You’re going to get into trouble as a priest if you’re going to be going around telling good Catholic girls to hook up with English divorcees, Liam Tobin!’ She smiled as they enjoyed tea and buns in Thompson’s Bakery the day he picked her up from the boat.

  ‘Oh Kate, you don’t know the half of it.’ He grinned.

  The girls handed Mam over to Liam and slipped into the church. Mam didn’t want any bridesmaids or anything like that. In fact, the wedding had become much bigger than she imagined at first, and she was conscious of not showing off.

  ‘So, are you right?’ Liam smiled down at her, offering her his arm.

  ‘I am, pet, as I’ll ever be.’ She paused and looked up. ‘Is he looking down on us, do you think?’ Her eyes momentarily sparkled with tears.

  ‘He is, Mam, and he’s wishing you all the love and luck in the world. You deserve it.’

  The End

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  ALSO BY THE AUTHOR

  Chapter 1

  Scarlett set the alarm on her new cream Mini Cooper. It emitted a satisfying beep as she crossed the underground parking lot of the Examiner Building. She felt a surge of pure joy. For the first time in her whole life, everything was perfect. She looked great, an expensive new wardrobe saw to that, and she knew that she was unrecognisable from the insecure girl she had once been. The elevator doors opened and she stepped in. The young cub reporter from the sports desk nodded, and then stared at the floor. She smiled to herself. She didn’t intend to be intimidating but she was now senior staff so the kid probably didn’t know what to say to her.

  As the elevator ascended to the fourteenth floor and the editorial suite, she had to remind herself once more that this was really was happening. Her years slaving for Artie on the Yonkers Express were behind her and here she was, a senior political correspondent for the Examiner, one of the biggest nationals in the country.

  She glanced at her iPhone. It was odd that Charlie hadn’t texted; he usually did, to check that she had gotten up. He was always gone by 5 a.m. on the nights he could stay, but last night he couldn’t make it. She understood. In his position, his time was rarely his own. She smiled as she thought of the private messages he was sending her on Facebook last night while he was supposed to be deep in discussion with the representative of a powerful lobby group for tax reform on a video conference call. Ron Waters was a crashing bore according to Charlie, and a Republican through and through, so he was never going to vote for Charlie or his party anyway, but he had to be seen to show willingness. He promised he was trying to get her some face time with the guy, though, for another high profile Examiner piece.

  The elevator door opened and the bright, modern, busy Newsroom buzzed in front of her. Hundreds of screens flashed images, and lots of reporters, IT people and administration staff seemed to teem constantly from all directions. She breathed deeply, almost inhaling the atmosphere and didn’t miss Artie and his chain-smoking ways one little bit. She made her way with enthusiasm to the office of Carol Steinberg, the editor in chief.

  Scarlett could hardly believe she was heading into her eighth month of working here, the time had flown by and her star was definitely on the rise. The piece she had done on the extremist Islamic mullah on the Lower East Side was garnering a lot of attention. Her pieces on Charlie were also getting her a lot of column inches, much to the
chagrin of many of the other journalists in the city. Carol’s text saying ‘Get here ASAP’ had come through when she was driving into the office anyway. She was looking forward to the meeting. The urgency of the text suggested some exciting development. Scarlett knew that Carol had a reputation as ball-breaker, that she intimidated almost all of the staff, but Scarlett admired her. She had to be tough to get where she was and one day Scarlett intended to hold a similar position.

  Was she imagining it or did the noise in the office, usually so deafening, suddenly drop to a murmur? The political team were standing together at their corner by the bank of flat screen plasma TVs. She wasn’t imagining it; they had all stopped talking and were staring at her. They must be really ticked off about the mullah story, she thought.

  She pushed open the opaque glass door of Carol’s office and entered the sumptuous surroundings. The TV beside her desk was live paused, and Scarlett instantly recognised Charlie’s handsome features, stilled in mid-sentence.

  ‘I’m assuming you’ve seen this?’ Carol’s voice was quiet but lacked her usual warmth.

  Scarlett was nonplussed, ‘No, is this from today? I haven’t seen…’

  Carol interrupted her by pressing play on the remote. Charlie was unshaven and tired looking. He looked as if he’d slept in his shirt. His familiar voice filled the office.

  ‘Words can’t express my regret. I have offended my party, the good people of this city who elected me, and most painfully of all, I have let my family down. I feel deep shame and embarrassment at my reckless and unprofessional behavior, and though I don’t deserve any special favours, I would ask you, ladies and gentlemen of the press, to restrict your interest to me and to leave my family out of this. They are innocents in this whole thing and are suffering enough at this time. Thank you.’