Rían: (The O'Malleys Book 3)

by Michelle McLoughney

  Liadh’s voice was mesmerizing and he felt torn between respect for her talent and wanting to grab her and take her to his home, to his bed. As she ended the song, the small crowd clapped and called out for more. Catching her eye he raised his bottle of beer to her in appreciation. She beamed back at him and began another song, happy and joyful as one of his cousins played the tin whistle and people started to dance in the centre of the grass.

  An old broom knows the dirty corners best.

  -Irish proverb

  Maggie and Granny sat down against the big old apple tree in the orchard and listened as Liadh’s voice travelled on the soft summer night’s breeze. They had slipped away unnoticed with a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses, a cake and a few sausage rolls.

  “Here,” said Maggie as she topped up Siobhan’s glass.

  “Thanks Maggie, doesn’t she have a lovely singing voice? So like her mothers.”

  “Ah yeah, it’s beautiful all right. A beautiful voice, for a beautiful lady. Do you remember the days we sat here with the Bossman and Nelly and the lads? Beautiful nights they were too, so full of stars. Our Nelly would have loved this.”

  Maggie rested her head against the wide trunk and savoured a mouthful of sweet wine.

  “Oh she would have loved it Maggie, our Nelly loved a good old sing song. Here, pass me some more cake.”

  Maggie laughed lightly. “You’ll get fat.”

  Siobhan snorted. “Well I’m hardly on the lookout for a new man am I? Pass it over to me.”

  “You’re right I suppose, do you remember what mammy used to say? Those that mind, don’t matter and those that matter don’t mind. Here take your cake and enjoy every bit.”

  “We’re here for a good time Maggie, not a long time. Do you miss those days? How innocent we were back then, neither of us near a man until we were married.”

  Maggie hesitated and Siobhan narrowed her eyes. “Maggie?”

  “Well, there was this one night with Michael Lonergon outside the dance hall years ago.”

  Siobhan spluttered her wine down her chin. “Michael Lonergon, sure he was as daft as a brush!”

  Maggie nodded. “He tried a few times, kept trying to put it in the wrong hole, in the end we gave up. I went to the marriage bed still intact. Although Pa wasn’t much better to be honest. I nearly had to give him a map for a finish.”

  Siobhan elbowed Maggie sharply.

  “Jesus Siobhan! I thought we were sharing stories!”

  “Shush, what’s that noise?” The two women turned off their torches and watched as a figure moved through the trees talking softly in a mobile phone.

  “Meet me at the back gate by the paddock. Okay, five minutes.”

  Siobhan and Maggie waited in silence until the figure disappeared from view.

  “What the hell was that about?” Maggie turned to Siobhan.

  “Aoife,” Siobhan replied.

  “What is she doing?”

  “She’s sneaking out.”

  Maggie looked at Siobhan, a million questions and confusion in her eyes.

  “What the hell is she sneaking out for? She’s twenty eight years of age.”

  Siobhan turned her torch back on and shone it into her sister’s face. “She may be twenty eight in human years, but in terms of love she’s about sixteen. While everyone else was out having fun Aoife was stuck in her bedroom or a hospital bed. She lost out on years of romance and teenage angst. It’s her time now. If she wants to sneak off, let her off.”

  “Who the hell is she sneaking off to see?” Maggie whispered.

  Siobhan shook her head.

  “That’s for Aoife to tell you, not me Maggie. She will in her own time. God knows the shit will hit the fan when it comes out.” Maggie turned to look at her sister.

  “Well she’s lucky she has you on her side then.”

  “Sure, where else would I be.”

  “Where else indeed. Pass me the wine, I’ve a feeling I’ll be needing it.”

  The Irish forgive all sinners, but only when they are dead and buried.

  -Irish Saying

  Liadh woke to find Bonnie in the bed beside her face down on the pillow snoring her head off. Liadh shook her roughly.

  “Bonnie, Jesus will you wake up for feck’s sake.”

  Bonnie stirred and draped her arm across Liadh face. “Oh for the love of God woman! It’s too early, go way with you. I need to sleep, Bonnie needs her bed, capiche?”

  Liadh crawled out of bed and pulled a pair of denim shorts on. She scouted around and found a long plain black t-shirt and added black gladiator sandals. Opening the door she was hit by the brilliance of the summer sun already up and crowning in the sky overhead.

  “Wow, Bonnie, you should see this, it is so beautiful out. I’m going to go for a walk to the waterfalls. Do you want to come?”

  “Go way you crazy bitch! My head hurts.”

  Liadh rolled her eyes and made her way to the utility room. Peanut lay in her basket and lazily opened one eye.

  “Come on lazy bones, up and at them.”

  Peanut jumped up and when she saw her taking her lead from a hook on the wall, she ran around Liadh’s leg

  “Good girl, Peanut.”

  Shutting the door quietly behind them, Liadh made her way to the paddock. As she opened the gate she waved to Annie and Rían who were schooling a horse around a sand arena.

  “Hey Liadh. How’re you doing?” Annie called out. “Great night last night eh? I’d say Bonnie has a pain in her head this morning. Mad woman that Bonnie!”

  “Yeah, a little worse for wear Annie. We had a great night.”

  Liadh waved over at Rían and felt giddy inside when she saw his eyes light up. Yeah, yeah look all innocent, Rían. I know you’re a dirty, dirty boy.

  “Hey Liadh. We’re just finishing up here, do you want to go and see Fia?” Said Annie.

  “Oh I’d love too.” Liadh helped Annie and Rían stable the horse and the three of them headed through the woods in the direction of the wooded grove. Liadh chatted and laughed along with Annie and Rían linked her arm. Before they had taken a step into the woods gunshots rang out into the morning sky. Liadh’s hands flew to her face.

  They stilted suddenly with the force of the shots and Rían took off running in the direction of the blast.

  “What the hell was that? Annie?”

  Liadh and Annie stood looking at each other before Annie screamed move. Liadh opened her eyes wide, and ran after Rían, Peanut in her arms shaking with fright.

  “Oh God, Oh God, Fia!”

  Liadh felt as though her feet were encased in concrete. Each step was torturous and fraught with fear of what may lie ahead just behind the trees. As they reached the clearing, Liadh could see Rían pacing up and down, his were hands threaded on top of his head and his eyes were wild and wide. He fell to his knees and thumped the ground, then stood and walked over and back to the trees covering his face with his hands. Liadh felt helpless and didn’t know what to do to comfort him.

  Rían looked at each of the majestic deer and rubbed his hand up and down Buck’s light, soft coat. They lay where they had fallen; each one had been shot once through the head. Rían felt his gut clench and his fingers trembled with rage as he turned around and saw Liadh and Annie coming through the trees behind him. He moved towards them and stood in front of Liadh pushing her back as she screamed at him to let her go. The need to shelter her from the scene in front of them was all consuming. Annie moved past him and knelt down beside the deer. Examining them gently she made tut tut noises and sighed loudly.

  Liadh clung on to Rían’s arm and tried to look around him.

  “Oh why Rían? Who did it? Who hurt them? Where is Fia? Where is Fia?!!”

  Rían hugged her tight and looked around for the body of Fia, his eyes traced the wooded area and something moved in his peripheral vision.

  “Liadh, look!”

  Liadh turned her face back to the thicket of trees and watched as Fia made
a bleating noise and moved slowly out into the open. Rían slowly let Liadh go and she walked over towards Fia, every step gentle and measured. Annie looked up and watched as Fia nuzzled into Liadh’s legs and sniffed her hand, she spoke gently to her brother.

  “Take her away Rían, take them both back to Cherry Tree Farm. Don’t let Fia see them like this. She’s alone now. An orphan. She needs our help now; she’s still feeding from her mother and will die pretty quickly without help. Take her back to the farm and get mama to help getting bottles set up for her. I’ve some in the shed.”

  Liadh’s heart clenched and she couldn’t do anything to stop the tears from flowing down her face and the shaking of her body. Suddenly so cold in the summer sun, she turned and walked behind Rían as he carried little Fia in his arms back towards the farm.

  Rían went into the house and laid Fia down in the utility room beside Peanut. The little deer lay down exhausted from the exertion of it all and stared around at Rían and Liadh, fear etched in her eyes. Liadh wiped her eyes across her sleeve and sniffed gently. Fia made little noises and Rían rubbed the deer’s head gently.

  “Now, little pet. You’re all right little girl. Liadh, I need to go back to Annie, will you stay here with her? My parents will be back from town in about ten minutes.” Liadh nodded at him and rubbed Fia’s head.

  “Be careful Rían.”

  Rían rubbed a finger down the side of her face and kissed her lightly on the cheek as he ran in the direction of the shed. He collected a shovel and some other items and ran back to the woods.

  Annie walked towards him holding three shell casings in her hand, she sighed and put her hand on Rían’s arm.

  “I’ve seen these shell casings before Rían. It’s Liam O’Brien’s gun that shot them. I’ve seen them back in the veterinary clinic, he likes to shoot animals, especially pets that belong to those who piss him off. We make a note of all the gun licences and the shells used.”

  Rían’s muscles were taut and tense beneath Annie’s touch and she felt such violent rage pulse through her for the one who had committed this vile act.

  Rían nodded at her hardly hearing what she was saying. O’Brien had to be dealt with, by whatever means it necessary he would punish the man for this, and punish him hard.

  “Do you want a hand Ri?”

  “No Annie. I…I‘ll be grand on my own for a while. I’ll see you up at the house later.” Rían looked down at Annie and she flinched at the blackness of his eyes, the deadness within them. She rubbed his back and then walked away from him leaving him to his rage and grief. Stopping for a moment deep in thought, she looked back at Rían, his back was bent and his shoulders sagged. He looked so broken, her eyes filled with tears for her lovely, gentle giant of a brother.

  Rían laid a line of black plastic bags on the inside of the hole he had dug and picked up each of the deer. Cradling each one gently in his big arms, he laid them on a blanket and wrapped it around them tucking it over their bodies. Laying them side-by-side in the hole, he rubbed each one and spoke softly.

  “Who would hurt something so innocent? He is a very bad man.”

  He drove the shovel angrily into the loose earth and again until he was soaked with sweat. Burying them deep into the ground, he patted the earth down on top of it. When he finished, Rían dropped the shovel, left it where it was and ran like a man possessed. He ran through the forest behind the house, through the fields and down the lane until he felt his heart bursting inside his chest. He found himself back at the front door of his mother’s house and bent over winded from the exertion of it. Liadh had left and the house was quiet as he slipped inside and headed for the shower. Dropping his clothes in the basket in the corner of the room, he pulled open the glass shower door and stepped inside. Sweat ran in rivets down his back as he turned the thermostat to cold and stood with his back against the wall letting the water run over his head and down his body. Drying himself in silence he walked barefoot to the office and sat in his father’s plush, black leather swivel chair. Allowing the darkness to consume him, Rían reached across the desk to the remote and turned on the CD player closing his eyes as O Mio Babbino Caro, from Puccini’s opera Gianni Schicchi poured into the room.

  Maria Callas, exquisite as the broken hearted Loretta began her slow journey of pain, her voice rising in torturous agony slowly reaching fever pitch. As she reached the Crescendo, Rían threw his head back lacing his fingers on top of his head and swung slowly right to left in the chair, a slow and steady rhythm in time with the music. He knew the Aria so well and the story behind it too. A tale of two lovers who would never be joined, the voice first threatening and then desperate and pleading. He waited, listening to the heartbreaking sound of Loretta pleading with her father until he could hardly bare to hear its beauty. It’s all ending now. All ending. As long as he lived he would never understand the violence of men and the need to destroy innocence and beauty. Behind his eyelids little pinpricks darted against his closed lids. Covering his face with his hands, Rían let the first angry tears fall.

  The older the fiddle, the sweeter the tune.

  - Irish saying

  Granny O’Malley sat in silence looking through the glass of the conservatory into the good room. Her eyes misted as she watched Rían’s shoulders shaking slightly. She ran her hand roughly across her eyes and set her jaw.

  No one will break you boy. No one will ever break you as long as I’m alive.

  The phone call from Annie had shocked her. Liam O’Brien had crossed a line, and something needed to be done about him. The time had come to fight back. And fighting was something she had learned to do long before tonight. She fingered the silver frame on the little table beside her. Smiling fondly at the happy faces, all of them lying down drinking from glass bottles of orange fizz, she traced the lines of each figure and felt the sun on her face as clear and brightly as she had felt it that day, that first summer they had cut the barely in the big field. The Bossman, his best friend Neddy O’Neill, her sisters Nelly and Maggie and herself.

  She hadn’t always been as happy or as safe. Before him, it had been different. Before the Bossman, Siobhan Lynch had led a very different life to the one Siobhan O’Malley enjoyed now. They were barely the same person at all.

  Siobhan Lynch was ten years old when her mother walked into the sea and lay down on the seabed to sleep eternally. Ten years old when her father left her the responsibility of caring for her two younger sisters Maggie and Nelly, and ten years old the first time she had worked a fourteen hour day. She went to work every morning at five thirty and worked side by side with the men in the creamery. That’s just the way it was, they had needed money, there were mouths to feed and always something that needed fixing in their small two-roomed cottage. Besides, her father drank most of his earnings and she was damn certain he didn’t care if his three daughters starved or not.

  Siobhan remembered her mother as a free spirit, a wild thing. Long, red hair flowing long and loose down her back and the most beautiful happy face. Her father had gone to Sherkin Island for a wedding and had seen her standing alone at the other side of the room. And that was that, he would have her and make no mistake about it, when Colum Lynch wanted something, he got it. One way or another. Her grandfather had been only too happy to off load his eldest daughter to a man from the mainland that professed to care for her, and paid a handsome package for her hand. Siobhan liked to think that if her grandfather had known her mother’s fate he would have kept her as far away from Colum Lynch as possible. In reality, her grandfather was probably delighted that a farmer had wanted his daughter, and he rarely made any contact once she had taken the boat over, one shabby suitcase and a hat box her only possessions.

  Siobhan and the girls had adored their mother and held on to the best memories of her after she had passed on. She remembered how they would run through the fields together, Mammy, Nelly, Maggie and Siobhan, panting and laughing until they fell down on the long grass and looked up at the clouds in the
sky, pointing to shapes and counting the fluffy white blobs. Free to be happy until they would spot Siobhan’s father cycling up the path, then her mother’s eyes would glaze over and she would retreat back into herself. Her beautiful soul already dying inside her, until one day she decided that dying was her only escape from living. He had worn her out, chipped away at all that she was, until only a broken shell remained of who she had once been.

  Her father had been a hard man and prone to drunken rages. There were no hugs or cuddles from him, not much conversation either, just a nod every now and then to show his appreciation for clean socks and a warm meal to fill his belly. When Siobhan handed over her wages on a Friday evening, he would take off to the pub leaving her looking after him out of the kitchen window, anxiously worrying about what would happen when he returned. Siobhan had long ago realised that the first person he met when he got home would be the one to take the beating. Little Nelly had lost the hearing in her left ear two years before when he had thumped her so hard she had flown across the room. After a week of continuous ringing in her ear, she couldn’t hear a thing. After that Siobhan made sure the girls were tucked up in bed before he got back. She would wait for him, reading beside the dim candlelight and bracing herself for the inevitable.

  Growing up in rural West Cork, the Lynch sisters were isolated from the cities and the world outside work and housekeeping. She was twenty-four the first time she went to a dance in the local parish hall. Her other friends and her sisters had been going to the dance halls since they were eighteen. Siobhan was considered old and a potential spinster by most people’s standards. She knew she was no beauty, she knew that well enough. Too tall, too thin, her long, red hair still curly no matter how much her sisters ironed it for her. Her only noteworthy feature were her eyes, an unusual pale green that changed colour like the ocean to suit her mood. When she stood beside her younger sisters and her friends at one side of the hall and looked over at the boys on the other side, Siobhan invariably knew that she would be the last one to be asked to dance. Forever the last resort, when all the others were taken. Dutifully she held the drinks for the group and watched the girls and boys as they moved against each other until one of the priests separated them. Father O’ Brien sat down beside her one night and smiled at her fondly.