by Dermot Healy
No bother.
OK, we’ll head back.
Do you mind, pray, if I follow you in my car, gentlemen, asked Miss Jilly. I think I’d like to see the old earth from the estate safely delivered to the alt.
Of course, said Desmond.
You are not Russian?
No.
Good luck, Daddy shouted as the three of us sat into the lorry, and we took off with Miss Jilly tucked in behind us in the blue Volkswagen.
Is that lady who I think she is? asked Gary.
That would be her.
The famous Mrs Adams whose father travelled to the North Pole?
Yes.
And she still lives alone in that huge house?
Is right.
My God, I never thought I would get to see her in reality. Her husband rose through the ranks in the British Army, went right to the top, and then went on to become a famous IRA –
– Now left, I said –
– They say –
– And straight ahead –
– But I’m sure you know the story –
– Leave it Gary, said Desmond –
– Oh, got ya. Where’s the fort?
– Coming up –
– Are you writing this down? asked Gary –
– I am, said Desmond –
– Watch for the pot-holes –
– I will –
– They are everywhere –
– Now go right at the end –
This is a strange country, said Gary, I have never in my life lost my way going to a job.
We passed the ring fort, the school, the new country homes plastered with blue stone, the gardens with solar lights, and met the tractors drawing trailers of newly baled hay. We passed the lines and lines of wild foxgloves and fuchsia and montbretia waving its thin arms, and I blessed myself at the flower pots, and eventually we took the final turn.
I got out at the gate, and there was Joejoe standing below on the battery wall. He joined me and Desmond as the lorry turned and began reversing up the sand-clogged lane to the headland, and behind it, facing forward, came the wee Volkswagen. As they reached the two stone piers they backed in as far as they could go, Desmond got out and turned the handle and the first load rolled into the garden. My granduncle went straight in to inspect the top soil. He burrowed through the pile with a fork.
He toed the earth and smelt it.
Chin lowered, Gary watched him through the side mirror as Joejoe spilled the clay through his hands, then Joejoe saluted.
All right? shouted Desmond.
All right, it’s mostly top soil, but we’re talking about some dab, I don’t like to see too much dab. Tell him to keep an eye on what he’s at below.
We will.
Good enough.
Good day, Mister Feeney, Miss Jilly called.
Oh, good day, Miss Adams, I forgot you were behind me.
Never mind, Joejoeing, look what I brought you – good Protestant earth.
Thank you, thank you. You’re the last Irish woman in these parts. The rest have forgotten.
I am loath to see it go. Come for tea, sometime.
I will, I will.
Please do. Those are lovely stones in the wall. Have you any left?
Yes.
Could I have some one day?
Ask the lad.
Yes, I said.
Thank you Mister Psyche. I turned to the men. You know where you are going? I asked.
I do, said Gary. I know my way back to the site.
Well then I will follow you, said Miss Jilly. I like the idea of Dromod House being called a site.
She reversed back down to the pier, as the lorry followed face-to-face. At last the Volkswagen backed in safely, turned, and the lorry led the way back to Dromod. I got into the dumper and began to spread the earth.
Joejoe went picking winkles.
And so the day continued. The truck would land every forty minutes, empty the soil and some small yellow flat boulders, and return for more earth.
Joejoe stood as guide at the gate, watched the spill without speaking, then he’d nod and give them the thumbs-up and head off. I began taking out some of the flat stones to use them as the final top on the wall. At two Miss Jilly arrived alone with a meal for me and my granduncle. The other three were being fed at Dromod. She gave us salad and tomatoes, bread rolls and queen cakes.
Tomatoes from the house! said Joejoe.
Yes, she said.
Good woman, and he bit in with exhilaration like a child. I ate on the shore, lay back a while, then a while later heard the roar of the lorry reversing up the drive. It had started again. Round three o’clock Anna on her half-day arrived in her running gear, took the wheelbarrow and started collecting the weeds, and told me that all that she could hear running through her head was dates, dates, dates and the names of endless groups of flowers. The lorry again arrived. Joejoe signalled the men then strode off down the lane.
The two lads waved to Anna.
Who is that man below? Desmond asked, if you don’t mind me asking?
He’s my granduncle, I said.
He has a ferocious pair of eyebrows, said Gary.
And he combs them.
My, my. Would he be kinda anxious? asked Gary.
Anna looked at me.
He might, I said.
I thought so. He has a slight corr.
What’s that?
A sort of sad bedevilled look in the eye betimes, explained Desmond.
Oh.
And they took off.
Will we take a break for a few minutes, asked Anna and so we headed off down the beach, out to the blow holes and the mystery wall, while overhead the Search-and-Rescue helicopter shot out to sea.
All day we were swimming in mud.
Then Ma arrived and went with the rake into the garden before she headed to the kitchen. The truck was over and back till eight. And then Da rang to say the two men were going to join us for dinner.
Humming, Ma set the table.
Gary parked the lorry down at the pier after the last load, and went walking the beach. Desmond sat into a chair. Soon Da arrived home in his mud-spattered Volkswagen and poured the wine, but Desmond refused a glass because he was driving back to town. And next thing Miss Jilly stepped through the door. Da and herself went to view the piles of black earth and rubble thrown among the whins, then she came back in and began excitedly talking to him about an idea she had to build a small tomb based on a drawing her grandfather had made in the last century. It had been unearthed by a scholar going through the family’s records. The tomb, if it was built, was to have a single turret and a tall wind chime and be designed by a local architect, a friend of hers.
My mother listened as Miss Jilly moved on to other plans she had in mind then as the smell of the chicken grew she said: I’ll be off now.
Won’t you stay for dinner?
No, thank you.
I think I should go too, said Anna.
Ah stay Anna.
They are expecting me at home.
All right then.
Well then, said Miss Jilly, you will sit in with me.
But first I have a story for ye all, said Anna. After work in the afternoon I headed into the heritage office to look up records of the Conans and by coincidence this American lady came in to look up her family history but the records for the very year that the lady at the counter was looking for had disappeared.
Ah.
All her family for that year was lost. She was from Virginia in the US. And what was her name, Anna said turning to me.
– I don’t know –
– Finney –
– Yeh, so? –
– And when she looked it up, she found Finney is a direct derivation of Feeney. –
– Meaning us, said Da –
– Yes, but also meaning soldier, or sometimes, in another sense, it has to do with trees –
– And so be Jazus, I said, that’s why the Bird and Joejoe would talk about the fai
ries as soldiers that hid in the woods –
– So there you go, said Anna, I thought I should let you know where you came from Philip, and she touched my cheek –
– Did you tell her you knew some Feeneys, asked Da –
– I did and the lady took my hand and shook it, she was delighted, send them my regards, she said –
– You’re a great girl –
Bye, and Anna stood smiling.
Please stay, I said.
OK, I just wanted to hear you ask me.
Da walked Miss Jilly round the scattered piles of earth in the garden, then she climbed into the car and was still talking out the window to Da as she drove away.
I went down the beach to get Gary. He was sitting on a rock looking out to sea.
Dinner is ready, I said.
Do you mind if I ask you something? –
– Fire ahead.
– Are you a religious man? –
No, I said.
You sure?
– Yes –
– OK –
Why do you ask me?
Did I not see you bless yourself twice in the lorry?
…You did, I said.
Yes – twice – and the thing is you did it so quickly.
It’s at a spot where a friend of mine died.
Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.
That’s OK.
Was it a crash?
…Yes…
Were you in the car?
I was.
Forgive me.
He was driving. I was beside him. It was a year ago. He had done his final paper in the Leaving, and a crowd of us were on the raz in the town and he said to me – Let’s go out to Sweet John’s, the local pub, for a breath of fresh air and that’s when it happened. He hit the wall above in Templeboy –
– I see –
– That’s it –
– It’s tough –
– I could have driven, I was sober –
– Don’t blame yourself –
– And a few weeks ago I got the results of my exam, and I thought of him –
– He never got his? –
– No, his parents did. And he passed, with honours.
We both sat there a while.
Sorrow is a hard load to carry, said Gary. I’ll tell you my story later, about my mother. You see I’m trying to get my bearings. I’m watching that island, and then I’m watching that headland. Is that Mount Nephin beyond?
It is.
Well that’s a coincidence. I was only over there last week. And it’s making me think, anyway, I’m sorry for all you went through –
– Say no more –
– OK –
– We’ll leave it at that.
I’ll never mention it again, said Gary and he stood and followed me in.
We all sat down at the table and as the plates of food arrived to the table, Gary slowly bowed his head and said a prayer to himself. Desmond took no wine but water.
I was out there looking across at Nephin, Gary said.
You were, said Desmond and he started eating, without once looking up as if he knew the story. Da poured Gary a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. The meal continued in silence for a few minutes.
I was, said Gary. Do you want to know what happened me? he said turning to me. I met my mother in a village below that mountain for the first time last week.
What? asked Anna astounded. For the first time?
Yes.
I don’t understand, I said.
You see she handed me up for adoption after I was born.
That’s terrible, said Ma.
Well she had a reason.
What?
Well the reason is – she was a fortune teller, and this is what she told me – she looked at the cards and saw something bad would happen me if I stayed with her, so she handed me over.
Dear God, said Ma.
Yes.
It’s unbelievable.
It was hard.
Christ.
Can someone else talk for a minute, said Gary, please.
We ate on in silence, till we reached the jelly and ice-cream.
And there a couple of months ago, Gary said, I at last got her name, my real mother’s name after all these years, and I built up my confidence and went to see her to say Hallo.
– You did, said Desmond –
– I knocked on the door –
– And –
– And out she came –
– Dear God –
Da poured out more wine, and Desmond again refused a glass.
I have to drive.
I understand.
Just take the one.
No thanks.
Don’t, I said.
I won’t.
OK, said Da, Sorry, I understand.
– Yes, said Gary. At last I met her, and he blessed himself as the meal ended.
The men got up to go home, but Da said: – Look there’s two beds down in the studio in the garden. You might as well stay the night.
What do you think? asked Desmond.
I’m on, said Gary.
Do, I said.
Right, so am I, said Desmond and he accepted a drink, then another and went out to the van and came back with a concert flute and played a couple of polkas. After each tune he’d pat the biscuits on the table and bow his head.
It’s nice, he said – that after all that – we got here.
True, said Gary. And that we got to see Mrs Adams of Dromod House. A fair independent spirit.
True, said Ma, nodding with a distant smile.
Go raibh maith agat, he said, nodding to me.
Anna went down the garden to make the beds. Gary again walked the beach alone in the dark. Desmond went off down to lock the lorry and the van. And Ma came in and turned to Da and said: That poor man Gary –
– It’s hard to believe –
– And it happens –
– It does –
– And by the way –
– Yes? –
– On a different subject – before I forget –
– Fire away –
– That woman Miss Jilly is infatuated with you, and she sniggered. Chimes, she said –
– Chimes, yes–
– I see –
– And maybe eagles. She mentioned an eagle this evening –
– Did she mention divorce? asked my mother.
– Not yet. I’ll let you know –
– Oh do. Soldiers and trees, she said and she shook her head. Then she stopped smiling and put her head in her hands. Christ it has been a sad evening, hasn’t it Philip?
Yes, I said.
I never heard the likes.
Say no more, said Da.
The gang came back and gathered again at the table, and another bottle of Rioja was opened. Then Gary headed out to the van and came back in his Australian sombrero.
I missed my hat, he said, during all that chat.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Squaring the Circle
After dinner Da suddenly decided to take the men down to Joejoe’s to listen to him playing the box.
A while passed. Myself and Anna were first watching the end of The X Factor, then The Best Albums of All Time on the other box. There was a sharp fast knock on the door. Gary was standing there a little breathless with these set hard eyes. I looked round to see who was with him. He was alone but Cnoic was at his feet.
I let him in and he sat down and smiled.
Tea? said Ma raising the iron of the ironing board.
Aye.
We sat there a while.
Did you enjoy yourself?
Your man Tom Feeney speaks a myriad.
You didn’t understand him.
It’s like being on a site with men from all over the world. I thought he was from round here, but the truth is he is a global local.
Aye.
On site we are all foreigners.
Got ya.
I don’t mind working o
n a site, but you know what you have to learn?
A new language? asked Anna.
Yes, but not the language you think, and you have to get it right and I mean right, you can get it wrong and if the wrong word travels down the line, well you’re in trouble, and you have to row gentle as you can go back to where you were when the first command was given wrong.
It’s the same in the hospital, said Ma, ironing the sleeve of a shirt.
Is that so?
The arguments are something shocking. It’s like a form of bullying. It would depress you. She rose the shirt in the air to look at it. And worst of all it happens in English.
Well there’s another way of doing things, another language – I saw it first and learnt it down in the timber yard.
What’s that?
Sign language. Sign language is the boy.
Aye, said Ma, folding a trouser leg, if you can get it right.
Now you’re talking.
Yes, said Anna, here we are talking of sign language.
True, now tell me how do you square the circle? Gary asked.
Excuse me?
I’ll explain. I made a mistake down in your granduncle’s. I said to him: Your accordion is out of tune.
– Oh, said Ma, that was a bad move –
– I believe someone said that to him forty years ago, I said, and he was not pleased then either –
– And then he said to me, continued Gary, go out and square the circle –
And where are the others? I asked.
They’re coming soon, and he bowed quick-like. No bother.
We made tea.
That man your granduncle is some character.
He’s a terror, I said.
I never met a man who knows so many dates off by heart.
You see he can’t read.
Ah!
So he has to remember, said Anna.
Oh.
Yes. Every last date.
But he can forget certain things, I said.
Do you tell me?
The phone rang.
Is your man Gary with you? asked Da.
He is, I said.
Is he all right?
Yeh.
Right, say nothing, OK? and he rang off.
You will have a great garden out there when it’s finished, said Gary.
I will.
It’s a good class of earth.
Yes, said Anna. And myself and Philip there intend to set everything under the sun. Do you mind me asking you something?
Fire away.
Why did you leave the house below ahead of the others?
It’s like this. I had to square the circle.
