by Alice Taylor
“The sofa,” Nora said. “I don’t want to be alone.”
“Sarah, will you fix up the sofa, and I’ll go out to the two boys, in case they’d do something that will land them in trouble.”
When Nora was settled comfortably on the sofa, Kate handed her two tablets and held a glass of water to her lips.
“Take these now, Norry, and they’ll make you sleep and take away some of the soreness.”
“If I fall asleep, you’ll still be here, Aunty Kate?”
“I’ll be here,” Kate promised.
A few minutes afterwards they knew by her deep breathing that she had gone to sleep.
“She’s not going to get over this in a hurry,” Sarah whispered.
“No,” Kate agreed, “it will leave its mark, but only for Danny it could be worse.”
“Danny will come to me and we’ll find out the whole story. It might be a while before Nora comes out with it,” Sarah said. “Will Martha report it to the Guards, do you think?”
“I doubt it,” Kate said. “She didn’t report the hay burning, though they came around asking questions.”
“He must be stopped,” Sarah decided. “The man is out of control. What will he do next?”
Out in the yard Martha found Jack leaning on the gate staring across the river at Conways’. She joined him and they both looked over silently.
“If it could only have been me instead of Norry,” Martha said. “She is only a child. I can’t bear to even think of it.”
“He must be stopped,” Jack said quietly.
“He will be stopped,” Martha told him with determination.
Jack looked at her. “You have a plan?” he asked quietly.
“I have.”
“I thought you had since the night in the meadow.”
“You don’t need to know, Jack,” she told him.
“Tomorrow morning I want you to go in and order that tractor that Peter and Davy have been eyeing in Kelly’s Garage.”
Jack looked at her in astonishment, and she knew that he was wondering how on earth a tractor came into her plan. She had no intention of burdening him with details.
“Nobody is to know. Instruct Kelly that we will tell him the exact day we want it delivered.”
“You have your reasons, Martha,” Jack said quietly.
“I have my reasons, Jack.”
Chapter Eighteen
DANNY DIVED INTO the wood and tore through the undergrowth, not looking where he was going. At first he thought that his father was behind him, but after a while he realised that it was his own crashing sound and the terror thumping in his head that he was hearing. He lost track of time and kept running until he fell into a dyke exhausted. His teeth started to chatter and sweat ran down his forehead. Nora’s distorted face swam in front of his eyes. Would she ever get over it? He was used to violence, but she was reared in a loving home. Apart from her mother and brother, Jack and Davy doted on her. She had her grandmother and Uncle Mark and her Aunty Kate, and she was treasured by all of them. Violence had never raised its ugly head in her world. Why did this have to happen to her now?
Then he thought of Mary and Kitty and what they had gone through, and it came to him with blinding clarity that he would kill his father. It was the only solution to the whole problem. He did not know when or how he would do it, but he would work it out and do it. He could finish up in prison, but what were they living in now but a prison? His mother had been a prisoner all her life. She deserved some years of freedom. Once the decision was made, he felt a great sense of freedom. He stretched out in the dyke exhausted.
He had no idea how long he had been asleep, but when he woke the sky was full of glittering stars and a full moon was looking over the hedge. There was absolute silence, and when he moved a surprised bird fluttered out of a bush beside him. Stiff with cold, he straightened up and felt the dew on his shirt. Where was he? He had run blindly, noticing nothing. He looked for a familiar landmark. Walking around the field he found a gap, went through two more fields, and then he saw the school up on the hill. Now he knew where he was, but there was no way that he could go home. He thought about it for a while and then decided that he would go to Sarah Jones. Since the conversation with his mother, he had become a frequent caller to Sarah and had found her helpful and comforting. She seemed to know everything that was to be known about his family, so he felt at ease with her. Nothing surprised Sarah. The chances were that she had already been down to Mossgrove, so she would know about Nora. What a fool he had been not to have told Sarah about his suspicions. He could have stopped the whole thing and spared Nora a terrible ordeal. He’d never forgive himself for that.
Suddenly he stumbled over a stone, and when he put his hand up to steady himself, he was startled that his fingers touched wood beneath the briars instead of the stone ditch. The moon came from behind a cloud and he found himself looking through the briars at a narrow plank that could be covering a gap in the ditch. Moving back the growth, he eased the plank sideways and stepped down into a small square opening. There could be no doubt but that this was his grandmother’s still for making the cure.
All the signs were here. His grandmother was dead with years, but it was obvious that it was still being used. Who knew about this little hideaway and was continuing to make the cure? Then he noticed a cap hanging off one of the churns. It was Jack’s. So Jack was in operation here on the quiet. Had he been in on it with his grandmother or had he picked up where she left off? Danny backed out and slid the plank back after him. He would never have seen it but for stumbling against it. It might be a good place to hide if he ever needed it.
When he knocked at Sarah’s door, there was no movement for a few seconds. Then he saw the curtains being edged back and Sarah’s face in the shadows of the bedroom. He heard the bolt being pulled and the door opened.
“Come in, Danny,” she whispered. “I was expecting you.”
The sight of her comforting face and the warmth of her welcome was such a relief that his self-control cracked.
When she seated him into her comfortable armchair, great sobs shook his body.
“You’ve had a terrible night,” she soothed him, “and it’s good to cry.”
“You know about it?” he asked.
“I do. I was below.”
“How’s Nora?”
“Shocked, of course, and we were glad when she fell asleep. Kate is down there for the night, so she’ll look after things.”
“I feel so guilty,” he told her.
“But only for you, Danny, it could have been much worse,” she assured him. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
So he told her from the beginning, leaving out no detail and blaming himself for not having told her of his suspicions.
“Danny, my dear,” she told him, “we’re all wise after the event. You did what you could and at least now we know exactly what happened. It would be very hard on Nora to be questioning her about the details and expecting her to go back over it so soon.”
“How are the rest of them?” he asked fearfully.
“Peter and Davy nearly went berserk and Martha had to stop them from taking Ned’s gun after your father.”
“God, it’s what he deserves,” Danny said.
“Then they’d be in trouble,” Sarah told him. “That would only make the story worse.”
“I’m going to sort it out,” Danny told her with determination.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Sarah warned.
“He’s not fit to be alive. My mother has had a terrible life with him.”
“It won’t improve her life if you finish up in jail,” Sarah stated. “You’re all she’s got at home with her now.”
“If he was gone she’d have some kind of a life,” Danny declared.
“Not if you are not there,” Sarah told him. “She’s used to him, but it would kill her altogether if anything happened to you.”
“We’re trapped, aren’t we?” Danny said sadly.
“Maybe this time your father has taken a step too far,” Sarah said quietly.
“Did Martha send for the Guards?”
“No.”
“Is she going to do nothing?” he demanded in desperation.
“I doubt it,” Sarah said.
The following morning as they had their breakfast together, they discussed a plan of action.
“You can’t go home,” Sarah warned him. “He’ll kill you.”
“But I can’t stay hiding here either,” Danny told her. “He could burn you out.”
“Well, you can for a while anyway,” she told him, “until we see what way the wind is blowing. When he’s gone to the creamery, I’ll slip over to your mother and tell her that you’re all right.”
“I wonder how’s his head? I gave him a fair belt of the hurley.”
“Your father has a head like a mallet,” Sarah told him.
“I’ve seen him come out of fights that would have killed an ordinary man.”
“You’re right,” Danny agreed. “He’s probably going on this morning as if nothing happened yesterday. He’s as strong as a bloody ox.”
“The best thing you can do now, while you are stuck in here with time on you hands,” Sarah instructed, “is sit down and write to Kitty and Mary. They are delighted that you are writing to them now.”
“God, ’twill be hard to write without mentioning last night,” Danny said.
“Well, don’t! What they don’t know won’t bother them,” Sarah assured him.
“Do you know who’s making the cure now?” he asked her suddenly, remembering last night.
“I do,” she answered. “Do you?”
“I found out last night,” he told her.
“You discover strange things wandering around by night,” she observed.
“If the old fellow discovers that I’m here, I’ll hide there,” he told her. “He doesn’t know about it, does he?”
“No,” she assured him.
“It’s a real safe corner away down at the bottom of the glen,” he said.
“I’ll pass on the word that you might be using it.”
Chapter Nineteen
THE NIGHT CREPT by on leaden feet. To move too early would be courting disaster. After days of careful consideration, Martha had decided that 2.30am would be the best time to make her move. Any earlier and there could be somebody still around; any later the early summer dawn would catch her out before she was finished.
Every time she looked at the little alarm clock on the bedside table, she thought that the hands should have moved further on. She even checked it against her watch with the light of a flashlamp under the bedclothes. It was safer not to turn on the light; she wanted nothing to draw attention to the fact that she was awake that could be remembered afterwards. It was vital to keep things looking normal. There was too much at stake to overlook the smallest thing.
At last the clock hands reached the appointed time. She slipped out of bed and rumpled the bedclothes to give the appearance that there was somebody still in it, just in case Nora looked in. For a few nights after the attack, Nora had slept in Martha’s bed before feeling able to go back to her own room, but one night since she had come in during the night. If Nora thought that she were asleep, though, she might let her be.
The clothes that she planned to wear were neatly folded in the bottom of the wardrobe. Removing her nightdress, she pushed it under the bedclothes and put on her underclothes. Then she stepped into an old black pants of Ned’s and tied it firmly around her waist and slipped a long black jumper over her head. She folded the ends of the pants firmly around her ankles and eased a pair of long black socks up over them. Catching her long black hair, she whipped it into a knot at the back of her head and pulled a cap of Ned’s down over it. At a distance now she could be mistaken for a man.
As she picked up a pair of boots, she glanced back at her wedding picture on the wall.
She closed the door quietly and went softly down the stairs, skipping the creaking third step. Sitting at the bottom of the stairs, she carefully laced her boots. Feeling her way around by the walls of the kitchen, she was guided by the red glow of the Sacred Heart light. Taking the bits of meat that she had already prepared, she stuffed them into her pocket. Wagging his tail, Bran met her outside the back door. She held the door open to let him in and closed it firmly after her. The last thing she wanted was Bran following her.
The little trowel and wire pincers were where she had hidden them, behind the water barrel. It was so dark that she had to feel her way around, but this was what she needed. She had waited for a night such as this, watching the sky and judging its suitability. On a bright moonlit night she could be seen from an overlooking window in the valley. Tonight was dark with no stars.
Keeping close to the wall, she went across the backyard and up through the haggard and along the little boreen into the Moss field. She walked by the hedge down through the three fields to the river. Either the night was getting brighter or else her eyes were growing accustomed to the darkness. She prayed that the moon would not come out.
She knew exactly where the shallow part of the river was, beyond Yalla Hole. It was as if the river, having gone to the depths, was then content to run along the surface. As she came out of the shadows into the open, she forced herself to move slowly. It only took her a few seconds to cross the ferny patch to the river but it seemed like eternity. With her head down she crouched as low as possible. The big stepping stones were well clear of the water after all the dry weather. Conway had once tried to dig out the stones, but they were so embedded with time that there was no shifting them. It was a long stride from one stone to the other as the dark water swirled around her feet. Almost slipping off the last stone, she clung to the long grass on the opposite side.
She clambered up the bank. Now she was on Conway land, dangerous ground. Going down on her hands and knees, she crawled along the bank, and gradually it curved upwards and arched out over Yalla Hole. She would have to crawl under the wire to get to the other side and reach the spot where Matt Conway always stood looking across the river at them.
Keeping very still, she listened for a sound that would tell her if there was movement up in Conways’ yard or if the dogs were around. Their farmyard was two fields up from the river, but the dogs sometimes hunted at night. Her fingers encircled the bits of meat in her pocket. She knew that once she went under that wire there would be no escape. Drawing a deep breath, she gritted her teeth. Lifting up the wire, she eased her head and shoulders under it and then, sagging her back down, she dragged her legs after her. She was on the other side now. The grass was smooth under her hands as she crept along until she reached a hollow beside one of the stakes. This was Matt Conway’s spot. She listened carefully for any sound, but there was only silence.
She began to dig around the base of the stake. The ground was hard, dried out by the summer sun, and perspiration ran down her forehead. She had to blink it out of her eyes and it tasted salty on her lips. Gradually a little pile of earth rose as the hole around the stake deepened. Suddenly she froze. There was movement behind her. She clenched her teeth to stop them from chattering, her heart pounded and there was a thumping in her head. After a few seconds she forced her rigid neck to turn and looked behind her. She could see nothing there, but it was so dark that there could be somebody quite close and she would not see them.
Maybe somebody was waiting in the darkness. Calm down, she told herself, and keep going. A few more scoops and she would be at the base of the fencing post.
When she reached the bottom of the post she loosened the earth all around it, then filled the hole very loosely. What was she going to do with the surplus earth? When she had thought this out at home, she had planned to ease it over the bank into the river. Now she was afraid of the noise it might make, but she had no choice. Very gently she eased it slowly over the bank and was relieved when the trickle-down was barely audible. With her hands she dusted the grass
completely clean of the brown earth and covered the ground around the post with the top sod that she had first cut away. Now the stake had no grip. If anyone leant against it, only the wire could still hold them.
Her heart was thumping and the perspiration was running down her back, partly from the frantic digging, but also from sheer terror. Terrible pictures flew across her mind of what would happen if Matt Conway caught her, and she had to take a grip on herself to keep from running down the bank and back across the river. It was tempting, but Nora’s terrified face swam in front of her eyes. He was going to pay for what he did. If she did not finish what she had come to do, she would regret it. She had never run away from anything in her life.
There were two strands of thorny wire going from this post to the ones further along the bank. She knew that it was rusty old wire by the rough feel of it, and the brown wool she had in her pocket would look the same. Winding the wool around the little cluster of spikes just beside the stake, she tied it to the wire at the other side. It had to be strong enough to hold the stake in position. Then she did the same with the lower strand. All the knotting was at the river side of the stake.
Working carefully, she was conscious that time was slipping by and that soon the dawn would be breaking. It had all taken longer than she had planned. Now for the real test. Cutting the wire very slowly with the pincers, she held her breath. The wool stretched but held; unless you looked very carefully you would not notice the difference. She breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly dogs barked up in Conways’ yard. She froze to the ground. Move, she told herself, and get under the wire. Her body was stiff with cold and tension. She was halfway under the wire when she remembered the trowel and had to reverse back and grab it. The rusty spike of wire dug into her hand, but she hardly felt it.
She clambered down the bank on all fours, taking cover in the rushes and high ferns. When she reached the river, she was afraid to stand upright, so she crawled across, the water soaking in through her clothes. The dogs had stopped barking. When she reached the opposite bank, she reached upwards to grasp the long grass and caught something cold and slippery that squealed. She choked a scream and slipped back into the water with a loud splash. The dogs started barking again in Conways’. She clambered up the bank, almost blinded by fright, and crawled until she got to the shelter of their own hedge. Then she straighted up and looked back at Yalla Hole. There was somebody standing in the shadows just beside the stake, looking across at her. She blinked quickly to make sure that it was not her imagination playing tricks, and then there was nobody there. Her nerves were so strained that she was seeing things!
