by Alice Taylor
Chapter Twenty-One
IT WAS THE day of Matt Conway’s funeral. Martha knew that she would have to go because her absence would be the cause of comment.
Over the years, she had watched him lean on that stake and had wished that it would give way under his weight, and the thought of helping it along had germinated on the night of the hay burning. She had hesitated to take the final step, but when Nora had come home on that terrible night the decision was made.
That night had changed all their lives. Nora’s exuberance was gone and she went around the house like a shadow. She had lost her glow, as if a light had been extinguished inside. Peter had lost his work drive, and Martha knew that the damage to Nora was harder for him to bear than if something had happened to himself. It had aged Jack in a way that no amount of work would ever have done, and Davy was quiet and subdued. That night had hurt them in a way that nothing before had ever done. Martha had decided then that a final stop would have to be put to Matt Conway.
Watching Nora move around the house like a grey shadow had torn the heart out of Martha. To even think of what had happened to her was hard to bear, but she found her mind constantly dwelling on it. The visit to Mr Hobbs paled into insignificance. The running of Mossgrove was of no consequence compared to what had happened to Nora. She understood Peter’s desperation about it, and for the first time they had a common bond with no friction.
She had given Jack very precise instructions about the delivery of the tractor. Matt Conway had to be brought down that field the morning after the weakening of the stake. The new tractor would be the bait that would bring him there. She could not take the chance of one of the cows using the stake as a scratching pole and spoiling her plan. Jack would wonder afterwards, but he could always be relied on to keep his own counsel.
The entire scheme had unfolded as planned, and now it was all over. What had to be done had to be done, and she would do it again if she had to. The man was a threat to all of them. Getting the Guards in on it would have been a waste of time. Over the years she had seen him get away with all kinds of thuggery because he was too smart to get caught. Well, this time he had gone a step too far. If only she could heal Nora and bring back the daughter who had been like sunshine around Mossgrove.
Kate was collecting them for the funeral. At first Nora had decided that she did not want to go but then changed her mind. Martha would have been as happy if she had decided to stay at home but let her decide for herself. It was difficult to know what would be the best thing for her. Kate was of the opinion that maybe it would be best if she were there. If Nora stayed at home, Peter was going to stay with her, and if she went he would go too. In the end it was decided that they would all go together.
Martha dressed carefully, wearing her black leather gloves in order to cover the deep scratch in her hand. She had seen Jack looking at it one morning, and when Peter had remarked on it, she had dismissed it lightly as something that happened when she was searching for hens that were nesting outside. She had a feeling that Jack was not convinced. It would be healed in a few days and she wanted as few people as possible to notice it. When she was dressed she went along to Nora’s room and found her sitting on the bed staring out the window.
“Come on, Norry, and get dressed if you’re coming,” Martha said gently.
“I’m not sure that I can face it,” Nora whispered. “Any funeral I was at I was sorry that someone was dead, but this time I’m not, and maybe that’s wrong.”
“Very few will be sorry after Matt Conway,” Martha assured her, “even his own family, I’d say.”
“I’d forgotten about them,” Nora said regretfully. “It is a terrible day for them because he was awful to them. When Dada died we were all so sad and maybe that’s easier, is it, than this way?”
“I don’t know,” Martha told her, “but however they feel they will have to put up with it.”
“You are very strong, Mom,” Nora told her. “You would probably have got the better of Matt Conway that night. I seemed to have been paralysed with fear. Only for Danny he would have done horrible things to me. The thought of it terrifies me.”
“Well, he didn’t,” Martha said firmly, “and once today is over, we’ll put it behind us. He has taken our peace of mind for long enough.”
When all this was over, it might be good to take Nora away somewhere. They would have to work something out. It would be good for the two of them to get away for a while.
“I’ll get dressed so,” Nora said, “and I’ll be down in a minute.”
“I doubt it,” Peter said, appearing at the door. “Your minutes are fairly long, Norry.” Martha was glad to see the ghost of a smile on Nora’s face.
“We’ll see which of us will be in the kitchen first so,” she challenged Peter.
“You’re on,” he told her, running back to his own room. Half an hour later they were in Kate’s car heading for the village.
“We’ll all sit together in the church,” Kate suggested.
“Like Brown’s cows,” Peter told her.
“Whoever Brown was,” Kate smiled.
Kate found it difficult to find a parking space near the church. Bicycles were lying along by the railings while pony-and-traps and cars lined the street at both sides of the church. Martha maintained that even if the devil were dead a crowd would gather to bury him in Kilmeen.
“You’re a great fellow when you’re dead, aren’t you?” Peter said wryly.
They looked in the back door but the main aisle seemed to be packed up along, so Kate said, “We’ll go around to the side aisle. There’s always room there.”
The side aisle just beside the altar was almost full as well, but Kate poked out four seats near the top. They were not far from the altar and the Conways were straight across from them. Martha would have preferred to be nearer to the door and not in such close proximity to the Conways. After a while she looked across at the Conways. Biddy was miserable-looking, as usual. Rory and Tom were like the father, big and burly, and Danny, the odd man out, tall and slim. But it was the girls who really caught her attention. Mary was dark and elegant, with her hair coiled into a knot at the back of her head. Martha remembered her as a small, black, snotty little thing. The years had certainly brought about a big change. It was hard to believe that Biddy and Matt Conway had produced someone like her. But if Mary was a surprise, she was in the shadow compared to Kitty. Martha decided that this had to be the real ugly duckling story. The Kitty she recalled had been thin, wizened and foxy. Now she was tall and slim with a mass of red hair streaming down around an elfin face. She heard Peter’s intake of breath beside her when he recognised Kitty and she felt like putting her hand over his and saying, “Don’t even think about her, because we have had enough trouble with Conways already and we’re going to be finished with them after today.”
Then Nora leant over and whispered to her, “Isn’t Kitty simply gorgeous?”
“She is,” Peter agreed from her other side.
It was the strangest funeral mass that Martha had ever attended. Everyone was unsure if they should be sorry or glad for the Conways. If they were totally honest, they could only be relieved he was dead. There were all sorts of rumours as to why those girls had had to leave home, and if only the half of them were true, they had no reason to mourn their father. Martha thought of Matt Conway in the glossy coffin and decided that it was the safest place for him. In there he could no longer harm anyone.
The entire congregation rose to their feet when Fr Burke, in purple vestments, swept on to the altar flanked by a retinue of altar boys. His booming voice filled the church and they were swept along on the tide of ritual. There is a lot to be said for a ritual, Martha considered, because it carries us over uneven patches that we might not be able to manoeuvre left to ourselves.
She tried to remember Ned’s funeral mass, but it was a hazy nightmare of grief and despair. That was eight years ago and now the children were grown up, and maybe it was time to give Pete
r his head. Jack might be right, that he had the makings of a good farmer. After all, young Danny Conway would be running the place across the river now and he was younger than Peter. Danny would surely get the place, although looking across at Rory Conway she was not so sure.
Then Fr Burke began his sermon. The Conways sat with bowed heads. Surely, Martha thought, he will not be stupid enough to dish up his usual drivel about a great loss to the family and parish. She wondered how she would handle it if she was giving the sermon. Probably the one about throwing the first stone might be the best bet. Then she realised that Fr Burke was in full flight, heaping praise on Matt Conway to such an extent that Martha decided that you could be forgiven for thinking that you were at the wrong funeral.
What is the bloody man thinking of? Has he any idea what is going on in his parish, or is he trying to turn Matt Conway into a saint before our eyes?
Martha stole a glance at the Conways. All heads were bowed except for Mary, who was gazing at Fr Burke in disbelief. Suddenly she rose to her feet. She was sitting half-way along the seat, so she had to pass by some of the others to get out. Martha saw Rory try to stop her, but there was no stopping this tall, dark, determined girl. It was only when she came out of the seat that Fr Burke and the rest of the congregation became aware of her. She walked purposefully towards her father’s coffin and faced Fr Burke on the altar. He stopped short in mid-sentence and a ripple went through the congregation. Then there was absolute silence in the church. She placed her hand on her father’s coffin and began to speak in a clear, calm voice.
“I do not know where my father is today, but I hope that it is in a more honest place than we are in.” She spoke very slowly and each word winged around the silent church as she continued. “He was neither a good husband nor father, and I do not want him to be buried in a shroud of lies. He was the way he was, and just because he is dead he cannot be turned into someone else. We will try to forgive him for the way he treated us, and I think that it would be easier if we buried him with honesty.”
She returned to her seat and Fr Burke stood looking after her with a stunned look on his face. Hopefully, Martha thought, he will have the good sense to keep his mouth shut and continue with the mass. He had.
Martha looked across at Mary Conway in admiration. That had taken great nerve. The old grandmother was supposed to have been a remarkable woman. Mary had obviously inherited some of her guts. She certainly did not get it from Biddy.
After mass the Conway boys came forward to shoulder the coffin down the church. There was a brief moment of confusion when there was no one for the fourth corner of the coffin, but before it became a problem, Davy Shine stepped forward and stood in with the boys.
“Isn’t Davy kind?” Nora whispered to her.
Martha nodded wordlessly, thinking that if Davy was thinking along her lines, he had decided that the quicker Matt Conway was under ground the better.
The Conway grave was in the furthest corner of the graveyard behind the church. The crowd gathered around the open grave as Fr Burke splashed the coffin with holy water and said the prayers for the dead. When it came to the prayers for the bereaved, he hesitated slightly but went ahead. As the first sods hit the coffin, Martha took Nora’s hand, and she knew Kate was at her other side with Peter behind them. How would they feel, Martha wondered, if they knew the truth, that I brought this day about with careful planning? She was glad that they would never know, because it would probably upset them far more than she was going to allow it to upset her.
Afterwards they went to shake hands with the Conways. Kitty was nearest to them and her face lit up with delight when she saw Nora.
“You look so different, Nora,” Kitty told her, holding on to her hand. “I hardly knew you.”
“So do you,” Peter assured her.
“Peter,” Kitty gasped. “You’re a young man.”
“Well, I’m twenty,” Peter told her. “I should be.”
“You’ve all grown up since you met last,” Martha told them, “but we’d better move on as we’re holding up the queue.”
“Kitty, when are you going back?” Nora wanted to know as she was moved on
“I’m not sure,” she called after Nora, “but couldn’t we meet?”
“I’ll fix something up,” Kate told them as Martha moved on to shake hands with Mary.
“You’re a girl of great courage,” Martha told her.
“I needed it, Mrs Phelan,” Mary told her quietly, looking her straight in the eye.
This is the one, Martha thought, who is going to sort out this lot and get things moving again. As she shook hands with Rory Conway she decided that he was the one who was going to give her most trouble.
Afterwards back in Mossgrove they sat around the table and discussed the funeral.
“Well, I suppose any one of us wouldn’t like to say that he was great stowing,” Davy proclaimed.
“Well, Mary put no tooth in it,” Peter declared.
“I never in my life saw the likes of that at a funeral,” Jack told them.
“She’s taking after the old lady,” Kate told them. “You remember her, Jack. She was like steel.”
“A mighty old warrior,” Jack agreed, shaking his head at the memory of her.
“Isn’t Kitty just lovely? Why did she go away after her grandmother died?” Nora asked.
There was a moment’s silence, and then Kate said evenly, “To keep Mary company, I think,” and Martha thought, Like hell she did.
“Well, she looks so lovely now that I would hardly know her,” Nora said in an impressed voice, and Martha realised that it was best that she had gone to the funeral. Martha decided she would ask Kate to tell Nora the truth about Kitty and Mary later, and it would probably put things into perspective. But now was not the time.
“I wonder what will happen across the river?” Davy said thoughtfully.
“You were very kind, Davy,” Nora told him, “to go under the coffin.”
“It was time to move him on and I was sorry for poor Danny,” Davy told her. “The other two are right old shaggers, especially that Rory.”
“The girls turned out the best,” Kate concurred.
“God, Kitty is a smasher,” Peter declared.
“You keep your eyes off her, young fellow,” Davy advised good humouredly. “We’ve had enough Conway trouble in this house, so don’t you be drawing any more on us.” Amen to that, Martha thought.
As the conversation continued around the table, Martha decided that this was as good a time as any to tell the rest of them about Peter’s becoming a partner in Mossgrove. It would distract them from the Matt Conway business. She tapped her cup with her spoon and all eyes swung toward her.
“I have something to tell you all,” she began. “Some of you know that Peter, Nora and myself went to see Mr Hobbs about two weeks ago or, to put it more correctly, we were summoned to meet him. Well, the result of the meeting was a surprise which we told nobody until now. Peter and Nora wanted to tell you all straightaway, but I asked them not to, as I wanted to get used to the idea. When I heard the news first, I admit that it came as a bit of a shock, but subsequent events have changed my priorities. As you know, Peter will be twenty-one shortly …”
“And ready to act the big man,” Davy interjected.
“Davy, will you ever shut up,” Peter told him.
“Well, according to Nellie Phelan’s will,” Martha continued, “when Peter becomes twenty-one, his name is to go on the deeds of Mossgrove with mine.”
There was a chorus of exclamations from around the table.
“The new boss,” Davy declared.
“Not quite,” Martha said evenly; “a joint effort.”
“Well, that’s great news,” Jack said in delight. “No chance of heading for the gate now, lad. My old bones will rest easier.”
“Congratulations, Peter,” Kate said warmly. “You will be a great help to your mother.”
“Now, young fellow,” Davy advised, �
��don’t you go getting notions above your station, just because your name is going on a bit of paper in Old Hobbs’ office.”
“Oh, I’ll crack the whip now, slave,” Peter assured him, clapping Davy on the back. “You’re in for…”
“One minute now,” Jack interrupted, rising to his feet.
“We must salute the occasion.”
“Oh, Jack,” Davy protested, “yourself and your bloody cure.”
“The wine of Kilmeen must be drunk to mark this auspicious event,” Jack declared, striding for the parlour and returning with a bottle marked “holy water”.
“Martha, girlie, get the hot water and some glasses,” he ordered. It was a measure of how carried away by the occasion he was that he called her “girlie”, his term for Kate and Nora. I must be coming up in his world, she thought wryly as she poured the hot water into a jug. “Jack has a great sense of occasion,” Kate declared. “You might call it that,” Davy told her, “because he judges you sufficiently mature in years to partake, but Peter, Nora and I will be on lemonade.”
“I like lemonade,” Nora told him.
“That’s blind loyalty for you,” Davy told her.
“Let’s get on with it,” Martha instructed, arriving with the steaming jug, and Jack began the ritual of measuring and adding and mixing. When the three glasses were to his satisfaction, he handed them around with a flourish.
“And lemonade for the children, Martha,” he told her, going to the parlour for another bottle.
“Children!” Peter and Davy chorused in protest. But there was no stopping Jack as he splashed lemonade into heavy tumblers.
“Now, let’s drink a toast to Mossgrove,” he declared, “and to the great people who kept it going over the years, and to Peter who is going to do us all proud in the days ahead.”
They all stood and raised their glasses: “To Peter.”
