by Dilys Xavier
‘So let’s have dinner shall we?’ His question interrupted her thoughts. When she looked up from the photos, he added, ‘If we’re going to Tralee tomorrow, we’ll make an early start so that we can be on the top of the mountains as the mist is clearing because it’s so typically Irish; it’s pure magic.’
‘That sounds lovely,’ she said, then asked, ‘Will we have an opportunity to see where they filmed those scenes in the film Ryan’s Daughter?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Liam said. ‘That’s a spectacular part of the coastline and well worth a visit.’
‘It’s a shame that the village was demolished after they finished the film. I read somewhere that a lot of the locals would like to have kept it intact, even if only to attract tourists to the area.’
‘Well, it’s always the same isn’t it? Everyone judges things in hindsight.’
They were later starting than planned, which was just as well because the morning mist hung around until mid-morning before lifting.
‘Where are we going, Daddy?’ Eilis asked, yet again, as he belted her securely into the car.
‘We’re going to drive through the Slievanea and Ballysitteragh mountains and then down to the coast,’ Liam explained patiently. His attention to the child always brought out mixed emotions in Catherine. She enjoyed seeing the loving relationship between father and child, but there was a niggling feeling that Liam expected her to respond to Eilis in a similar manner. She couldn’t. She had never been maternal, never had any great desire to have a child, and certainly did not feel like becoming too involved with this one.
Catherine had driven around the peninsula to Slea Head on previous visits to the area and it always gave her a great deal of pleasure. Walking along the spectacular cliff tops and watching the sea crashing on the rocks below was always something she enjoyed. In her mind’s eye she would relive the scene from the film when the villagers swarmed down to the beach to help the resurgents rescue the contraband arms from the sea. As she thought about those troubled times, Catherine realised she had difficulty accepting that part of Irish nationalism. It had always been a tormented land.
The point was driven home again as they inspected an old stone fort that had been erected to repel seafaring invaders. When they emerged from the gloomy interior, the sun peeped out from behind a cloud and lit up the bee-hive shaped huts clustered on the hillside. As they approached them an old woman materialised from behind a wall with her hand held boldly out. Liam smiled as she tossed the money he gave her into a cloth bag that hung from her belt; it was already weighed down with coins.
Eilis asked him why the huts were so small, but instead of answering the question he read a plaque giving a description and history of the round huts.
‘They’re called clochans,’ he began. ‘They were built during the Iron Age, thousands of years ago.’ He went on to explain to her that they were still being built three hundred years ago, and that people now used them for storage. After Eilis had tried to climb to the top of one of the dwellings, and nearly fallen off, Liam decided it was time to move on.
‘She’s into everything,’ Liam complained. ‘I can’t turn my back on her for an instant. I don’t know why she’s so inquisitive; she’s worse than a little boy.’
They had only driven about a mile up the Pass when he pulled off the road and parked the Bentley next to a couple of vehicles. One of them bore the words ‘Cliff Rescue’. A number of men were busy setting up the equipment on the top of the precipice in preparation for a simulated rescue. Catherine had watched the exercise on a previous visit to the area. She had been told at that it was usually too late to save someone who had fallen by the time a rescue team reached the bottom of the cliff. They were already dead. Nobody had ever survived the fall.
While they watched the men hammer pegs into the ground and thread the ropes through the sheaves, Liam warned Eilis not to go near them. The triangular layout was designed to lessen the danger of the rescuers being pulled over the precipice when they were hauling a body to the top. One of the men cautioned the little girl not to step inside the triangle.
‘If a peg comes loose, the weight of the equipment will pull the rope taut, knock you off your feet, and drag you straight over the cliff top.’ The man nodded his head gravely. ‘Then we’d have another fatality on our hands.’
But even as he spoke, Eilis pulled her hand free and ran down the length of the rope. She looked back at her father.
‘Look at me, Daddy, I’m going to jump.’
‘No, come back, Eilis,’ he shouted frantically, running after her.
She pretended not to hear, gave a little hop and a skip, and jumped over the rope. By the time Liam reached her she had hopped backwards and forwards two or three times, but as he grabbed for her hand, the child’s foot caught the rope. Catherine watched in horror as the shock wave ran the length of the rope and back again. The whiplash effect pulled the nearest peg out of the ground.
Liam dived at her as the rope snaked across the grass. Somehow or other he managed to grab Eilis’ hand, but not before the peg gave her a glancing blow on the leg. He gathered the screaming child into his arms and rolled in the opposite direction to the rope as it disappeared over the cliff top, taking one of her shoes with it. There was stunned silence for a moment, and then the rescue team began to run towards them.
Catherine reached his side first and tried to take Eilis out of his arms so that he could get to his feet.
‘No, leave her alone,’ he shouted, clasping the little girl tightly to his chest. ‘Don’t touch her.’
She was about to remonstrate with him when one of the rescue team yanked him to his feet, and another tried to take the screaming youngster from his arms. When they realised that Liam would not let go of his daughter they him shoved towards the ambulance. One of the men managed to run his hands over Eilis before they were bundled inside.
‘I think her leg’s broken,’ he said, to no one in particular.
The child kept crying, ‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,’ and sobbed bitterly while Liam continued to act like someone demented. He brushed aside one of the men who tried to place the girl on a stretcher and remained perched awkwardly on a small folding seat. It was only when the driver explained that he could cause his child more pain by hanging onto her that he reluctantly allowed someone take her from him.
Catherine watched in amazement as the ambulance doors were slammed shut and the men jumped into the front seat. The back wheels threw back clods of earth as the driver accelerated up the grassy incline and onto the road. The wailing ambulance siren cut through the stillness until the vehicle disappeared over the hill then it was deathly quiet.
She shook her head in disbelief. How could he just take off like that without a word, and leave her there by herself? The Bentley stood where it had been parked earlier; it looked strangely out of place and alien to her now. She tried the door; it was open and the keys were still in the ignition. Although unfamiliar with the car she slid into the driving seat and started the engine.
Her confidence increased with every mile and by the time she reached the hospital her anxiety had been replaced by anger. She stormed into the building and found Liam in the casualty ward. He all but ignored her until she grabbed his arm.
‘Hey, I’m talking to you,’ she said, vehemently. ‘Naturally, I’m concerned about Eilis, but I don’t like being shut out like this. I want to know why you left me back on the headland to fend for myself?’
Before he could answer, a doctor appeared bearing a clipboard. He said Eilis’s left tibia was fractured and they were putting the leg in plaster. When Liam was told that they wanted to keep her in hospital for a day or two to make sure that there had been no internal injuries, he became quite belligerent.
‘Why can’t I take her home?’ he demanded, ‘I can employ a nurse to take care of her.’
‘We need to keep her under observation,’ the doctor explained, patiently. ‘If something goes wrong we can treat it straight away.’
By the time Eilis had been settled into a bed and given a sedative, Liam had calmed down. He gently stroked the child’s forehead and promised to bring her favourite teddy bear before it was time for her to go to sleep. Then at the doctor’s insistence he left the hospital.
He barely said two words to Catherine after she handed him the keys. He stopped outside Seamus’s farm and nodded curtly as she got out of the vehicle, and drove off as soon as she slammed the door shut.
‘Are you all right?’ Louise asked, as Catherine flopped down on a stool in the kitchen. ‘You look all in. I’ll make a cup of tea, shall I?’ Then she slid a couple of letters across the workbench towards her. ‘You got some mail.’
Catherine glanced at them both and then tore open the one bearing the estate agents address. The writer stated that the property she had expressed an interest in had been relisted and the vendor was now anxious to sell. That’s timely, she thought. But when she opened the other one and saw Richard’s name scrawled across the bottom she felt her heart contract. Why was he writing to her? What did he want?
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Catherine read the letter with a bemused look on her face. What on earth was Richard trying to say? What exactly was he proposing? She looked at the letter again, and shook her head. No, it wasn’t a proposal; well not of marriage anyway. Holding the page loosely in her hands she allowed her mind to go back to the day of the charity appeal. She recalled the time they spent together when everyone else had departed and remembered their comfortable feeling of closeness as they shared some of their innermost thoughts with each other.
Maybe that gave him the idea to ... to what? She read the letter again before stuffing it back into the envelope. Unwilling to contemplate what it could mean, she decided to think about it later when she had calmed down a bit. The last thing she needed right now was to get involved with anyone else’s problems.
Louise was about to ask a question when she reached for the phone. The estate agent who answered knew all her details and sounded delighted that she still wanted to go ahead with the purchase. After she hung up Catherine turned to her cousin.
‘I’m in luck. The house is as good as mine.’
‘Dear mother of god,’ Louise exclaimed. ‘To be sure, and I thought you were planning to stay. I thought you and Liam ...’
‘After this morning’s episode I don’t want anything more to do with him or his daughter,’ Catherine retorted, indignantly. Then she described what had happened. ‘He’s in a little world of his own, and really showed his true colours today. I don’t need that type of a relationship.’ She gave a harsh little laugh. ‘I’ll not play second fiddle to anyone.’
‘But ...’
‘No, Louise, it’s no good, I’ve made up my mind; I’m going back home straight away. Back to England where I belong.’
Within hours, Catherine had packed her things, loaded the car, and said goodbye to everyone. She hesitated before calling Liam, but she owed him that courtesy.
‘You’re leaving?’ He sounded shocked. ‘But I thought you were going to settle here. We were going to share my stabling facilities. I had big plans for us. I wanted us to see how we got on together, long-term, and that one day we might marry.’
‘No, Liam, I’m afraid that’s right out of the question. You made it quite clear today that your daughter is more important than anyone or anything else.’
‘But Catherine, I love you. Please stay. Don’t make this final; think it over carefully.’
Catherine shrugged, but made no response to his declarations, and wished him well for the future as she said goodbye. Louise brushed away a tear and Seamus looked quite forlorn as she climbed into the Mazda and started the engine. She tooted the horn until she reached the end of the lane and then settled back into the seat for the long drive to Rosslare.
She was making enquires at the booking desk when someone phoned to cancel a berth on the eight o’clock ferry to Swansea. It was an opportunity too good to miss, so she asked the clerk to assign the cabin to her. The sea was calm, and the long, smooth passage around the tip of Wales was conducive to a good night’s rest. She awoke refreshed and ready to go the next morning. Just after midday she pulled up outside the estate agent’s office and climbed stiffly from the car.
The young woman was surprised to see her so soon, but affirmed that the vendor had agreed to her offer and was anxious to complete the sale as quickly as possible. Catherine dialled Fergus Miller’s office on her mobile and made an appointment to see him, then drove out to the property to have another look around the place.
A large removal van was parked outside the front door partially blocking the entrance. Catherine approached the two men who were in the process of loading furniture into the vehicle and asked if they had any objection to her inspecting the house. They both shook their heads.
One of them explained that everything in the house, except the bare essentials, was being put into storage. She thanked them and made towards the building. The wide frontage of the old farmhouse seemed to beckon her as it did on the day she first viewed it with the estate agent.
She walked through the heavy front door and looked around the square hall. Even though it was nearly empty it had a friendly feeling. Catherine made her way along the short corridor off to one side that led to the kitchen-cum-breakfast room, complete with a walk in larder, and peeked inside – it was empty.
Then she pushed open the connecting door that led to the dining room and found one of the workmen filling a cardboard storage box. Not wishing to disturb him she made her way to the rectangular room with large windows on the other side of the house that looked out onto fields. It was an ideal sitting room – light and airy – a room that spelled comfort. Although the fireplace was wide there was still plenty of space either side of it for chairs, wall cabinets, and a standard lamp.
She climbed the stairs and looked into the bedrooms. The largest room had a glorious view of the countryside, and an en-suite bathroom. This had evidently been the master bedroom. There were two other bedrooms, one smaller than the other, and a bathroom that had seen better days, but could easily be modernised. As she returned to the ground floor, Catherine sighed. It seemed smaller than she had remembered, but she was committed now and she would have to make the best of it.
Her eyes pricked with tears as she mentally compared it to Langley Hall; nothing would ever take its place in her heart. Choking back a sob, she climbed into the car and drove to a nearby hotel and booked in for the night. Tomorrow she would visit Josie Billings; she needed someone to confide in before she did anything else.
The next day the older woman welcomed her with open arms and commented about her improved appearance.
‘Tell me how Louise is, and about Liam, her cousin’s handsome and wealthy neighbour.’ By the time Catherine had finished relating the story of Eilis’s escapade, and her father’s reaction, Josie was shaking her head in disbelief.
‘Oh, my word, you’re better out of a situation like that.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Catherine said, with some passion. ‘Fortunately, it happened before I became too involved with him. If I’d shipped my horses over, or invested money in livestock over there, it could have been quite a problem.’
‘Well, you can settle into your new home and put all the past behind you,’ Josie said, patting her hand. ‘Forget about Langley Hall, and get on with your life while you’re still young.’
‘It doesn’t appear as though I’ll be able to wash my hands of the place that easily,’ Catherine said, thoughtfully. ‘Richard Carlisle has written me asking for help.’ But just as she was about to relate the contents of the letter, Josie interrupted.
‘Well, I wouldn’t have anything to do with him either, if I were you,’ she said, a trifle sharply. ‘After all he was responsible for putting you out of your home. He doesn’t deserve any sympathy.’
‘I can’t entirely agree with that,’ Catherine said, hesitantly. ‘He made a most unusual declara
tion when we met to discuss the take-over, and I’ve reconsidered my earlier opinion of him.’
She went on to speak about the evening she and Richard had shared their thoughts with each other. Josie stared at her with a look of incredulity when Catherine related the context of his statement about foregoing his claim to the estate.
‘Well, I don’t know what to say, dear, except that it’s a pity that things turned out the way they have. Are you going to answer him?’
‘I suppose I should, but I probably won’t. Like you say, I need to get on with my own life and leave Langley Hall in the past.’
Fergus Miller greeted her gallantly and kissed her cheek as he ushered her into his chambers the next day. He seemed surprised when she asked him to push through the sale as fast as possible, but she quickly brushed aside his objections. She reminded him that Richard Carlisle was able to have everything signed, notarised and accepted within hours of making his claim, so if it was possible to achieve something of that magnitude so quickly, then finalising a property sale should be a mere bagatelle.
‘I want it done within days,’ she said firmly.
By the time she left his office most of the preliminary work had been done, a fast search of the deeds had been authorised and a survey of the property arranged. All she had to do now was to await the purchase to be finalised. She hesitated before getting into her car. There were a few things to see to once she was back at Josie’s house. She would contact Cecile; she wanted find out why her friend had broken off the engagement and what had been Richard’s reaction. But first and foremost it was essential to check on her horses.
Leslie answered the phone with a well-rehearsed, ‘Langley Hall, Johnson speaking.’ He told her that Richard had not moved into the manor yet, but expected to within a few days. ‘He’s packing up his house at the moment.’ When she enquired about the horses, he replied. ‘They’re all okay, but I think Duke misses you.’
