House of Memories

by Taylor, Alice

  “Kate,” she asked carefully, “what are you so nervous about?”

  “I’m not sure,” Kate admitted, “but old Molly Barry once hinted about dark secrets in our past.”

  “But what could they be?” Nora asked in alarm.

  “We’ll probably find that out now,” Kate told her.

  The writing was scrawling and faded but still legible, and the first few pages were full of a young girl’s discontent at the inactivity of her life. Nora could identify with her. Molly Barry, she calculated from the date at the front, must have been the same age as she was now when she wrote this diary. She wanted to confirm that with Kate, but Kate was so completely engrossed that she was reluctant to interrupt. They both read silently, and she knew that Kate was reading ahead of her, but Kate waited wordlessly for her to catch up and then carefully turned the page. Then she heard Kate’s sharp intake of breath. When she came on the name Emily she knew why. This was Jack’s mother. When she read on and discovered the connection with old Edward Phelan, her own interest increased, and as she continued to read her interest turned to excitement. Then came the entry, “Emily is expecting a baby and only herself, myself and Edward know the truth.” Nora’s mouth went dry with the shock. Could it mean what she thought it meant? She felt Kate stiffen beside her. She was trembling with anticipation as Kate flicked forward through the pages looking for another mention of Emily and Edward, but there was no more reference to them.

  Then they went back carefully over what they had already read. That last entry could only mean one thing. A tide of excitement spread over Nora, but could it really be true? What if she was wrong? She was almost afraid to break the silence and ask the question, but she just had to.

  “Kate,” she asked breathlessly, “was Jack one of us?”

  A pale-faced Kate looked at her in disbelief.

  “Doesn’t it read that way?” she asked.

  “If it is true,” Nora wondered, “could he have known?”

  “I’ve no idea,” Kate answered slowly.

  “It would be such a pity if it is the case that Jack died without knowing.”

  “It would,” Kate agreed, “and now we might never be sure either.”

  They went back over the diary, but the diary had no more to tell.

  With a thoughtful look on her face, Kate got slowly to her feet and went over to the clock and, to Nora’s amazement, brought out a dusty bundle of letters yellowed with age. She put them on the table, and Nora looked at them in awe. They were ancient.

  “In the name of God, Kate,” she demanded, “where did these come from?”

  “I found them in Jack’s clock the night of the funeral,” Kate told her, “and there are more in Emily’s linen press.” She went down into the parlour and came back with a little box.

  “But whose are they?” Nora asked, feeling her mouth go dry with excitement.

  “Edward Phelan’s, your great-grandfather and my grandfather, and I’d say that they were to Emily. Maybe the answer is in these.”

  Kate took the letters out of the flat box. Nora looked at them and understood now why Kate had been nervous opening the diary. Kate undid the blue ribbon, and when the letters came loose she gave a gasp of dismay. Behind the old letters was a new clean envelope.

  “Oh, my God,” Kate said faintly, “this is Jack’s writing.”

  On the plain white envelope was Kate’s name in Jack’s perfectly formed, strong writing. Nora thought that her heart would stop. She had a strange feeling that Jack had come into the kitchen and was here with them. With trembling fingers, Kate eased the letter out of the envelope and laid it flat on the table. Kate started to read aloud in a strained voice.

  The Cottage

  Mossgrove

  7th May 1961

  Dear Kate,

  As you know, I have a dodgy heart, so any day I might embark on the great journey. There are certain things that I want you to know if that happens before the time is right to tell you this myself. You may or may not have read the other letters before you read this, but knowing you it will be this one first. These are the love letters between my mother and your grandfather. I discovered them when I knocked down the wall between the two bedrooms last year. They were in a small wall press that had been wallpapered over for years. They were put away carefully in a little box, so I imagine that my mother had intended that one day they would be found. These letters brought me the best news of my life. I am their son. It changed everything, and yet it changed nothing. I had loved the old man like a father, never realising that he was my father. But those letters explained something that had puzzled me for years.

  When the old man died, he left me a small legacy in bonds with the specification that the money would never be invested in Mossgrove. We could have done with it there over the years, but my hands were tied. When I read these letters I understood. The legacy was my birthright. He felt that Mossgrove owed me that. I would never have looked at it that way because all of you were dearer to me than myself. I never told anybody about these letters, but I know Molly Barry knew who I was because she once passed a remark that I did not understand until I read these letters. I never cashed those bonds because I never understood why I got them and never felt entitled them until I found the letters last year.

  But now a reason to use them has come up. It haunted the old man all his life that he was the one who introduced Molly Barry to Rory Conway and ruined her life. It was his dearest wish that she would get back into Furze Hill, and that was why he arranged the loan for Rory. When Rory betrayed his trust and bought those other two fields, all hell broke loose. Now that young Danny is restoring Furze Hill, I think that I owe it to my father and your grandfather to put his money into it. When we find the key, which I know we will, I am going to give the money to Danny. If I am gone to join the rest of them, you will be the one to do it. As you know, Kate, all my life I have believed that there was a time for everything. Now the time is here to bring peace to the living and to the dead.

  Kate, please know that it was the greatest day of my life to discover that I was bone of your bone and blood of your blood. Please tell Nora and Peter. Danny will need to be told about the money.

  God Bless.

  Your Uncle Jack.

  So it was true. Jack was one of them. They cried quietly for Jack, but as well as sadness there was peace and gratitude.

  “It is so good to know that in his last months Jack had been fulfilling his father’s and our grandfather’s wish, and now he is giving us the privilege of finishing what he began,” Kate said thoughtfully. “As he said, the love letters changed everything and changed nothing. But this letter is going to change everything for Danny and Furze Hill. Both Edward and Rory, in different ways, wronged Molly Barry. Now the two of them are correcting that wrong. The fields that old Rory bought in betrayal of Edward will be used to buy out young Rory. Furze Hill will go back to what Jack called the ‘throwback’ of the Barrys. Edward’s money will restore the house. Jack was right: there is a time for everything, and the time has come.”

  They were both startled when the door whipped open suddenly. Sarah Jones breezed in with a welcoming smile on her face, but her expression changed when she saw the book and the letters on the table. She walked over slowly and looked down at the diary.

  “This must be Molly Barry’s diary,” she said thoughtfully.

  “You knew?” Kate asked, and Nora was not sure if she was referring to the diary or what they had just discovered. But Sarah did not appear to be listening.

  “Jack thought that she might have written things down but that Rory could have burned everything,” she said, slowly putting it back on the table, “and, of course, these are the love letters,” she continued, gently touching the faded bundle on the table.

  “You knew?” Kate repeated.

  “I did,” Sarah told her, drawing up a chair and joining them at the table. Nora held her breath, wondering how much more Sarah could tell them.

  “I knew
for years. I knew before Jack. He found out last year when the boys knocked down the wall and the hidden press was revealed. I don’t know if he would have told me, but that evening when I came in he was reading the letters. I decided then that he had a right to know what I knew. As you know, my mother was midwife here before me. She delivered Emily’s baby. That night, in the pangs of childbirth, it was Edward’s name she called out. Her husband was away at sea at the time. The following day Edward called, and my mother said that she knew by his face that it was his baby. She said that Emily and Edward were besotted with each other and were delighted with the baby. As you can imagine, my mother did not approve of the whole situation, but at the same time she told me that she never forgot the scene in the room that day.”

  “What a beautiful story,” Nora breathed, looking around in wonder. “It fills this cottage with mystery and intrigue. It makes it a house of memories.”

  “Oh to be eighteen and full of romantic ideas,” Sarah told her. “Another thing that you probably do not know was that Emily was a cousin of Molly Barry’s. They had brought her to Furze Hill to keep Molly company.”

  “So Jack had connections with both houses,” Kate said in amazement.

  “He had indeed,” Sarah said.

  Later, after Sarah went home, Kate and Nora sat by the fire and read the love letters. The yellowed bundle from the clock were the letters written to Emily when she was in Furze Hill, and the ones that had come out of the little box were written later, after Jack was born. The earlier ones told of their meetings down by the river and of his life in Mossgrove. Some of them were in answer to letters that Emily had written to him.

  “Wouldn’t you just love to know whatever happened to the letters that Emily sent to Edward?” Nora said wistfully.

  “The chances are that they were burned,” Kate decided. “Women are more likely to keep love letters, and anyway Edward could not have kept them in Mossgrove.”

  “One day they might turn up,” Nora said hopefully.

  “Doubt it,” Kate told her.

  There was no trace of discord in the letters, only longing and love, and she wondered how come they had split up and gone their separate ways.

  “I’d love to know what really happened,” she said wistfully.

  “It was all such a long time ago,” Kate said, “that I suppose we are very lucky to have found out so much.”

  The later letters from the little box, written when Emily and Edward were both married and after Jack was born, were full of details about him.

  “These letters are like a diary of Jack’s early life,” Nora said.

  As they continued to read, shadows gathered in around the kitchen, but now she felt that the cottage was no longer a cold, empty place left behind by Jack. With the letters and Sarah’s story, she felt that the spirit of Jack would for ever be alive in this place. Maybe Rosie and Peter had been right to come here.

  Disturbing Toby, she went down into the small parlour, drew back the long lace curtains and looked across the river at Furze Hill. Kate joined her at the window and said thoughtfully, “Furze Hill is coming back to life, and with it the invisible links between the three houses.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  KATE WAS DEEPLY touched when Danny enlisted her help with the restoration of Furze Hill. The first time she had walked around the house, she had been intrigued by its possibilities. That the house had been part of Emily’s life and that Jack wished to have his legacy spent there transformed the project into a journey of remembrance. The restoration would perpetuate his memory. As well as that, she would be spending her grandfather’s money, someone of whom she had vague childhood memories. That he was Jack’s father wove the entire undertaking into a deep connection with her own roots. These two men had given Danny and herself a key to transform Furze Hill.

  She took Danny into an amazed Mr Harvey to transfer money from an old investment account into his name. Kate could see that the bank manager was wondering how on earth it could have happened that this young lad, who a few months earlier had come to him in desperation looking for a loan, had now in a short space of time acquired a substantial account. The whole village knew about the money from the two fields, but nobody would ever be told about this money, Kate instructed a surprised Mr Harvey. She wanted to impress on him that Danny’s business and privacy were his personal responsibly. As they left the manager’s office, a blonde girl came forward to greet Danny warmly, and Kate, remembering the night of the Vikings, smiled, thinking that it was not his bank balance that was impressing this pretty girl. She was glad to see Danny respond with such obvious pleasure. Danny, she decided, was beginning to blossom. But as they walked down the street he surprised her by saying, “Kate, I’m so glad that you are involved in fixing up the house, because without you I would not have the courage to take it on.”

  She realised then that he had been so long scrimping and scraping and being without that to him spending was a daunting experience, so there was no possibility of his losing the head and going wild. She decided that her role was one of reassurance and encouragement. To her the idea of going into antique shops, old furniture rooms and auctions with money to spend and an empty house to be furnished was heady stuff. As she confessed to a smiling David that night, “I’ll be like a pig in muck.”

  “Kate, don’t break the bank,” he laughed. “Remember that Jack will be looking over your shoulder. After all, it’s his money.”

  Now that the exams were over, David was free to concentrate on the new school. It was a relief to Nora and Rosie as well to have the exams behind them, and they were now on a mission to bring back the Vikings. The whole night was going to be bigger and better than anything Kilmeen had ever seen. It could prove to be an interesting night, Kate thought, with all the young ones, including Kitty, around. Remembering the pretty girl in the bank, she decided that Danny might have a distraction from his dedication to Nora.

  Some nights when she came home from Furze Hill, the two girls were there with Fr Tim and David, who were trying to put a curb on some of Rosie’s more extreme notions of entertainment. But most nights it was just Fr Tim and David, poring over plans and new ideas for the school and playing fields. As far as Fr Tim was concerned, it was all about the playing fields, but for David the new school was a dream in the making.

  Kate made out a list of all that was to be done in Furze Hill, and the first thing on the agenda was the big clean-up. Scattered around the parish were many hard-working women whom Kate knew would be glad of a bit of extra money, and she got in contact with them, but Ellen Shine was her first port of call. Ellen would be the ideal woman to put in charge of this undertaking. Ellen came very early one morning and walked slowly and silently around the house. Kate could sense her assessing every last detail, with the kitchen getting most attention. When she was finished her tour of inspection, she retraced her footsteps back to the kitchen. Standing in front of the big black range, she put her hands on her broad hips and pronounced, “We will start with this boy, because without boiling water we’re going nowhere here.”

  Later that day she had Danny up on the roof with black chimney brushes, and Shiner, whom she had summoned from Mossgrove, was down below going from one fireplace to another. Buckets of old soot and generations of crows’ nests made of twigs and horsehair rolled down the chimneys, and Shiner became a black ghost with red eyes. Finally the brushes ran smoothly up and down all the chimneys and the two lads cleaned away mounds of debris. Then she led them to the mountain of garden clearing that they had taken down to beside Yalla Hole and instructed them to cut it up into logs and firing. She sent a message to Mossgrove that Davey would not be over the following day, and Kate smiled, knowing that Martha would not question Ellen’s decision. These two women understood each other.

  Early next morning, Ellen tackled the huge grey range, and by evening it was transformed into a black shining monster with silver knobs. They all gathered in the kitchen as Ellen laid the first fire. The range belche
d smoke and turned the kitchen into a twilight zone where they all coughed and spluttered, but Ellen banged open and closed dampers with relentless ferocity and persistence until finally the fire glowed red and roared up the chimney.

  “Your mother is one determined woman,” an impressed Danny told Shiner in admiration.

  “Who are you telling?” Shiner grinned.

  But Ellen was not finished, and directed them around the house to lay fires in all the rooms. When there were no down draughts, Shiner declared, “I did a mighty job on those chimneys.”

  “Self-praise is no praise,” his mother told him acidly.

  Kate and Danny went into the garden and watched the smoke curl out the chimneys. Furze Hill was coming back to life.

  The following day Ellen and her women began the big clean. Kate had previously seen Ellen in action getting Mossgrove ready for the stations, but she had never seen anything like this. Ellen was a born cleaner; no cobweb or dust was safe in her presence, and she was able to inspire her helpers with her burning enthusiasm. Their combined aim was to rid Furze Hill of a common enemy called dirt. Every evening when she came back, Kate was impressed by their progress. Ellen herself took control of the kitchen and washed down the walls until sudsy water flowed around the floor and it resembled Yalla Hole. The table and dressers were cleaned and scrubbed until their original white wood emerged, and then Bill was summoned in to wax them. A few evenings later when Kate called, Ellen was on top of a ladder whitewashing the ceiling. Kate already had a colour scheme in mind for the kitchen and now without thinking she queried in dismay, “Whitewash, Ellen?”

  “What’s wrong with whitewash?” Ellen demanded, wielding a large dripping brush from the top of the ladder. Kate made a hasty retreat, feeling that she could well get a white shower. The following evening when she came back with Bill after Ellen had gone home, she was delighted with the transformation. The kitchen was immaculate. There was a smell of carbolic soap and Vim. The white walls gleamed with a tinge of blue that she knew Ellen had achieved with the blue bag that she used for washing her whites whiter than white. Against these walls, the waxed dressers gleamed golden brown, and the dark red quarry-tiled floor glowed.