The Carmel Sheehan Story

by Jean Grainger

  Carmel hadn’t heard Irish spoken in months, and even though she wasn’t brilliant at it when she was at school, it still was nice to hear. Maybe Joe was right, Ireland wasn’t to blame for her life, she shouldn’t write off the whole country. She stood up to retrieve her carry-on bag from the overhead bin. She’d never flown before, but she was figuring it out.

  She showed her passport and was waved through security, and within moments, she was in the terminal building. She made her way to the Bus Ticket kiosk and purchased an expressway ticket into the city centre. She’d have to start from there.

  The streets seemed so familiar and yet so alien to her now. The reflection of her face in the bus window blended with the buildings en route to the main bus station. She marveled at how cosmopolitan Dublin had become. Though she had grown up here, she rarely had reason to venture into the city as a child, and since marrying Bill, she’d come to the capital only three or four times. The last time she was here was the first time she met Sharif and then, well, after that, everything changed.

  He’d be up by now, would have seen her note, begging him not to worry, assuring him she’d call later tonight. She’d turned her phone off because she knew once he realized what she was going to do, or where she was going, he’d try to talk her out of it, but she was sure, surer than she’d ever been about anything that this was the only way out of the mess Sharif and Aashna House were in.

  The familiar accents and sounds and smells of Ireland assaulted her senses as she waited in line for another ticket. The central bus station was a hive of activity and all human life was there. Students engrossed in smartphones, earphones jammed in their ears, mothers trying to control unruly toddlers, elderly ladies on day trips, availing of the free travel for all pensioners the Irish government supplied, and of course a good smattering of tourists, drunks, and homeless people.

  ‘Next,’ the bored looking woman called from behind the glass.

  Carmel stepped forward.

  ‘Birr, please.’

  ‘Single or return?’

  ‘Single…I mean return, I thought you meant was I single…return. I’d like a return, please…’ Carmel mumbled, feeling her face redden in embarrassment

  ‘One-day, three-day or twenty-one-day?’ the bored voice again.

  ‘Pardon? Sorry, I don’t unders…’

  ‘Do you want to come back today? In three days? Or in three weeks?’ the woman spoke slowly and loudly, clearly used to dealing with all sorts of people.

  ‘Er…I don’t know…it depends…em…’

  The woman eyeballed her, exuding disdain and frustration from every pore.

  ‘I’ll just take a single, I think,’ Carmel eventually said weakly.

  ‘Eight seventy.’ The woman tapped some things into a computer and a credit card sized ticket was generated.

  Carmel paid and took her ticket. ‘Do you know where the bus leaves from?’

  The woman pointed at a gigantic screen indicating which bus left from which lane.

  ‘Oh, right, thanks…’

  She was putting everything back into her purse when the woman yelled, ‘Next,’ and Carmel shuffled away, trying to close her purse as she went.

  She examined the board for quite a while, finally finding the bay and bus number she needed. Grabbing a bottle of water and a chocolate bar in the little shop, she made her way to the bus, secretly begging her mother to make sure there was nobody there she recognized. She’d been doing that a lot lately, not that she’d admit it to anyone, but it gave her comfort. She saw feathers and felt her presence quite often and was convinced her mother’s spirit was with her. It gave her strength.

  Thankfully, she was one of the first to take her place in the queue and found a seat at the very back, minimizing the chances of being seen. She had to change buses at Athlone and take another bus to Birr. Once she arrived in Birr, she didn’t exactly have a plan. The farm was three miles outside the town, and there wasn’t a bus. On her once-weekly trips for grocery shopping, she took the weekly community bus that took all the elderly people into town, to the clinic, the library, or for a few messages. But that bus only went on Wednesdays and this was Friday.

  She wished she knew where Julia was. The school was off for the summer, so she probably wasn’t there. She may well be still in England. Part of Carmel hoped she was.

  The journey was uneventful and she tried not to look too guilty or conspicuous as she got off the bus at Emmet Square. She prayed again to meet no acquaintance. It was hard enough being back. Everything looked so familiar, the shops, the streets, but she wasn’t that person anymore, she was someone else.

  Gripping her overnight bag, she made her way west of the town, passing the entrance to Birr Castle and Demesne. She remembered how she used to watch the families gather for picnics there often, the riverside walk was lovely, grounds nestled in the lee of the imposing castle walls. There was a playground and she’d sometimes sit near it and wonder what it was like to have children. Couples walking hand in hand, fathers carrying little kids on their shoulders, friends power walking and gossiping, all of it was right in front of her, but might as well have been on Mars for all she knew about it. She’d been on the outside looking in her whole life, until now. How she longed to be back in London with Sharif, safe and loved, but she needed to be here. He’d done so much for her; he had given her a chance at happiness and she owed him this.

  The sun was high in the sky as she walked, and her bag felt much heavier than it had when she crept out of the apartment at five this morning. Sharif was sleeping at the clinic in the on-call room. He did that sometimes if someone was dying and wanted him near.

  She climbed the hill and saw their house, or Bill’s house, as she always thought of it, in front of her. His car was parked outside as usual; he didn’t like to drive it into the yard in case it got dirty. Bill was very particular about his car.

  ‘Okay, Dolly,’ she spoke to herself, ‘If I ever needed you, I need you now. Firstly, keep that witch Julia away. Whatever hope I have of managing this without her there, I’ll have none at all if she turns up.’

  It was as if ice was churning around in the pit of her stomach. The chocolate she ate on the bus was the only food she’d taken and she was feeling light-headed. This was insane, what was she doing here?

  ‘Calm, Carmel. Use your breath to steady yourself, you can do this.’ She repeated the mantra to herself as she approached the house. What should she do? Knock on the door? Go around the back? The back door was usually never locked, or should she just take the spare key from under the milk churn with flowers in it and open the front door?

  Eventually, she decided to knock on the back door. She didn’t even know if he’d be there, but there was a chance.

  With trembling hands, she made a fist and knocked on the back door. Nothing. She was about to knock again when she saw the shape of someone through the bubble glass, and the door opened.

  ‘Hello, Bill,’ was all she managed.

  He stood there for a long moment just looking at her, then turned back into the house, leaving the door open. Assuming she could go in, she stepped inside to the back kitchen and followed him into the main room of the farmhouse. Everything was exactly the same, the décor, the ornaments, the Waterford crystal-framed wedding photo of Bill and Gretta. The only thing different was a kind of sour smell like the place needed a good clean.

  He stood with his back to the range, his hands in his pockets. She thought he looked old and tired. He needed a haircut and had cut himself shaving, there was blood on the collar of his shirt.

  ‘Are you coming back?’ he asked, eyeing her small bag.

  ‘I…I…Well, no but I just wanted to talk to you, in person…face to face, you know?’

  ‘About what?’ his voice was leaden.

  Carmel took a breath; clearly, he wasn’t going to engage in small talk.

  ‘I’m sorry I left you the way I did. I should have said something, it was wrong of me.’

  He r
ested his eyes on her, taking in her new clothes and hair, she was sure. She looked like a different person. Not just looks either, she was a different person.

  ‘It was.’

  ‘And so, I want to say I’m sorry.’

  ‘So, your fancy man, that darkie, he kicked you out, did he?’

  Carmel tried not to flinch at the racist description of Sharif. She couldn’t let this turn into a fight.

  ‘No, no, he didn’t.’

  ‘So, what are you doing here?’

  ‘I wanted to talk.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About us, about the future,’ she took a deep breath, ‘about Julia.’

  Again, the silence, his eyes raking her face for a clue.

  ‘There’s nothing you can say to me that I’d care to hear. Your solicitor and mine will be hammering out the details, but don’t be expecting much. This is my land and I won’t be giving it up, for you or for anyone else for that matter.’

  Carmel thought it might have been one of the longest sentences he’d ever addressed at her.

  ‘Well…If you’d just hear me out anyway.’ Carmel was doing her very best to stay neutral and reasonable; Bill would baulk immediately if she started crying or got upset. This was her only chance, she had to take it and make the best effort she could.

  ‘Sharif knew my birth mother. That’s why he came to see me, to give me some letters she wrote to me. She never wanted to give me up, but she was raped, you see, and she had no choice. The man who raped her insisted that I never be adopted, and so I never was. When I met you, I really hoped I could be part of your life, your family, but I wasn’t, I couldn’t. I did try, I swear to you, I did. I wanted to be a mother to Sinead and Niamh, but there just wasn’t room for me.’

  She tried to see if there was any hint of understanding or anything at all on his face, but he was just standing there, hands still in his pockets, his face giving nothing away.

  ‘I…I was so lonely, Bill. I…wanted you to love me, but to be honest, I wasn’t sure you even liked me. You married me; well, for years I wondered why. Until that day you told me it was to stop Julia moving in.’

  The silence between them was thick and heavy. If he refused to speak now, then she might have blown it.

  Just as she was beginning to think he was never going to reply, that she’d have to take her bag and leave, he spoke, ‘Do you want money? Is that it? Because I’ll give you money if you don’t go after the farm.’ She thought she heard some emotion in his voice, but she couldn’t be sure.

  ‘Bill, listen to me. I don’t want your money or your farm. I don’t want one single penny from you.’

  ‘Your solicitor does.’

  ‘I don’t and he works for me. He was just doing what is standard practice. I’m with Sharif now and we have enough money. I just want us both to move on with our lives and try to be happy.’

  Carmel looked at Bill and he looked so much older than his sixty-eight years. She felt a sudden surge of almost affection for this man who she’d called her husband for all those years, but, in fact, was a total stranger to her.

  ‘Bill, can we sit down?’ she kept her voice gentle, not wanting to break the spell where he actually spoke. She moved to the kitchen table and pulled out two chairs.

  He sat down, and she sat opposite him. Her voice was steady and confident, infused with kindness.

  ‘Gretta was the love of your life, sometimes you only get one of those.’

  He looked up at her and sighed, nodding slowly, as if not trusting himself to speak.

  ‘And this fella, is he that for you?’ Bill’s blue eyes were locked with hers. If she was to have any hope of getting him to understand, then this was it.

  ‘I think so, yes. I love him, Bill, and he loves me.’

  More silence.

  ‘Right so. That’s it.’ He went to stand.

  ‘But, Bill, there’s something else.’

  ‘What?’ He was wary again, any shred of intimacy dissipated.

  ‘I don’t want anything from you, I swear. I know I’ve hurt you or embarrassed you or something, and I’m truly sorry for that, but I just want us to divorce and get on with our lives.’

  ‘Fine. Send whatever papers you need me to sign.’ He got up to go.

  ‘Julia is blackmailing us.’ She blurted it out, fearful he was going to leave and the chance would be lost.

  ‘What?’ he turned, his brow furrowed.

  ‘It’s a long story, but there is a man trying to claim that Sharif isn’t taking proper care of his mother, an elderly patient. It’s lies, of course, but Julia is involved. She is going to solicitors and she got him to take photos of his mother in dirty sheets and with ashtrays all around and all of that, totally fabricated, but she wants to hurt me and Sharif. She came over a while ago, threatening me to leave the farm alone, and things got a bit heated, she was so angry, so she wants to hurt us. I know you probably don’t believe me, but I have witnesses who have overheard her plotting with this man…’ Carmel knew she was getting over excited in her efforts to have him believe her, but she was frightened he’d just dismiss her and walk out the door.

  Bill sat back down, clearly thinking. Carmel stopped talking. She knew that he’d only say something when there was space to say it.

  Bill sighed deeply, obviously tired of it all.

  ‘We had words, after that day. She told me all about your set-up when she came back. I didn’t know she was going over there; I wouldn’t have allowed it had I known. She’s had too much to do with me and the girls since Gretta died. Gretta couldn’t stick her, actually.’

  Carmel couldn’t believe her ears.

  ‘Can you get her to stop?’ Carmel didn’t want to interrupt his flow, but she was so unsure as to how to handle this new verbose Bill that she decided to strike while the iron was hot.

  ‘As I said, we haven’t spoken since that day.’

  ‘Could you try? I know I’ve no right to ask you for anything, after what I did, but Sharif has worked his whole life to build that place up from nothing. You get that, don’t you? If someone threatened the farm, you’d have to fight back? And it really is such a special place, and it seems that malpractice suits are so hard to fight…’

  ‘That’s wrong. She’s a spiteful woman, always was.’ He went to the phone, which was attached to the wall.

  He lifted the receiver and consulted the little brown address book he kept hanging beside it on a piece of twine. As he punched in a number, Carmel wondered, hardly daring to breathe, about what was going to come next.

  ‘Julia? It’s Bill.’

  ‘Yes, I am, of course, at home, where else would I be?’

  ‘Listen to me now, and stop your blathering. I know what you’re up to with that fella you met over in England, trying to tell a load of lies about that hospital or whatever it is. Now, listen carefully, if you ever want to speak to me or the girls ever again, you stop this right this minute. And find some way of stopping that other fool you’re after getting yourself tangled up with. Do you hear me?’

  Long silence while he listened.

  ‘That’s your own business; you got yourself into this and you may get yourself out of it. I am warning you that this is to stop unless you want the whole place here to know what you’re at, and that includes Father Hourihan, who is the chairman of the board of management of the school above and Father Creedon as well.’

  Another silence.

  ‘Won’t I? Well, you’ll just have to wait and see about that now.’

  And he hung up.

  Carmel was astounded. On so many levels.

  ‘Right. She’ll call it off. Now, I’ve got to go.’ He went to take his coat from the back of the door.

  ‘Bill.’

  He turned.

  ‘Thanks, it means the world to me that you helped me out. And, I’m sorry, I really, really am.’

  He stopped and, for a moment, she thought he was just going to leave without another word, but he turned and crossed
the room and stood in front of her. She could almost see him formulating the words in his head. Eventually, he spoke.

  ‘Tis I should be sorry, dragging a young girl in here, and being…well…not right. And that day when you asked me why I married you, well I was a bit harsh. I’m not one for much chat, but I could have made things nicer for you. Gretta would be very vexed with me for the way I treated you, so I’m sorry too. I hope you’ll be happy.’ He held his hand out to shake hers, the only voluntary touch in nearly two decades of marriage.

  She ignored it and leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

  ‘I wish you happiness too, Bill. I really do.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Will I run you down to the bus?’

  ‘That would be great, thanks.’

  They pulled away from the house for what Carmel knew would be the very last time. She didn’t look back, there was nothing to see.

  Chapter 23

  ‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and you are all very welcome aboard this flight EI 348 to London Luton. Please ensure your tray tops are secure, seats upright, and seat belts fastened. Our flight time today is fifty-five minutes…’

  She switched her phone back on for a moment and wrote a text to Sharif and Joe. As she expected, there were several missed calls from both of them.

  ‘Hi, am okay. See you later, will explain then. C x’

  She switched it off again. This wasn’t a conversation she could have over the phone and anyway, she just needed some time with her thoughts.

  Luckily, there was a flight back to London that evening and she’d bought a ticket, smiling to herself at how competent a traveler she had become in just a few short months. She dozed on the flight and only woke to the bump as the plane touched down.

  The taxi dropped her at reception of Aashna House, and even though it had only been a day, it felt different. She hoped Sharif was there; she needed to see him.

  ‘Oh, Carmel, hi, we were starting to worry! Sharif has been in and out all day asking if you were back yet.’ Marlena smiled as she was getting ready to leave for the night. ‘Well, he was until this evening. Mrs Johnson has gone down rapidly, he’s with her now. Will I beep him for you?’