The Carmel Sheehan Story

by Jean Grainger

  Nadia had been beside herself with worry that Zeinab would say something along those lines to Tim, so Sharif had to sit her down before leaving and warn her not to say anything rude. She still looked on him with undisguised suspicion and mistrust, but she’d acted OK up to now—until the potential situation Carrie had so deftly averted. In fact, Carrie had jumped in just in time. Tim was right about her—she might appear ditzy, but she was one smart cookie.

  ‘Ah now, Tim,’ Joe said, anxious to get the conversation away from condiments and back to the plan for the next few days. ‘I know it must seem strange after all these years, but try not to be too worried about it. You have a fairly formidable posse behind you, so nobody will be running you anywhere, and anyway, I’m sure it will all go grand.’ He patted Tim gently on the back and turned to address the rest of the group. ‘So, Tim will attend to his affairs, and the rest of us will go on a bit of a skite. There’s the most marvellous sea stack out at Downpatrick, then I want to show you the Ceide Fields—the first evidence of farming in Ireland, it goes back into pre-historic times—and some dolmens and ring forts, and I thought we might walk or even cycle a bit of the Greenway. They’ve turned a lot of the old railway lines into cycle paths, and there’s a gorgeous one from Westport, Tim’s hometown, so I thought we might do that?’

  There was general agreement, except for Zeinab, who looked nothing short of appalled at the prospect of cycling anywhere. The chat continued over the meal, and soon the crowd began to disperse. Jen and Damien took little Sean home, and Carrie almost dragged Luke out the door, so anxious was she to get him alone. Zeinab, Nadia and Joe took a taxi, even though it wasn’t far and a lovely night, because Zeinab said she simply couldn’t walk. They offered to have Tim join them, but he said he’d prefer to walk, so once they’d settled up the bill, Sharif, Carmel and Tim began the walk back to the hotel.

  They could hear the ting ting of sails and rigging as they strolled along the quayside in Galway. Even though it was almost eleven at night, it was only dusk, and when Sharif remarked on it, Tim replied,

  ‘Yes, I’d forgotten that about Ireland. In the summertime, it never really gets dark. It goes kind of dusky around midnight, but by three or four in the morning, it’s bright again. The day I left, it was in the middle of June, and I remember walking to Westport town, the farm was about seven miles outside, and even though it was two or three in the morning, it was quite light. I never imagined I’d come back, and yet here I am, a lifetime later, so much done.’ It was hard to tell if he was wistful or just sad.

  ‘How do you feel about tomorrow?’ Carmel asked. She felt kind of united with Tim by the isolation of their early lives. That’s why she’d been the one to break the news to him that Brian was dead. Not to mention the fact that Dolly had confided the whole story of Carmel’s conception and birth to Brian and Tim years before. Brian and Tim had been there for her as she told the whole sorry tale and again, along with Nadia, Khalid and Sharif, to pick up the pieces every time Dolly returned to London after yet another fruitless search for her daughter in Ireland. When Carmel attended Brian’s funeral, the first time she met any of the McDaids, they’d had no idea she was Joe’s daughter or that Tim was Brian’s life partner. They stood together in the crematorium that day, and afterwards, Tim had cried in her arms at the loss of his one true love.

  The family knew the whole story now, of course, about both Carmel and Tim, but for so long they were both outside looking in at life. They were connected in empathy.

  ‘How do I feel?’ Tim repeated. ‘The truth? Sick to my stomach. I don’t know why. It’s ridiculous. Everyone I knew is dead and gone, it’s just a scrap of land and a few forms. But I don’t know… It feels so…so bloody sad, I suppose.’

  Carmel linked her arm with his as they walked. He was easily a foot taller than her, straight as an arrow. As always, his snow-white hair was neatly brushed back off his high forehead. In his herringbone Crombie coat and felt trilby hat, he looked almost like some off-duty duke or lord swanning about. Nothing about his demeanour gave away the inner turmoil Carmel knew he felt. They were both good at hiding what was really going on. She just hoped she hadn’t done the wrong thing in convincing him to come here.

  ‘It’s bound to be emotional, and you’re still raw after Brian,’ she said. ‘You should just take the day as it comes and accept that you are going to feel something. It’s not just any other day, and if you get a bit upset, then that’s fine. You don’t have to put a brave face on things if you don’t feel it.’

  Tim chuckled. ‘Ah, yes, little miss self-help. How right you are.’

  ‘I mean it,’ she insisted. ‘I know my life was a train crash for so long, but I didn’t go around the bend because of self-help books. Wayne Dyer, Deepak Chopra, Sharon Salzburg—they were my friends, they kept me from tipping over the edge. I know some of it sounds like old claptrap, but most of it makes perfect sense.’

  ‘I know, and you’re right,’ Joe conceded. ‘I’m only joking with you. I want to thank you both, actually. Carmel, you, especially, for convincing me to come along, for being with me on this trip. I would have definitely cried off if it wasn’t for you.’

  Sharif patted the older man’s back. ‘Sometimes you need your friends, simple as that. We all do. Carmel is right, you know, just allow yourself to feel whatever you feel tomorrow. Don’t try to mask it or bury it. We’re all going through things all the time. Everyone has a story—you know that better than most—so live your story. Sure, it was sad, and your parents missed out on so much by not having you in their lives, but you might find that going there tomorrow gives you some peace, some closure, as our American friends say.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Tim seemed lost in another world.

  ‘So, what’s the situation with the farm now, do you know?’ Carmel asked.

  ‘It was leased to a local family. When my father died, my mother let the neighbours farm it for a small fee. She wrote to me, just telling me he was dead and the arrangements she had made. I sent a mass card, and that was that. Then, when she died, well, the neighbours wrote to me asking if the arrangement could continue, so I said it could. I had no interest in the place.

  ‘The house is empty; it was just closed up after my mother died and left there. I don’t have a clue what shape it’s in, close to derelict, I would imagine, though. The son-in-law of the man we used to rent to wants to buy the land, so I’ll sell it to him, and sure, if he wants the house as well, he can have it. I don’t even need the money, but he seems anxious that it be in his own name, not rented land, so I might as well do the right thing and do the deal. It’s something to do with European grants for farmers, don’t ask me what. He The auctioneer started explaining in a letter, but to be honest, it wasn’t long after Brian died, and I couldn’t concentrate so I just tuned out.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure it will all go fine,’ Carmel assured him. ‘Are you going to meet him there?’

  ‘That’s the plan. I’m seeing him and his wife at the farm tomorrow at three, with Jim Daly, the local auctioneer. I’m not sure about him, to be honest with you. He seems a bit, I don’t know, a bit greedy or something. He suggested a figure, but I think it’s too much. They’re a young couple with a family, the farm came to her, and she married this lad, and they’re trying to make a go of it. If they had my land with their own, they stand some kind of chance of making a decent living.

  ‘Daly reckons we can get six thousand an acre, and there’s about a hundred acres there. Some of it is bog and a bit under forestry, but mostly it’s good grazing land. But I can’t see how two young farmers from County Mayo can raise that kind of money. They’re terrified it will go on the market and then they’re snookered forever, but I won’t do that to them. I’ll meet them tomorrow and weigh the situation up, and if at all possible, I’ll do a deal with them. As I said, I have no need of the money, and my children have made themselves very clear that they want nothing to do with me or my estate, so all that’s left is for me to try to do righ
t by these young people at least. Maybe some good can come of the place after all these years.’

  ‘You’re a good man, Tim. But be careful.’ Carmel felt so protective of him. She would hate to see him taken advantage of. ‘I have firsthand experience of Irish farmers and land and all that means. They’ll do anything for it. Then, most people are nothing like my ex-husband, so maybe they’re nice and it would be a good thing to give them a break. Just be careful anyway.’

  Sharif grinned. ‘Carmel, this man was a banker all his career, I think he’s a fairly good judge of character at this stage.’

  ‘Well, it’s certainly taught me to look beneath the surface anyway,’ Tim said.

  As they approached the hotel, Carmel and Sharif went to say good night, but Tim looked like he had something else to say.

  ‘Tim?’ Carmel prompted.

  ‘Ah, it’s nothing. Good night, you two, and thanks for another lovely day. See you both in the morning.’ He went to go to his room on the opposite side of the lobby to theirs when Carmel urged Sharif to go on without her and ran after Tim.

  ‘What were you going to say?’ she asked as he went to put his key in the door to his room.

  He smiled. ‘You’re a perceptive woman, Carmel Khan, do you know that? All those years of just listening and saying nothing. Look, it doesn’t matter, I...’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you tomorrow? If you do, I’m happy to.’

  ‘It’s stupid, I know. I don’t know why I’m being like this. It’s just a bloody bit of land. But...’

  ‘It's not stupid. It’s hard to go back. I can’t imagine trying to set foot in Birr ever again, or Trinity House. I know our lives took different paths, Tim, but we have a lot in common, not really fitting into the world or something. The others don’t get it the way we do. So, will I come tomorrow?’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Tim asked. ‘Joe had such a tempting itinerary planned, I feel bad dragging you away from it. And this is your homecoming trip after all...’

  ‘The places Joe is taking everyone tomorrow have been there for centuries; they’ll wait. Tim, I had an empty, lonely life for forty years, and now, I have family and friends and people who actually want me around, not just putting up with me. Nobody ever needed me before, and it feels so good to be needed. I’m not saying you need me tomorrow, but if it would make it a bit easier on you if I was there, well, that would mean as much to me as to you.’

  ‘Thanks, Carmel. If you’re sure, then I’d feel so much better with you beside me.’

  ‘It’s a date.’ She grinned and went up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. ‘Good night, Tim. I’ll be right beside you, and if you ask him to be, so will Brian.’

  ‘I’ll certainly ask him. I talk to him every night. Sounds mad, I know, but I do.’

  ‘I talk to Dolly too, and I never even met her, so we can be basket cases together.’ She chuckled as she left him and went to join Sharif.

  Chapter 18

  The next day, the group took off in the bus, leaving Carmel and Tim to sort everything out. Sharif was, as usual, wonderfully supportive, delighted Carmel was accompanying Tim and telling her she would be a great help to him. The way he encouraged her in everything never ceased to amaze her. He not only protected her, but he thought there was nothing she couldn’t do and urged her to go boldly at life, taking chances and trying new things.

  ‘Will we rent a car?’ Carmel asked over a late breakfast. ‘That way we can travel on our own and come and go as we like. The hotel reception have a sign saying they will arrange it. I checked earlier, and we can pick it up here and drop it off at the hotel we’re staying at tomorrow.’

  ‘Well, I haven’t driven since I had my knee replaced last year,’ Tim admitted. ‘There’s no need when we are right on the tube. So I’d be less than confident, to be honest.’

  ‘Well, I’ll drive. I have my licence, so it should be fine. What do you think?’

  ‘I think you are my guardian angel, Mrs Khan, that’s what I think. Let’s do it. The farm is about seven miles outside of Westport, so having our own transport would be so much better than trying to get taxis or lifts or whatever. But I insist on paying, OK?’

  ‘Fair enough.’ She held her hands up in surrender. ‘I’ve never driven in Ireland, but if I can navigate London then I can surely manage rural Mayo, right?’ She smiled. ‘Just to be safe, though, let’s get good insurance.’

  The car was organised in very quick time, and Carmel felt a little surge of pride as she handed over her driving licence and Tim’s credit card. She would have loved to travel back in time and show that timid child in Trinity House and then that subjugated woman in a lonely farmhouse just how far she would come.

  ‘If you just take a seat in the lobby there, someone will bring the car over to the front door. They’ll come to find you when it’s here, Mrs Khan,’ the charming young hotel receptionist explained. ‘Can I get you some coffee or tea while you wait?’

  Carmel looked at Tim. ‘We’re not long finished our breakfast, but we never say no to a cup of tea, so yes, please, that would be lovely.’

  They sat in companionable silence. Carmel sensed Tim was happier not to have to talk, so she read the paper and he just sat, in quiet contemplation, sipping his tea. Within twenty minutes, the car arrived, and Carmel had butterflies as the young man who delivered it handed her the keys. He showed her how everything worked in about five seconds flat and immediately was on his mobile phone, deep in some vital conversation with someone called Macca about a part for a motorbike. It didn’t look like he was coming back, so they sat in and Carmel nervously edged the car out of the hotel car park.

  ‘We’re about an hour and a half from Westport, according to this,’ she said, poking at the sat nav. When she figured out how to work it, she followed the directions out of the city of Galway.

  Tim seemed to have relaxed a little now they were actually on their way, and they chatted easily on the trip. After a few minutes, she’d gotten the hang of the car and was driving confidently. The time flew by as they marvelled at the gorgeous rolling hills, the ruins dotted everywhere, and the bustling towns they passed through. As they approached their destination, she saw lots of signs for Westport House.

  ‘What’s that?’ she asked. ‘A hotel or something?’

  ‘Well, no, though I think now there are holiday places to stay in the grounds or a camping site or something. It was the home of the Browne family—they held the title Marquis of Sligo—but it’s owned by someone else now. The Brownes made all their money in slave trading between Europe and Jamaica, so it’s got a murky past. The house itself was just opening to the public when I left, but my father was often up there, on various matters to do with land. I went with him once or twice as a boy; it’s an incredible house, beautiful. It’s also got a connection to Granuaile the pirate queen of Connaught. Her great-granddaughter married in there. There are some great stories about her pirating on the high seas, feared by everyone. Apparently, she met Queen Elizabeth the First, and the queen couldn’t speak Irish and Grainne couldn’t speak English, so they conversed in Latin.’

  ‘Wow! That sounds like a fascinating place. Maybe we’ll get time to visit tomorrow. If not, we’ll just have to come back sometime.’ Carmel indicated to turn down the main street.

  ‘Well, you’ve changed your tune,’ Tim teased. ‘I thought this was a one-off trip, never to be repeated?’

  ‘OK, I admit it, I’m having more fun than I anticipated,’ Carmel conceded.

  ‘Even crazy ex-step-daughters aside?’ Tim asked. She’d told him and Sharif about the encounter with Niamh, and both of them had congratulated Joe on how he handled it.

  ‘Even that, ’ she agreed.

  The main street of Westport was a hive of activity. The shops were all painted different bright colours, and the goods for sale were many and varied, from Asian street food vendors to traditional crafts. There were antique shops, jewellers, sweet shops, cafes, pubs and restaurants to suit every taste. P
eople chatted on street corners, families strolled by licking ice creams, and nobody seemed in a hurry. A traditional band were playing outside a pub, and children were dancing wildly to the music while their parents had a drink in the sun.

  Tim was agog.

  ‘A bit different to how you remember it?’ Carmel asked gently as they drove slowly down the street, their progress impeded by the nonchalantly jaywalking Irish.

  ‘You could say that.’ Tim gazed in amazement at his hometown. ‘Look at that.’ He called out the storefronts as they passed: ‘Turkish barbers, Polish shops, a yoga studio… I wouldn’t recognise the place, and yet, some parts look the same. Clew Bay, the river, Westport House, even some of the buildings. But it all seems so vibrant now, so colourful and full of life. I remember it being drab, cold, the street covered in horse dung—nothing like this.’

  ‘We’re a bit early.’ Carmel checked the clock on the dashboard. ‘Will we get out, have a wander round?’

  ‘Let’s do that.’ Tim was still mesmerised by the transformation.

  They passed a very enjoyable hour wandering up and down the streets and poking about in the shops, and Carmel bought Sharif a pair of cufflinks in an antique shop run by a very charming young man who seemed to have tattooed every inch of his skin. The cufflinks had a Celtic design on them, and she knew Sharif would love them. He often wore double-cuff shirts so he had many different pairs of cufflinks already, but he loved getting presents and she loved giving them to him. She enjoyed seeing how his eyes lit up with delight even if it was just one of his favourite cakes from the local bakery or a book from a charity shop.

  Soon, it was time to make their way to the farm. Tim’s sense of dread had dissipated since last night, but now that the return to his home place was imminent, he went quiet again. Carmel could see the anxiety behind his eyes.