‘Bee, I heard today that McGuffey is on his way back round from the North. He’s to be marrying Sarah to Maughan, maybe tomorrow. Michael may be too late.’
Captain Bob rarely arrived at the bar until after Bee had begun work, barely spoke a word to her as she went about her business, and left long before she was due to finish. On the first night, he had followed her home, but now he simply wended his way out of the village, down the coast road and on to her cottage, guided by the moon. The regulars in the pub believed he was heading back to his boat and sailing around to Ballycroy in the dark. The waters and the guiding stars were well known to the locals; in fair weather, anyone could sail across to the islands or around the coast without hazard.
‘Why do you think he comes all the way here, to my bar for a drink?’ Paddy had once asked.
‘He’s a man of substance, a man with intelligence,’ Mr O’Dowd had replied. ‘’Tis the good company and the craic he comes here for.’
No one had ever suspected the real reason.
Bee had wanted to ask him if he had a wife, but she never did. She respected the privacy of others as much as she coveted it for herself. Besides, the rules of love had died with her Rory. She didn’t want to forget their courtship, replace it with another. Captain Bob had accepted Bee as she was and she him. It was as if each meeting was both their first and their last, no questions asked of either. Nothing given, nothing taken away.
He was a good man, a quiet man, and the flipping of her heart at the sight of him each week told her she was lost to him. But only she would know. He might be generous and gentle, but Bee was no fool. He had a wife and children along the coast, of that she was sure.
She slipped his jacket from his shoulders. ‘Brendan told me about Maughan. ’Tis a shocking thing McGuffey is doing, and Michael so nearly home. Sarah will be wretched, so she will.’ She sighed. ‘I have need of a favour from you.’
They had a little time for the two of them before she had to ask him the biggest favour she’d ever had to ask of anyone. She met his lips with her own. He pulled back, gave her one more long, searching look. ‘Good, I want to help you,’ he said, with no hint of caution in his voice, and that was the last he spoke for some minutes, while he undid the buttons on the front of her dress, one by one, all the while gazing at her as though he had never seen her before.
‘Now?’ he asked, and despite the urgency of the situation and the favour she had to ask of him, a smile lifted the corner of her lips as she saw that lust had replaced concern in his eyes. He undid the last button on her dress and it slid to the floor.
‘Now,’ she said.
‘You have a wife, don’t you?’ she asked him a while later, as he lay on her mattress, admiring her while she rose to fetch him the porter he often brought and kept at her house for them to share.
He sat up and, leaning on one elbow, regarded her through eyes already anticipating her reaction to the honest answer he would give. This was a new turn in their relationship, the first time she had enquired. He would not lie to her. Honesty was the preserve of honourable men and, despite his many shortcomings, the one thing he always strove to be with Bee was honest. He had never intended to lie to her, even at the start.
‘Aye, I do. And four children, much older than your Ciaran.’
Her hand never faltered as she filled his mug.
He noticed. ‘Does that bother you?’
She looked up from the table and smiled. ‘Bother me? No. Not at all. But it does mean I would like to ask another question. Can I?’
He smiled back and held out his hand for the mug she carried over to him. Then she settled on the side of the bed, tucking her long white linen slip beneath the bend in her knees.
‘Aye, fire away.’ He leant forward and pushed back the hair that had fallen across her face.
In every way, she was as different from his wife as it was possible to be. There was a new air of intimacy between them. They had made love many times, but talking, beyond what was necessary, this was new. They spent only the one night a week together and much of that was taken up with lovemaking and sleeping. Conversations had been few, but he loved that about Bee, loved that she never bombarded him with words. She understood that a sea captain’s life was not built on chatter, that some adjustment was required when he returned to land. His wife and family knew nothing about his illicit stopovers before his morning returns home to Ballycroy.
Bee took a sip of her drink before she spoke. ‘If you are married, why are you here in my bed?’ She was curious to hear his answer. Was she fishing for compliments? The thought ran through her mind, as it did his. She possibly was. She felt shallow, embarrassed.
‘Oh, Bee.’ There was a hint of exasperation in his voice. ‘Oh, Bee, my lovely Bee, do you miss the words of praise and admiration your Rory would have lavished on you?’
Unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears. ‘I do, aye, but that’s not why I’m asking. I’m just genuinely curious because I know that if my Rory were still alive, you wouldn’t be here. I would never have looked twice at you if I still had my Rory. He was everything to me, him and our boy, so there would have been no need. It works both ways, doesn’t it?’
She looked up and wiped her eyes and nose with the back of her hand. She had no idea why she was crying, but he had touched a nerve. Being on her own had made her strong, tough, tougher than she ever wanted to be. It was how it had to be, to stop her from falling apart. To deal with the challenges of mothering her boy, coping as a widow. To keep the money coming in, to feed and clothe them both and to help with Angela and Sarah and Rory’s parents. What the hell would have happened to them all if she hadn’t turned herself into a fighter and a worker? The thought of the orphanage for Ciaran and the convent where she would have been sent to work was too terrifying. She turned to face him and her mouth fell open at his reply.
‘Because, Bee, you are the strongest woman I have ever met in my life, and the saddest and the most loving, and you are the best mother I have ever known. You are all the things my wife isn’t. It was your sadness about Rory that drew me to you, because if I ever go down, I would like to leave someone who would care that I had gone, and as it stands, there is no one. It is your passion, your ability to love that has ensnared me. I have no one who would even notice whether or not I returned home.’
Bee’s heart went out to him. ‘But your wife…?’
‘My wife cares nothing. My wife would rejoice. I was a means to an end, the path out of a life she hated. She was a sorry wretch when I met her and I wanted to help, to give her a better life, but I was a fool. I thought that maybe, in return for my affection, she might also come to love me, but she has never changed since the day she walked into my house. My wife is only interested in money. She looks to my hand, not my heart.’
Bee felt her own heart tighten. He was the gentlest of men. The kindest of men. He was her secret. ‘I think that’s what I am doing instead,’ she replied, before she had a chance to check herself. ‘I think I am falling in love with you a little more each day.’
He didn’t look surprised at her confession, just ran his fingers though her hair. ‘And me you. But we both know…’
Pulling her hand to his mouth, he kissed the back of her fingers and slipped the tip of one between his lips. The rest didn’t need to be put into words. There was no divorce for Catholics. She would be condemned to hell and back again for remarrying a man who already had a living wife, even if they were divorced. There would be some who would have a great deal to say, who would demand she live with Rory’s memory for her everlasting earthly comfort. It would be just as bad for him. He was a married man and he would never survive the scandal. He was too decent and honest. And besides, McGuffey would never allow it, whether it was his business or not. If there was anything in Captain Bob’s past to cause trouble with, McGuffey would track it down and do his worst.
Bee had placed her mug on the floor and she lay down on the mattress next to him. The straw crackled be
neath her. ‘There’s nothing to be done, is there?’
She could feel his heart beating under the flat of her palm, heard his deep sigh. He was thinking. He had a way of weighing up every word before he spoke and she loved that about him. His caution, how every word could be trusted.
‘I think there might be,’ he said. ‘There are places we could go where no one knows us.’
She lifted her face to his. ‘Where? America? I wouldn’t want to go that far. It would kill Rory’s parents, never seeing the boy.’
‘Well, Liverpool is a great seaport. There’s always Liverpool. No one would know us there.’
Bee rolled over onto her back. She knew there would be no happy ending to this conversation. She had thought she could never leave Tarabeg, the place she and her Rory had been born and raised. They were woven into the tapestry of this, the most rural part of Ireland. ‘There’s Angela – I cannot leave her to suffer at the hands of that man. She needs me.’
Captain Bob slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. ‘One day things will change and we will both know an opportunity has arrived. Not least, Bee, because we are both wanting it. And just this here, you and me talking about it like this – we haven’t only confessed our feelings to each other, God will have heard us, we’ve told him too, and it will move God’s hand. He will help us. Something will give and, you know, I don’t think it will be that long. I want my future to be with you. It has been burning into me. You, little Bee, you are my life and the only woman I think about. We have to find a way.’
Bee felt the heat of his body warming hers and wanted for them both to lie there for ever. His declaration of a future together, however tenuous, had brought unexpected pleasure. But as she reached up and stroked his beard, the image of Sarah flashed into her mind.
‘Bob, God’s hand has moved in a way we could not have imagined. Sarah needs us. We have to make a plan, we have to get her away from here, to somewhere, anywhere, and we have to do it soon. Michael may not be home for weeks. We have to save Sarah from Maughan and her father. And then maybe one day she and Michael can marry. But all that matters now is getting her away.’
Chapter 5
Jay Maughan left Paddy’s and hurried across the road to where he and Shona had made camp for the night, up against the wall of the Sacred Heart and under the trees for shelter. It was church land, Shona refusing to camp on the adjacent wasteland that ran down to the Taramore river, the land her family had been evicted from by Daedio all those years ago. That was long before Jay was born, back when Shona’s grandmother was still alive. Daedio Malone had bought the land from Lord Carter and evicted the entire Maughan family, under the cover of night, using guns and mad dogs while the officers from the Garda stood by smiling. But he had done nothing with the seven acres since, and it lay empty still, taunting Shona. The salmon-rich river that coursed through the land didn’t belong to Daedio, and Jay would normally have made straight for it, taking his fill of the fish through the summer months. But his grandmother would not go near it, would not cross Daedio’s land.
The light of the fire guided Jay to the camp, that and the iridescent glow of Shona’s long white hair glinting through the dark.
‘Was that Michael Malone’s footsteps?’ she asked as he took his place on the rush mat on the opposite side of the fire.
He looked over his shoulder and across to the distant amber lights of Paddy’s bar. It was impossible to hear anyone’s footsteps from where they were camped. But Shona was able to smell a Malone long before they came into view, a gift bestowed on her by her grandmother on her deathbed. She’d been taught to cast curses too, curses that terrified everyone from Donegal to Kerry. The gift of revenge and a long life in which to extract it. For Shona was at least as old as Daedio and she was waiting for him to die first, would not go herself before she had restored the land to Jay.
‘No, ’twas not,’ he said. ‘But there was news – he is coming home. I thought you told me he would be sorted, in the war. That he wouldn’t be coming back again once he left. You told me he would be dead. He’s the only fecker from around here who has come home.’
Jay spat into the fire and Shona’s eyes met his. She smiled. Her skills were undiminished. She could hear Michael Malone’s footsteps; he was on his way, he was close.
‘Are you questioning my powers, Jay?’ She had stopped stirring the stew and held his gaze.
Jay was the first to turn away. He picked up one of the sticks of kindling he’d collected earlier and threw it onto the fire. The angry flames shot up as they devoured it.
‘Don’t you ever doubt my hatred for the Malones.’ Shona’s voice was low but loaded with meaning. Jay crossed his legs and shifted uncomfortably on the rush mat as he placed his hands over his knees. He deliberately dipped his head and the brim of his cap so that she couldn’t see his eyes.
‘Don’t you dare doubt me.’
He couldn’t see her, but he knew her expression by the tone of her voice.
‘As long as I live, I will not forget the sound of my grandmother’s wails. I still hear her sometimes – she brings it back to me, to remind me what it is I have to do. Three generations had lived on that land, since the time of the famine.’ She spat her baccy through her black teeth and into the fire. The sound of hissing coals filled the air. ‘The spells I cast for Nola and Seamus Malone to be deserted by their children have worked well,’ she said with a throaty laugh. ‘Every one of them except Michael has flown to America and not returned.’
‘But not well enough,’ said Jay, regaining his courage and lifting his gaze from the fire. ‘Why hasn’t it worked with Michael? Why is he back? If he had left for good like the others, Nola and Seamus would have given up on the farm. Maybe followed their kids to America. Daedio would never have kept the land if there was no one here to help them. What good would it have been to him?’ He poked another stick into the fire and the sparks rose.
Shona had resumed stirring the rabbit stew in the black iron cauldron. The long curls and wisps of her white hair seemed to merge with the rising smoke and steam and it was difficult to distinguish one from the other.
‘What good is it now? They have never moved from the farm. Look at it!’ She pointed the dripping ladle down towards the land below them. ‘It has stood empty since the day he bought it.’ Her eyes narrowed, and venom curled on her grey and twisted lips. ‘Daedio bought it to banish the Maughans. It didn’t work and I will not leave my mortal body until we have it back.’
She thrust the ladle back into the cauldron. ‘My spell, it has weakened over time. Nola was more fertile than I thought. I cast for six, not seven, and six have left her. I have Bridget McAndrew working against me. She’s strong around here. I can hear her spells on the wind as soon as you reach Tarabeg. She’s not as strong as me, she has no tinker blood in her, but she’s always there, meddling. The responsibility to dispose of Michael, it will have to fall to you, Jay. If you want the land back, you must take care of Michael. Once the Malones are here no more, we have a legitimate claim in the magistrate’s court. We were the last people to live on that land and we were there for three generations. The Carters cannot deny that, if the Malones abandon it for good and flee from Tarabeg. We just have to get rid of Michael. He needs to be scared away, to follow his brothers across the Atlantic and leave Daedio. Let grief suck the life out of Daedio, which it surely will. He’s lost the use of his legs already, because he’s terrified of me and what I will do. When he’s gone from this earth, as sure as night follows day, Seamus and Nola will run. Seamus won’t dare to cross me. I can get my way with him and Nola, and that’s a fact. If they ever want to know a day’s peace, they will run, but it will only be possible when they’re alone. Michael, his blood runs high. Get someone else to sort him, but not you. Let a fool do our work.’
Jay held out his tin dish for the stew. The stared at each other through the smoke. Shona’s eyes were black and smouldering, lit with an apparition of the Taramore river and i
ts pebbled shore on the edge of the land where she had lived her entire childhood. He was afraid of his own grandmother and the powers he himself had seen working.
He placed a spoonful of the hot rabbit stew in his mouth and swallowed before he spoke. ‘Kevin McGuffey has a grudge against Michael Malone, so he does. He wants to run anyone who fought with the British out of Ireland. Hates the British after what they did to his family in the famine. He’s a man who bears a grudge – eats at him, so it does. He speaks of nothing else.’
Shona snorted derisively and poked the fire. ‘What’s that to do with anything?’ she snarled. A scatter of sparks illuminated the old caravan behind them.
‘If ye listen, I’ll tell ye what it has to do with anything,’ Jay shot back angrily, shovelling another spoonful of stew into his mouth. ‘I’ve an arrangement, so I have. An arrangement with McGuffey that will sort Michael Malone for good, without relying on spells and potions.’ He raised his eyes under his cap, just enough to see he’d caught Shona’s interest, then carried on.
‘I’m to marry his daughter,’ he said proudly. ‘In the next few days, so I am.’ This time he did look up, wanting Shona’s approval.
He did not get it. ‘How did ye swing that – win her in a bet, did ye?’ she muttered sarcastically.
Jay ignored her. ‘I saw the McGuffey girl running back across the boreens the day Malone was away to fight with the British. It was obvious she’d been with Michael, saying her goodbyes, so I told McGuffey himself. Expected a reward. Such anger he had in his face at the notion of her being close to a traitor fighting for the British – ’twas well worth telling him. So he’s offered me the girl now. For a decent price. Needs the money, so he does. And he’s to get rid of Malone as part of the deal.’
He began to laugh.
Shona reached out to ladle more stew into his dish. Her expression remained unchanged. Jay had always been a disappointment to her. A disappointment she hid well. As far as she was concerned, the wedding couldn’t come quick enough. Her simple and mean-tempered grandson had kept her waiting and working for far too long.
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