The Butterfly State

by Carol Coffey

  The following day Tess was moved to Knockbeg station for further questioning and within hours had begun to injure herself, tearing pieces of flesh from her hands and face. The local doctor was called and sedated her. The investigating team was inundated with villagers’ statements saying the child was never right. Mrs Moore gave a statement saying that Tess had asked how long before Michael Byrne would die only a week before the murder. Kate didn’t need to ask Noel if the wedding was still on as he passed her by in the street, looking down to avoid her cutting eyes. After all, his family could not afford to be mixed up in such a scandal. The evidence against Tess was growing. Eventually the detectives brought in a psychiatrist who interviewed her and felt she had no memory of the crime, possibly because she didn’t do it or because she had separated herself from her actions. With no other suspect, Tess was charged with her father’s murder. The investigating team decided that they had enough evidence as she was found at the scene with the murder weapon in her hand.

  As the Byrne household waited to know what would become of Tess, an invisible wall of suspicion grew between Kate and Seán. Except on rare occasions, they did not speak about it and never asked about each other’s whereabouts that night. Neither of them believed Tess had done it and they tried and failed to have her returned to their care. Tess was transferred to a state mental institution in Dublin where she would stay until she was no longer a threat to society. There would be no trial as she was a minor and not accountable for her actions. Tess sat and heard the fat sweaty man say he was her friend and that he would speak for her to the man with the wig. She heard the words “murder”, “retarded” and “unaccountable”. She could not see Kate in the small room with large brown seats like a church but her sister was there, head bowed and crying in the back row, afraid that Tess would spot her and plead with her to take her home. The man who was wearing the wig said she could not go home, that she needed help, but it was Kate who needed help with the wedding coming up and who was going to look after Ben? She wanted to ask the fat sweaty man if her father was all right but could not speak without feeling tears welling up in her eyes. As she was ushered from the building, Kate ran from the crowd and hugged her tightly, and they stood, both crying, hanging onto each other until gently separated by police.

  Tess was driven to a huge building with four levels. She had never seen such a big building before. A large woman in a uniform accompanied them but did not speak or tell Tess her name. A blond man with huge glasses met her at the door. “Dr Cosgrove” was written on his name-tag.

  “Hello, Teresa. I’m Doctor Cosgrove. The nurse will show you to your room and I’ll talk with you a little later, okay?” was all he said.

  He tried to pat her on the head but Tess pulled back. She didn’t like people touching her and didn’t like strange people or places. Kate always said that everywhere is strange “till you get used to it” but this never made Tess any happier. She followed the nurse with frown marks on her face even though she did not look old. She could hear other children shouting, some crying, as she walked gingerly along the long, shiny corridor. She did not like this floor as it looked like you could fall so she started walking on her tiptoes.

  The nurse, sensing Tess’s tardiness, looked around and shouted loudly, “Come on, you! I haven’t got all day!”

  Tess placed her fingers in her ears and began to cry as the door of the dormitory closed firmly behind her.

  Chapter 6

  1981

  Dermot Lynch drove the old truck up the gravel driveway towards the Byrne house. His shoulders ached as though he had wrestled a sick cow for half the day and the headache that he had earlier was returning. He thought he would feel relief when he got to the farm but somehow he felt that the worst was yet to come. The back door of the farmhouse did not open, as you would expect when a car pulled up. Instead it remained closed as he walked towards it, carrying Tess’s bag which did not seem to have very much in it. Tess stood nervously behind him as he knocked loudly and opened the latch leading into the cottage’s small, old-fashioned kitchen. To his surprise, both Kate and Seán Byrne were sitting there, silent, the lad nowhere to be seen.

  Dermot stood without speaking until Kate got up and walked towards them. He could feel Tess breathing so heavily on his shirt that she must have been standing right behind him.

  “You’ll be hungry after that drive,” Kate said as if her sister had just gone out for the afternoon. “I’ll get you some food.”

  Tess stared directly at her sister and said nothing, moving her gaze to her brother who pretended to read the newspaper, not looking up at his newly returned sister even once.

  It was not the first time that day that Dermot Lynch felt as though someone was having a joke on him.

  “Where is the baby?” Tess asked simply.

  “He’s not a baby any more, Tess,” Kate replied flatly. “Ben is nearly thirteen now. He’s at school. The bus brings him home every day at four.”

  Tess was glad Ben was not there when she got home and she hoped he didn’t scream any more.

  “Come on, Tess, I’ll show you where you’re sleeping. Same as before –” Kate did not want to discuss the past. In her heart, though, the heart she’d had when her father was killed, she did not believe that Tess could have done it. Now she had lost her faith in most people and tried not to think about what had happened. It was best to let sleeping dogs lie.

  Tess followed her sister down the hall and noticed that almost everything was the same except the room where Daddy used to sleep was occupied by two single beds. Kate walked on to the last bedroom which also had two single beds, one at each end of the room, placed underneath two small windows. A small room Tess had never seen before jutted out awkwardly from the right of the long dark hallway – an indoor bathroom with a toilet and bath. Tess covered her eyes as she passed the new room, anxious about the change, but simultaneously glad that she didn’t have to go to an outside toilet at night as she had become accustomed to indoor bathrooms in the institution. Dermot Lynch, who was still standing in the Byrne’s kitchen, was unsure if he should leave. He normally ate with the Byrnes but felt that he would be intruding tonight. He wanted to ask Seán Byrne if he had gone to the mart that day but knew by his employer’s bloodshot eyes that he hadn’t.

  It doesn’t really matter, Dermot thought to himself. Let him do whatever the hell he likes with it, it’s his farm. He felt angry although he wasn’t sure why. He opened the back door and walked out. Despite the bright sunshine, it was a cold February day and an icy wind had started to whip up brambles that lay around the yard. Dermot pulled his collar up around his ears and headed off towards the shed where he had work to do and thought that if he was a drinking man, he would have had a few tonight.

  Sam Moran had just enough time to drive to the newspaper office in Wicklow town before it closed. He had driven by the Byrne place and seen no sign of life. He thought the place looked rundown and old-fashioned, like time had stood still at the farm. Poetry, he thought. He could really make this story like poetry and began practising his headline on the way to meet his boss: Murderess Returns to Rundown Farm. Maybe he could have a spooky theme to it. Mattie had told him back at the pub that the girl wasn’t right in the head. Nothing much ever happened around here and, now that it had, he was going to make the most of it. All he had to do now was convince his boss that he had a story and that was going to be his biggest challenge. He had worked for Robert Talbot since he returned to Ireland and couldn’t say that they had struck up any kind of friendship. Talbot had been talked into giving him a job by Sam’s father-in-law, anxious to keep his only daughter where he could keep an eye on her, and more importantly, an eye on Sam.

  Talbot found Sam conceited and obnoxious and had a hundred reasons to sack Moran over the years, least of all being his exaggeration of stories. He had built up the small local newspaper on truth and sincerity and Moran had done nothing to uphold this reputation. Talbot, who had planned on retiring this year, f
ound he spent more hours at the office now than ever before, keeping a tight rein on Moran and worrying a little about the decrease in sales. Everywhere in Ireland jobs were being lost and many were leaving for America, Australia and London. A recession was on its way, the papers claimed. Talbot was a little worried, as his newspaper would be passed down to his son, Robert Junior, when he returned home from New York with his young family and Talbot had to make sure there was a newspaper for his son to return home for.

  Back in Árd Glen, Dermot Lynch made his way to his aunt’s pub where he worked part-time. It was his night on and, although he didn’t feel like it, he needed every penny. Inside Slattery’s pub, Mattie Slattery was jovial as usual, laughing with customers who were spending hard-earned cash on drink, money that should be going home to wives and countless children. It sickened Dermot. His father had been the same, putting drink before food and as a result he himself had never taken a drink and was saving to buy a small farm of his own some day. He never told anyone this. He knew they’d think he’d never make it, laugh at him. He thought about Tess and how strange she was and he was expecting there to be talk in the pub that night. He couldn’t help but be interested in the woman who caused both Seán Byrne and the usually cool Kate to look so nervous, as if they were afraid of her.

  At the back of the pub, Jimmy Kelly sat quietly in the snug, out of the way of the talk that would surely be focused on his niece’s return. He had told Liam to stay out of the pub that evening, fearing his headstrong son would say something stupid. At the end of the evening he beckoned the young bartender to him. He had a question he wanted answered quietly.

  “Dermot, you picked up the young Byrne girl today, didn’t you?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Dermot replied. He was still relatively new in town and was unaware that Kelly was related to his employers.

  “Did she say anything, like . . . does she talk?” he quizzed further.

  “Yeah,” Dermot replied, “she talks.” Then he snatched the two empty glasses off the table and walked abruptly away. It seemed to him that no one was happy to see the poor girl home.

  When the pub closed that night and he began to clean up with Mattie, the publican told him the whole story about how Tess had clobbered her father with a rock all those years ago, about how he was a drunk and that no one missed him. Mattie went on to say how Kate Byrne’s wedding went down the plug as a result and that Seán Byrne took to the drink. Dermot stayed silent throughout the publican’s chatter. He thought of Kate’s cancelled wedding and felt he understood her harsh ways a little better. Although she rarely had conversations with him, Dermot liked Kate and thought she was an attractive woman. Dermot also thought of Tess and realised that in the short time he had spent with the girl that day, she didn’t seem capable of killing anyone. If she had done it, why?

  “Why would she have killed him, Mattie?” It was a sensible question.

  “I don’t know, son. Funny, never thought about it really, just assumed she did it, being a little strange and all.”

  The publican went quiet and as he finished counting the day’s takings could not stop thinking about that very obvious question that no one seemed to ask. Why?

  Sam Moran was in luck as his boss was still at the office, sitting quietly in the back room of the small newspaper business. Robert Talbot, who had been lost in thought, looked up to find Moran grinning, obviously pleased with whatever seedy story he had come across.

  “What’s up, Moran?”

  Sam sat without being asked, his employer’s social graces always lost on the Dublin man who had been reared on Dublin’s streets with the arse out of his trousers.

  “I have a great story, one that will send sales through the roof.”

  “Hmm,” replied Talbot who was not impressed easily and was fully aware of what Moran classed as a good story.

  Sam just grinned at him.

  “Well, don’t just sit there, tell me what it is!” said Talbot impatiently.

  By the time Sam finished his act on his boss, Talbot knew that although the story was a little immoral, people would be genuinely interested in the girl. Moran might even be able to interview her or the family. On one side of Talbot’s expensive oak desk sat a picture of his son, flanked by his daughter-in-law and grandsons, taken in the tiny New York apartment they rented with no garden for growing boys. He inhaled deeply.

  “Okay Moran. You’ve got the story, only no dirty tricks and the truth, do you hear me?”

  Sam was already on his way to the door.

  “And I mean it!” Talbot shouted as Sam left the room.

  As Sam drove away, it occurred to him that he had no idea what the truth of this story was and would have to play his cards right to get an interview with the girl. He felt excited at this opportunity and also felt sad that here he was panting like a hungry, begging dog to cover a story that would have been routine to him ten years ago. He shook himself, loosening the tension that had built up in his neck on the way to see Talbot. He wondered what would have made the girl kill her father. How could a father mistreat his child enough to make her do that? Sam, who had been heading to his usual local, pulled in and turned the car around, heading towards home, realising that he hadn’t seen his children all day.

  Chapter 7

  1949

  After the birth of her first child, Maura Kelly, now Maura Byrne, used to go to Dublin each Saturday to see her brother. With the child on her lap, the young mother endured the rocky two-hour journey to Dublin, the bus stopping off in many small towns and villages along the way. Her weekend was always the same. She would drop Seán off to her friend Brigid McCracken before crossing town to see Jimmy, the fear of her treasured child catching TB too great to take him with her. She would sit with her brother and talk about home, being careful not to mention the fact that her father had signed the farm over to her husband. Maura’s parents felt there was no point in upsetting their son who probably wouldn’t see Christmas. Maura would then return to Brigid’s house where she would spend the night with her old friend.

  What Maura did not tell her parents or, for that matter, her husband, was that Brigid shared the two-bedroom house with her brother Éamonn. Not that it would have mattered one bit to Michael Byrne, who spent his Saturdays drinking any money the young couple made.

  Each Saturday evening, Brigid would make herself scarce and Maura and Éamonn would make believe they were a family, Maura cooking the evening meal while Éamonn played with his son. They would sit and chat, pretending that they were always together, before making love in Éamonn’s bedroom, their child sleeping soundly in the corner in a makeshift cot. In the morning they would walk around St Stephen’s Green where Éamonn would talk about his week. They did not attend Mass as Éamonn believed the Church was as responsible as the British government in keeping the Irish Catholics poor and being poor meant other people always had control over you. Maura rarely spoke about her life. There was nothing to tell, at least nothing Éamonn would want to hear but she could listen to him for hours. He was doing well at college and had a part-time job in a solicitor’s office on Aaran Quay, hoping to work there full-time after he qualified. He spent any free time he had canvassing for the local Republican Party, sometimes writing articles for their monthly newsletter. Brigid earned an average salary in her job as a secretary and didn’t mind supporting her brother, who was surely going to improve support for the Republican movement in Southern Ireland. Though less enthusiastic about the cause than her brother, Brigid helped out whenever she could, collecting donations and attending political meetings and rallies. Sometimes Éamonn would look like he had been beaten up and although Maura worried about this, he would always laugh it off, telling her that the police had done it during a protest.

  She also noticed a change in Éamonn’s personality. Some weekends he seemed on edge and when pressed would become annoyed with her and show signs of a temper that she had not noticed during their romance in Árd Glen. She tried to put these worries to the ba
ck of her mind. Éamonn was her only happiness and they had little time enough together for her to raise her concerns. Each Sunday he would walk her to the bus station in time for the last bus to Wicklow, all the while promising her that some day they would be together. Some day he would make a home for them, to be a family in Dublin. Maura wanted to believe that. She couldn’t bear to live out her life with Michael Byrne, whose only redeeming feature was that, despite the fact that they were married almost one year, he had never tried to obtain his marital rights. Maura always lifted Baby Seán’s hand and waved as she left behind the life she really wanted, the bus heading towards the life she dreamt of leaving behind.

  Chapter 8

  1971

  Tess Byrne sat uncomfortably in Dr Cosgrove’s office. It was cramped with too much furniture and papers hung off the desk at awkward angles that annoyed her. She wanted to move them, to tidy them up but was aware of the doctor’s eyes on her.

  “You see something interesting on the desk?” he asked.

  No response.