‘I can manage.’ Harp sniffed appreciatively. ‘It smells delicious, Mammy.’
‘Let’s hope they think so,’ Rose said worriedly. ‘It’s very plain. I think I should have tried something more elaborate.’
‘Of course they will. They are all happy, they are going on an exciting voyage tomorrow, and they are in a beautiful house, overlooking the most magnificent harbour on Earth. Your food is delicious, but even if it weren’t, “the chief pleasure in eating does not consist in costly seasoning, or exquisite flavour, but in yourself”.’
‘Don’t tell me.’ Rose smiled, trying to guess this one. It was a game they played. She drummed her fingers on the table. ‘Is it Horatio in Hamlet?’
‘Close.’ Harp smiled as she lifted the tureen. ‘Horace.’
Harp carried the tureen through the door linking the kitchen to the dining room. Danny jumped up and took it from her, placing it in the centre of the table. She noticed how the atmosphere had turned so much more convivial in the few minutes she’d been gone.
Eleanor was telling a funny story about the time her goats took a set against her postman and refused to let him or his bike up the avenue. She was doing a hilarious impression of the man trying to do his duty while the evil genius goats plotted his downfall. Harp noticed with delight that Mr O’Sullivan was wiping his eyes with mirth. Eleanor had a wonderful way of telling a story.
They ate the meal, the chatter lively and punctuated by laughter, and everyone exclaimed at how delicious it all was. As they sat down to apple tart with light flaky pastry and their own Bramley apples flavoured with sugar and cloves, all smothered in thick, cold cream, they begged Harp to go to the kitchen and ask Rose to join them. When her mother entered the dining room, having removed her apron and fixed her hair, the group gave her a standing ovation.
Harp’s heart filled with pride. They’d done it. The house was comfortable and welcoming, and the food was delicious. She caught Rose’s eye and they shared a triumphant smile.
Harp thought her mother had never looked more elegant. Rose made most of her own and Harp’s clothes, but they were always finished every bit as professionally as something you would buy in a fancy shop. Tonight her mother wore a chocolate-brown skirt, high waisted and fitted to her slim figure, and her blouse was long-sleeved and in a beautiful ivory satin, with a row of small buttons down the back. It had a round neck with pearl beading on the cuffs and collar, each one painstakingly sewn on by hand.
Indoors at home was the only time Rose Delaney would be seen without a hat, and she’d been telling Harp only last week how there were far too many grey hairs in her dark tresses for her liking, but Harp said, and meant it, that her mother was a beautiful lady. She was only thirty, but she had one of those ageless faces, like a sculpture or a painting. Everyone thought so, even if Rose herself never noticed. One only had to see how the normally taciturn Mr Foster the butcher transformed into a Prince Charming the moment Rose went in the door for the week’s meat. Or how Mr Quinn couldn’t do enough for her.
‘We won’t be doing this every night,’ Rose said with a smile. ‘But many of you may have noticed already that you are our very first guests.’ She walked to the sideboard and extracted a bottle of brandy. ‘And I think we should all have a toast.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Eleanor said enthusiastically.
Harp got some glasses and Rose poured everyone except her and JohnJoe a small glass of brandy. They turned expectantly to the woman of the house and raised their glasses.
‘Thank you all for staying at the Cliff House. It’s been a nerve-racking few weeks, to say the least of it, but this house means the world to my daughter and to me, and it is our pleasure to share it with you.’
Seats were pulled to the table and the dishes removed, and soon the room was full of conversation as if everyone were old friends. Sean O’Sullivan talked about his plans to get work and find a home. He even told them about Gwen, explaining how wonderful she was but how nobody would accept them as a couple and how she pawned her necklace and insisted on using her savings to buy his ticket.
Danny immediately sought to reassure him. ‘Well, nobody in the States is gonna care that she’s the big guy’s daughter. It’s the land of opportunity, my friend. You work, you willin’ to do what it takes, you could come back here and buy and sell her old man.’
Sean laughed. ‘I doubt that, but I do want her to be able to hold her head up. Her father’s not a bad sort really, he just wants better for her. I don’t blame him, but I’m going to make something of myself. Prove it to him, to everyone. We’ll get married, get a nice house – he might even visit once he calms down. Gwen loves him, and I don’t want to be the reason they fall out.’
‘I’m sure he’ll come around, Sean,’ Rose said. ‘I think it’s marvellous that you’re so determined. Well done.’
‘So long as some flashy British officer doesn’t sweep her off her feet before I get a chance to set us up together.’ Though Sean said it with a smile, everyone could see the vulnerability there. He looked suddenly very young and uncertain. He was clearly terrified to go, to lose her, but he had no choice.
‘Well, if she’s that kind of girl, you’re better off without her, but it doesn’t sound like she is,’ Eleanor advised. ‘She sounds sincere and decent. And she gave you her savings, didn’t she, so she must trust you?’
‘She does, and she can be sure of me,’ Sean said sincerely. ‘But I’m just worried it’s all going to take so long and I won’t be able to get the right place for her. She’s used to a fine big house, with staff and everything.’
‘I’m sure she’s not expecting that. But be sure to ask a woman for her opinion before you buy a house,’ Eleanor advised. ‘Men see different things to a woman, so find the wife of a workmate or something and seek her opinion.’
Sean nodded. ‘That’s a good idea, Eleanor. I’d have no idea what would be the right thing.’
‘You’d better learn, buddy,’ Danny quipped. ‘You’ll find the States a very different experience from here, let me tell ya.’
‘In what way?’ Molly asked tentatively.
All eyes turned to Danny, the only one of the group with proper knowledge of America. He seemed to sense the need for reassurance and the nervous anticipation of his audience, and so he thought carefully before speaking. ‘Well, it’s big for a start. Like everything here is so tiny, so…I dunno, compact and old. But back home things are bigger, newer, I guess. America is the extremes, y’know? The best of everything and the worst. The whole world is there. Like everywhere I look here in Ireland, faces are the same. White, Irish-lookin’, y’know?’
The gathering laughed.
Encouraged, Danny went on. ‘But places like New York, or Boston, where we live, are cities of people from everywhere – Russians, Germans, Jews, Chinese, Italians, so many Italians, coloured folks, everyone. You hear so many languages just walking down the street. Different faces, different food, different clothes – it’s a melting pot, y’know?’
‘And do they all get along?’ Eleanor asked.
Danny laughed. ‘No way, they sure don’t. Everyone is fightin’ for his own space. Most immigrants come here – well, there, I mean – with nothin’. A lot of ’em can’t even speak English. But they’re determined to make it, and some do, more don’t. It’s not like here where people take care of each other. It’s more cut-throat, and you need to stay on your toes.’
‘Sounds tough,’ Sean said, then sipped his brandy.
‘It is, but best advice is to find your tribe, y’know?’ Danny seemed anxious to reassure them. ‘Find the Irish and stick with them, that’s what people do. The Jews stick together, the Italians – every group has their own neighbourhoods, and if you stay within that, you’ll be fine. People kinda make their own family. Everyone I know is Irish. Like it might be a few generations back, but that don’t matter.’
Harp caught JohnJoe’s eye. She could tell he was so proud of his cousin, being the authority on the exci
tement that was America.
‘Have you ever been to San Francisco?’ Eleanor asked.
Danny chuckled. ‘San Francisco is as far from Boston as Ireland is from Russia. So no, I never have.’ He smiled benignly. ‘You got a helluva journey ahead of you, Eleanor. Getting to Boston is only the start.’
Eleanor nodded sadly. ‘Unfortunately yes.’
‘Don’t you want to go, Miss Kind?’ JohnJoe asked, speaking for the first time.
She shook her head. ‘Is it that obvious? No, I don’t want to go. My life is my home and my animals, but my brother says I’m getting too old to manage on my own and I might die there without anyone to care for me.’
JohnJoe’s innocent open face was perturbed. ‘But you’ll die no matter where you live, won’t you? I mean, we all will, so why not live and die where you want. And if you have your animals, you’re not on your own, are you?’
Eleanor thought for a moment. ‘I agree with you, JohnJoe, but I don’t have any family there. Edward’s all I have, and he’s so insistent.’
Harp knew her mother probably wouldn’t approve of her having had the audacity to advise an adult, and a guest, but she’d really enjoyed her talk with Eleanor earlier that day and felt there was something approachable about the woman. She didn’t see people in terms of a pecking order, who was important and who wasn’t. And animals got the same value as humans in her mind.
The evening outside was gloomy now, clouds obscuring the setting sun, and Harp drew the dark-green velvet drapes over the lighter silk ones and lit the oil lamps and the candles. The room was warm, and the candlelight softened the faces of everyone gathered around the table. It was almost 10 p.m. now, and the evening had turned into one of shared confidences and gentle laughter. Strangers, united only by the house and a common voyage the next day, chatted amicably.
Eleanor told them all about her animals, and she and Sean were kindred spirits when it came to horses. She explained to him how to use barberry bark for treating liver complaints in mares and foals. Molly described Christmas in Ballymichael to Danny, the thing she would miss most.
Harp and JohnJoe went to the kitchen to make another pot of tea, and everyone topped up their cups. JohnJoe told Harp more about his life before his mother died, and it sounded lovely.
As they were rising from the table to leave, there was a gentle knock on the door. Being summertime it was still bright, but nonetheless it was late to have a visitor. Rose stood and went to answer it, returning moments later with a stunning-looking dark-haired girl behind her. She was petite and curvaceous and reminded Harp of a painting she’d seen of a Spanish flamenco dancer by John Singer Sargent.
‘Gwen!’ Sean leapt up. ‘Is everything all right? Are you all right?’ he asked, sweeping her into his arms, not caring that everyone was watching. Together they made a striking pair.
The girl grinned and kissed him. ‘I just couldn’t bear for you to go without saying goodbye properly. We couldn’t at home, so I came down to Queenstown to wave you off.’
Food was found and a place at the table laid. And Rose insisted she stay the night in the guest room as yet not used. The rest of the gathering retreated and allowed the young couple some privacy.
‘That was nice for Mr O’Sullivan, his girl turning up like that, wasn’t it?’ Harp said as she and her mother prepared for bed.
‘It was, and I think he’ll feel less anxious about her now.’
‘It went well, didn’t it?’ Harp asked.
‘It really did.’ Rose smiled and hugged her daughter. ‘Now, another busy day tomorrow, so off to sleep, and no reading until all hours, do you hear me?’
Harp smiled sheepishly. Her mother had found her reading by candlelight at 3 a.m. the previous night, but she had been in a very good part of Anne of Green Gables and couldn’t put it down. In the end, Rose confiscated the book until morning.
‘I do. Goodnight, Mammy,’ Harp said, going into her own room.
‘Goodnight, Harp.’
In the early hours of the morning, as Harp was fast sleep, the stillness of the house was interrupted by the loud and persistent knocking of the brass ring on the front door. Harp checked the clock. It was two thirty in the morning.
She got up and watched as her mother drew her dressing gown around her and went downstairs, the moonlight lighting her way as she met Danny and Sean on the stairs.
‘We thought we’d better come with you,’ Sean said. ‘I’m afraid it’s the major looking for Gwen.’
Eleanor and Molly appeared out of their rooms, looking worried. But only Harp noticed Gwen emerge from Sean’s room, as soon as all the adults went downstairs, looking furtive. Harp and JohnJoe positioned themselves on the stairs, far enough away but with a fine view of the doorway.
Rose opened the door to find two men, one heavyset and older, fifties maybe, the other in his twenties.
‘We’re looking for Molly O’Brien,’ the older man said. He had thinning red hair and his face was like thunder. ‘We know she’s here.’ He barged towards Rose.
Chapter 19
Rose stood her ground, glad of the two men behind her. ‘Please wait here,’ she said.
The men ignored her instruction and tried to move past her, but as they did, Sean and Danny blocked their path.
‘Get out of my way,’ Seamus O’Brien said through gritted teeth, shoving Sean, but the younger man was too large to be moved easily. Sean and Danny moved closer together, both men realising they would need to act quickly and as a team.
Molly recoiled, wrapping her woollen dressing gown around herself more tightly. ‘Daddy and…Finbarr!’ she gasped.
‘Get your things now! We’re leaving!’ Seamus shouted at his trembling daughter, who stood on the bottom step.
Finbarr had the grace to look somewhat abashed.
‘I…I’m not going home, Daddy. I won’t.’ Molly’s voice came out as a sob.
Her father darted around Danny, crossed the hallway and grabbed her by the arm, his grip vice-like. ‘Now. Outside.’ He began to frogmarch her out, Finbarr standing aside to allow him to pass.
Harp and JohnJoe crept down the stairs to the hallway.
‘Let go of me! I won’t!’ She tried to get away from him but it was no use; his clutch was too strong.
‘Molly’ – Sean moved to stand between them and the door, his towering bulk blocking the older man’s path – ‘you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.’
By now the women were all in the hall too, including Gwen. Eleanor ushered Harp and JohnJoe behind her.
‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ Seamus bellowed. ‘I don’t know you, nor the sky above you, and I’ll thank you to stay out of my business. This girl is my daughter and I say she’s coming home. Where’s your ticket?’ he demanded of Molly. ‘You’ll not go to that heathen, godforsaken country, do you hear me? Where is it?’ he repeated, shouting now, his face inches from hers.
Molly reached into the pocket of her dressing gown and handed the ticket to her father, who grabbed it, determined to rip it up.
‘She’s a grown woman, you jerk!’ Danny stepped in and grabbed the ticket before Seamus could rip it, handing it back to Molly and placing a protective arm around her shoulder. ‘She can go where she wants, and she wants to go to Boston.’
‘Who the hell are you?’ Finbarr demanded, a flash of temper flaring his nostrils and lighting his eyes. He shoved Danny roughly in the chest, pushing him backwards. Then he turned to Molly. ‘If he’s put a hand on you… Molly, I swear, it’s not just about the land. I do like you, I promise, and we could be happy if only you’ll let us.’ Finbarr was pleading now, and Molly’s tears ran down her cheeks.
Eleanor ushered Harp and JohnJoe away up the stairs to safety while Sean stood beside Seamus.
‘Get outta here,’ Danny ordered. ‘Can’t you see she don’t want nothin’ to do with either of you bozos?’ He turned to Molly once more. ‘You don’t gotta do nothing you don’t want to, sweetheart, don’t worry.�
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‘Get out of my way, you big gob Yank.’ Seamus turned and drew a punch on Danny, who ducked, his reflexes faster than the older, lumbering Seamus O’Brien. Danny laughed, goading Molly’s father, then struck a combat pose, fists clenched, back bent, ready to duck again if needs be.
Seamus was incensed now and drove at Danny, who deftly jumped out of the way, sending him crashing into the hallstand. He knocked over the huge china urn that stood beside it, and it shattered into smithereens on top of Gwen, who was standing next to it. Sean rushed to her side, putting his arms around her to protect her as she shook shards of china from her clothes.
‘Come on, old man, that all you got?’ Danny cackled, clearly enjoying himself. Finbarr bore down on him as Molly screamed in warning, but a quick elbow from Danny sent him reeling, his nose pumping blood.
Finbarr was splayed out on his back, blood all over his face. Danny turned and landed another blow on Seamus, who was roaring like a bull now. As Seamus doubled over from a punch to the abdomen, Danny took full advantage and kicked him hard in the kidneys.
Finbarr lumbered to his feet, swaying unsteadily, and dived in once more, dragging Danny off Seamus. The two younger men rolled around on the floor, landing punches, as Molly begged them to stop, her face blotched from crying.
Danny was more than a match for Finbarr, who tried to get away from the young American. Danny ducked and dived and avoided the wild punches being thrown indiscriminately by Finbarr with no degree of skill whatsoever, only one in five efforts making connection.
Danny managed to stay upright and leaned on the bannister, dishevelled and nursing a burst lip. He seemed in good spirits. ‘She don’t want you, farm boy, don’t you see that?’ he teased Finbarr.
In a rage, the Irishman charged again at Danny. They tussled for a moment, then Danny lunged and fell forward, and a moment later, he rolled onto his back. Everyone watched in horror as they realised the knife Danny must have been carrying was now impaled in his abdomen. His blue and white pyjama jacket was rapidly turning crimson.
Last Port of Call: The Queenstown Series Page 20
