An Irish Heart

by C M Blackwood

  I looked at the red-haired girl, who blushed at her mother’s words. She turned her eyes down to the carpet – a movement which brought my attention to the two small boys who played near her feet. “Those are her twins,” Mrs Warner said. “Gavin and Gabriel.”

  I thought Mrs Warner would introduce the man beside Kerry as her husband; but she didn’t. Instead, when she pointed to the man, she said, “This is my second boy, Kevin.” It seemed obvious after I heard it, what with the young man’s coppery hair and freckles, that so much resembled the rest of his family’s.

  The last young man was Joseph’s brother, Donald Craton.

  “Donny’s with us only for a short while,” said Mrs Warner, somewhat disapprovingly. “He says that Constance Markiewicz is cooking up another scheme – and I’m afraid she’ll be taking him away again soon.”

  “Come now, Mrs Warner,” said Donny. “Don’t speak of the Countess that way. It’s not as though she’s the only one who decides these sorts of things, you know.”

  “Well, she seems to have decided all for herself to get you all mixed up in this nonsense.”

  Donny only smiled. “I choose for myself, Mrs Warner. And you know that the Countess only ever does what she thinks is best!”

  “Nothing is ever for the best, my dear, when it takes you off to some battlefield with a gun strapped to your chest,” said Mrs Warner lightly.

  The dog at Joseph’s feet began to whine.

  “Oh, yes, I’ve nearly forgotten,” said Mrs Warner. “This is Dolly.”

  My mouth fell slightly open.

  “She’s our guard dog,” said Joseph, reaching down to pat the dog’s ears. “Aren’t you, girl?”

  “I only wonder, what is Mr McAlbee’s relation to all of you?” asked Thea.

  Mrs Warner smiled. “Anthony is my brother. Little Joseph here got quite close to his heart years ago, when he worked so near to Mr and Mrs Craton. And when they passed – well, Joe and Donny came to stay here with us. They’ve been here ever since.”

  She took a moment to smile lovingly at the two boys.

  “Well,” she said, “I suppose you girls will want to clean up before bed. I’ll show you to the bathroom; I’m sure you won’t mind sharing it.”

  “Not at all, thank you,” Thea replied.

  Mrs Warner looked at Mary-Anne. “Would you go and ready the guest room, dear?”

  The girl hurried off down the hall.

  I wondered how all of those people fit into one flat. But my question was soon answered, when Mrs Warner said, “I’m sure everyone’s tired. Let’s all make our way to bed.”

  With that, they all got up and bid each other goodnight. Even from the very short time I had spent so far on Marcker Street, I gleaned that Mrs Warner was the woman of the house (so to speak.) No one dared question her – or even seemed to desire to, at that.

  When everyone had said their goodnights, John and Sally headed for the door. “Send Mary-Anne over when she’s through,” said John.

  “I will, dear,” said Mrs Warner.

  When everyone had risen, Donny began to make up his bed on the sofa. I supposed that he did not have a room of his own.

  This left Mrs Warner, Joseph, Kevin, Kerry and her twins. Surely there was not space enough for all of them?

  But then Kerry and Kevin left, each with a child in their arms. Mrs Warner told us that they shared the flat to the right, while John and his family lived in the one to the left. “I own this building,” she said. “Joseph usually sleeps in the room that you two will share – but for now he’ll keep to the parlour with his brother. This flat is the largest of the three; but there are only three bedrooms.”

  I supposed that the last room was for Mr McAlbee.

  Mrs Warner showed us to the bathroom, and to the towels. “Mary-Anne’s filled the tub with hot water for you,” she said. “There’s fresh soap in the dish. Your room’s the second door on the right. Sleep tight.”

  “Wait,” said Thea.

  “What is it, dear?”

  “It’s just – well, our horses.”

  Mrs Warner smiled. “They’re in the stable out back. Kevin brought them round while you were having supper.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it, dear. See you in the morning.”

  With that, she closed the bathroom door on us.

  ***

  The guest room was tiny, but warm. The bed was smaller than ours at home. If I had not been used to lying so close to Thea anyway, our proximity in that narrow bed would have made it impossible to sleep.

  I lay with one of her arms around me, my head on her shoulder.

  “You’re all right?” she asked.

  I wondered for a moment why she asked, having quite forgotten about our encounter with the Hounds. “Oh, yes,” I said finally, realising what she meant.

  “I got a terrible fright, you know.”

  “But that certainly was a brave thing you did, trying to protect Joseph. Stupid, though! You could have been killed.”

  “What would you have had me do?”

  “Ah, I don’t know! You were quite fearsome-looking, I have to admit. I would have dropped my knife in an instant, had you told me to.”

  “You don’t have a knife.”

  “Well, if I had one.”

  “I think it’s best that you don’t.”

  I sighed. “You’re probably right.”

  We were silent for a moment. I thought that Thea might have already fallen asleep; but I asked anyway: “Do you want to know something odd?”

  “I don’t see why not,” she answered.

  “Do you remember that dog in the parlour?”

  “Aye.”

  “Had Joseph ever said anything about her, before we arrived?”

  “Not that I can recall. Why?”

  “I had a dream last night. Joseph was in it, and he had a black dog with him. Named Dolly.”

  She twisted her head to look down at me. “Really?”

  “Why would I make that up?”

  “Good point.”

  “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “What do you think of it?”

  “Of your dream?”

  “What else?”

  “Maybe you’re a seer.”

  “Even if I was – which I’m not – wouldn’t that be rather a trivial thing to foresee?”

  “You don’t always see the things you want to see.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Well, it’s what I’ve been told.”

  “By whom?”

  “Seers, of course.”

  “You’ve known some? Real ones?”

  “Certainly.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Who?”

  “If you’re looking for proof, you can’t have it. The only one I’ve ever known was Flora Mittens – and she died five years ago.”

  “What was she like?”

  “She was normal; but she was odd. She was typical; but she was strange. Just the same as everyone else.”

  “Oh.”

  She patted my hand. “Don’t think on it too much.”

  Those kinds of things, I suppose, are most always easier said than done.

  Chapter 16

  I was roused next morning by a brightness that persisted against my closed eyelids. I turned my head away from the light, burying my face in the pillow.

  This tactic proved rather ineffective – for, minutes later, a knock came at the door. Mrs Warner’s voice boomed out from hallway.

  “You’d best come out if you’re hungry, dears,” she called. “The sausages aren’t likely to last long.”

  I gave a little groan, and Thea moved her arm beneath the blanket, found my hand and took it in her own.

  “Do we really need breakfast?” I grumbled.

  “I think I do.”

  “I said we.”

  “You’re coming with me.”

  I forced myself to roll out of bed, and looked all around the room
. It seemed even smaller in daylight. Its walls were cracked and blue, and the only furniture save the bed was a battered chest of drawers. A large mirror hung on the wall just above it.

  “Not very accommodating lodgings,” I said, still looking about.

  In the kitchen, we found the entire family seated round the large table.

  “Kate! Thea!” Joseph said loudly, his mouth full of food. “Come sit with me!”

  We went to sit in the empty chairs beside him. I supposed that they had been set out for us.

  Once we were seated, Mrs Warner asked, “Did you sleep well, dears? Bed comfy enough?”

  “Oh yes, thanks,” Thea said.

  I simply nodded.

  “Help yourself,” Mrs Warner said, gesturing to the food.

  “Yes, yes,” piped Joseph. “Try a hotcake! There’s syrup for ‘em.”

  John set down his fork, and propped his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his fingertips. “So,” he said. “Joe tells us you girls are from round Kilkenny. Never been there myself.”

  I felt the heat of the room, emanating from the little hearth beside the table. On the other side, to the right, was the stove and counter-top, the sink and the icebox. The table was crammed rather ill-fittingly in the space between.

  “Just down about the edge,” said Thea, “in the farmland. I’ve not been to the city for some years. Never mind Dublin! I must say, it’s very different from the last time I was here.”

  John smiled grimly. “That it is. Dublin’s become a place of badly-behaved children – and adults, for that matter – running all round in a ruckus. I don’t suppose you’ll take much of a liking to it, especially around this area. Which is why we should be all the more grateful that you’ve come for Mr McAlbee.”

  “Joseph’s quite the persuasive little fellow.”

  “I’m well aware.”

  Joseph grinned proudly.

  “So are you a physician, then, Miss Alaster?” Donny asked.

  “Not really,” said Thea. “More of a practised nurse, you might say.”

  Kevin spoke, then; and his question was directed at me. “Are you involved in all of this medical business?” he asked.

  “Oh, no.”

  “Not at all?”

  “Kate underestimates herself,” said Thea. “After having listened to all of my blathering on, she’s more than a little informed.”

  Kevin smiled at her. “Well, I’d like to take the liberty of welcoming you both to our humble abode.”

  His mother swatted his arm. “And why would you do that? Don’t get too full of yourself, Kevin.” She looked to me and Thea, and smiled. “But you are very welcome, dears.”

  “If you don’t mind me saying so, miss,” Kevin said to Thea, “you’re quite beautiful.”

  “Give it a rest, Kev,” said Donny. “I’m sure that Miss Alaster is far too smart for your kind of flattery.”

  “Any more remarks like that,” Mrs Warner said to Kevin, “and I’ll be taking my rolling pin to your arse.”

  The little black-haired girl laughed at that, covering her mouth with one hand.

  “Surely you don’t mind, Miss Alaster?” Kevin asked, trying to catch her eye. He looked at his mother, who was growing ever more exasperated with him. “Oh, Ma, I’m just being friendly.”

  “Be proper now, Kev,” John said.

  “Really,” Sally added, with a humph.

  “Where are your boys, Kerry?” Thea asked, changing the subject. She rested a hand on my leg under the table, perhaps having noticed the darkish expression that had come into my face. (Fortunately enough, it seemed that no one else had seen it.)

  “Asleep in the parlour,” Kerry said. “They stuffed themselves full of hotcakes, and passed out on the sofa.”

  “Those two,” Mrs Warner said, shaking her head. “I swear, even at the age of three, they eat me out of house and home.”

  “They do not, Ma. They’re healthy boys is all.”

  Mrs Warner snorted. “As healthy as I am, if it comes to that.”

  “Oh, now, Ella,” Donny said. “You’ve the figure of an eighteen-year-old fashion queen.”

  “You’re a sweet boy, but I’m afraid I didn’t have that even when I was eighteen.”

  Everyone laughed at that.

  “Well,” said Thea, setting her fork aside and pushing back her chair, “I should be getting to see Mr McAlbee now. Would someone kindly show me to his room?”

  “Of course,” said John, standing to lead her back down the hallway.

  “All right then, dear?” Mrs Warner asked me. “You’re looking a bit pale.”

  I mustered up a smile. “I’m all right, thank you.”

  “Such a long way to travel, and with such little notice!” said Sally, looking upon me with kind eyes.

  I sat for a few more minutes, listening to the chatter all around. But then I stood up, and tried to escape just as quietly as I could.

  “You’re not going?” Kevin asked, looking up at me.

  “I think I may have forgotten something at home,” I lied, stepping round Joseph’s chair. “I just want to make a dash, and check on it, you know.”

  “Well, all right then. But do come back out and join us.”

  Of course, I had no intention of going back out to join anyone. I went straight back to bed.

  I had never been surrounded by so many people before; and I found that it was somewhat overwhelming. I felt as if I was being suffocated – and now, even though the cause of the asphyxiation was removed, I was still feeling rather poorly.

  Once hidden behind the door of the guest room (which was painted white on the hall-side, and blue on the other) I flung myself down upon the bed. I rolled over onto my side, and reached for Thea’s pillow, tucking it under my arm as I closed my eyes.

  ***

  It was early afternoon before Thea returned from her visit with Mr McAlbee. She came into the room, and fell onto the bed, rousing me from a deep sleep. I was not going to open my eyes. She spoke, in fact, just as I was nodding off again.

  “It seems to be a lung infection,” she said.

  “Is it very bad?” I mumbled.

  “Coupled with his age, it’s not very good. And he was very frail to begin with – just a wee thing, he is.”

  “Do lung infections cause rashes?”

  “If there’s a fever – which there is – I suppose that some redness of the skin makes sense. That’s not quite relevant, though, since I think that Joseph was referring to the old man’s bed sores. He’s been in that room for months. He can hardly walk.”

  I opened my eyes. Thea lay on her back, hands folded over her stomach. She stared thoughtfully at the ceiling.

  “He’s a lovely man,” she said. “It’s sad to see him so ill. But the funny thing is, he doesn’t even seem to mind it. He’s cheerful, if not tired. Very tired today, actually.”

  “Is there much you can do for him?”

  “This and that, that and this. I can’t say whether anything will do much good, though. He’s been very sick for a very long time.”

  “We didn’t come for nothing?”

  “I wouldn’t say that just yet.”

  I closed my eyes, and kept them closed, even when I felt Thea’s fingers slipping through my own. I felt badly for Mr McAlbee – really I did. I only couldn’t bring myself to show it just then.

  “Are you tired?” asked Thea.

  “So what if I am?”

  “What’s the matter?”

  I opened my eyes again. She was lying on her side now, propped up on an elbow.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Do you feel all right?”

  As I opened my mouth to speak, my stomach rumbled.

  “You didn’t eat?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t hungry.”

  The corners of her lips twitched – the beginnings of a chuckle at my expense. But all she said was, “Well, you are now. Do you want me to get you something?”

  “No.
”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” I said, perhaps a little too sharply. She didn’t move away, though.

  I rolled over onto my other side, facing the wall.

  I felt the bed shiver as she moved near to me again, this time snaking an arm around my waist. But she said nothing.

  I shoved my hand beneath my cheek, trying to make it look like I was going to sleep. Thea was quiet, but she did not remove her arm from my hip. She pressed her face into my back, and was still.

  I did not expect to find sleep again; but I did. The room was nearly dark by the time I came round. I stretched, feeling the cold that had settled into my limbs. Thea moved behind me, in response to the arching of my back. I looked down at her arm, still hanging slackly over the top of my leg. She slept on.

  I tried to be still, but found that I could not keep from moving – just a bit, this way and that, until Thea began to stir again.

  “Are you awake, then?” she murmured.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  We lay quiet for a few minutes. Then I reached for Thea’s hand; laced my own fingers through hers; and was reassured when she squeezed them gently.

  “How dark it is!” I said, putting my free arm behind my head.

  “A little too dark.”

  “Do you think there’s even a moon tonight?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose we could look out the window.”

  “All right,” I said. “Do that, then.”

  “I don’t want to get up.”

  “Then how am I supposed to know if there’s a moon or not?”

  She shrugged. “You’ll just have to use your psychic abilities.”

  “My what?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already?”

  “Forgotten what?”

  “Your dream.”

  I thought for a moment. “Oh. Well, I wouldn’t chalk that up to psychic ability. I think I’m just crackers.”

  “I agree.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, sure. But not any more so than I am.”

  “You’re crackers, too?”

  “We’re all crackers, my love. It’s just a question of how badly.”

  We laughed again; though I, for one, took a long moment to contemplate the truth of that sentiment.