An Irish Heart

by C M Blackwood

  “I don’t want any of it.”

  “Then why are you fussing about it?”

  “I have to get to work. I don’t have time to argue with you.”

  He slammed the cupboard door, and quit the room. I threw the paper onto the table, and went to pour the tea into two wide-mouthed mugs. I carried them quickly out onto the porch, and shoved one of them into Tyler’s hands. He jumped back, trying to avoid being scalded by the hot liquid.

  “Not quite as jolly as we were, eh?”

  He got to his feet, gesturing for me to take the rocker. I shook my head, and he sat back down, smoothing his trousers against his thighs.

  “I saw that lovely young man strutting out,” he said. “I don’t suppose he’s the cause of your newly-bitter temperament?”

  “Oh, never mind me,” I said. “My mood is consistently inconsistent, at best.”

  He grinned. “I’ve noticed.”

  I leant against the porch railing, and took a sip of my tea. We talked for a few minutes – until the front door opened again. I rolled my eyes automatically.

  I had been expecting Mrs Warner to appear – or even any of the others, it would not have surprised me a bit – but it was Thea who stuck her head out. Her face was pale, and her hair was tousled. I knew she had been sleeping.

  “I thought I heard your voice,” she said. She looked at me for a moment; but then her eyes shifted to Tyler. She looked back to me in question.

  Tyler rose immediately, and held out his hand to Thea, who still stood half in the doorway. She came out on the porch, and shook Tyler’s hand with a bewildered expression upon her face.

  But Tyler only grinned. “Tyler Ashley,” said he. “A friend of Kate’s.”

  “This is a friend of yours?” she asked me. “I don’t recall you mentioning him.”

  “Maybe I didn’t.”

  Tyler raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I’m not really worth mentioning,” he said. “Just a worldly traveller.”

  “I suppose I needn’t ask you where you come from.”

  “You’ve judged my accent, I see.”

  “It’s difficult to miss.”

  Tyler nodded solemnly. “I suppose it is.”

  “Do you mind me asking what you’re doing so far from home, Mr Ashley? You wouldn’t be occupying your time with any activity detrimental to Irish well-being – would you, Mr Ashley?”

  “Oh, not at all!” said he, betraying not the least amount of annoyance. “But I’m afraid that there’s not much to tell. I’ve been anywhere and everywhere; and finally I ended up here.”

  “Is it not a little odd to hang about on strangers’ porches? I mean to say, don’t you –”

  “Well, Tyler,” I said, reaching out to take his cup, “I think I should be getting inside. I’ll see you around.”

  He nodded; tipped his hat to Thea, and winked at me; then was down the steps, and gone.

  “Where in God’s name did you meet him?” Thea asked.

  “Right here, actually.”

  “What?”

  I shook my head. “Never mind.”

  “He was wearing the ugliest hat I’ve ever seen.”

  “I know, dear,” I said, following her into the house.

  ***

  It was later that day when Thea said, quite suddenly: “I just realised something.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “You’ve not even met Mr McAlbee yet.”

  “No,” I said. “I suppose I haven’t.”

  “Would you like to?”

  “Sometime or other.”

  “How about right now?”

  I looked up from the newspaper. “Right now?”

  “Right now. Come on.”

  Before I had a chance to argue, she was off down the hallway – and I was obliged to follow.

  Mr McAlbee’s room was the last on the right. Thea tapped softly on his door, and he said (or coughed, rather) to “Come in.”

  The room was dark. Thea went to the window, and opened the drapes, letting the cold winter light stream in. I saw a large bedstead that stood (strangely enough) between two identical bureaus. An old man lay upon it.

  “Oh, that’s nice,” he said, turning his face to the window.

  He was very old, indeed. Just looking at him, I would have assumed that he was no younger than eighty. He had a head full of thick white hair, and a long matching beard. His face was dry and wrinkled, but still possessive of a kind of youthful expression. The paradox was a pleasant one.

  He certainly did not seem very sick – except for the terrible cough that seemed to creep up on him, ever and anon. I had heard it many times from the hallway.

  When he noticed that there was another person in the room, he turned to look at me, and smiled brightly. “You’ve brought me a new friend,” he said to Thea.

  “I told you about Kate,” she said. “She wanted to meet you.”

  “Oh, and I’m very glad! I love company.”

  “It’s nice to finally see you,” I said.

  “And you, my dear! Do come and sit next to me.”

  I went to the chair on the right side of his bed, and sat down, while Thea took the one on the left side. The chairs were positioned in exactly the same way as one another, just as the bureaus were. I looked around the room in search of more matching things – but found that there was no more furniture.

  “You have a beautiful face,” Mr McAlbee said to me.

  “Thank you.”

  “Thea’s a lovely girl, too. But there’s something about you – and I do say, you remind me of someone!”

  “Who?”

  He frowned. “You know, I can’t seem to remember. I just recollect your likeness, from many years ago.”

  I smiled at him. “I suppose some people just look alike.”

  “I suppose,” he said slowly. “But looking at you, it just feels like the strangest thing! I feel like I know you.”

  “Maybe we knew each other in a past life.”

  He smiled widely. “Yes. Perhaps we did.”

  I sat with him for quite a while, talking of everything and nothing, watching his old face change expressions like the blowing of the breeze. He smiled and laughed, and nodded and frowned, and then smiled again.

  “The world is such a strange place,” he said. “In all of my eighty-two years, I’ve not been able to get a handle on it.” He peered over at me. “Though I have learnt the secret.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “That it all has nothing to do with fate. Absolutely nothing.” He surprised me by taking my hand. “Remember this, child. Nothing is predestined. Anything can go any way, at any time – depending on the choices we make. If people made better choices, and had more compassion – that’s a big part of it, too – then the world would be a very different place. But they don’t, and they haven’t, so it isn’t. It’s as simple, and as sad, as that.”

  “That’s very depressing, Mr McAlbee.”

  He laughed, and patted my hand. “You’re right about that, child. But the key is not to let it get you down! I’d like to think that most people are good, but the truth is that more are wicked than not. Nothing is as good as it could be – but there’s not much we can do about it. We only get one life, and our job is to live it as best we can, making all the choices we know we should – despite what others are choosing.”

  I tried to smile, looking into his eyes and feeling the weight – as well as the knowledge – of all his years upon me. I’m sure that I did not realise it at the time, but his words had had a profound effect upon me; and I would remember them in years to come, in both good and bad times. Yet I never would learn who it was that I had reminded him of. That particular mystery would remain as such, just as do many other things which we wish we might know, forever and ever.

  Chapter 20

  A few days later, it was announced that John would be making one of his speeches in the park, and that anyone who wanted to could follow along. Everyone went, of co
urse. (Even Dolly trailed along after Joseph.)

  Well, there was one person who stayed home. (Can you guess who it was?) He seemed to have intended to go; but when he saw that I would be going too, he cast a dark look my way, and then stamped out of the room. I just rolled my eyes; upon which Thea told me not to start a row; upon which Mrs Warner told me that I would be quite right to do so, if I wished.

  So then we were off, our great procession making its way briskly down the cold city streets towards College Park. Marcker Street was quite a-ways West of St Stephen’s Green – so it was no menial march. But we got there eventually, and parted immediately with John, who was to go and join the fellows who would be speaking alongside him.

  Despite the coldness of the day, the park was filled with quite a crowd. A little stage had been put up at the East edge of the park, and below it were all the men with their speeches in hand, talking amongst one another with fevered expressions.

  With each passing minute, it seemed, another member of the Warner clan spotted a friend in the crowd, and excused themselves to go and meet them. The twins, of course (wrapped in blankets beneath their coats, which reached all the way past their noses), went with Kerry; and Mary-Anne went with Sally; and Joseph (and Dolly) went with Donny. When only three of us remained, even Mrs Warner pardoned herself to find a spot nearer the stage.

  “Why did we come again?” I asked Thea.

  With chattering teeth, she replied, “I really don’t know.”

  We stood for a while longer, with not a familiar face in sight; until finally I recognised someone, who was pushing towards us through the crowd, with a devilish grin upon his grimy face.

  “Is that who I think it is?” asked Thea.

  “Aye.”

  “Wonderful.”

  Finally Eli drew level with us, and stood looking down at us with proud eyes. “Didn’ expect to see me here, did you, lassies?”

  “It was more a matter of hoping, really,” I said. I did not look at him.

  He was befuddled for a moment; but then his smile returned. “Been lookin’ for ye,” he said, patting his pocket, where the shape of his switchblade showed through. “Didn’ think we quite finished our conversation.”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “I’m sure we did.”

  He gnashed his teeth at me. Then he waved his hand over his shoulder, and his pack of hooligans came up behind him. They all grinned stupidly.

  I looked to the second-biggest boy, who was just a little smaller than Eli. “Finn, isn’t it?” I asked.

  He frowned, and then nodded.

  “How do you do?”

  “Quite well, I think,” said he, scratching his head. “And ye?”

  “Oh, the same.”

  Eli growled at him. “What in the hell d’ye think ye’re doing?”

  “Nothin’, Eli – nothin’ at all.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  I examined Eli’s clothes, which were tattered and frayed, and looked as though they had never seen a washing. The toes of his shoes nearly had holes in, and his greasy black hair hung down almost to his shoulders. For the face and the hands, though, there was no excuse – for he could have washed those anywhere.

  “A bit scruffy-looking, aren’t you, Eli?” I asked. “Nothing at all like Mr Curtis, I expect.”

  At the mention of the name, his face went pale as frost beneath the smearing of muck. He opened and closed his mouth, rather quickly, looking every part the fish; but then his cheeks grew flushed, and he stamped his foot upon the frozen ground. “I’m ten times the man that ninny was!” he cried. “Real men aren’t judged by the shine of their cufflinks.”

  “Maybe not,” said I; “but looking as you do, you would certainly never know if they were.”

  The boys began to snicker. Eli turned on them, and they fell silent; but it could not undo the fact that they had laughed in the first place.

  “What happened to Mr Curtis, anyway?” I asked. “However did you come to be the leader of anything?”

  “He was nothin’ but a pansy!” hollered Eli. “Nothin’ but a spoiled pansy-man. And I killed him, that’s what!”

  “Did you really?”

  “Sure I did!”

  “How did you do it?”

  “Well, I –”

  And there he faltered. Apparently, he had never thought that anyone would ask him how he had done it; so he had never thought to make up a story about it.

  The boys roared with laughter. Eli puffed up his chest, and beat his fists upon his thighs, and then went stomping across the park with shining eyes. The boys continued to chuckle. Each gave me a little nod, and then departed.

  Thea was staring at me incredulously. “What in the world was that?” she asked.

  “This was more fun than I thought it would be.”

  I shivered; looked to the stage where the men were still setting up; and then decided that I wanted to leave. If it had been, perhaps, just a few degrees warmer, I would have played the role of patriot much more successfully.

  “Want to go?” I asked Thea.

  “Ever so much.”

  She put her arm through mine, and we began the march back to the flat.

  ***

  Before I knew it, it was Christmastime. It was quite a to-do in the Warner house. Of course, there was no money for anyone to exchange gifts; but Mrs Warner cooked up a feast unlike any I had ever seen. I had never eaten so much in all of my life.

  We all sat up late in the parlour, drinking tea and coffee, and talking animatedly. The house was so warm, so bright and so cheerful, I found myself in the best mood I could remember since November. Even Kevin had temporarily shrugged off his cloak of bitterness, and attempted several times to initiate a conversation with me.

  Everyone was reluctant to retire; but when the clock struck one, the twins began to grow irritable. Everyone wished each another a good night, and a last “Merry Christmas,” and made their separate ways off to bed.

  I slept deeply, but was roused unceremoniously in the night by the flinging of Thea’s arm. It landed somewhere in the vicinity of my ear, causing me to roll quickly onto my back, completely at attention. Her arm slid down to my chest, but she slept on, her face turned towards mine.

  I watched her for a while, until her nose began to twitch, as if she could feel my eyes upon her. But even as such, when she finally woke, she seemed rather startled to have me staring her directly in the face.

  “I love you,” I said.

  Her face softened. “I love you, too.”

  “That’s good.”

  “You seem surprised.”

  I made my face serious. “It does sometimes.”

  She did not seem to be following.

  “Surprises me,” I added.

  She lifted up the blanket, and held her arms out to me. “Just come here,” she said.

  I lay there silently, entangled in her familiar warmth, wishing for sleep but feeling wide awake.

  “Joseph was right, you know,” she said after a while.

  “About what?”

  I liked the feel of her chest, pressed up against me; the steady movement of it was a comforting sensation, one that made her feel more real to me than anything else ever could.

  “We’ve as much right to be married as anyone else. It would be nice, you know, having the same name.”

  “Would I be taking your name, or the other way around?”

  “Perhaps we could just put them together, a sort of compound thing.”

  “People would think we were sisters, you know.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I do.”

  “Then I suppose it wouldn’t matter what the name was.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “So what would it be?”

  “What do you think?”

  “That’s why I asked you.”

  “What if we thought up a new one altogether?” I suggested.

  “Like what?”

  I frowned. “I don’t know
. On second thought, I’m not so sure that I want a different name.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Then why have we been talking about this?”

  “I’m not entirely sure.”

  I kissed her lips. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Marriage is highly overrated.”

  “I agree,” she said, her head sinking down to my chest. “Time for sleep.”

  I stared down at the top of her head, truly intrigued by the brilliant sheen of her hair. I could not help but imagine the two of us, clad in matching white wedding-gowns, exiting the front doors of the most elaborate church in Ireland, overjoyed at the sight of the cheering throng all around us. At the bottom of the steps stood Joseph, a broad smile upon his handsome little face. “It’s about time!” he shouted.

  I drifted into a peaceful sleep. But I woke in the middle of the night, bolting upright in bed, covered in a thick film of cold sweat. Those well-wishers who stood outside our church had somehow managed to transform themselves into an angry, stampeding herd, screaming after us as we ran down a blackened path. We tripped over moving tree roots, which were shifting their positions in an attempt to fell us. We grew ever more frightened, as the rabble continued to gain upon us.

  When they got a little closer, I saw that the group’s frontman was Kevin Warner. Apparently, this version of himself had not been informed of the reconciliation he had seemed to try to strike with me, that very evening.

  “Blasphemers!” he hollered. “You’ll burn in hell!”

  I looked over my shoulder, and saw them all – a raging, pulsing mob, illuminated by the glow of many a torch. Their faces were menacing, cruel and unfeeling.

  “Devil!” one of them screamed, lobbing his torch at me. Before I knew it, my hair was on fire, crackling and burning with an acrid smell.

  I lay very still upon waking, glancing repeatedly over at Thea, almost afraid that something would happen to her, if I dropped again into the realm of sleep. I would not be able to reach her there; and if anything were to happen, I could only stand as a silent observer, striking with my fists upon the thick glass which separated sleep from wakefulness.

  I fingered the tiny golden cross around her neck, and then kissed her cheek.