A Son of Aran (19 page)

‘What do you think I should do with the house at Estat de Tirelle?' Eileen asked Father Benedictus as they said goodbye before she and Peadar left for home.

‘Apart from using it as a holiday home, I can't reside there for several years. When I graduate from college in Ireland I may consider doing further studies at the university in Salamanca in order to become acquainted with the lifestyle of people here. By then I should be in a position to drive a car—I reckon it would be feasible to commute between both places. In the meantime, if you can come up with a suggestion for use of the house I would appreciate your advice.'

‘There's no doubt that some people have all the luck,' Máirtín exclaimed when Peadar filled him in on the latest developments in Spain. ‘So you tell me that Eileen and you have inherited a gentleman's residence and a huge acreage of land. How in the world are you going to make use of it? It's a far cry from hunting shoals of mackerel and herring off Aran. Anyway I'm glad for you and Eileen—it couldn't happen to nicer people. Maybe I should sell the hooker and join you in sunny Spain!'

‘Begorra, Eileen, you're the lucky lady,' Seosamh said when she told him the news. ‘When you and I were growing up here in Aran, we thought we were on the pig's back if we got as far as Galway with a few shillings to spend. I never thought I'd see the day when you would become the lady of a stately manor in Spain and an heiress to boot. I reckon from now on you'll not want to be associated with a clodhopper like me. Still I am happy for you—I wish you the very best in whatever happens to you in the years ahead. I'll live with memories of the days when we mattered to each other.'

‘Now, Seosamh, don't you go jumping to conclusions; I'm not going to disappear into Iberian mists for a little while yet. At this stage I don't know what I am going to do about the property I have inherited in Spain. I must finish my studies at Galway University before I make definite plans. That will take three more years at least. In the meantime I intend to spend a couple of months in Spain every summer. Maybe you'll come with me next year! You can be my bodyguard. I'd like to have your advice too on what I should do with the land that has been left to me—after all you are the farmer around here. Peadar is a fisherman; he and I know nothing about land. Come, let's forget about Spain for a while; I'd like if we went for a ramble before the sun goes down? The moon is full tonight; why don't we go skinny diving and stay out until morning?'

In the first days of the New Year a letter arrived from Father Benedictus relating to ongoing developments at Estat de Tirelle since their departure.

‘Under the aegis of the Tenants Revolutionary League,' he told them, ‘the smallholders have formed a co-operative association to which all subscribe. To regularise use of lands entrusted to me by Carlos, a legal document has been drawn up and approved. Members of the association are allotted ten hectares for their personal use, the residue being held communally in the short term for use of members and to allow for any additional allocations that may arise. An annual rent of one thousand pesetas per hectare is payable by the tenants on the first day of March each year—proceeds to accrue for the benefit of Eileen and Peadar O'Flaherty after essential expenses had been deducted. Tenants to be allowed to use their allotments for production of fruit, vegetables, and other crops as they see fitting—sale of produce to be organised for those who wish to avail of such a facility.'

Father Benedictus had a proposal to make in regard to use of the buildings and appurtenant lands owned by Eileen: ‘The Department of Social Studies at Salamanca University, of which I am head, would be interested in using the lands as a centre of education and research for the benefit of rural people in that area with a view to assisting them in their choice of enterprises, providing expertise in cultivation of crops, and marketing of produce. If you agree, I will be pleased to draw up a formal proposal for lease of your property by the University and to send relevant papers to you for perusal. Provision can be made for occasional use of the property by you and your friends, and for continuous use of the mansion in the event of you wishing to dwell there. Finally, I send my very good wishes for the health and welfare of your father and yourself. I also want to convey the gratitude of the smallholders who are delighted at the upturn in their fortunes as a result of the provisions of Carlos's Will.'

‘Micilín, you're big enough now to take on some work on the farm. I'd like to devote more time to fishing on the bád mór with our cousins. Come with me and I'll show you how to sharpen a scythe and teach you how to mow. There's nothing to it when you get the hang of the job. I'll cut the first swathe and you can take over after that.'

‘Why would I want to learn how to use a scythe? Did you not hear that Seán O'Griofa is after buying a mowing machine? It came across on the boat a few days ago; he used it yesterday in his own meadow. It cuts more in an hour than a man would cut in a day with a scythe. As far as working around the farm is concerned, I'm well able to look after the cattle and the pony; mother has taught me how to milk the cow. You can go fishing with the cousins every day if you wish. I know you didn't like having to stay at home to help us after father died. You don't have to worry about that any more; I'm going to stay here and be a farmer; I'll look after mother too.'

‘That's the best news I heard for a long time,' Seosamh told Eileen when they met the following week. ‘Now that I'm free of responsibility for my family I can run my own life again.'

‘And where do you think you'll go?' asked Eileen. ‘Will you go back to your job in Galway?'

‘I'm sure that opening is no longer available—the Misses Folan couldn't wait all of this time to replace me. Do you think I might get into the Technical School where I could learn a trade and maybe do some study as well? In that way we'd be near one another again; you might help me in getting back to school—it's a few years since I last sat at a desk.'

‘Seosamh, I think that's a great idea. Of course I'll be glad to help you in any way I can. I'll be able to keep an eye on you too in case Miss Moylan casts a spell on you again.'

‘Don't worry, Eileen, I've got Treasa out of my system long ago. She didn't care enough to write me a note or sympathise with me on my father's death. I'm sure she has made another conquest by now. If ever we meet I'll be all sweetness and smiles but that's as far as I will go.'

‘I'd like to share our good fortune with our friends by throwing a party for them,' Peadar announced to Eileen. ‘What do you think about the idea? After all, it's your inheritance we'll be celebrating. Apart from Máirtín, his mother, and Seosamh, we don't have many close friends here in Aran. I thought we might have the party in Galway where it would be convenient for Festy, Rhona, my work mates in MacDonacha's, the Claddagh fishermen I used to meet with, and of course your own friend Chrissie, her parents and any others you would like to invite.'

‘Sounds fine to me,' replied Eileen, ‘we should choose a venue that isn't too sophisticated. Most of those you mention would feel out of place in the Great Southern or the Eglington. How about Rhona's café? We could arrange to have it all to ourselves for a night—I'm sure Rhona would appreciate the custom. I'll have a chat with her when I go back to Galway. If she agrees we can pick a date and give her advance notice.'

‘That's the husband of Saureen who used to work here one time,' an older hand in the café said to one of her work mates when Peadar came to make final arrangements for the party. ‘He was a fine cut of a man at that time; he looks a lot older now; I'm sure Saureen's death took a toll of him. Drowned off the coast of Aran she was—no one could know how it happened. Her husband was accused of murdering her but the case against him was dropped—it seems he wasn't even on the island when it happened.'

‘Didn't she go around with a Spanish sailor when she worked here? I wonder whatever happened to him? There's a daughter too, a lovely girl of twenty-one; she's up at the university studying to be a teacher. I'm told she has been left a fortune by somebody in Spain—that's what they're aiming to celebrate next week. Some people have all the luck. How is it nothing like that ever happens to you or me?'

‘Ah, well, I wish them luck. There's more to life than money. Anyway, who'd want to live in Spain? Sure that country has been torn asunder with war and disturbance this past twenty years. I'd rather my own little nest in Shantalla, a cup of tea with the neighbours, and a night out with himself at the Hole in the Wall.'

‘Don't look now—the daughter of our old friend Saureen who used to paint the town red twenty five years ago, is sitting at the table behind you with some friends.'

The group of fashionably dressed women sipping coffee in Lydon's were all eyes and ears: ‘She's a beautiful looking young woman, tall, dark, and slim as a herring—where would she leave it and the fine cut of a father she has? She had a tragic childhood—what with her mother drowning, and being reared alone in Aran by her father. I believe she is studying at the university now and she is regarded as a top student; my daughter knows her; she has great praise of her. I wonder if she has a boy friend! One of the waitresses in Rhona's café told me that her father is throwing a big party there some night next week. Where is all the money coming from? Maybe she's becoming engaged! In that case her fiancé is probably covering the cost.'

The women took a good look at Eileen, Chrissie, and Seosamh, as they left the restaurant.

‘There's a story there if we can find it,' one woman said. ‘We'll have to make a few inquiries.'

‘You left it very late to enrol,' the headmaster of the technical school remarked—'term is half over.'

Seosamh explained that he had just come from Aran where he had to spend time with his mother and siblings after his father died. He would like to be allowed to join a class even at this late stage. He would endeavour to make up for lost time by studying really hard. The headmaster was sympathetic. Having given him some tests to ascertain his level of education, he accepted Seosamh's application and placed him in charge of a teacher at grade three. Subjects on the curriculum offered a choice of mathematics, languages, geography, nature studies, and history. He could take either woodwork or mechanical drawing as a practical project. For a start he chose drawing, geography, rural science, and Spanish, and settled immediately into studies at the school in Father Griffin Road. In order to maintain himself, he worked evenings in a store in Shop Street rearranging books and papers and stacking new deliveries on the shelves in preparation for the next day's opening. Nights were reserved for study and for meetings with Eileen who introduced him to Spanish that she herself was reading at college. While walking on the promenade at Salthill one Sunday, they came face to face with Treasa. She looked through them and passed on her way without as much as a sign of recognition.

‘The same to you, Treasa,' Seosamh muttered under his breath as she passed out of hearing.

‘
Cén scéal é seo a chualas faoi Pheadar Ó Flaithearta?'
(what's this story I heard about Peadar O'Flaherty?) one island man asked when, with a group of his fellow parishioners, he stopped to chat outside the chapel after the last Mass on Sunday.

‘Deirtar liom go bfuil sé ar tí dul a chónaí sa Spáin agus go bhuil a iníon ag imeacht in éineacht leis
' (I'm told that he is going to live in Spain and that his daughter is going with him).

‘Ní dóigh liomsa gur fíor an scéal sin. Céard a dhéanfadh Peadar sa Spáin? Níl aon eolas aige ar an teanga—ní bheadh sé in ann béile bídh a sholathair dó féin.'
(I don't believe that story. What would Peadar do in Spain? He has no knowledge of the language—he wouldn't be able to prepare a bit to eat for himself), another replied.

‘
Bheul, sin mar a chualas—ní bhíonn deatach ann gan tine,'
(Well, that's what I heard; there's no smoke without fire).

‘Chuala mé freisin go bhuil sé ar tí parti mhór a thionól i nGaillimh chun slán a fágáil ar a cháirde. Cad faoi sin!'
(I heard too that he is throwing a big farewell party in Galway for his friends—how about that!)

Discussion about Peadar took pride of place that morning over the more usual topics of weather, crops, and fishing. His private life style, the tragedy he suffered many years earlier, and the way he succeeded in rearing his young daughter with no woman about the place to help him, were commented on at length.

‘I'd be sorry to see Peadar leave the island,' one man remarked. ‘His family have been here for generations. 'Twill be lonesome to see the house closed and the currach pulled up on land. Too many people, young and old, are deserting the island; in a few more years there won't be enough able-bodied men left to bury us. What put this idea into Peadar's head in any case? Wasn't he doing all right with his bit of land and the fishing?'

‘It's his daughter I'm told that's bringing him. She has a good education. I suppose she's anxious to see more of the world,' another suggested.

‘And how will Peadar occupy himself in Spain? He doesn't know much about farming apart from looking after the few rocky fields he owns, and rearing a few cattle for the fair in Galway.'

‘That's what has turned him against Aran,' another retorted. ‘It angers him greatly to see how island men are cheated by tanglers at the fairs in Galway. If they can't sell their cattle, as so often happens when the fair is bad, the ‘daylin' men know they can't send them back, and they buy them at their own price. Peadar can't stand that kind of knavery.'

‘Maise, wouldn't he have been as well to sell the cattle to a dealer on the island or to the local butcher—that way one of our own would reap the benefit,' a third man interposed.