Across a Summer Sea (25 page)
However, when she was ready to leave Lizzie proved difficult, refusing to leave the pies she was baking with Mrs Moran’s help.
‘Ah, leave her. Isn’t she happy enough here with me? Bridie will take her to see the new lambs later on. You get yourself off,’ the cook instructed.
‘Well, if you’re sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. A walk in the fresh air will do you good. Go on with you now.’
Mary took her jacket from its peg and left. It
was
good just to walk. It was a beautiful day and all around her were the signs of new life. Birds darted from the canal bank to the trees and hedgerows, their beaks full of wisps of straw and grass to build their nests. The trees were beginning to sprout fresh green buds and everywhere there were clumps of wild spring flowers.
was
good just to walk. It was a beautiful day and all around her were the signs of new life. Birds darted from the canal bank to the trees and hedgerows, their beaks full of wisps of straw and grass to build their nests. The trees were beginning to sprout fresh green buds and everywhere there were clumps of wild spring flowers.
The countryside looked beautiful, she thought as she walked slowly along the towpath, waving to the men on the barges that were plying their way down towards the Shannon. She
was
happy here, and so were the children. She didn’t mind the lack of company. She always replied politely to the people who greeted her as she left the little church with her children, but she never made any attempt to engage them in conversation. Both Tommy and Katie had friends at school but they never asked them to come and play, seeming content with their own company and that of Sonny and Bridie, herself and Mrs Moran. When she went into town it was in the company of Sonny and she did her shopping with the minimum of fuss and conversation. She wrote regularly to Nellie and to Molly, keeping them informed of her good fortune and her good spirits. She learned that there was indeed trouble in Dublin between the unions and workers and that at home in Liverpool there had been dock strikes and lockouts and that Frank had made himself even more disliked by siding with the employers. He was still living alone and becoming more and more silent and unfriendly by the month, according to Nellie. No, she didn’t wish herself back in either Dublin or Liverpool.
was
happy here, and so were the children. She didn’t mind the lack of company. She always replied politely to the people who greeted her as she left the little church with her children, but she never made any attempt to engage them in conversation. Both Tommy and Katie had friends at school but they never asked them to come and play, seeming content with their own company and that of Sonny and Bridie, herself and Mrs Moran. When she went into town it was in the company of Sonny and she did her shopping with the minimum of fuss and conversation. She wrote regularly to Nellie and to Molly, keeping them informed of her good fortune and her good spirits. She learned that there was indeed trouble in Dublin between the unions and workers and that at home in Liverpool there had been dock strikes and lockouts and that Frank had made himself even more disliked by siding with the employers. He was still living alone and becoming more and more silent and unfriendly by the month, according to Nellie. No, she didn’t wish herself back in either Dublin or Liverpool.
Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of rather tuneless singing and, looking up, she noticed a man coming towards her, rather unsteadily. She couldn’t recall seeing him before and hoped he wouldn’t want to stop and talk. As he drew nearer she could see that he was quite plainly drunk.
‘Good afternoon to you, ma’am! Isn’t it a grand day altogether?’ he called, catching sight of her.
She sighed. Well, it cost nothing to be polite. ‘It is indeed.’
He peered at her with bloodshot eyes. She reckoned he was about fifty. He was dressed in what she assumed was his Sunday suit.
‘As grand a day as you could get for a funeral,’ he said, attempting to appear sober.
‘A funeral?’
‘Ah, poor Mrs Shanahan was laid to rest this morning.’
And quite obviously he’d been taking a drop of the hard stuff in consolation with the relatives of the deceased Mrs Shanahan, she thought.
‘May God have mercy on her soul,’ Mary said devoutly. He was so close now that she could smell the drink on his breath.
‘Amen to that, ma’am. And where might you be living? Sure, I haven’t seen you before, have I?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Well, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.’ He swayed a little, then continued formally, ‘And whom might I be addressing?’
She was amused. ‘Mrs Mary McGann. And you are?’
‘Dinny Casey from Mucklagh. Where do you live?’
‘Back there at Ballycowan Castle. I’m Mr O’Neill’s housekeeper. I’m originally from Liverpool,’ she added before any comment was made on her accent.
‘Ah, so it’s yourself. I’ve heard about you.’
She smiled. ‘All good, I hope.’
His demeanour changed. ‘Why should it be?’
‘Why should it not? I’m a respectable woman doing a respectable job,’ she answered sharply.
‘No
respectable
woman would work for the likes of
him
!’
respectable
woman would work for the likes of
him
!’
She was growing angry. ‘Then good day to you. I refuse to stand here and be insulted or hear Mr O’Neill insulted either.’ She made to move past him but he grabbed her arm. Crying out, she tried to shake off his grip.
‘Insult
him
! Sure, there’s not words enough in the language to insult
him
with!’
him
! Sure, there’s not words enough in the language to insult
him
with!’
‘Take your hands off me!’ she said icily. She refused to let him see she was afraid of him.
‘You know nothing of him and his way of going on.’
‘I know that he is a gentleman who has shown nothing but consideration and concern for myself and my children and
he
isn’t drunk at three o’clock in the afternoon and assaulting and insulting respectable women on the King’s highway!’
he
isn’t drunk at three o’clock in the afternoon and assaulting and insulting respectable women on the King’s highway!’
His face contorted with rage. ‘The
King’s
highway is it now? And may God blast him to hell! The last one was a drunkard, a glutton and an adulterer and will this one be any better? When did they ever give a tinker’s curse for the likes of us? But
our
day is coming, I can tell you! And I don’t need the drink to tell you what kind of a
gentleman
Richard O’Neill is. He’s one who keeps his poor mad wife locked up in that castle, thinking no one knows about her. You ask him about her. That’s why no
respectable
woman will stay!’
King’s
highway is it now? And may God blast him to hell! The last one was a drunkard, a glutton and an adulterer and will this one be any better? When did they ever give a tinker’s curse for the likes of us? But
our
day is coming, I can tell you! And I don’t need the drink to tell you what kind of a
gentleman
Richard O’Neill is. He’s one who keeps his poor mad wife locked up in that castle, thinking no one knows about her. You ask him about her. That’s why no
respectable
woman will stay!’
Mary was horrified by his outburst. Never had she heard such terrible things said about King Edward or King George but what he had said about Richard O’Neill had shocked her to the core.
‘You’re the one who’s mad!’ she cried. He must be. He must have escaped from a lunatic asylum somewhere. She looked quickly around. She had to get away from him.
‘You take notice of what I say, girl, and get out from there with your childer!’
Mary began to struggle as he tried to push her backwards towards the castle.
He began to yell at her and she screamed for help: he was very strong and she was afraid he would push her into the canal.
‘Leave her alone, you madman! Take your hands off her before I beat you to a pulp!’
Dinny Casey released her and turned, his attention diverted by the figure on horseback who seemed to have appeared from nowhere and who towered over them both.
Mary fell to her knees, crying with relief as Richard O’Neill, his face dark red with fury, raised his riding crop and brought it down hard on the older man’s shoulder.
‘That’s right! Beat a poor old man! You filthy traitor! I’ve told her about you and that poor wife of yours! Beat me all you like but you’ll not change my mind about
you
!’ Casey yelled.
you
!’ Casey yelled.
‘By God, I’ll kill you, you lying drunken sod!’ O’Neill had dismounted and began laying into the older man with his fists.
Mary began to scream and the horse reared in fright.
‘Mary, catch the horse! Catch him before he bolts!’ O’Neill cried.
Somehow she managed to pull herself together and catch hold of the bridle and hang on to it until the animal had calmed down a little. Then she realised that another man had appeared.
‘Let him go, O’Neill! In the name of God, don’t you know what he’s like when he’s drink taken?’ The new arrival had caught the older man by the shoulder and tried to shield him. ‘What have you been saying, Da?’
‘The truth! Only the truth! Leave me be, Peter!’ Dinny Casey whined, rubbing his shoulder where the crop had made it sting.
‘Get him out of here, Peter! I won’t have him carrying on like this. Accosting and terrifying defenceless women with his drunken lies!’
‘He’s a lying blackguard of a traitor!’ Dinny Casey shouted.
‘For God’s sake, Da, will you shut your mouth and get off home!’ his son bawled.
‘You should keep him away from the jar, Peter, or one day that tongue of his will be the end of us all!’
‘I can’t keep my eye on him every minute of the day, Richard, you know that. I do my best.’
‘Just get him home and sober him up before he does any more harm!’
‘Come on out of it, Da! You’re a disgrace to everyone carrying on like this.’ Taking the old man’s arm Peter Casey finally dragged his father away, casting a concerned backward glance at Richard and Mary.
O’Neill’s anger had diminished; he was now full of concern. ‘Mary, are you hurt?’
Mary shook her head, but she was shaking.
‘Ignore him. He’s mad with the drink. It always takes him like that.’ He took the reins from her and mounted the horse. ‘Here, give me your hand. You’ll ride with me, you’re too upset to walk.’
He swung her up into the saddle behind him and she was so filled with relief yet stunned with shock that she automatically put her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder as he urged the horse into a trot and then a canter.
Chapter Seventeen
W
ITHIN MINUTES THEY WERE clattering into the castle yard. She was still shaking when he lifted her down. She swayed unsteadily on her feet, and he put his arm around her. ‘Mary, you’re in a terrible state. Did he hurt you?’
ITHIN MINUTES THEY WERE clattering into the castle yard. She was still shaking when he lifted her down. She swayed unsteadily on her feet, and he put his arm around her. ‘Mary, you’re in a terrible state. Did he hurt you?’
‘No! No, not really! I was just walking . . . It was such a nice day that I thought I’d meet the children from school and . . . Oh, my God! The children! What if he—?’
‘Hush, there’s no need to worry about them. Peter is with him now. He’ll cause no more trouble. Come inside.’ He spoke quietly and reassuringly but inwardly he was seething with anger. Why the hell couldn’t Peter keep his eye on the old drunkard?
Mary held tightly to her employer, more upset at the ugly incident than she would admit. The sense of security and peace she had previously felt had been shattered.
‘Glory be to God! What’s happened? Is she hurt?’ Mrs Moran cried as they came into the hall.
‘No, just distressed. That old blackguard Dinny Casey was roaring drunk and has terrified the life out of her with his carryings on.’
Mrs Moran looked horrified. ‘My God, what did he say to her?’
‘The usual pack of lies! I’ll take her into the drawing room; a drop of brandy will do her no harm.’
‘I’ll make up the fire. She’s shivering,’ Mrs Moran said, bustling away but with a quick glance of trepidation in the direction of Richard O’Neill. She fervently hoped the incident wouldn’t make Mary pack her bags.
He eased her into the chair by the fire and then poured her a small glass of brandy. ‘Drink it slowly, Mary,’ he instructed.
She did as she was told but it burned her throat and she spluttered.
‘Sip it.’ He threw the remaining pieces of turf onto the fire and tried to stir up the embers with the toe of his boot.
‘Did he hurt you?’ he pressed. By God, if he had he’d not let the matter lie.
‘No. Not really, you came before . . .’
‘He wouldn’t have beaten or killed you, Mary.’
‘I . . . I wasn’t to know that!’ she retorted, feeling a little steadier. ‘He . . . he said that you . . .’
‘I know what he said! It’s always the same thing. A tirade against the King and then against me.’
‘It’s not true then? What he said about you having a—’
‘
None
of it is true!’ he interrupted sharply. ‘He’s out of his wits when he has drink. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. One of these days he’ll go too far with all that slander. He’ll say it to the wrong person and then it will be jail or worse. I’m sorry, Mary. More sorry than I can say that you chanced to meet him and he in that state.’
None
of it is true!’ he interrupted sharply. ‘He’s out of his wits when he has drink. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. One of these days he’ll go too far with all that slander. He’ll say it to the wrong person and then it will be jail or worse. I’m sorry, Mary. More sorry than I can say that you chanced to meet him and he in that state.’
She’d finished the brandy and felt much better. ‘I was only being polite to him. He said he’d been to a funeral. He asked me who I was and where I lived and then . . . then he became abusive and started to say all those terrible things.’
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