Blasket Spirit (23 page)

As Sue described what she knew of the planned development, I could feel my heart sink. All would be advertised as adding to the authenticity of that Great Blasket Experience, no doubt. The scraping, whining and dumping continued as a rising tide of frustration surged through me. I saw myself mounting my high horse and so I promptly bit my lip. I could see Sue was in a tough position. Living, as she was, in such close proximity to people on the island, and depending on each other, it was difficult to criticise. It was fine for me to breeze in and expostulate.

I hobbled up to the
Dáil
with my mug of tea, glancing towards the cafe as nonchalantly as possible. The digger was scraping away the soil, old walls and ditches at the back of the Buffer Keane’s house. I came back to report on the proceedings, but on seeing Sue visibly upset, I changed the subject. I tried to distract her with an animated account of Donie’s earlier antics in the water. My forced jollity served only to make us both more conscious of the persistent noise. ‘There’s no escaping it, is there?’ I conceded.

We sat for a while longer the sunshine. Only then were my feet finally beginning to warm up after nearly two hours in the water. ‘More tea?’

‘I think that tea bag died a few days ago, don’t you?’

I had to admit she was right.

‘I think I’ll stick with my original plan,’ she mused, eyes closed as she leaned back against the wall. ‘I’ll just move farther out, find another island when they develop this one.’

Her fatalism disturbed me. Yet, maybe she was right; maybe it was inevitable. The spores of the Celtic Tiger were sprouting a blight of holiday homes and so-called authentic Irish PVC cottage complexes all over Ireland’s coastline. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before it spread to the islands. ‘Right. It’s pointless sitting here helplessly, not knowing what’s going on.’ I got to my feet, gathering up the mugs and saucepan.

‘What are you going to do?’ Sue asked, squinting up into the sunshine.

‘I’m going to ask him out straight what he’s doing.’

‘He’s not going to tell you. To be fair, I’m sure he’s only told each day what work he’s to do.’

‘Well, if I don’t ask, I won’t know that.’

Sue slid down onto the path. ‘Good luck. I’m going to try to weave for the day. Call down and let me know if you wangle anything out of him.’

Inside the hut, the noise of the digger engine reverberated. I packed my backpack for a day at the back of the island. There could be no pleasure on the east side of the island with that constant droning. I had no food left to take with me, so I had the perfect excuse to interrupt Seán. I would buy some food and strike up a conversation.

I
set off towards Peig’s house. The scraping, swivelling and dumping got louder as I approached. The padlocks were closed on the half-doors. Bobbles of aeroboard swirled on the ground between Peig’s and the Buffer Keane’s. The yellow digger was in action behind the Buffer’s house. ‘Hello,’ I roared at the top of my voice. The scraping of metal on stone was deafening. The cab rotated mechanically from side to side between the stone walls and the dump truck. All the while, Seán’s back was facing me. I lifted the fluorescent yellow tape and ducked underneath. The back of the cafe was littered with yellow gas bottles, abandoned batteries and fish boxes full of glass bottles. I winced on the sharply broken rock underfoot. ‘Hello,’ I called again, with a little less conviction. I was not quite sure how he was going to react to halting his work for the sale of a jam scone.

He looked at me curiously for a few seconds before he turned off the engine. Silence. I could imagine Sue’s relief at the other side of the village. Since he did not move, I hobbled over painfully. ‘Hello,’ I called again, managing the biggest smile I could muster. ‘I was wondering if I could buy a few things in the cafe?’ That sounded better than saying one scone, which I could obviously have got from Sue. ‘Sorry for interrupting. My supplies are getting a bit low.’ He still did not move.

I began to feel quite a fraud. For all the times that I had been over to the hostel to visit Laura and Sigrid, and into the cafe to buy Aisling her lunch, I had never really spoken to Seán. Suddenly, there I was, beaming at him as if we were great friends. Eventually, he climbed off the digger and approached me.

‘Sorry for disturbing you. I was wondering if I could buy a few things in the cafe. I’m running a bit low.’ The hypocrisy of it! Swearing not to encourage commercial development on the island while I proceeded to buy scones and chocolate from him. Sue had pointed out, however, that a fact-finding operation could be classified as mitigating circumstances, so I didn’t feel quite so bad about purchasing the items. I followed him around and into the cafe.

‘You’re staying over in Ray’s house.’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s fairly basic, as far as I remember.’

‘I suppose it is really, but it has everything I need. It’s great to have the use of it.’

‘Haven’t seen you around much.’

‘No, I usually go walking every day.’ Suddenly, his little puppy, Captain Jack, appeared from behind the counter and took an instant shine to my bare ankles. Having dodged around the tables several times, I ended up squatting on one of the chairs, laughing with the enemy. It turned out that, like me, Seán was from County Kilkenny. He had worked only a few miles from my parents’ home, before taking the job on the Great Blasket Island. Gradually, he appeared to be less and less of the commercial ogre I had previously imagined him to be. He loved working on the island, especially in the winter before the tourist season, when it was quiet. I sat in amazement. Sue had a lot more in common with Seán than she realised. Somehow, I could not reconcile this gentle, island-loving and puppy-loving man with the development around me.

‘Do you take sugar?’ he asked.

‘No, thank you.’ He handed me a mug of tea, as I continued to crouch on the chair in an attempt to keep my toes out of Captain Jack’s mouth. Seán drank his tea gazing down at the surf breaking on the White Strand.

I directed all my attention to patting Captain Jack’s head. What was I doing here? To mention the digger, the building plans or anything else, seemed inappropriate now. I adored the strong tea. It was a far cry from the coloured water I had shared with Sue earlier. ‘The old wooden counter is very nice. I haven’t been inside here before.’

‘That’s the pub counter that was used in the filming of
Ryan’s Daughter
.’

‘Really!’ I was captivated. Operation Fact-Finder was on permanent hold.

I began to describe the film scene as it played out in my memory. ‘The village idiot, played by John Mills, sat on a stool at the bar counter. He grinned inanely at Christopher Jones, a shell-shocked First World War officer, who sat drinking, drowning his sorrows at a bar table, about there. The idiot kept kicking the counter. Bang, bang, bang. It got louder and louder. The camera zoomed in on his boot, kicking and kicking. The sweat broke out on the lieutenant’s face, until the banging exploded into gunfire in his mind, and he collapsed to the floor, a helpless wreck convulsed in spasm. John Mills was brilliant. I’ll never forget that boot kicking the counter. I’m surprised there isn’t a dent in it from all the kicking.’ I went over and checked along the bottom of the counter – not a mark.

‘How many times did you see the film?’ Seán was looking at me in astonishment.

‘Twice. I was quite young the first time, and it was then that the kicking really impressed me. I think it was because it shocked me so much. It was frightening, I suppose.’ The second time, the scenery, the storm on Coumenoule Beach and the views of the Blasket Islands impressed me most.’

I was economical with the truth, omitting to say that it was the love scene in the bluebells that held the greatest appeal for me as a teenager. During my boarding-school days, every second Saturday, we were shown a
suitable
film with the projector in the study hall. Any time that there was a threat of romance, Sister Ursula’s censoring hand was clamped over the projector, blacking out the screen, to the groans of a hundred pubescent girls. On the night we saw
Ryan’s Daughter
, she was called outside the door for a message, at the most opportune of moments. The bluebells left a thrilling impression on my teenage imagination.

I finished my tea and replaced my mug reverently onto the
Ryan’s Daughter
counter. ‘I better let you get back to work. Thanks for the tea, Seán.’

‘No bother. I was stopping for a break anyway. I’ll keep at it till it gets dark. Need to catch up, while the ferries are off. Call in again.’

‘Thanks. Bye.’ I set off, along the north path, up at the back of the Buffer Keane’s, and the yellow digger roared into action again. As I rounded the turn and met the westerly breeze and the soaring kittiwakes, the digger ceased to exist. I spent until mid-afternoon wandering the cliffs and watching the birds at the back of the island.

On my return I hesitated at the crossroads. Taking the south road would mean passing Sue’s house without a wisp of information. Taking the north road would mean passing above the cafe and hostel again, getting a bird’s eye view of the work in progress. I took the north road, changing the bag to my left shoulder to protect it from the sun beating down from above An Téaracht.
An Fear Marbh
lay basking in the heat, hands clasped serenely over his great stomach. We had made our peace. I watched the changing shadows over his huge bulk until I rounded the path towards the village, leaving him behind. I braced myself for the noise of the digger. There was none. The closer I got, the clearer it became that the digger and dump truck had not moved from where Seán had left them that morning. As I passed, he suddenly appeared from the side of the hostel and waved at me. I waved back and began to zigzag down the hill.

‘Good walk?’

‘Lovely, thanks. There’s going to be another amazing sunset tonight.’

‘I heard the lunchtime forecast. We’re in for another scorcher tomorrow too.’

I glanced over towards the digger. ‘Are you on strike?’ I smiled. I knew he hesitated. I could see him looking for an answer.

‘Ah, the ground is too slippery under the digger.’ I looked at the earth. It appeared to be bone dry to me, but I said nothing. I adjusted my bag. I could feel that I had definitely got too much sun.

‘Will you have a cup of tea? I was just making one.’ I accepted gratefully. ‘So, when are you off back to work?’ he asked.

I could feel my stomach lurch. I had succeeded in quashing the thought of leaving up until then. I greeted and made a fuss of Captain Jack in an attempt to avoid the question.

We sat at a table looking out over the White Strand. He produced a pot of tea and a lemon cake, much to my delight. After sitting in silence for a while Seán said, ‘I hear you saw something over near Ray’s.’ He continued to look out the window. I knew I was not going to be ridiculed so I told him about my encounter with the two little girls.

‘Did you ever see anything else?’ he asked, as if I was leaving something out.

‘No. Nothing else and that was a few weeks ago now.’

He did not say anything as he continued to stare out the window.

‘Why? What have you seen?’ I asked. I felt sure there was something. He shrugged and took another drink of tea.

‘I don’t believe in things like that.’

‘I know. Nobody does, but what did you see?’

‘It started maybe three months ago, when I started working out the back. I didn’t mind it at first. I ignored it, but it kept getting stronger. I was in on the island working by myself then. There was nobody else here. The weather was dire. Even Sue had gone out to the mainland. There was
nobody
else on the island.’

‘What got stronger? What was it?’

‘I used to feel that I was being watched. I didn’t mind it first, but it became so intense. You couldn’t ignore it, like there was someone breathing over your shoulder. It got really bad over a three-day period. On the third day, the feeling came over me as soon as I went out. That was the first time I was really nervous. When I looked around, there was a dark shadow of a figure standing behind the cafe. It was tall and wore a high hat. I couldn’t make out the features, but I knew it was watching me. Then, it gradually faded as I was looking at it. I know I saw it. I stopped working out the back for the rest of that day.

‘Next day, the boss came in and the ferry was running too, so he told me to put the digger away. The minute I turned the key in the ignition, I got the feeling again but I deliberately didn’t look at the thing. It makes you really uneasy though. Then I was told to take the inflatable dinghy round to the Gravel Beach, to check out something. I had that awful sensation the whole time. It was so strong that I couldn’t bear to look back up to the island.

‘I had never capsized until that day. The wave just came out of nowhere. Luckily, the ferry was in, and the lads came over to pull me out, but I felt a bit shook after it. The boss told me to take the rest of the day off, so I came back up here to dry off. At the top of the stairs over there, I got a powerful heavy feeling again. The shadow was there once more, but now it was actually inside the house. I was probably weak and frozen from being in the water so long, but I lost my footing and fell down the stairs. First time that ever happened to me and I stone sober. Some of the girls that worked in the cafe over the years said that there was something strange in this house. They didn’t like sleeping upstairs here at all.’

I felt quite uneasy, as I looked over his shoulder at the wooden stairs at the far side of the
Ryan’s Daughter
counter.

‘I’m always so careful about locking in Captain Jack when I’m working. I keep the bottom half of the door closed and I always check it. I don’t know how he got out. This happened on the morning after I’d capsized. I went out to start work and somehow the pup followed me out. The minute I turned the ignition, I got the suffocating feeling again. I could hardly breathe. As I felt it, the shadow of the man crossed right on front of the dump truck. I won’t repeat what I said to it, but I just drove forward, ignoring it.’ He stopped talking for a minute as he fondled Captain Jack’s ears. The pup had his front paws on Seán’s lap with his nose cradled between his knees. His two big brown eyes looked up mischievously. ‘Anyway, the wheel rolled forward, right on top of this little fella.’ I could feel his guilt and upset still as he said it. ‘That meant back across into Dingle for a few weeks of visits to the vet. You’d never guess to look at him now, would you?’