House of Memories (19 page)

“Wouldn’t you just love to know whatever happened to the letters that Emily sent to Edward?” Nora said wistfully.

“The chances are that they were burned,” Kate decided.
“Women are more likely to keep love letters, and anyway Edward could not have kept them in Mossgrove.”

“One day they might turn up,” Nora said hopefully.

“Doubt it,” Kate told her.

There was no trace of discord in the letters, only longing and love, and she wondered how come they had split up and gone their separate ways.

“I’d love to know what really happened,” she said wistfully.

“It was all such a long time ago,” Kate said, “that I suppose we are very lucky to have found out so much.”

The later letters from the little box, written when Emily and Edward were both married and after Jack was born, were full of details about him.

“These letters are like a diary of Jack’s early life,” Nora said.

As they continued to read, shadows gathered in around the kitchen, but now she felt that the cottage was no longer a cold, empty place left behind by Jack. With the letters and Sarah’s story, she felt that the spirit of Jack would for ever be alive in this place. Maybe Rosie and Peter had been right to come here.

Disturbing Toby, she went down into the small parlour, drew back the long lace curtains and looked across the river at Furze Hill. Kate joined her at the window and said thoughtfully, “Furze Hill is coming back to life, and with it the invisible links between the three houses.”

K
ATE WAS DEEPLY
touched when Danny enlisted her help with the restoration of Furze Hill. The first time she had walked around the house, she had been intrigued by its possibilities. That the house had been part of Emily’s life and that Jack wished to have his legacy spent there transformed the project into a journey of remembrance. The restoration would perpetuate his memory. As well as that, she would be spending her grandfather’s money, someone of whom she had vague childhood memories. That he was Jack’s father wove the entire undertaking into a deep connection with her own roots. These two men had given Danny and herself a key to transform Furze Hill.

She took Danny into an amazed Mr Harvey to transfer money from an old investment account into his name. Kate could see that the bank manager was wondering how on earth it could have happened that this young lad, who a few months earlier had come to him in desperation looking for a loan, had now
in a short space of time acquired a substantial account. The whole village knew about the money from the two fields, but nobody would ever be told about this money, Kate instructed a surprised Mr Harvey. She wanted to impress on him that Danny’s business and privacy were his personal responsibly. As they left the manager’s office, a blonde girl came forward to greet Danny warmly, and Kate, remembering the night of the Vikings, smiled, thinking that it was not his bank balance that was impressing this pretty girl. She was glad to see Danny respond with such obvious pleasure. Danny, she decided, was beginning to blossom. But as they walked down the street he surprised her by saying, “Kate, I’m so glad that you are involved in fixing up the house, because without you I would not have the courage to take it on.”

She realised then that he had been so long scrimping and scraping and being without that to him spending was a daunting experience, so there was no possibility of his losing the head and going wild. She decided that her role was one of reassurance and encouragement. To her the idea of going into antique shops, old furniture rooms and auctions with money to spend and an empty house to be furnished was heady stuff. As she confessed to a smiling David that night, “I’ll be like a pig in muck.”

“Kate, don’t break the bank,” he laughed. “Remember that Jack will be looking over your shoulder. After all, it’s his money.”

Now that the exams were over, David was free to concentrate on the new school. It was a relief to Nora and Rosie as well to have the exams behind them, and they were now on a mission to bring back the Vikings. The whole night was going to be bigger and better than anything Kilmeen had ever seen. It
could prove to be an interesting night, Kate thought, with all the young ones, including Kitty, around. Remembering the pretty girl in the bank, she decided that Danny might have a distraction from his dedication to Nora.

Some nights when she came home from Furze Hill, the two girls were there with Fr Tim and David, who were trying to put a curb on some of Rosie’s more extreme notions of entertainment. But most nights it was just Fr Tim and David, poring over plans and new ideas for the school and playing fields. As far as Fr Tim was concerned, it was all about the playing fields, but for David the new school was a dream in the making.

Kate made out a list of all that was to be done in Furze Hill, and the first thing on the agenda was the big clean-up. Scattered around the parish were many hard-working women whom Kate knew would be glad of a bit of extra money, and she got in contact with them, but Ellen Shine was her first port of call. Ellen would be the ideal woman to put in charge of this undertaking. Ellen came very early one morning and walked slowly and silently around the house. Kate could sense her assessing every last detail, with the kitchen getting most attention. When she was finished her tour of inspection, she retraced her footsteps back to the kitchen. Standing in front of the big black range, she put her hands on her broad hips and pronounced, “We will start with this boy, because without boiling water we’re going nowhere here.”

Later that day she had Danny up on the roof with black chimney brushes, and Shiner, whom she had summoned from Mossgrove, was down below going from one fireplace to another. Buckets of old soot and generations of crows’ nests made of twigs and horsehair rolled down the chimneys, and
Shiner became a black ghost with red eyes. Finally the brushes ran smoothly up and down all the chimneys and the two lads cleaned away mounds of debris. Then she led them to the mountain of garden clearing that they had taken down to beside Yalla Hole and instructed them to cut it up into logs and firing. She sent a message to Mossgrove that Davey would not be over the following day, and Kate smiled, knowing that Martha would not question Ellen’s decision. These two women understood each other.

Early next morning, Ellen tackled the huge grey range, and by evening it was transformed into a black shining monster with silver knobs. They all gathered in the kitchen as Ellen laid the first fire. The range belched smoke and turned the kitchen into a twilight zone where they all coughed and spluttered, but Ellen banged open and closed dampers with relentless ferocity and persistence until finally the fire glowed red and roared up the chimney.

“Your mother is one determined woman,” an impressed Danny told Shiner in admiration.

“Who are you telling?” Shiner grinned.

But Ellen was not finished, and directed them around the house to lay fires in all the rooms. When there were no down draughts, Shiner declared, “I did a mighty job on those chimneys.”

“Self-praise is no praise,” his mother told him acidly.

Kate and Danny went into the garden and watched the smoke curl out the chimneys. Furze Hill was coming back to life.

The following day Ellen and her women began the big clean. Kate had previously seen Ellen in action getting Mossgrove
ready for the stations, but she had never seen anything like this. Ellen was a born cleaner; no cobweb or dust was safe in her presence, and she was able to inspire her helpers with her burning enthusiasm. Their combined aim was to rid Furze Hill of a common enemy called dirt. Every evening when she came back, Kate was impressed by their progress. Ellen herself took control of the kitchen and washed down the walls until sudsy water flowed around the floor and it resembled Yalla Hole. The table and dressers were cleaned and scrubbed until their original white wood emerged, and then Bill was summoned in to wax them. A few evenings later when Kate called, Ellen was on top of a ladder whitewashing the ceiling. Kate already had a colour scheme in mind for the kitchen and now without thinking she queried in dismay, “Whitewash, Ellen?”

“What’s wrong with whitewash?” Ellen demanded, wielding a large dripping brush from the top of the ladder. Kate made a hasty retreat, feeling that she could well get a white shower. The following evening when she came back with Bill after Ellen had gone home, she was delighted with the transformation. The kitchen was immaculate. There was a smell of carbolic soap and Vim. The white walls gleamed with a tinge of blue that she knew Ellen had achieved with the blue bag that she used for washing her whites whiter than white. Against these walls, the waxed dressers gleamed golden brown, and the dark red quarry-tiled floor glowed.

“My God, Bill,” she said in awe, “no germ would dare raise his cheeky head in here, and to think that I dared to question Ellen’s wisdom.”

“You were lucky that you didn’t get a belt of a brush,” he laughed.

“I almost did,” she told him as she walked around in wonder, admiring the laden dressers where everything sparkled in the glow of the range, and then went into the long narrow pantry where the shelves were stacked with pots and pans that Ellen had scoured to perfection. She had been delighted to find most of the old pots and ware still in the kitchen. They had probably been unsuitable for the open fire in the poke, and of course the poke was so tiny that most of the things had to be left behind. It was ironic that in turning the house into a fortress old Rory Conway had guaranteed their survival. Now with this fine kitchen and the range back in action, they were coming into their own again.

What a dream of a place to work, she thought as she came back into the kitchen and looked around. She envied the woman who would work in this wonderful place. Then she smiled as she thought that it was probably the first time in her life that anyone had ever envied Brigid Conway.

As the cleaning continued around the house, faded wallpaper emerged, and Kate decided that this would be the colour guide to each room. She noticed that Danny and Bill had got the message loud and clear that their place was outside the front door. Inside it was Ellen who was in charge. Out in the yard, Bill’s two friends had returned, and the farm buildings were being repaired and enlarged. The barn was now reroofed and the piggery was double the size. The hens had moved into luxury accommodation compared to their previous tumbled-down shack. The men had begun at one end of the yard and were working their way around it, and now next in line was the poke. One morning she found Danny viewing the poke thoughtfully, and she said impulsively, “Why don’t we demolish it?”

“Would it be fierce extravagance, Kate?” he asked worriedly. “As a building there is nothing wrong with it.”

“Maybe not as a building,” she agreed, “but it’s full of bad memories. I’m not saying that wiping that out will wipe them out, but I think that in some way it might help.”

She knew what they had all suffered in there, but especially the girls, with whom she had kept in touch as she had been instrumental, with their grandmother, in getting Kitty out. Mary had at first gone to a convent in Dublin, where a cousin of Molly Barry’s was reverend mother, and later Kitty joined her there. Now Mary was teaching and they had their own flat, but Kate still worried how they would survive the abuse they had suffered and had arranged with a friend of hers to keep in touch with them. But now she felt that wiping out the poke might be a good thing for all of them, including Brigid.

That evening when she came back the poke was razed to the ground. She knew by Danny’s face that it gave him a sense of release that a reminder of all that they had endured was finally gone.

“The new stable for Rusty and Bessie is going there,” he told her enthusiastically, pointing at the cleared site, “and we’ll use the old stone of this place for the new calf house beside the cows.”

“Where will you sleep tonight?” she asked, smiling at his delight.

“The barn,” he told her, grinning at the prospect.

Gradually, Furze Hill began to emerge from beneath its decades of dust, and shining windows let in the sunlight. Every evening when the women were gone home, Danny, Bill and herself did a tour of the house. Bill was delighted the evening
the two fireplaces in the front rooms were revealed in all their simple elegance. He ran his hand lovingly over the white marble of the one in the dining room and grimaced in annoyance that the mirror on the other was, as he had expected, slightly tarnished.

“Let’s look at it this way, Bill,” she comforted him, “it gives it an aged look.”

“This house does not need that,” he told her indignantly.

When the cleaning was finished, she persuaded Danny to bring in a plumber and electrician and have the house wired and plumbed, and the little boxroom on the back landing became a bathroom. She knew that he was more than a little apprehensive about the amount of money they were spending, and on Saturday nights they sat down and added up their figures. It surprised her that he was so reluctant to spend, and she secretly worried that he might turn into a skinflint. But maybe it was understandable, she told herself, that he would have a tight grip on money having been without it for so long. They spent nights planning colour schemes, and he surprised her by how much he remembered of his grandmother’s descriptions, which she kept in mind.

When the decorating began, the house became a hive of stepladders and white-overalled men. She had brought in Johnny the Post and his brothers, who decorated the houses of the parish for the stations. As this was such a big job, she had told Johnny to bring in his uncles, who painted in Ross, to help them. The window shutters turned from a dull brown to a gleaming ivory, and the oak floors that had absorbed years of dust and grime were polished to a golden hue. Bill was everywhere, seeing that things were done properly, and he
moved between the building in the yard and the house. With the departure of Ellen, he was back with a free run of the house. His delight in the restoration of the staircase and the doors was infectious, and he gathered them all into the dining room to view the long table the evening that he had finally got it to his satisfaction.

The day the decorating was finished, Kate and Danny stood in the front hallway. It was transformed. As Bill had anticipated, the graceful staircase had come alive, and now the polished curved rail carried your eye upwards to the tall window that poured light down into the hall below. The pale grey flagstones complimented the rich oak doors and staircase. They went into the dining room where the white marble fireplace was reflected in the polished wood of the long table. The theme in here was blue, as dictated by the old wallpaper, and Kate had searched the shops in Ross to come as near as possible to the original. Now the embossed blue paper showed up the delicate cornice-work around the ceiling, and she had splurged out on a beautiful chandelier with a glint of blue. She knew on the day that Danny thought it was a step too far, but looking up now he smiled ruefully and admitted, “You were dead right!”

“Jack always said that you had to pay for quality,” she told him.

They went into the drawing room, which was bare of furniture but for the black marble fireplace. In here she had replaced the soft rose wallpaper with one that was almost identical. Sunlight shone off the wooden floor. Upstairs the shining floors reflected the cream paintwork, and the sound of their footsteps echoed through the empty house.

“This house needs furniture,” she told Danny, “but maybe
you want to wait until your mother and the girls come home.”