The Bright One (8 page)

‘I don't suppose Kathleen sees the city,' Breda said.

In her mind she saw Kathleen shut away behind the high walls of a fortress, rather like the convent along the coast from Kilbally, which looked, with its towers and its windows set high from the ground, like her idea of a prison.

‘What's the point of being in Dublin if you never see it?' Moira said. ‘You could be anywhere!'

‘I wish we were going tomorrow,' Breda said. ‘I wish when we woke in the morning we could just set off!'

She turned over and buried her face in the pillow, trying to summon sleep.

‘I don't!' Moira said. She sighed, and put down the mirror. The three days which lay between them and the start of their journey were not enough for the spot to come to fruition, then fade and die. It was too much to hope for.

‘I'll pray for your spot.'

Breda's voice came muffled but kindly from her pillow. A minute later she was asleep. When the twins came to bed a little later she didn't hear them.

Now that the children were getting older, the boys close to manhood, Molly had fixed a curtain across the room to divide it. The girls were in the farthest end so that the boys, coming to bed later, didn't have to walk through their area. In many families, when the children reached their teens, the mother would share the girls' room and the father the boys', but James would have none of that.

‘You're my wife,' he said to Molly. ‘We share the same bed. Isn't that what marriage is about?'

Molly was happy to agree with him.

But the day came at last, and with it, almost unbelievably, the disappearance of Moira's spot.

‘Just look, Mammy,' she cried, rushing into the living room. ‘It's gone! It's magic!'

‘It is not magic,' Breda contradicted. ‘'Tis a miracle, no less! Didn't I say I would pray – and so I did!'

But she was awestruck herself. Did this mean that she could actually work miracles – with God's help, of course. Might she become quite famous?

‘'Twill be a miracle if we catch the train,' Molly said. ‘Get your breakfast both of you. Kieran finished his ages ago.'

The twins had already left for work and James, who had been out all night with the fishing boats, had not yet returned. Molly hoped he would do so before they left. She always wanted to see him back safe and sound after a night's fishing, though there was no real worry on this occasion. Wasn't the sea as smooth as glass?

‘I don't want any breakfast,' Breda said. ‘I couldn't eat a bite.'

‘Then you'll not be going to Dublin,' Molly threatened. ‘Not without good food inside you. And that goes for you, Moira!'

‘I'm quite hungry,' Moira said. ‘I don't know why Breda's fussing so.'

Spotless of face, she could now afford to be calm. It was childish to show too much enthusiasm.

When they were ready to go Molly lined them up at the door for inspection. Yes, she thought, I can be quite proud of them. They are a credit to me. The girls' dresses, and her own, had turned out well, and she had managed to buy new cotton gloves. Kieran's shirt was immaculate, as dazzling white as driven snow, and he had, after all, a nice shop-bought tie, navy with red stripes.

‘You'll do,' she said. ‘It's a pity Dada isn't here to see you all looking decent.'

But as they left the house, carrying the bags which contained their night things and cardigans in case it should turn cold, as well as a new loaf of soda bread baked that morning and a tin of scones, gifts for Kathleen, James was walking towards them up the street.

‘Well, well!' he said, feigning surprise. ‘And where might you lot be going, all dressed up to kill?'

‘Oh Dada, you
know
where we're going!' Breda said. ‘We're going to Dublin! You're teasing us.'

‘Dublin, is it? Well then, in that case I'll turn right around and walk to the station with you, make sure you get on the right train.'

‘There's only the one train we
can
get on,' Molly said. ‘But we'll be glad of your company. 'Tis a pity you're not going the whole way with us.'

James spun around, took Molly's holdall from her, and started to walk with them.

‘We can't all go gallivanting off when the mood takes us,' he said. ‘Some of us have to stay and look after things. I suppose I'll just have to manage.'

‘I've left plenty of food, as you well know, James O'Connor,' Molly retorted. ‘All you have to do is heat it up.'

‘Sure, it wasn't only the food I was thinking of.' He winked at her, and she blushed.

‘We'll be back tomorrow night,' she reminded him. ‘Will I give Kathleen your love?'

‘Of course.'

In spite of Molly's fears, they were in plenty of time for the train, which was a local one. Further down the line they would have to change on to the Dublin line.

‘Quick, children!' Molly said. ‘Get in! This compartment will do.'

‘There's no hurry at all, at all,' James said. ‘They've got stuff to unload and things to take on. Will you look around, you're the only one in a rush!'

It was true. The engine driver had jumped down and was having a smoke. The platform was strewn with things waiting to be loaded while a porter, and they all knew him to be Terry Fenton, was leisurely offloading some of the contents of the guard's van. Boxes, hens in crates, a mewing cat in a basket, several wooden boxes labelled for Luke O'Reilly's shop, followed by a roll of linoleum, a tin trunk, a sack of letters and various parcels all had to be lifted onto the platform before Terry Fenton could think of dealing with the items waiting to go on.

‘This is awful,' Moira complained. ‘How much longer must we wait?'

They were seated in the compartment now, James standing by the open door.

‘What's the rush?' he said. ‘Dublin won't go away before you get there. Anyway, Kilbally's only one station. You'll go through all this at the other stations.'

‘Dada knows,' Breda said. ‘Didn't he once go to Dublin?'

‘And right now,' he said, ‘I'm going home to get some sleep. Mind you look after Mammy and the girls, Kieran.'

‘Sure I will,' Kieran promised.

It was true what James had said. At almost every station they had the same delays, but it didn't seem to matter now. They were on their way and everything was part of the excitement. Breda, from her seat by the window, and sitting opposite to her mother, watched the landscape change from the cliffs and dramatic coastline of Kilbally to the low-lying plain of the middle of Ireland, with its emerald green grassland, its horses, its lakes and, in parts, its acres and acres of dark brown peatland.

‘When I was at school,' Molly said, ‘wasn't I taught that Ireland was shaped like a saucer, high around the outside and low and flat in the centre, and because of that, wet in the middle? That's why it's so green.'

‘Oh, they still teach that stuff!' Moira said.

The first thing they did on leaving the train in Dublin was to look carefully around the station in the hope of seeing Kathleen. It would be so much easier to find the convent if she was there to guide them. It was a forlorn hope; she had told them that more than likely she wouldn't be able to come, and certainly there was no sign of her.

‘Oh dear!' Molly said. ‘I did so hope—'

‘It's all right, Mammy,' Kieran broke in. ‘She sent us the map, and clear instructions. I'll have no difficulty in finding the way.'

‘Well, I'm glad you're with us, Kieran,' Molly said. ‘I can't follow maps. I'd be lost in no time at all.' She took hold tightly of Breda and Moira on either hand and prepared to follow him.

What struck them with force when they emerged from the station onto the street was the vast number of people on the pavement and the amount of traffic on the wide road; buses, trucks, horse-drawn vehicles, cars, though anyone who knew Dublin would have vouched for it that there weren't as many cars these days. Petrol rationing had seen to that. Everything and everybody moved faster than they had ever before seen anything move. They stood there, gazing around them in bewilderment.

‘It's far worse than Ennis on market day!' Molly said.

‘Oh Mammy, of
course
it is!' Moira said impatiently. ‘This is Dublin, not the back of beyond.'

‘I'll thank you not to call Ennis the back of beyond,' Molly said.

Kieran was studying the map, and Kathleen's instructions.

‘She says we're to start by crossing the road,' he said. ‘And then we make for the river.'

‘Cross the road!' Molly was horrified. ‘However will we do that? Just look at the traffic!'

‘We'll do it all right,' Kieran assured her. ‘If 'twill make you feel better we'll cross with a crowd of other people.'

‘Well, hold on to me tight, girls,' Molly said nervously. ‘Don't let go of my hands whatever you do!'

Since the convent was no more than a mile and a half from the station, Kathleen had suggested they should walk rather than take a bus.

‘If Kieran knows where we're going I'd much rather walk,' Breda said. ‘We might not know where to get off the bus.'

‘Of course I know!' Kieran assured her. ‘Here, you take my hand and you and I will walk in front, so. Mammy and Moira can stay close behind us.' He shortened his long stride to fit in with her small one.

Kathleen's instructions couldn't have been more clear, he thought. Really, he had no need of the map. He was slightly disappointed at this; he'd looked forward to working it out, facing the challenge of the city. They walked east until they came to a bridge over the Liffey.

‘This is where we cross over,' he said.

In the middle of the bridge they stopped, and stood looking at the river, turning from one side of the bridge to the other to see it in both directions.

It was wide, black, murky, with seemingly little flow to it; not nearly as good as the sparkling rivers of their own county and not at all to be compared with the beautiful Shannon.

‘But at least we've seen it,' Molly said. ‘When we read about the Liffey, we can remember we've seen it.'

They crossed to the north side of the city, where the convent was situated.

Breda, clutching her brother's hand, walked the streets with her head permanently tilted back. So many buildings, all of them so high, and of pale stone with fancy doorways and huge windows. ‘Mammy, look at the windows!' she called out. ‘They're so big!'

‘Don't I know it,' Molly said enviously. ‘Aren't I thinking how light it will be inside those rooms!'

They were at the convent almost before they knew it. A plate on the big gate – ‘Convent of Our Lady of Lourdes' – confirmed it.

‘There you are!' Kieran said. ‘I told you I wouldn't lose you!'

Kieran tugged on the bell at the gate. It was quickly answered by a young nun who led them across the flagged forecourt and into the house.

‘Sister Teresa is expecting you,' she told them. ‘I'll let her know you've arrived.'

They waited in the wide, handsome hall, with its wood-panelled walls.

‘And will you look at that ceiling, Mammy?' Breda whispered. It was not a place where you raised your voice.

They were all four of them craning their necks to admire it, so high, so elaborately scrolled and moulded, that they didn't hear the nun's soft tread as she came back to them.

‘And is it not beautiful?' she said. ‘Sister Teresa will see you now.'

Sister Teresa came forward from behind her desk to greet them. She would have seemed imposing in any garb, but her long, grey habit, tied around her ample waist with the Francisan cord, the black veil and high, white collar (like a baby's bib at the front, Breda thought), all added to what would have been an awesome severity had it not been for her ruddy cheeks, like polished apples, her blue eyes glinting behind round, steel-framed spectacles, and the welcoming smile on her face.

‘Reverend Mother is sorry she can't greet you herself,' she said. ‘She's busy with the Bishop. Catherine will be with us in a few minutes. 'Twill be herself who will show you to your rooms.'

‘Catherine?' Molly said.

‘Your daughter. We call her Catherine. Did she not tell you in her letters?'

‘No,' Molly said. ‘How is she? Is she . . . satisfactory? Doing well?'

‘Oh yes!' Sister Teresa assured her. ‘Isn't it early days and she has a long way to go, but she'll be all right. God has blessed her. She has a true vocation, which we must nurture.'

A quiet knock interrupted her.

‘Come in!' she called.

Kathleen – I can't think of her as Catherine, Molly told herself – stood before them. Her simple habit was less voluminous than Sister Teresa's and her white veil hid every vestige of her beautiful hair, but otherwise she was the same Kathleen, with the same pert face, the same merry eyes, so exactly like her father's. I haven't lost her, Molly thought. Isn't she still our Kathleen?

‘Take your family to the guest house,' Sister Teresa said. ‘When they're settled in, say in half an hour's time, you can take them to tea. You must return after that, but Reverend Mother has said 'twill be all right for you to spend most of the day tomorrow with your family.'

Their rooms in the guest house were plainly furnished, but comfortable. Kieran was delighted to have a room to himself. It would be the first time since they were very small that he had not had to share a bed with his brothers.