The House by the Liffey (36 page)

The great day approached with the preparations well in hand, both for the party and for very tight security. All the adults had been put in the picture and everyone was determinedly keeping the outward appearance of being relaxed. Noola and Milo had been concerned at the effect of the news about Freddie, in particular on Mageen and Izzy, but knew it would also be of concern to Harry that Tim Kelly could be involved, so they decided to tell their three children first.

‘Sorry to have to be the bearer of disturbing news about these two, especially about Freddie, girls.'

‘Don't worry, Mum. It took time but I got over it. As we've said before, in some ways good things came out of it for me: I met Jack! I suspect Izzy got over it years ago too?'

‘Most definitely.'

‘Thank goodness for that. Harry?'

‘Yes, I agree with you, Dad. If they're planning some sort of revenge attack, better it should be now when we're so well prepared for it – get it over and done with.'

‘Well done! Now let's put all the others in the picture.'

* * * * *

On the eve of the party, the actual date of Milo's birthday, the close family, adults and children alike, were allowing themselves to relax with special celebratory pre-dinner drinks by the riverbank. The only incomplete family was Mageen's. So far Jack, Ewan and Al hadn't turned up and Milo refused to open the champagne until all were there.

‘Where on earth have they got to? Do you know what's keeping them, Rachel? When I left our room Jack was almost ready and the boys insisted on helping him to get down here.'

Rachel hesitated.

‘Well it can't be anything drastic or one of them would have come to tell us.'

‘Maybe I should go and look for them.'

‘Oh I should give them another few minutes. If they don't come soon I'll go myself and have a look.'

Then they all heard it. Drifting across on the light evening breeze came a sound Mageen remembered so vividly hearing in the same spot on the eve of her wedding. Someone was playing the bagpipes, the sound moving towards them. But then it had been Jack. So far as she knew, since his injury Jack had played his pipes rarely and only with difficulty. So who was playing? It had to be one of the boys. Lovely and with the best of intentions, for they all knew the story, but perhaps not the most tactful thing to do, for it brought home to her very forcibly that Jack would never be able to do such a thing again. This was rather rubbing salt in the wound, but she tried hard to swallow the big lump in her throat. The whole group gathered there had fallen silent, straining their ears. Then around the end of the marquee someone came marching quite steadily and Mageen was rooted to the spot. No! It couldn't be! But it was! Jack was marching towards her, kilt swinging, playing “Amazing Grace”, with the two boys behind him, also kilted, carrying pipes and ready to join in. Tears poured down her face and she strongly resisted the impulse to run and throw her arms around him. Rachel took her mother's hand and squeezed it hard. All three men now playing, they reached the riverbank where Jack laid down his pipes and opened his arms. Mageen ran to his embrace, careful not to knock him over, and wrapped her arms around him tightly.

‘You sneaky devils all of you! You never let on a word. When? How?'

‘All those visits to the physiotherapist in Edinburgh and the exercise bike in the basement! I worked myself into the ground and the boys and Rachel helped, but we wanted to keep it as a surprise and this seemed the perfect occasion to show you what I've managed to achieve. You know, my love, I can even run!'

‘You wonderful, wonderful man. My darling Jack!'

Ewan, Al and Rachel were grinning from ear to ear and Jack seemed to glow all over albeit with some hint of moisture in his eyes too. The rest of the family had been as stunned as Mageen. The secret had been well guarded. Now they all joined in the delight and congratulations.

‘Wow! What a celebration we're going to have and what a birthday present. Well done! You really are an amazing man, Jack.'

‘Thanks, Milo. You're not so bad yourself – a hard act to follow, as they say.'

‘Let's crack that champagne!'

* * * * *

Milo and Noola had alerted all the staff as well as the rest of the family to the possibility that Freddie and Tim might try some sort of an attack. On the morning of the party Mickeen sought Milo out with news that he felt he should tell him.

‘I've been trying to find out some information about Tim Kelly.'

‘Thanks, Mickeen! Any luck?'

‘Well, some. It seems he hits the bottle really hard. Actually he's an alcoholic. This could limit his usefulness to Freddie Armstrong.'

‘Or make him even more dangerous? As we all know, some people grow really aggressive when drunk.'

‘I'd say if he
is
persuaded to try anything he'll make a wreck of it. In Freddie's shoes I wouldn't trust him an inch.'

‘But Freddie's clever. He might use Tim's drunkenness to create a diversion.'

‘Oh! Didn't think of that. Well at least we're now alert to the kind of tricks Freddie might pull.'

‘Well done, Mickeen. I'll tell Sean Flynn.'

The evening was an unequivocal success. A small floor had been laid for those who enjoyed dancing and there was a group to play for this and some gentle background music. The huge table from the dining room, which conveniently divided into several sections, had been set out at one end for the buffet and lots of chairs from the house had been arranged in small groups for those who would find standing for any length a problem. Izzy had taken little persuasion to play during the evening and her grand piano had been moved, with great care, into the marquee. The children sang to her accompaniment and Jack, Ewan and Al played their pipes again.

There was plenty of much enjoyed reminiscing too. Milo, Joe, Paddy and Chuck Wilson relived the episode where the two friends had been shot down and rowed home, fetching up in Dunmore East then Waterford Hospital, where, by coincidence, Paddy had been working as an intern. And later the triumphal return to the squadron and the delighted reception and celebrations. Noola added her memories of Milo's unannounced return home and his creeping up on her as she paced the riverbank grieving for him.

Bertie hadn't been able to arrive until the very last minute, coming straight to the party from the airport. He, Jack and Sean Flynn also had a great session together, they too reliving the time they had met when Izzy had been abducted. Noel, although very much on the alert with his men patrolling the grounds, did snatch a few minutes to join this particular group and got a real kick out of catching up with Jack and Bertie.

One of the delights of the evening was the meeting between Bertie and Izzy. For a brief few seconds they just stood and looked at each other, unusually for both, words deserting them. The years fell away and she was a young teenager again, arms outstretched, feet flying to greet him and Jack in the hotel in Famagusta.

‘Oh, Bertie! How wonderful to see you again. It's been such a long time.'

‘Little Izzy! As beautiful as ever.' She was folded into a bear-hug embrace.

They spent as much as possible of the remainder of the evening together, catching up with each other's news. Bertie was introduced to Trisha who took an instant liking to him.

‘Your mum was just about your age when she and I first met.' It suddenly occurred to him that Trisha mightn't know the story. ‘Has she told you about it?'

‘Yes, she's told me all about meeting you and Jack in Famagusta. I'd love to go there someday.'

‘I'm sure you will and you could both come to visit me in Israel too.'

‘I'd
love
to do that, Bertie. Oh, Mum! Could we
please
?'

Izzy smiled broadly.

‘I don't see why not if Bertie can put up with us for a few days.'

‘Izzy dear. I can put up with the two of you any time and for as long as you want. I'd be delighted. How about arranging a concert tour there?'

‘What a wonderful idea. I'll get to work on that!'

Noola watched the two of them with growing pleasure and commented to Milo:

‘I wish Bertie had come back to visit us several years ago.'

‘I'm not so sure. It could have been a bit too soon. As well as Izzy's grieving, don't forget he was getting over a broken marriage.'

And so the evening passed happily, the younger children wild with excitement at being allowed to stay up so late, and Noola and Milo, as always the perfect hosts, making sure everyone was looked after in both food and drinks, not least the Garda on duty. Although the adults, especially the men, remained on full alert, nothing untoward happened until close to the end of the evening. Milo had been quite right: in spite of all the security, both Tim and Freddie remembered vividly the detailed layout of Riverside in and out and Tim had managed to slip in on the tails of the caterers and hide away in the basement. Unfortunately for him, he found the wine cellar open and helped himself liberally while he waited for word from Freddie. He became very drunk and got fed up waiting so, with everyone out of the house, he made his way up the back stairs to the roof. Then, just as the caterers were thinking of starting to clear up, he appeared at the front parapet waving a bottle in each hand and shouting venom against the Butlers.

Noel and one of his men called up to him to come down but he just swigged more whisky and swore at them. Then staggering towards the parapet he threw one of the bottles at them and in doing so lost his balance. The second bottle flew out of his other hand as he tried to save himself, but it was too late and he toppled over the edge. Somersaulting down, he hit the stone flags below, head first, and was killed instantly.

Fortunately the party was still in full swing so nobody in the marquee on the other side of the house was aware of what had happened. Hiding the body in the bushes, Noel called for an ambulance to come without sounding its siren. Then he went to find Sean to tell him what had happened.

Milo had been absolutely right in his surmise. All this was exactly the distraction Freddie had banked on. While it was going on he managed to slip into the house, with the equipment he needed to do the job he planned. He hid himself away where he knew nobody would search.

* * * * *

The guests started to say their goodbyes and gradually the party came to an end. The caterers did an efficient job of tidying up and eventually there was nothing left for anyone to do, so the family drifted off to bed, tired but happy, for as yet Noel had kept Tim's death to himself, his men and Sean.

‘Should we tell Milo do you think?'

‘No, Sean. Let him have his night's sleep. Pity to spoil what was obviously a great evening. The other fellow can't have got in or he would have tried some mischief by now. It looks as if he missed his chance. Do you think we overreacted?'

‘No, I'm still uneasy, Noel. Don't trust him at all. Can you leave some of your lads here until the morning?'

‘No problem. I'll stay a bit longer myself and we'll continue to keep an eye on the back of the house as well, although an approach from that side would be more difficult. Somehow I doubt he'd use a boat, but you never know.'

‘Thanks, Noel. I'll keep you company.'

By 3.00 am all was silent in the house. Nobody was stirring, everyone relaxed and happy after the celebrations. Freddie had listened to the sounds of voices fading away as gradually goodnights were said and people went to bed. Then just as the first streaks of dawn were showing, when he would need the minimum use of a torch, he crept out of his hiding place carrying two large cans of petrol. He knew precisely where to start a fire so that it would have the most devastating effect and ensure his supreme satisfaction. Adding to the likelihood of maximum effect, it would be on the river side of the house, opposite to where the duty Garda were concentrated, so if he timed it carefully and watched for any men patrolling, it shouldn't be spotted until well underway.

Like many of the other downstairs rooms, the beautiful old sitting room was lined with wooden panelling, there since the house was first built and now tinder dry. The curtains were also some years old but, being of top quality, had stood the test of time and still looked good. However, they too were powder dry. He left the door wide open to ensure a good flow of air to fan the flames, then starting with the door frame, he spread the petrol liberally along the panelling. He worked deliberately slowly, determined to do a thorough job. He pulled the curtains slightly across the windows and sloshed the petrol over them reaching as high as possible. In doing so some of it splashed onto his clothing but he didn't worry. He knew exactly what he was doing. He had planned carefully and knew, if it worked, the fire would take hold extremely rapidly and then spread uncontrollably through the rest of the house. Well before the fire brigade could hope to get there Riverside would be finished. Any attempt to save it would be a complete waste of time and, with any luck, some of the Butlers would die with it – the more the better.

At last he felt ready. Savouring this dreamed of moment he waited for a few minutes after the latest patrol team had passed the back of the house and then he struck a match and threw it at the curtains. He had, however, done an even better job than he realised, for a lot of the petrol had flowed onto the floor and, because he had worked slowly, the air was now full of the volatile vapour. The flame connected with this instantly and the room exploded into an inferno. It caught him completely by surprise and, helped by the petrol he had slopped onto them, his clothes ignited and also his hair. He ran screaming to the door in agony hoping to escape but by now he was a human torch and the flames were licking around the door frame. He inhaled the flames making the agony more than his heart could endure and he died before he got out of the room.

Outside Sean sniffed the air.

‘Can you smell smoke, Noel?'

‘Yes, I can. Where's it coming from?'

‘Oh, please God, no! That's what he's done – set the house on fire. If I get my hands on the bastard I'll strangle him. But where is it?'

‘No matter where, Sean, take the men and run and wake the household. Get everyone out as fast as possible. I'm sending for the fire brigade and ambulances.'

That was when the flames suddenly lit up the sky at the back of the house and they realised that they had so little time to get the people out let alone save the house. The job was made more difficult by all the doors being very firmly locked and bolted, as had been recommended, in a continuing effort at security. Sean and the Garda hammered and banged at the main entrance door and rang the bell furiously. No reaction. Surely
somebody
would have been disturbed by the noise and smell.

Somebody was. Little Orla, never a sound sleeper, woke up and noticed the strange smell. Then, her bedroom facing towards the river, she saw the flames two storeys below. She ran to her parents room screaming at the top of her voice.

‘Mum, Dad, wake up, oh please wake up. The house is on fire.'

Cathy and Harry stirred, at first thinking that the child had been having a nightmare. But then they smelt the smoke and from their own window saw the flames lighting the sky.

‘Out everyone as fast as you can. Cathy, take Orla and Hal – don't wait for anything just go down the back stairs and head for the river. I'll go along the corridor and wake Johnny. Then I'll make sure everyone else is awake and gets out.'

Harry ran and got Johnny moving. Then he almost fell down the stairs and ran along the next landing, unceremoniously throwing open all the bedroom doors and shouting at the top of his voice.

‘Wake up everybody, wake up, wake up. For God's sake hurry – the house is on fire!'

Everyone responded with lightening speed.

‘Make for the river. Get as far away from the house as you can.'

He could hear the men outside shouting and hammering at the door but could do nothing about it until he was sure everyone was awake and moving. The flames were now licking hungrily at the west end of the great entrance hall and he knew the worst thing he could do would be to open the door and feed in more air. He ran in the opposite direction and into the library. He closed the door behind him and then threw open the windows and called to Sean.

‘Along here, Sean. I can't open the door – the flames are already in the hall. Everyone's moving out by the back stairs and heading for the river. Could one of the fire engines concentrate on the corridor connecting the East Wing to us: try to stop it spreading there?'

‘Good idea! The fire brigade should be here any minute.'

The words had hardly left his lips when Harry heard the sirens of the approaching fire engines. He closed the windows and ran down the corridor connecting the main house to the East Wing to make sure everyone there was awake too. However, the noise and smell had already disturbed Tommy who was getting his family out fast. When Harry was almost at the end of the corridor he cannoned into Tommy, hurrying to make sure the family in the main house had been alerted.

‘I've advised everyone to go down to the river – it'll be the safest place.'

‘That's what I thought too, Harry, and they're all on their way down there. I'm wondering if there's anything can be done to minimise the spread of the flames.'

‘They'll do their best, Tommy.'

At that moment Milo appeared at the far end of the corridor and called:

‘Everyone out your side, Tommy?'

‘Yes, Milo. Yours?'

‘Yes. At the moment the fire is being blown westwards but will inevitably spread here too. I'm not going to take any chances – let's go!'

‘Okay, Dad, but since the fire hasn't reached this end yet maybe we could save some of your antique books? We can hand them out of the window to the men there.'

‘Yes, Milo,' added Tommy. ‘In fact Harry could hop out and we could hand some of the books to him.'

‘Are you two stark raving mad? Thanks for the thought but antique books can be replaced, you can't! Now out of here both of you and down to the river with the rest. If the flames have reached the top of the house the roof is likely to cave in any minute.
OUT
!'

Milo leaned out of the library window to have a word with Sean.

‘Just get out of there, Milo, the lads will do their best.'

‘The Flanagans and Jockser?'

‘All out. Jockser's taken the horses and dogs safely out of the way too. Now
go
, Milo!'

He closed the library door firmly behind him and followed Harry and Tommy down the corridor to the East Wing and out that way across the lawn and down to the others.

‘Everyone here, Noola?'

‘Yes, Milo, as you can imagine, we've checked and double checked over and over again.'

Mickeen and Kitty and family were there too but Jockser had decided to stay with the horses and dogs. He had taken them far from the house and was keeping them as calm as he could. When one of the Garda went to check on him he was standing there with the tears streaming down his cheeks saying over and over again:

‘The beautiful old house, the beautiful old house, destroyed altogether.'

* * * * *

The fire brigade did a remarkably efficient job with fire engines ploughing around the East Wing and across the tennis court to get to the river, from which they then had an endless supply of water. The marquee was far enough away from the house not to get caught by the flames which were being blown away from it, but the sousing by the fireman ensured it survived. Attacked from both sides the fire gradually came under control but not before the central section of roof did collapse inwards, as Milo had feared. Like the sitting room, the wood in the rest of the house was tinder dry and had fed the greedy flames. They devoured the elegant stairway which facilitated their route to the floors above. It would be some considerable time before a forensic team found what little remained of Freddie's incinerated body.

The whole west side of the house was destroyed, including the big conservatory with all its rare plant specimens. Thanks to the unflagging efforts of the firemen the flames hadn't jumped the gap between the main house and the Flanagans' home, or the stables and garages. Miraculously, and again thanks to the firemen, a small part of the east end of the main house, including the library, wasn't too badly damaged and the East Wing had escaped unscathed, but all that remained of the rest was a charred stone shell.