The Kilternan Legacy (17 page)

Kieron saw me first, touched Ann Purdee on the arm, and pointed in my direction. The movement caught the attention of the other two women. One smiled welcomingly; the other tried to.

Ann Purdee, as one determined to face an unpleasant task squarely, took the darker woman’s arm, and they both advanced on me. Kieron angled himself as their rear guard. Or that’s the impression I received.

“Oh dear, you look so solemn, Mrs. Purdee. Whatever is the matter?” And I instantly remembered her seeing Shay Kerrigan.

“I told you,” said Kieron, encouragingly cryptic.

“Mrs. Teasey, may I introduce my housemate, Sally Hanahoe.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Hanahoe,” I said, holding out my hand.

The young woman blushed all shades, looked about to die, and then jerked her chin up bravely. “I’m not a ‘Mrs.’”

I stared at her a moment, mystified, and then several matters became clear. “Those” tenants, “that lot,” Aunt Irene setting up the tenants of
her
queendom as she chose, with very low rents. The baby Sally held was the little one in the carry cot, who’d been teething. I had been unconsciously wondering how Ann Purdee could have three so-young children, even in a Catholic country. And it also struck me that an unmarried girl with a baby in holy Ireland might have a very rough time of it. That accounted for Sally’s defensiveness.

“Well! Well, I think you’re a very brave girl to keep your baby. You must love her very much. And I think it’s marvelous of you, Mrs. Purdee, to help her. Or are you related?”

“Only by trouble,” said Ann in a rather grim voice. “Then you don’t object?”

“To what? Why should I? Aunt Irene knew?”

“Irene knew,” said Kieron, stepping forward. “She knew whom she wanted in her queendom.”

“That’s more or less why Molly and I are here, too,” said the other woman, coming forward with her hand outstretched. She had a mature, serene face, but the lines at her mouth and her eyes spoke of deep sorrows past. “I’m Mary Cuniff and this is my daughter, Molly. I was a little luckier than Sally. I do have marriage lines, for all the good they do me.” She gave Sally a cryptic smile.

“Well, I appreciate your telling me, but I can’t see that it matters much—at least to me.”

“What worries Ann at the moment is that you’re taking tea with the relatives,” Kieron said, and nodded toward Snow as his source of information.

“And? Winnie Teasey brought you clothes,” I said to Ann, “and seems to know you—” I started to ask what degree of kinship we enjoyed but Ann interrupted.

“Winnie Teasey is a good woman with a guilty conscience.” Then she caught herself. “Oh, that sounds nasty, but she knows I need the clothes and all, and it makes her feel better to give them to me than to the tinkers.”

I cast about for something to say to ease the dreadful bitterness in Ann Purdee’s voice.

“We’re well met, then, Ann, Sally, Mary. I’m scarcely in a position to cast a stone. After all, I got rid of my husband only because I’m lucky enough to live in a country where separation and divorce are possible. And where a woman can bring up a child without too much censure. Furthermore, I’m not about to undo what my Aunt Irene did without very good reason. More than just those greedy relations’ opinions of you.” Kieron was giving Sally a reassuring hug. “And how did you get in, Kieron? Or were you a deserted husband?” I asked, trying for a lighthearted note.

“Oh, I suspect I’m useful as a gatekeeper, chucker-out, and odd-jobs body.”

“Don’t believe him,” said Ann sharply. “He came back to take care of his mother when his sisters turfed her out as useless. You’ve a collection of outcasts in your cottages, Mrs. Teasey: unwed mothers, deserted wives, and”—she flashed another look at Kieron—“layabouts. And Tom Slaney’s been back again. You’re not even doing that job right.”

“No, I threw him out on the roadway yesterday evening. Drink-taken.”

“He’s only dared to be back here because he knew Irene was dead. She’d have the Gardai on him!” Ann said.

“You know, I think my great-aunt was women’s lib!” I said.

Mary Cuniff laughed, a very warm contralto sound. Sally Hanahoe was first startled and then giggled, but Ann Purdee looked upset.

“No,” she said slowly, thoughtfully. “She didn’t like them all that much. She believed that when you had made a decision you had to stick by it. You had to accept all the responsibility for your actions and never blame anyone else. Like your mother spoiled you, or your father didn’t understand, or this or that. She felt that a lot of the women’s-lib movement was trying to evade responsibility by saying men put them down.”

“Ann, you’re simplifying it again,” said Mary gently. “You know what a desperate situation we” [and she meant women] “have in Ireland. You know what I’m paid and what that lout Feeney gets, and I do most of his work.”

“There, that’s just what Irene meant.”

“Girls, girls!” said Kieron. “Sure and ‘tis the Sabbath! And that’s not what Irene meant.”

“A squeaky wheel gets oiled,” said Mary, and from the look on Ann’s face I thought the next argument would be launched immediately.

“Hey, Mom, look at me! I’m riding a horse!” cried my daughter as the circle Horseface had been following brought her around to where she saw me.

Dutifully, and thankfully, we all went to the fence to make appropriate comments. Ann didn’t seem at all nervous that her children were in the keeping of an absolute novice.

“Don’t bang so with your heels, Snow. And sit very straight. That’s better. Shorten your reins. You need more contact.” Ann slipped in under the rail and shortened the reins to suit herself.

Kieron stepped closer to me and said in a quiet voice, as if commenting on the lesson, “You won’t be taken in by the relatives and their notions of how you should dispose of your property, now, would you?”

“You own your house, so why should you care?”

“Those girls’ve all had desperate hard times. They don’t complain, but it would be cruel to see what they’ve built so carefully together destroyed by that group of biddies.” He put his hand under my arm and led me away. I wondered what he’d look like without all the face fur. He had such nice eyes. He was guiding me toward the garden patch, as if we were discussing that. “You see, Ann can’t work away from home. There’s no one to leave the children with, and she’d lose her Deserted Wives’ Allowance. Not that it’s much. Sally works in the supermarket. She pays board to Ann for herself and the bahbee. Ann minds Molly for Mary, who’s a cashier at the Montrose. They all look after Mrs. Slaney, who’s a desperate poor creature, can barely see or walk …”

“Would Mrs. Slaney be better off in a home?”

“No. She knows us and all. Leave her be the while.” He glanced over toward Faheys’. “But them …”

“Mr. Noonan’s getting them out. And how does George Boardman get into this queendom?”

Kieron laughed. “Sure an’ haven’t you guessed yet?” His twinkling eyes enjoyed my puzzlement. “Irene was immensely practical too. Go on, give a guess.”

“I can’t.”

“I’m the tenor…” And when he saw my amazement: “Ann’s the soprano, Mary the alto …”

“And George is the baritone? But Irene’s dead, why have a quartet?”

“Why not? Long winter evenings, you know. No, now, I’m teasin’. Irene liked George, and Fahey’d turned so sour in his old age he was no more use to her at all. It’s only to be nasty he’s kept on there.” Kieron waved at the messy garden. “So when George offered her three thousand for the place, she told Mihall to get Fahey out. I’m not here as often as Ann makes out, and there should be someone about the place. You see,” and Kieron turned dead serious again, “there could be desperate trouble for Ann, and maybe Mary. We know Ann’s husband’s been looking for her when his ship’s in. He’s a right bastard, and he’d move in on her just so’s she’d lose her allowance, which she would do, even if he spent only one night. And he’d beat her again.”

Not if Kieron saw him first, I heard plain as day.

“Is he in Ireland?”

“No, he took the boat.”

“Took the boat?”

“That’s an Irish divorce,” Kieron said with a bitter snort. “Fella takes the boat from Ireland to England and he can’t be forced to pay support for a wife in Ireland.”

“Good Lord.” I wondered for a frantic moment if Teddie-boy might get some ideas. But Hank wouldn’t let that happen. “They can get away with that?”

“Oh, indeed they can. The last time was two years ago, when she was pregnant with Michael. Winnie brought her here. The big cottage had just gone vacant.” He gave a wicked grin. “Never have figured out if Irene approved or disapproved of her girl graduates. But it saved Ann’s life, no question.”

“You’re on her side?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. Fair’s fair. Add to that, I owe the girls a trick or two.” A muscle began to jump in his cheek. “They cared for my mother until I got home.”

I started to inquire about his sisters, pure curiosity on my part while Kieron was in this expansive mood, but a wild shriek interrupted me. It was only Snow, sliding off the shoulder of the horse. She wasn’t hurt; in fact, she was howling with laughter as everyone dusted her off and hoisted her onto Horseface again. We rejoined the others, and the horse dipped his soft muzzle into my hand, sort of inquiringly, and made the most endearing whicker. I patted his smooth nose encouragingly and said something affectionate. He snorted with more force.

“He likes you,” said Snow, almost resentfully.

“He thinks he recognizes my voice, that’s all. But I don’t seem to smell right.”

“You do sound much like Irene,” said Ann. Then, as if she’d said too much, she turned briskly to my daughter.

The littler ones had gone off to play with Molly Cuniff. Mary wasn’t anywhere in sight, but just then Kieron saw the two boys peering at the Mercedes and excused himself. That was just as well. I had quite enough to digest right now.

If Aunt Irene had wanted to protect her subjects, it was logical to choose as successor someone whose ways were not as inflexible as the relatives’. But how could she be sure I’d not be as hard-nosed? On the basis of our names? Or an interest in G & S? Good heavens! Simply because one sang G & S didn’t necessarily mean one went along with their sniping at Victorian mores.

I had just turned two eggs into the plate for my belated breakfast when Snow came bouncing in, declaring that she was about to expire from starvation. She was also full of incidental information.

“Great-great didn’t like men—”

“With Kieron on the property?”

“—in general,” and her expression chided me for interrupting. “Particularly Irishmen. Can’t be trusted. Always believe the worst of a man and you won’t be disappointed.” She tried to snag a piece of eggy toast from my plate until I signaled her to make her own.

“Was she crossed in love?”

Snow shrugged. “Probably, but Ann said that she’d heard that Great-great always had a lot of beaux, and turned ‘em all away. Ann said it was because they were after her money, and she always said
her
money wasn’t for any man to drink up. Sally’s not married, didja know?” I nodded. “Mary’s been here since before Molly was born.
Her
husband was a bigamist, only he wasn’t because the Church annulled his first marriage. Mary knew about that, but what she didn’t know was that the State didn’t recognize the annulment, so now she’s married only as far as the Church is concerned, not the State.”

“Why doesn’t she get an annulment from him because he married her under false pretenses?”

“I dunno. I suspect it costs money, and he went through most of hers and then started going with someone else and she found them in bed together—”

“Sara Virginia! They haven’t been talking—”

“Heavens no, Mother. They’re too square, but I can hear just as well as you what people don’t say. Anyway, Mary up and left him when she was seven months gone with Molly. I mean, gee, that takes real guts. Do you know what divorce Irish-style is, Mom?” asked my all-too-precocious daughter. “Taking the boat!”

“Oh, you mean skipping to England, where the man doesn’t have to pay support?”

“Oh!” That deflated Snow. “You were smart to be an American, Mom. Daddy can’t do that.” Her eyes widened. “Can he?”

“I don’t think he could slip anything past Hank van Vliet.” It was easier to reassure Snow than it was to quell that niggle of fearful worry in my own breast.

“Mommy, aren’t there any nice Irishmen?”

“Heavens, yes. Look at Kieron and George and Shay and Mr. Noonan.”

“Yeah! But there’s something that Ann doesn’t like about Shay Kerrigan.”

“Ohhhh?”

“She sorta tried to find out if he’d be coming around much. I told her you weren’t giving him any right of way, because you didn’t want a lot of traffic and ticky-tacky boxes lousing up the queendom, and that
seemed
to be what she wanted to hear. Then Sally appeared and Ann clammed up. Did you know Ann knits Arrans like zappo, it’s finished? Only the Deserted Wives people can’t find out, or they’d reduce what they give her. She does get medical free, but with the price of things going up so … Sally’s got a friend who’s a fisherman, and he always brings up a sack full of fresh-caught stuff Saturdays, and Sally brings in bruised vegs and stuff from the supermarket, but, honest, Mom …

“So then when Ann heard we were all going to this relative tea this afternoon, she flipped.
They
had big notions of a clean sweep in this quarter before Great-great was even in the ground. And the relative who was supposed to get Ann’s cottage would only sell it anyway, because she’s already got a luxury-type bungalow in Cabinteely. And Ann didn’t say it, but she’s still scared you’ll change your mind, or you’ll be coerced by the death duties to sell hunks of the queendom.”

Snow’s vivacity suddenly drained from her face, and she looked woebegone.

“Sara Virginia, you know perfectly well I won’t. Certainly not to that crowd. But we do have to put in an appearance today. Besides, there’re the young people that Aunt Irene wanted to help. How’re we going to know who they are if we don’t go where they are?”

“I hope they’re there. Unrelieved Great-aunts Alice and Imelda are indigestion-making. Ugh!” She gave an expressive shudder, but her spirits did not revive.