The Lost Souls' Reunion (27 page)

When Carmel came into his open arms and leaned into him he cried more and she was like the willow that reaches down to gaze at the moving water, and in his eyes she found her own reflection with the years taken off her. Restored in him. Restored.

And for Eddie Burns, Carmel Moriarty was all she had ever been or could be. And for Carmel Moriarty, she had all she ever wanted.

Myrna sat in the chair that Eddie had carried for her from the house, before he had gone back to carry her. She was light now, lighter than air. All bones and eyes.

Now she stood. Eddie had wrapped her woollen blanket around her shoulders and I had pinned it with a silver brooch of hers. I had brushed her long, grey hair out of its coil and it ran like moonlight on night water over thin shoulders.

Myrna raised her arms, trembling. She was the dead come to life, so pale the sun shone through her bare arms making the bones visible. She could have been a dead one were it not for her wet lips and the moisture pearls appearing on her forehead.

She spoke and we knew her voice, clear and sure, without the tremble her body had taken on. The wind quieted to hear it.

‘In this place,' Myrna said, ‘they came together. Beneath this tree they knew each other. The place knows Carmel and Eddie and they know the place. They are part of each other. This, then, is a match in nature's eyes. Let us say you are married and let no one say different. Carmel and Eddie. Married now.'

Myrna sat then and Carmel and Eddie embraced and I was witness to the union under autumn sun and under kinder circumstances than my mother had ever known. I embraced them.

Eddie gave Carmel the same ring that had been his mother's. We talked some time there and the wind talked with the trees and the trees with the sun until we noticed that Myrna had grown silent, she was sloped in her seating and whiter than she had ever been before.

Eddie made to lift her, but Carmel said, ‘We will all carry her.'

She was so little weight she was none at all.

Eddie laughed and apologized to Carmel that she would not be the first woman he would bring over a threshold. The dogs that were ours now barked loud and long and rushed to meet our arrival. Myrna came around at their barking and whispered hush to them and they quieted.

Before we were halfway down the sloping field, Myrna asked us to stop.

She looked at the sun making its way into the sea, the deepened blue of that sea, the grey sand and behind us she glanced at the darkened woods with the fields cut out of them and then she looked on to the house that is Solas. She breathed in the air all around us, a breath that took all of ours and made us faint.

We took her across the threshold.

Myrna did not speak during the meal I had prepared and served. She did not sing when we sang, when Eddie told stories she did not hear.

*   *   *

Later that night, when Myrna was in bed and I slept, Carmel and Eddie went to their room after a moonlit walk and they opened their windows so that the same moonlight they had lain under so long ago in the woods could come again to them. And she opened to him again, as she had to him as a girl. Though he did not move inside her it was as if he had. She held him in her hands until what had not happened in a long time happened.

‘If we die now, we die happy,' Eddie said to her. But she was already sleeping.

33 ∼ Bound to Go to Heaven Now

I
RAN UP THE HILL
of Pass If You Can, in the first of the light. I ran so Jonah would not catch me and I ran because I wanted to carry the news to Thomas that even if the whole world does not wish it there is nothing to prevent two who love each other from being together.

I heard the sound of Eddie and Carmel's love even in the dawning of a day that was as grey as the day before had been bright. I was eager for the love sounds of my own. I found him by the bed of Black.

‘She's an early bird, that one,' Black raised his hand and a smile. ‘Are you the worm she's after, Thomas?'

Thomas laughed.

‘Good morning, Sive. The day has not begun so well. He has a bad pain in his chest and he will not let me call the nurse.'

‘Nurse Joe. Pah! I want to be left alone; I don't want none of the examinations. The examinations are what kill you!'

I asked him, ‘What would you like instead?'

‘You're the girl, Mary Sive,' Mr Black grinned a toothless and decayed grin. ‘You're the Last Request Girl.'

‘Black, the world will be a better place without you,' Thomas said gravely.

‘I would like whiskey, Mary Sive,' Black ignored him. ‘And one last cigarette. Quickly mind.'

I took the untipped Players from his drawer and I took a nip from the bottle Sister Saviour had kept hidden in a pot in the kitchen for emergencies. Black sighed.

‘This is a good smoke and the best time of day to have it. Kills the tastebuds before I have to eat the muck they serve up here.'

He eyed me, then Thomas.

‘Don't think I don't know what goes on. And fair play to both of you for it.' A hacking cough, then a spurt of words.

‘This is it, Cave, man. No drum roll, no last words. No woman crying. No family. Just the smoke and the nip, the eternal, faithful friends, eh? Twenty years I've been living here. No one outside remembers me. I might as well be dead all that time.'

‘You're not dying,' Thomas said.

‘Then I'll be leaving through the window, if you'll give me your assistance. I've had it, Cave, man.'

‘Will I leave?' I asked them.

‘Not at all,' Mr Black signalled to me to sit down by him. ‘Feed me the water of life, Mary Sive. Feed me whiskey. And while you're at it, show us your lovely breasts.'

I put the glass to his lips.

‘A true drinker never loses a drop,' he insisted.

And he did not lose one. Before his last sip he shook the hand of Thomas and on its way back to his side I caught it and placed it inside my clothing.

He lay back against his pillow.

‘It's been too long since I felt a woman. Bound to go to heaven now. Fuck.'

His grip on me loosened. His hand stilled altogether.

‘Eloquent to the bitter end,' Thomas sighed. ‘That was our Black.'

He pulled the sheet over his friend's face and wondered when someone would do the same for him.

After a time, the first of the men rose and those that could began to dress themselves.

*   *   *

Thomas followed me to the bathroom.

‘I am almost as close to death as Black. I am older,' he said.

‘Your dying is far off. We are alive and while we're alive we should be together, Thomas.'

‘And your family?'

‘They would have no reason to be against you. But we cannot stay with them. We would have to leave, Thomas, get away altogether, whatever problems we would have,' I said.

Thomas looked at me for a long while.

‘I am old, Sive, going the way Black has gone. I cannot take you away from the family that needs you.'

‘What would you know of their needs?'

‘I know that you have to work here to provide for them.'

‘You do not know that. My mother is married now, to the window cleaner of this place. And you could work too. Mr Black was ill, Thomas! You are a strong man.'

‘We cannot be certain of that. And there is Jonah. He is bound to follow me wherever I go.'

‘Then we must go to a place where he cannot watch us.'

‘I do have a place we could go to,' Thomas stopped. ‘But I cannot take you away from your family. It is a very lonely place, I lived there before I came here.'

‘You do not take me away from anyone. I take myself.'

‘And you would spend all the time we had together wondering how they are.'

‘I will not have to wonder much longer about one of them. Myrna is one you've seen before. She is going after Black. The other two are married now and have each other.'

The sounds of the breakfast trolley and Joe complaining of my lateness came from the ward. I went out to the duties of the day. My first to tell the men that Black had died.

‘That's paperwork. Nurse's work,' Joe O'Reilly said. ‘I'll notify Sister Mauritius and get the forms ready.'

The men ate the breakfast I served up. But for the pulled curtain in the middle cubicle of the right-hand row of beds, it was a normal day.

I wanted to talk to Thomas again, but he had enough with the death of his most recently made friend, and with bearing Jonah's daily visit, which went on for most of the afternoon.

I did not have to see Jonah. I worked split shifts now and had afternoons off. On the rare days when I had to work right through I kept myself occupied and out of his way. He would come looking for me, would talk to me as I worked. I would not answer.

I did not speak to Jonah. I did not walk along the winding road of Pass If You Can because Jonah had taken to sleeping in his car near Solas. Eddie had caught him twice and had reported the car to the guards, who said they could do nothing about it. A man could sleep and park where he liked.

I went to work through the fields.

It was a hard time for us all. It was a time when nothing seemed to happen at all. But we had very little time left to wait.

34 ∼ Bound to Go to Hell Now

S
ISTER
M
AURITIUS
had Black removed to the chapel, not before she asked me to prepare the body. It was not a thing I had done before. But she was sharp with me saying, ‘I will phone Father Malone and arrange for the funeral Mass to be said in the chapel. Then he will go into the St Manis plot.'

‘The St Manis plot?' I echoed.

‘The plot we use when the men do not have enough money to pay for their own plots. Don't worry,' she answered my look. ‘His name is put on the headstone. If he had died at sea he wouldn't have had that luxury.'

‘What about getting the men to the graveyard?'

‘The men don't go. They will pay their respects to Mr Black at the chapel.'

Later in the day I did not go home, as I usually did, between shifts. I walked for miles through the hills and down on to the shoreline. I walked through woods and fields until I could walk no more and the anger had left me.

I went back to do the second part of my shift on a black night without stars. I did not see Thomas waiting at the gap in the hedgerow until I was almost upon him. It was winter. The last of the autumn had been taken by Carmel for her wedding day. The light was gone before the day. The dark season had fallen heavy on us and kept us in its grip.

I was tired and the sight of him made me lively again. But he had his own words for me.

‘Eddie was here today cleaning the windows. I went to pay my respects to him on his wedding. He says Jonah gave you the scar on your forehead, ran you over. He said it was an accident. He says Jonah watches you and gives you lifts sometimes.'

‘Not sometimes. Just once.'

‘Don't take it again, Sive, don't go near him.'

‘I know that. But I can't avoid him.'

‘Why?'

‘He follows me.'

Thomas was so quiet I thought he had stopped breathing. ‘You should have told me.'

‘You must have known.'

‘I knew he had some interest, but I did not think it had developed…' He stopped. ‘He will never lay a hand on you again. I will make sure of that.'

‘If you do anything to stop him following me he might harm my family, Thomas.'

‘Then what do you want me to do?' he shouted. ‘Stand by and watch him hurt you?'

‘He did not hurt me intentionally. He needs help, he has no one.'

Thomas looked at me in disgust. The leaden feeling dug its way deep into my belly.

‘Where does this sympathy come from?' he asked. ‘Are you encouraging him?'

‘I have not encouraged him.'

Thomas did not listen to the little I said, he cut across me, ‘You have encouraged him. With your walk, with your eyes. Why do women behave like this? Do you think it is some sort of game, to bring on the father and son at the same time?'

He had time to say no more. I walked away from him quickly and did not turn my head, even though he shouted my name for a full minute as I crossed over the lawn.

When the men were settled I made myself tea and sat in the kitchen. A notice from Sister Mauritius advised that Mr Black's funeral Mass would be said tomorrow, and he would be buried after it. Already the bed was prepared for someone else. It would be filled within the week. But I would never know the next occupant. I would not get to say goodbye to the men I had cared for.

It was to be my last night in St Manis. I have not been inside its doors again.

*   *   *

I put my head on the table, to rest my aching head and heavy eyes. My throat hurt with uncried tears. Sleep came on me. When I woke, it was to feel a hand on my head, stroking my hair.

I looked up and he was there, sad, as I was.

‘I am sorry. I am upset that Black has gone. I am afraid of what I have brought on you with Jonah. You would be safe if you had not met me. I am so sorry.'

I put my finger to his lips and hushed him. I looked at the clock, nine-thirty. I should have gone a half an hour ago, the night attendant would come on duty at ten. All the men were sleeping, no television after seven, bed by eight, even the ones who still had minds and mobility fell into step with the routine, for their curtains were closed too.

I sat on the table, held my lover's head against the breast that Black had placed his hand on and I placed my lover's hand in mine. Then I took his hand and I moved it along the long line of my thigh and into the heat that waited for him. He sighed and we stayed like this and I rocked him softly and said, ‘Soon, soon we will go away.'

He did not answer, he placed lips to where he could find skin – throat, breast, shoulder, the crook of my arm. All tenderness.