The Magdalen (6 page)
Authors: Marita Conlon-McKenna
“Esther, will ye-hurry up, Ger wants to bring us home now!” called Tom. “He's giving Carmel a ride home too and he wants to drop us off first.”
She watched as her brother disappeared through the awning. “I'm sorry, Con, but I have to go or I'll miss my lift home.”
Con had his arm wrapped around her, and she wished above everything else that the night didn't have to end so soon.
“Esther!” Donal was shouting at her now. “Ger says if you don't come on he'll go without you!”
“You'd better go!” advised Con, releasing her.
She was disappointed, but tried to appear bright and bubbly, as if it didn't really matter at all if she never laid eyes on him again. Reluctantly she followed her brother out to the waiting truck. Carmel was there, sitting right up beside Ger.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” asked her brothers.
“I saw Eddie was taking good care of you,” joked Gerard. She didn't even bother to reply. “He's a good lad, with a big spread of land up beyond the lake. I'm telling you, you could do worse.”
Esther concentrated on looking out into the blackness of the fields and ditches as they drove along the bumpy roads. She closed her eyes. Her mother would be waiting with the kettle boiled, dying to hear how they had all got on. She smiled to herself, squashed between her brothers' knees. God, she loved dancing. She wished that she could go dancing every night of the year.
She thought of the stranger, closing her eyes as they drove through the darkness. She might not have been so quick to say no if it had been Conor O'Hagan holding her hand and asking her to take a walk outside in the moonlight.
G
erard Doyle had formed a plan. It had taken shape in his brain over the years, as ambition and greed became his driving force. He had never got over his father's tragic death and the resulting hardship they had all endured. He had had to become the man of the family and assume responsibility for his mother and brothers and two sisters. The farm itself was growing bit by bit and eventually the old one who lived near them would be called home to meet her Maker, and he might get the chance to buy her few acres. The parish was full of old folk, t'was only a matter of biding his time. They had the fishing-boat, the
Corrib Queen,
purchased with funds raised by the parish, and a top-up loan from the
bank to fit a new engine. The fishing was going well and Donal was a good worker; eventually the other lads could work for him too, once they were old enough. In time he would purchase another boat: with two they could increase the size of their catch, and their profits. He was not going to let things drift like his father had done. The Doyles would never need the assistance of the parish ever again, if he had his way. He would not be beholden to anyone. The brothers were tough and hardy like himself, and although Esther irritated him at times, she was growing up into a fine-looking woman. Eddie Boylan and some of the local lads were mad about her. He'd make sure she made a good match when the time came, but for now he had to admit that she was a great help to their mother.
erard Doyle had formed a plan. It had taken shape in his brain over the years, as ambition and greed became his driving force. He had never got over his father's tragic death and the resulting hardship they had all endured. He had had to become the man of the family and assume responsibility for his mother and brothers and two sisters. The farm itself was growing bit by bit and eventually the old one who lived near them would be called home to meet her Maker, and he might get the chance to buy her few acres. The parish was full of old folk, t'was only a matter of biding his time. They had the fishing-boat, the
Corrib Queen,
purchased with funds raised by the parish, and a top-up loan from the
bank to fit a new engine. The fishing was going well and Donal was a good worker; eventually the other lads could work for him too, once they were old enough. In time he would purchase another boat: with two they could increase the size of their catch, and their profits. He was not going to let things drift like his father had done. The Doyles would never need the assistance of the parish ever again, if he had his way. He would not be beholden to anyone. The brothers were tough and hardy like himself, and although Esther irritated him at times, she was growing up into a fine-looking woman. Eddie Boylan and some of the local lads were mad about her. He'd make sure she made a good match when the time came, but for now he had to admit that she was a great help to their mother.
But as for that poor simpleton of a sister, Nonie ⦠He clenched his jaw. He wasn't prepared to have his hard-earned money squandered away on the likes of her. His cash would not be frittered away by a pile of women.
Not that he didn't like womenâwell, girls. Give him a drink of porter and a bit of music and he was as good as the next man, swirling around the room, a piece of melting female flesh caught in his embrace, then dashing outside to the cool night air and, under the star-speckled sky, pulling Katie or Carmel or whatever her name was tight against him, ignoring giggled protests, covering their panting mouths with his, deep-kissing them till they moaned as he pressed them close, moulding hips and buttocks to his. Jasus, he was getting excited just thinking about it!
There was work to be done. He had bought a few more sheep in Galway and had sailed them over to Inis Dil, one
of the islands, thinking that a summer there might fatten them up. The small island was uninhabited, covered in grass and clover; years ago a colony of wild goats had lived there, but now his few sheep had the place to themselves. Sheep couldn't be trusted totally on their own, so as often as he could he'd go out to check on them. Young Tom had said that he would come along too.
of the islands, thinking that a summer there might fatten them up. The small island was uninhabited, covered in grass and clover; years ago a colony of wild goats had lived there, but now his few sheep had the place to themselves. Sheep couldn't be trusted totally on their own, so as often as he could he'd go out to check on them. Young Tom had said that he would come along too.
He watched as his younger brother came stumbling across the stones and seaweed in his rush to join him. The boat was a few yards off the shore, and Tom pulled off his shoes and socks as he waded out to clamber in.
“Esther's coming too!” Tom smiled, looking forward to an afternoon at sea that didn't involve fishing.
“Where is she then?” growled Gerard, his humour changing.
“She'll be along in a few minutes. She's just finishing off the washing-up.”
“I can't wait for long, you know, the tide will turn, and there's a bit of a wind brewing up. She'd better hurry on!” They both sat in the warm sunlight, waiting, as the boat rocked backwards and forwards. Tom scanned the foreshore for a sight of their sister. “I'm going!” Gerard shrugged. “We can't be waiting all day for her! She can come again another time.” He began to start the engine, turning the boat seawards, the water churning as they left the beach behind.
Esther called their names as she ran panting down the winding path, but knew that it was useless as her voice was lost under the noise of the engine. “Ger! Tom! Wait for me!” she shouted angrily as she watched their boat disappear in the distance. Why did her brothers always do
things like that to her? It wasn't her fault that she'd got delayed. Nonie had managed to spill a jug of milk all over the kitchen floor, and she'd tried to mop it up before her mother discovered it.
things like that to her? It wasn't her fault that she'd got delayed. Nonie had managed to spill a jug of milk all over the kitchen floor, and she'd tried to mop it up before her mother discovered it.
“They can't hear you!” came a voice from the bentover figure working on the dark brown boat at the water's edge. “They're too far out!”
“Oh, I know that!” She sighed. “I'm just annoyed with the both of them, that's all!”
“Are they off fishing? Is it the fishing you like then?”
Esther burst out laughing. “I don't care a divil about the fishing, it's just that they're gone over to Inis Dil. I like the islands, and it's one of my favourites. My brother has put a few sheep over on it and wanted to see how they're doing.”
“Sheep on the island, now that's interesting.” The stranger had stood up, and Esther, embarrassed, smiled, recognizing Con, wondering would he remember her. They grinned awkwardly at each other. In broad daylight he looked different, not quite as handsome, though she was struck by his deep, piercing eyes and square, kind face. “I wouldn't mind seeing that myself. I've a few lobster pots to lift, but can go out by the island if you fancy it?”
Esther hesitated. The thought of an hour or two in his company, away from the house, feeling the salt spray on her face and breathing the fresh sea air, was appealing, but she was cautious after their previous meeting; after all, he was still a stranger, no matter how handsome and fanciable he was. She knew absolutely nothing about him.
The young man seemed to read her mind, and pointed
in the distance. “Esther, do you know the old McGuinness Place?”
in the distance. “Esther, do you know the old McGuinness Place?”
She nodded, hiding her delight at his remembering her name. Dan McGuinness had been a friend of her father's for many years. The two men lay buried near each other in the small local graveyard.
“I work for his daughter Nuala, do you know her?”
Nuala McGuinness was an acquaintance of her mother's. She was an only child and had been left the rambling farmland and two-storey farmhouse about two years ago. Esther's brothers did odd jobs round the place for her, but still the farm was slipping to rack and ruin. Nuala had never married.
“Aye,” she murmured.
“Look, I'm just offering if you fancy it to come out in the boat.”
Esther stared at him. At that moment if he'd said he was taking her to Timbuctoo she'd have gone with him. For some strange reason she trusted this stranger with whom she had danced. Awkwardly she stood on the beach, unsure of what to do or say next.
“You climb in and sit up the front end of the boat, and I'll give us a bit of a shove off!”
Esther climbed in over the side of the boat, settling herself on the small seat. She watched as Conor rolled up his trousers as he pushed the boat out into the water before jumping in, flinging his sweater and shoes on to the bench and grabbing an oar to push them into deeper water. His small engine spluttered a few times before starting.
“This used to be Dan's boat. I'm trying to get it going again, though the engine's not the best.”
“My father was always telling him to get a new one,” she volunteered, “but Dan wasn't that interested in the fishing anyways.”
“Your father was a fishermanâNuala told me about him. You live up by the headland with your mother and a rake of brothers and a poor wee sister that's notâ” He stopped suddenly, embarrassed.
“Right in the head,” she added flatly, admitting the truth to this stranger, wondering if the whole district knew their business.
“I'm sorry, Esther,” he apologized. “I always say the wrong thing and put my foot in it.”
She nodded. “There's our house, look, I can even see our dog, Mixer!” she prattled on, trying to dispel the sudden silence.
The boat moved on and Esther was content to sit in the sunshine, watching him in secret. They stopped about a mile out and she helped him to lift the lobster pots for a look.
“Only a few crabs!” he moaned, and Esther jumped out of the way as he chucked the large ones in the wicker crate on the floor of the boat. The rest he threw back into the salt water. “Not mad on crab myself, but I suppose they'll do.”
“Whereabouts are you from, Con?” asked Esther, curious about the strange softness of his accent.
“West Cork,” he announced proudly, “where the water is a hell of a lot warmer than here, and when the fishing is good the fish almost jump into the boat. I grew up in a little place called Goleen, have you ever heard of it?”
She shook her head.
“There was a big family of us, and God love my parents, there was no way they could keep us all, so we knew once we got old enough that we'd have to leave the place and make our own way.”
“That must have been hard, having to leave the place you grew up in, and the place you loved,” said Esther, watching the emotion in his eyes.
“Better to leave Goleen than end up hating the place!” He sighed. “âTis the same with all small places!”
“I'd never hate here!” declared Esther vehemently.
They passed Seal Island, a small group of rounded rocks that at first glance appeared like a group of huge seals basking in the swirling waters. “They say that this is where the selkies come to sing their songs,” she told him as they passed close by. She noticed the way his thick hair caught in the sea-breeze, and he would try to push it out of his eyes.
“Any sign of your two brothers?” he queried.
Esther shook her head. There wasn't a trace of their boat, but then this one seemed a lot heavier and slower. All she could see was the vast ocean spread out all around them. For the minute all she wanted was to stay in this old boat near him, this Con, this stranger. Absentmindedly she moved her feet away from the slight pool of water seeping in through the floorboards, and began to bale.
“She's letting in a bit,” he remarked, watching her. “Anyways, it's not much further to Inis Dil.”
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Gulls screeched above them as they approached the steel-grey rocks and sharp cliffs of Inis Dil. Con had to concentrate as he guided the boat over a patch of ominous grey shadows lurking under the water.
“Be careful!” she warned, leaning over to try and see what other dangers lay ahead. “Gerard might have landed on the other side, that's where the grass is growing.”
“Now she tells me!” groaned Con, laughing to himself.
Esther blushed as his honest gaze ran over her. She began to bale again.
“This sure is a rough old island, âtis no wonder it was left to the goats,” he considered aloud. “I think we'll try and go around to the other side.”
Her long brown hair caught in the wind, whipping across her face as they turned, rounding the curve of the island, where patches of green were scattered amongst the bare rocks and her brother's puzzled sheep stared out at them. They had to stay well out of the way of the rocks as they began to make for the shore. Con had cut the engine, lifting the propeller up into the air and using an oar to steer them along. With each roll of the waves they seemed to be pushed nearer the shingle-covered beach. The boat was letting in more water as the water swelled and pushed against it. “I don't think I can take her much closer, it's too dangerous!” he said grimly, pushing the boat nearer and nearer until it was almost aground, wedged on a sandbank. “We'll have to wade in.” He lowered the anchor in the shallow water before climbing over the side, the water soaking his trousers. “Come on, I'll lift you in.”
Esther tried to protest, but he wouldn't hear any of it, and held his arms open to carry her. She squealed and
clung to him as he swung her over the water. Her arms locked around his sunburnt neck and she giggled and laughed so much that they both ended up getting splashed and soaked. He dumped her in the water as soon as the level was about to her knees. She gasped at its coldness, ruching her skirt up around her waist, modesty forgotten.
clung to him as he swung her over the water. Her arms locked around his sunburnt neck and she giggled and laughed so much that they both ended up getting splashed and soaked. He dumped her in the water as soon as the level was about to her knees. She gasped at its coldness, ruching her skirt up around her waist, modesty forgotten.
They both scrambled on to the beach.
“You're soaked!” she gasped, letting her skirt tumble back down over her wet legs, suddenly conscious of his eyes staring at her. She was not used to men looking at her and turned a bright cherry red. “Come on and we'll see if we can find Ger and Tom. There's no sign of the boat but they must be around.”
Con tramped behind her as they went in search of her brothers. They climbed the rocky goat paths, calling their names. The sheep seemed content and paid no heed to them. Finally exhausted, they gave up. Esther suspected that the black dot in the distance might be her brother's boat and that coming after them had been a waste of time.
“Is that them?” suggested Con, pointing to the curve of foam that had cut through the deep blue of the sea.
“Aye!” She nodded. All the excitement of coming on a boat with a total stranger seemed suddenly foolish. The sun had been swallowed up by a bank of clouds and she felt chilly.
Walking back, they passed three derelict cottages, windows gaping, roofs blown off and scattered years ago. Soon there would be no sign of the people who had lived their lives in this hard place; they both felt saddened by it. They walked back down to the beach. The tide had come in, covering the shingle, and the boat bobbed away out on the
tide awaiting them. They would have to swim to it.
tide awaiting them. They would have to swim to it.
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