Eden Burning (31 page)

He wakened from the dream with a sense of relief. Jenny was safe in the nurse’s home. What did the dream mean? What did the future hold for them? Last night Cedric had implied that everything was over between him and Jenny. Maybe it would be possible to see Jenny, but first he had to take care of Rose. Peter threw off the sheet and woollen blankets and his feet touched the bedroom floor which was cold. As he pulled back the curtains, ice crystals were starting to melt like snowflakes on the inside of the windows. He whispered to himself. “What time is it? Where was Mum? What had she said to Cedric?”

chapter 13

Thursday 13th January 1972

E
ileen woke at four in the morning. William snored in bed with his back to her. She watched his back heave, heard him splutter, then return to steady snoring as she quietly pushed the sheets back and found her slippers. She pulled on a warm pink brushed cotton dressing gown, and made her way downstairs. The candle had burnt out, the white overspill of wax solid like a glacier going nowhere on the pine table top. She filled the kettle. There was something comforting in the increasing volume of the gentle hum of water heating to boiling point. She removed it from the gas just as it started to whistle and carefully placed four teaspoons of leaf Assam tea into the silver teapot, poured the boiling water and waited three minutes before opening the front door. Mug of tea in hand, Eileen walked into the garden and stood beneath the cherry tree.

The icy January morning air immediately settled on her eyelashes, face and hands. The short grass was crisply frozen and drops of melting ice seeped through her slippers. Eileen held the cup of tea with both hands and looked up into the clear starry sky. Standing beneath the cherry tree, the branches
created a lacy canopy above her. A waning crescent moon cut through the velvet darkness. Eileen watched the stars dancing with their edges flickering, changing positions, winking. Beneath the light of the moon she felt herself bathed in a purity of light. Everything in the sky was perfect, held in symmetry, balanced with mathematical positioning. The moon and stars movement was planned, certain, regular, tracking with precision across the sky, the stars glittering with utter dependability. Eileen touched the rough, cold bark of the cherry tree, its empty branches holding within them life for spring.

As a child she had wondered what it would be like to be a tree, a star, or to be the moon. She imagined that it would be lonely and boring to be a tree, not to be able to move apart from pushing its roots slowly into the bowels of the earth, or swinging its branches from side to side in a breeze. What would it be like to be a star, dancing, burning, flickering in an immense universe, until all its energy was gone? Self-destructing as a supernova, scattering, falling, unknown fragments sinking through the layers of the mud and stone, waiting for millions of years to erupt as a volcano of diamonds or, not finding earth, exploding into infinity, unremembered, jettisoning eternally into a world of mystery, nothingness and blackness.

What would it be like to be imprisoned as the moon, following a designated elliptical route in an inky black universe, unable to quicken or slow its pace? What would it feel like dizzily spinning around the Earth, catching light from the sun and occasionally feeling the pale reflected Earthshine? This morning, Eileen would happily surrender all her sense of aliveness in a world of coming and going – all of her freedom – to be able to settle in the stillness of the stars, to be rooted and unmoved like the cherry tree and to tranquilly observe like a crescent moon,

What dread can the cherry tree feel? What remorse churns
the moon? Do stars itch to escape the discomfort of being? These feelings which she had regarded as being so important in being human, she would now swap for the calmness of the detached observing moon, untouched, accepting, steady, totally trustworthy and reliable. She sipped the warm sweet tea and prayed to the silent moon, asking it to touch and transform her mind with its coolness. She wanted to learn from the moon, from its reflection of what was real.

“Mum?” Peter stood at the door in his pyjamas and dressing gown. He walked into the garden, towards the cherry tree, standing below it and looking into Eileen’s eyes. “Were you able to change Cedric’s mind about Rose?”

“Sssssshhh. Keep your voice low,” Eileen whispered. “We don’t want them to waken for a while. Let’s enjoy the peace for a moment. It may be all we have today.” Eileen took Peter’s hand. His eyes were puffy, his sandy blonde curly hair tight with ringlets. He pulled the dressing gown up to his chin, shivering. “I spoke with Cedric for quite some time last night. I’m not sure if I have been able to help him see things differently. He has lived his life for more than thirty year’s feeling, thinking and acting in a certain way. Will three hours make a difference? I don’t know. I know that one second can make a difference, if he wants it to.”

“What did you say to him?”

“I explained why he shouldn’t listen to William. I gave him a good reason not to follow William’s orders.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him the truth.”

“What truth?”

“What we have talked about together – about William and I – and more.”

“Tell me ‘the more’. I need to know.”

“It’s complicated. I will tell you, I promise; but not now.
It’s not going to help now. It could distract you. We need to get through today and then I’ll tell you. Do you trust me Peter?”

“Yes I do, more than anyone in the world.”

“Then listen to me. I want you to go to school as normal. Don’t come back at six. Stay with Mr McCabe. He will take care of you. I will meet Lily this afternoon at five as planned at Saville’s.”

“Rose thought that it might be a good idea to go to the Police. So did Mr McCabe. Are we making a mistake not doing that?” Peter asked.

“I don’t think so. You’re right. We need to persuade them not to kill Rose. We’ve started. It now depends on how Cedric reacts and what he will say to William. Go back to bed now and try to get a little more sleep. I know that sounds impossible but try. We need to make everything seem as normal as possible. It has to be easy for them to change. We mustn’t make them afraid of being different. By getting out of the way, we can at least create some space for something better to happen.”

“What are you going to do before you meet Lily?”

“I’ll make breakfast as normal for William and Cedric. I will then bake wheaten bread and visit some new friends in Glenbryn. Then I will see Lily at five.” Eileen sounded decisive.

“What new friends?” Peter shook his head in disbelief. Eileen normally didn’t have any friends apart from those in her art class. She spent her life painting, cleaning the house, and taking care of the small garden. The windows sparkled, the furniture was scented with pine polish, the floors with disinfectant. Everything gleamed and squeaked. Small cacti plants were lovingly tended on the kitchen window sill. She made miracles happen with the cacti – like when she helped one cacti give birth to a little button flower, a small star shaped flower hidden under a spiky green
leaf. The star shaped flower had a circle in the centre filled with small triangles of yellow and green. Star leaves unfolded from the circle scattering more yellow and green triangles into the air. Eileen would look at it the way a mother looks at a new baby – with amazement, a sense of pride and mostly awe.

“Sammy and Anne. They’re ex-neighbours of Tom Martin and Lily. I met them at the art exhibition. They are salt of the earth people. Today is a good day to spend an hour or so with them.”

Eileen moved towards Peter, holding him in her arms in the freezing temperatures, hearing the thump of his heart as she pressed her head against his chest, feeling the warmth of his breath in her ear. He stood above her, his arms awkwardly pulling her close.

“Mum, one more thing – I gave Rose the diamond ring that belonged to Paddy O’Connor. Cedric took it from him before he killed him.”

“Paddy?”

“You remember I told you last night about Paddy O’Connor?”

“My God.” Eileen shivered.

“It was meant to be Molly’s ring.” Peter sighed deeply.

“Molly?” Eileen looked up into Peter’s eyes.

“Paddy’s fiancée who was killed in a car bomb in Cornmarket. Do you remember Susan in your art class got caught up in that bomb and lost her legs? Well, Molly died.”

“I saw it in Paddy’s hand before Cedric took it from him.” Peter looked up at the moon and gulped at the air.

Eileen shivered again. “Why did you not tell me before?”

“I didn’t know what to say – where to begin.”

“Why did you give it to Rose?”

“I thought that I could blackmail Cedric and William into not killing Rose.”

“I don’t think threats will work with either William or Cedric. But we are where we are now. Let’s get you back to bed. Tell Mr McCabe to ring me this evening and let me know that you are safe. Don’t come home until I tell you.”

Eileen linked arms with Peter and they walked slowly into the kitchen. Eileen closed the front door taking a last look at the cherry tree and the moon.

“Why are you smiling, Mum?”

“In a way I am glad that the truth is emerging. The truth is always good and yet I for one am so afraid of it. I knew that something wasn’t right but I didn’t want to really know what it was. I was terrified to know. I stopped looking and stopped asking questions. I realise that by not looking and not asking questions and not trying to find out what was going on, I contributed to these murders.”

“Is that what you meant last night, Mum, when you said that maybe you were to blame?”

“No. There’s more, much more.”

“What? Please tell me?”

“I will tell you tomorrow.”

There was the sound of someone stirring upstairs. Footsteps padded across the bedroom floor and then shuffled along the hallway to the bathroom.

“Tell me quick, before they get up.”

“I need to tell you properly. Not like this. I’ll tell you everything when today is over. I promise. There will be no more secrets ever – I promise.” She touched Peter on the nose with her finger. “Promise.”

The toilet flushed upstairs. Footsteps retraced the path along the landing, towards Eileen’s bedroom.

“He’s back in bed. He won’t move for another few hours. Get some rest.”

“I’ll try.” Peter squeezed her hand and moved towards the kitchen door.

Eileen pulled her hair into a ponytail tying it with an elastic band. “Be strong.”

• • •

Cedric lay in bed listening to William walking along the landing. The room was dark, apart from a chink of grey where the curtain hadn’t been properly closed. A blackbird hopped onto the window sill, its shadow highlighted as it lifted its head into the air, singing three clear notes before opening its wings and flying into the early morning sky. He rolled over on his side, fumbling for a packet of cigarettes on the table beside the bed. He switched on the radio. Elvis sang,

“
There goes my reason for living. There goes the one of my dreams. There goes my only possession. There goes my everything.”

He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. The tip burned orange, blue smoke curled towards the ceiling. Cedric scratched his sideburns and early morning stubble. His head was heavy against the pillow. Images appeared in his head of Eileen cleaning the kitchen floor with a mop, shining the windows with newspaper, cooking Sunday lunch, making his birthday cake with thirty candles, ironing his shirts and socks, folding his underwear. A voice in his head repeated, “Eileen is not my mother. William is not my father. Peter is not my brother. Who is my mother? Who is my father? Who am I?”

The words ate away at him, like mice chewing through a plaster wall. They gnawed away, probing for answers to questions which he had never asked before, “Who am I? Who
was my mother? Who was my father?” Tears streamed down Cedric’s cheeks. He wiped them away with his hand, looking at the glistening teardrops beading on the hairs of his hand. He licked them. They were salty. He had never tasted the saltiness of a tear before.

Eileen had told him how much she loved him and that it didn’t affect her love for him that he wasn’t her natural child. She said that she knew about the murders and even though they were appalling and he needed to give himself up and receive society’s punishment she still loved him. What would make her happiest would be if he could feel some remorse for what he had done – could see how wrong it all was and vow never to kill again. That was what she asked of him. That he could feel the suffering of his victims and their families and the terrible tragedy which he had inflicted on so many innocent lives. Then she repeated that she knew that he could only see what he could see and that what he needed was help to be able to see differently. She would give him that help. She would be there for him. There was no way that he could undo what he had done, but he could stop the murders now, he could start to see the terrible error of it all.

Even if it made no difference to Eileen, it did mean something to him that Eileen was not his real mother. He couldn’t think about the murders now. The only thing which he could think about was his real mother? Why had she been murdered? How would William react to the fact that Cedric was not his son? What would Peter say? What would Sammy P say? How could he walk into the Black Beetle hearing the sniggers of everyone around him and stay?

Perhaps he should kill Eileen? Who had she told so far? As far as he could see William didn’t know. She had said that last night. Peter didn’t know. If he killed her everything could be the
same. He could make it look like an IRA murder. That would be easy to do.

He took another puff on his cigarette and felt a sense of comfort in the fact that a solution to the problem was beginning to emerge. He would need to act fast. Eileen would have to be dispatched today if he was going to do it at all. He looked at his watch. She could be dealt with before five o’clock this afternoon. Even as he had this thought, he knew it was insane. He knew that he was denying his love for Eileen by attempting to put the images of her out of his mind.