Eden Burning (32 page)

There was one image which kept returning. It was of Eileen last night as the candle flame spluttered, gasping its last. She pushed her chair back and in the darkness walked around the table and finding his hand flat on the kitchen table, lifted it to her lips, saying, “There hasn’t been one day, one minute that I haven’t loved you as my own son. There is nothing that you have done or will do which will ever change my love for you. I am here for you now and always. I love you. I only ask you to stop killing. Give it up Cedric. Admit what you have done. Take your punishment. Life will be still worth living. You can be a different person. You can be the person you were born to be. This person that you have been isn’t real. It’s false. The real you is inside and can be set free. There’s time. Remember that there is more joy in Heaven over one sinner who repents. Jesus didn’t come on earth to hang out with those who were good but to be with those who needed to see differently. You need to see differently. So does William.”

Eileen didn’t want to sound like a preacher but she didn’t know what else to say. She was clutching at words, trying to find the right things to say that would get through to Cedric and yet the echo of her voice sounded so wrong – so clichéd – superficial, patronising, like a Pharisee. What would be better to
say? Should she stay quiet for a while?

“When are you going to tell Father … I mean William?” Cedric stared ahead of him as he asked the question. He ignored Eileen.

“I could tell him. Maybe I should. I have lived a lie all of my life with him. I should be honest and tell him. Am I a coward if I ask you to tell him?”

“I’ve never thought of you as a coward.”

“Could it be the first step back to what’s real for both of you? He needs to hear it from you.”

“What are you going to do after I tell him?”

“That depends upon what you both decide to do next. It’s in your hands. However, I know that I won’t accept any further killings. I will do whatever it takes to stop you both killing.” For the first time Eileen looked and sounded extremely fierce.

Cedric turned his head to look at her. She was on her feet, hands by her side, fists clenched. Her eyes glowed like dark coals in the golden light of the dying candle. Her hair had fallen out from her French plait onto her shoulders which he wasn’t used to seeing. It made her look more childlike. Nevertheless she looked solid, determined and unmoving and what he felt from her was a strange quality of love. “Remember, whatever it takes to stop the killings.” Eileen repeated firmly.

He felt that love transmitted by Eileen within him now, like a delicate flame setting tinder alight. A flame is like that – it moves and burns quickly. It was stronger now than what he had felt last night. How strange that the memory of love can burn even stronger than the real thing. Or maybe it was that first touch of love last night that he hardly recognised. It was so removed from anything he had known before, including anything he had felt with Jenny. This morning it was as though a gentle breeze
within him fanned the flame. He lay in bed, not really thinking, staring at the ceiling and allowing himself to feel warmed by this fragile flicker within. He sensed Eileen’s presence now in the room beside him as though she was breathing into him. The flames leapt higher, became stronger, until he felt them roaring within him. He was burning, being consumed by a certain knowledge that was unknown. He was burning, burning, blazing with an unknown love. He did not want to extinguish that fire. He didn’t want to dampen the flames, even though they hurt. He rolled onto his side and allowed himself to cry. The bed felt on fire like a funeral pyre. There was no coolness anywhere – not in the sheets, not on the pillow, not when he threw the sheets from him and faced the frosty temperatures of the room. The only coolness that existed was in the sense of Eileen breathing into him.

He would not kill Eileen. He knew that the painful burning he was feeling for the first time was indeed remorse. The faces of those whom he had murdered flashed before him – expressionless, floating faces, non-judgemental – appearing and disappearing, as real as if alive. The depth of their pain now twisted within him. He had become each of them. They were embedded in his DNA. He felt the knife wounds he had inflicted on them sink into his own flesh. His body shook with terror. He was gripped by an excruciating desire to get out of his body but he had to stay and face it all. This was his prison, this moment of eternal Hell his own self-judgement. As the flame burned within him he knew for sure that he would never murder again. He was afraid as he shuddered now beneath the blankets pulled around him of what would become of him. Who would he become? He squeezed his eyes tighter as though wishing to blind himself and curled his legs up to his chin. He held them with his arms, rolling onto his back and then rocking backwards and forwards
in the bed, oblivious now of time, of where he was and what he could do next.

• • •

Sammy and Anne listened carefully to Eileen’s every word at mid-day, as they chewed on the sultana barn-brack bread.

“That’s a lot to take in.” Sammy shook his head from side to side. “What time did they say they were meeting up?”

“Six o’clock.”

“You think that they’re heading for Holy Cross Church?”

“I think so.”

“Leave it with me.” Sammy got to his feet and shook Eileen’s hand warmly. “Tom and I have already made plans for this evening. But maybe we need reinforcements.”

“It takes courage to do what you’ve done.” Anne whispered.

• • •

Peter caught the train to Lurgan and found his way easily to the nurses’ residence. He knocked on her bedroom door. She slowly opened it. She waved him to sit on the one wooden chair as she perched on the edge of the bed. The room had the feel of a nun’s cell. There were no paintings or pictures on the white walls. A gold lightshade with a cream fringe dangled above his head. The single bed had a primrose yellow candlewick bedspread. The white sheets turned down over the top looked starched. The room’s simplicity conveyed peace.

It was strange for Peter to see Jenny in her nurse’s uniform. Her hair was pulled into a bun which sat inside a white hat which looked like it had come from a posh Christmas cracker. He didn’t tell her that. She had a dusty blue dress which ended below her knee which was covered with a white cotton apron. She had white plimsolls and wore no earrings or jewellery.

Her eyes were watery as she listened to Peter explain about the reasons for his visit to Rose the day before.

“How is Eileen?”

“I would say focused.”

“I’m worried about this evening.”

“I promise I will come here tomorrow and tell you what happened.” Peter sat with his two hands on his knees. Jenny reached forward and took one hand.

“Can you not ring tonight? They’ll call me from my room. I won’t sleep otherwise.”

“Can I tell you a dream that I had about us?” Peter looked embarrassed asking permission.

“Tell me.”

Peter explained the dream about being imprisoned and not able to escape while being ‘entertained to death’.

Jenny laughed for the first time that afternoon. “It looks like you’re the one who is meant to save me from that woman who looks as though she’s wearing a nurse’s uniform.” Jenny looked over her shoulder and giggled. “Maybe it’s Sister Maureen. Although, I don’t know where the games room is.”

• • •

At exactly five o’clock in the afternoon, Eileen peered into Saville’s jewellery shop. She could faintly see Lily polishing the counter. She tapped on the window and immediately Lily looked up and waved at her and ran to the front door.

She hugged Eileen. “Am I glad to see you. Come in. It’s freezing outside.” She turned over the red ‘Closed’ sign to face outwards. “Eileen, what on earth are we to do?”

“Let’s talk. Let’s put the facts on the table and decide.” Eileen perched on a stool behind the counter and waved at Lily to join her on the stool to her left.

Lily first rummaged in her hand bag, zipped open her leather purse and removed the diamond ring.

“Let me start. First of all there’s this. You know that Peter gave it to Rose.”

Lily placed the diamond ring on Eileen’s open palm.

Eileen nodded. “I know that it belonged to Paddy O’Connor. Well, it was destined for Molly.”

“Yes.” Lily shook her head and sighed. “She never got a chance to wear it.”

“Peter told me that Cedric took it off Paddy before he died.” Eileen pressed the ring back into Lily’s hand. “What would Paddy want to happen to it?”

“I think he would want us to give it to his landlady, Anne. She adored him. Tom can decide. Now you tell me what you wanted to tell me.”

They drank sweet tea, huddled over a small electric fire, while the trays of diamonds, sapphires, rubies and emeralds sparkled around them. Eileen explained what Peter had told her.

Lily asked, “How much time do we have?”

“Less than an hour before they leave the Shankill.” For the first time Eileen looked agitated.

“My God Eileen, we shouldn’t be sitting here drinking tea. We need to do something. Let’s go.” Lily jumped down from the stool and pulled her woollen gloves on.

“There’s one more thing you need to know. I told Cedric the truth last night.” Eileen said the words in a calm, measured voice.

“The truth?” Lily straightened her beret.

“This is so difficult. I haven’t told either William or Peter.”

“What? Eileen, quick, spit it out for God’s sake!”

Eileen gently got to her feet and stood as though in Court in
the witness box with her two hands clasped together in front of her, her head down.

“I told Cedric that he is not my child. He’s not William’s son.”

Lily looked at her watch and with the first sign of impatience asked, “Whose child is he?”

“Do you remember the Blitz?”

“Yes. I do. Tom and I were living on the farm on the Horseshoe Bend. The night of the Blitz was the night that Catherine was murdered. How could I forget it?”

Eileen raised her head. “Remind me who Catherine was?”

“Tom’s sister.”

“Yes. She was the one you said was murdered?”

“Yes. We never found out who murdered her or why. Is this relevant to Rose?”

Eileen nodded. “Yes – more than I thought. I remember that night so well. I was in the Royal Hospital.”

“The Royal?” Lily interrupted. She continued, “Catherine was in the Royal.”

Eileen wasn’t listening. Instead she told her story. “The bombs fell over a six hour period. In the first hour I gave birth to a son. I called him Cedric. The ward I was in took a direct hit. Mr Magee arrived to help. He lifted Cedric from his cot and was carrying him to safety. He was six steps in front of me when a bomb hit the ward and the ceiling collapsed. Cedric was thrown from Mr Magee’s arms against the wall. Mr Magee picked him up. He turned to me. He said, “I’m sorry. He’s dead.”

I started screaming and yelling and he put Cedric on the ground, looked for a sheet to wrap him in and then he held me for a moment in his arms. He whispered to me, “Eileen, we have to move. We have to get out of here. I’m so sorry but you can’t stay here. Cedric is dead. Leave him to God. Go.”

Mr Magee pointed to a corridor leading to an exit sign which I could just make out. He waved at me and turned left along a wider corridor where people were crying. He was needed to help the living. I didn’t know what I was doing. I wandered in the direction that I thought he had pointed to. I heard a baby cry. At first, I thought that I had imagined it, but there was a cry coming from behind a door leading into a small theatre. I opened the door. I couldn’t see anything at first. It was really dark. The baby’s cry was close and stronger. I felt as though I could touch it. I took a few more steps in the darkness listening to the sound of crying. It stopped for a moment. I stood still. My eyes had become more used to the dark. Then I saw them. There were two babies, held in the mother’s arms. She was dead. She had been murdered – her throat had been cut. I could see that.”

“That was Catherine,” Lily whispered.

“Catherine.” Eileen hesitated. “Yes. Tom’s sister.”

“You took Jonas?”

“I took a baby. There were two.”

“Maria was his sister.”

“Cedric is Jonas.” Eileen stared at Lily. There was silence.

“Who killed her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you not go to the police and tell them everything?”

“No,” Eileen shook her head, “I didn’t. I wanted to keep the baby. It was the only way that I knew how to keep the baby.”

“What happened then?” Lily asked in a calm voice.

“I thought that no-one would know. I wanted to take both babies, but I knew that would have been impossible to explain to William. It would have complicated everything. With only the boy I wouldn’t have to tell anyone, not even William.”

“Mr Magee would have known.”

“I know. But Mr Magee had had enough of Belfast. He
decided to move with his family to America two months later. He knew that the real Cedric died. He knew that Catherine’s baby had been stolen. He didn’t see either the baby or me before he left for America.”

“Oh my God, I think that we need something stronger than tea to survive this!” Lily picked up her black handbag and removed a small quarter bottle of gin and poured a generous helping into Eileen’s tea and then into her own and gulped it back.

“I don’t drink but … I think I’m going to start.” Eileen sipped at her gin tea.

“You do realise what this means?” Lily asked.

“That Cedric is Jonas.” Eileen bowed her head again.

“Cedric is also Rose’s uncle and Tom’s nephew,” Lily whispered.

“And … He’s a Catholic. Mr Magee told us that Catherine had baptised him that night of the Blitz.”

“How important is that?” Eileen asked.

Lily threw her hands into the air. “Who knows? How will he react?”

“I don’t know.” Eileen shook her head.

“What will William do if he knows all of this?” asked Lily.

“I really don’t know.”

“What time is it?”

Eileen glanced at her watch. “Quarter to six.”

Lily said, “Mass is at seven. They’re going to attempt to kill Rose after Mass.”