In the Shadow of the Trees (16 page)

‘Did he say what happened to her?’

‘Well, I asked him, but he just muttered something incoherent and launched off onto another subject. Whatever he knows he’s not telling.’

We drank our coffee in silence. Eventually I said, ‘It’s a clear pattern. Father to son. The wife has an untimely, probably violent death. Her body is given to the land. The land grows and prospers.’

‘Yes, only the pattern’s been broken twice.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Michael was the younger brother of a second marriage. All the land and property went to his older stepbrother and whatever was going on should have continued in Ireland. Instead of that, it all fell apart there. At the same time the pattern started up again here.’

‘So Michael brought whatever it was with him?’

‘Could be. Either him or his mother who joined him. Though I can’t see what she had to do with it.’

‘You said the pattern was broken twice. You’re thinking of Jason’s mother?’

Liam nodded.

‘I’m not so sure it has been broken. Because there’s no gravestone doesn’t mean there’s no grave.’

This time he didn’t argue with me. I said nothing about my conversation with Sullivan. That could wait for another time.
The silence hung heavy in the room.

‘Hey, Connors, give us a tune for God’s sake.’

So, while I made fresh coffee he rosined up his bow and thrashed out some jigs and reels, lifting our spirits as the notes skipped on the evening air.

It was only when he played the slow tunes that I thought again of the women. Anne, her life ebbing away into the earth; Mary, cold and beaten by the rain; and Jane, a final offering to the trees. Jason’s mother, Sarah, what of her? But it was all so long ago, another age, another world. Just a curious tale for me to unravel.

Even now I don’t understand how I couldn’t see the connection. Denial? Oh yes, I was in denial all right, up to my ears and over my head. I was drowning in the stuff.

L
IAM
was around early next morning. He’d obviously come to check up on me and didn’t bother to pretend it was a social call. I said I was going to the dairy and then might drive on into town as I needed some wood oil and a new saw blade. He said he was happy with that: I would be away from the place, he said; it would do me good. He told me to make a day of it, find a good restaurant for lunch and go shopping. He said I should treat myself to a new dress and didn’t understand why I fell about laughing.

Of course I had no intention of doing any of that. I thought it was time I did some investigating of my own and planned to visit the museum and hunt out those photographs. Still, lunch sounded pleasant and I understood there was a good art gallery that might deserve an hour of my time.

First stop was the dairy for a few tins and packets of stuff, and then I thought I’d call in on Maggie. I know Liam had said we shouldn’t go asking questions, but even I could use a little discretion. It was far too early for the bar to be open but I could see Maggie in there, going round with the vacuum cleaner.
When I tapped on the window she looked up and saw it was me, switched off the machine and came over to unbolt the door.

‘Regan, how good to see you. Come on in.’

‘Not if it’s a bad time. You look busy.’

‘No, it’s an ideal time. I hate housework. Come on, I’ll switch the coffee-maker on.’

Although this was an out-of-hours social call we took up our customary positions, me perched on a stool and Maggie behind the bar.

‘So, how was Christmas?’ she asked. ‘Do anything special?’

‘I had Christmas lunch with Jason and his father.’

‘That sounds a bundle of laughs.’

‘It was actually. Sullivan got smashed as usual, Liam and Jason nearly came to blows and I drank too much punch and made an idiot of myself. And you?’

‘Just a quiet day with Mum and Dad. Still, it made a nice change to get away from this crowd. Though I expect they’ll make up for it tomorrow night, with it being New Year’s Eve. The place will be heaving and I’ll be rushed off my feet. Don’t fancy doing a bit of bar work, do you?’

‘No thanks.’

‘No, don’t blame you. Still, Mum’s on the mend now. She reckons she’ll be able to help out a bit. Oh, and one of the young girls said she’d give me a hand—overspent at Christmas and could do with the extra cash.’

‘Does that mean your mum’s up to visitors?’

‘Er, yeah, why not? Do her good. I’ve told her about you. I said you’d been asking about the Sullivans and she’d welcome any excuse for a gossip. Tell you what, come through and I’ll introduce you. Then I can finish the cleaning while you’re having a chat.’

‘You sure I won’t be disturbing her?’

‘No way. She can only put up with so much of this invalid business.’

Maggie led the way through to the room behind the bar. It was a bright room full of flowers—flowered curtains, flowered wallpaper, flowered cushions—none of which had anything to do with the colour of the carpet, which in turn clashed with the paintwork. Every available surface was taken up with china ornaments containing more flower arrangements, the plastic variety this time. My eyes were so busy that at first I didn’t spot the woman on the sofa, her feet on a stool and a halo of smoke drifting above her head.

‘Hello dear,’ she beamed, ‘you must be Maggie’s new friend. Rachel, isn’t it?’

‘It’s Regan, Mum. Thought you two might like to talk while I finish the vacuuming. I’ve told Mum you want to know about the Sullivan family. There’s not much that’s gone on round here she can’t tell you about. I’ll bring coffee through in a minute.’

Maggie went back to her work and her mum pointed me to an armchair while reaching for the ashtray.

‘Call me Bev, dear. I’ll just put this out. That was the first of today’s three. All I’m allowed now, since the op.’

‘Maggie said you’d not been well.’

‘No, I’ve had a bit of trouble. Not half as bad as giving up the fags, though.’ She laughed as though this were the funniest thing that could happen to anyone. She had the look of someone who had been round and cuddly but had recently lost a lot of weight. Her hair was bright copper and in need of some attention at the roots. Scarlet lipstick smeared her mouth and I could see where Maggie would be in thirty years’ time.

‘You ever been in hospital, love? No, well they fixed me up and I’ll be all right for a few more miles. They tried to tell me it was the fags that did it.’ She mashed the remains of her cigarette into the ashtray. ‘How can you run a pub and not smoke? Been breathing in other people’s ciggies for years. Can’t see what difference a few of my own’s going to make.’ Bev rocked with
laughter again and I couldn’t help joining in, although I really couldn’t see what was funny.

‘Maggie says you’re staying at the Sullivans’ place? That’ll be a first. Friend of young Jason’s, are you?’

‘That’s right. I’m an artist, using the cottage to do some work.’

‘Well, that’s nice. Though we don’t get many tourists round here if you were thinking of selling. No passing trade. What’s he like? Old John Sullivan, I mean.’

‘Oh, quiet. Polite. Don’t see much of him really. But I’m interested in the family history. There’s some gravestones, you see.’

‘The graves? What, you mean you’ve actually seen them? I’ve heard all about them, of course, and them having the women buried up there, but you never know what to believe, do you?’ That set her off laughing again.

‘I was talking to Trevor Benson. He told me some of it,’ and I recounted the essence of what I’d learnt about Anne and Mary. Bev nodded to confirm the stories but could add nothing new.

‘What about Jane?’ I asked. ‘I didn’t have a chance to talk about her.’

‘Ah, now, there’s a sad lady if ever there was one.’

‘Did you know her?’

‘Me? No, she died soon after I was born. But her and my mum, they were good friends. Grew up together, went to school. Mum often used to talk about her. I think she felt a bit guilty about what happened, thought she ought to have done more. But as I said to her time and again, how could she have known how things would turn out?’

‘It was Tom that Jane married, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s right. Now him I remember, though I never actually spoke to him that I recall. He was John Sullivan’s father, of course. Lived with his son right up to when he died. That would have been about ten, fifteen years ago.’

‘So, likewise David would have been around when Tom married Jane?’

‘Oh, very much so. I think that was half the trouble. Her stuck out there on that farm with only those two men for company, pining for a child she could never have.’

‘But I thought she had a child. John, wasn’t it? Jason’s father?’

‘Ah, yes, but that was much later. It was the first child I’m talking about. She got into trouble, you see. At least that’s how they saw it in those days. Not like it is now with single mums parading their stomachs all over the front of magazines. Those days you were in disgrace, about the worst thing that could happen to a girl. Of course Jane was beside herself, and her being friends with my mother, well, it was her she confided in. Wouldn’t say who the father was, though, not that it would have made any difference. If he could have married her he would have done. She was a beautiful girl, my mum always said, a catch for any man.’

‘So what happened to the baby?’

‘Lost it. She would have been about six months gone. Stillborn, it was, and that just added to her shame. People get so high and mighty, don’t they? Saw it as a punishment, no more than she deserved. Yes, things were certainly different all right,’ and Bev set herself off laughing again.

‘So what happened to her?’

‘Well, of course, it was like she’d been written off. No man would want her after what had happened. Damaged goods, brought shame on her parents—I expect they thought they’d be stuck with her for life. Then suddenly, out of the blue, she was marrying Tom Sullivan. Wealthiest bachelor in the district, and good-looking with it by all accounts. My mum said you could have knocked her down with a feather.’

‘And were they still friends after she was married? Jane and your mother, I mean?’

‘Well, Jane came to see her sometimes when she came in to shop. This used to be a much bigger place, you understand, quite a thriving wee community. Not many people had cars in those days and the town was a day’s drive away by horse and cart, so people did most of their shopping here, Jane Sullivan included. She’d call in on my mother when she could. Mum never went there, of course. People didn’t. Besides, Mum had married by then and had little ones of her own. I expect that made it harder for Jane.’

‘Why? Wasn’t she happy?’

‘No, she wasn’t. No good ever came of that marriage. Mum reckoned it was a child Jane wanted more than a husband, you see.’

‘But she did have a son, didn’t she?’

‘Eventually, yes. Took his time coming, though. She was nearly thirty when the kid was born. Mum tried to keep the friendship going over the years but it was like the gap between their worlds got wider. And Jane, well…By then she’d become very quiet, Mum said. Like she’d closed in on herself. I suppose nowadays you’d say she was suffering from depression. Not surprising with her out there on the farm with only Tom and the old man for company.’

‘What about after John was born?’

‘She was no better. In fact things must have got much worse. Because of what happened, I mean. It was one of the farm hands found her. They said she’d tried to cut her wrists and when that didn’t work she hung herself. They say there was a big pool of blood under the tree. The men that cut her down were covered in it.’

‘And Tom buried her on their land?’

‘That’s right. There was no funeral or anything. Or if there was, no one outside the family was invited. Mum took flowers to the church instead. I don’t think she ever got over it. They’d been close once and she felt she’d let Jane down.’

A quietness settled over the room. Bev looked into the distance, as if still listening to her mother’s regrets for a friend lost. Then she shook herself and reached for her cigarette packet.

‘Here, we can’t have this. No good getting all mopy, is there?’ She lit up and blew a column of blue smoke across the room just as the door opened and Maggie came in carrying a tray of mugs.

‘Oh, Mum, that’s the second one and it’s not half past ten yet. You know what the doctor told you.’

‘You’re a nagger, Maggie. Make some bloke a wonderful wife.’ She was shaking with laughter again.

Maggie looked at her straight-faced and said nothing.

‘Oh, all right.’ Bev took another long puff. ‘I’ll put it away for later.’ She pinched the lighted end off and stowed the cigarette back in the packet.

‘Sorry I took so long but I had to get the place sorted out before opening time. Hey, Regan, I heard you went to the Gypsy Fair with Liam.’

‘God, you can’t get away with anything round here.’

‘I did warn you. Here’s your coffee. That wasn’t like a date, was it?’

‘No, it was not like a date, or like anything else. We’re just neighbours and he wanted to introduce me to some of his friends, that’s all.’

‘Yeah, right.’

This conversation was getting off track.

‘I was quite surprised when Jason turned up on Christmas Day,’ I said. ‘He worked really hard at making it special. Mr Sullivan was telling me about how Christmas used to be when his mother was still around.’

‘Was he now? Yes, it’s sad,’ said Bev, ‘something you’d never get over, especially at Christmas. Dreadful business, that.’

‘She wasn’t from round here, was she, Mum?’

‘No. Whole crowd of them turned up one day, looking like a bunch of leftovers from the sixties, all beads and flowers. They seemed harmless enough, all a bit daft if you ask me, but they frightened the life out of the Women’s Institute.’ Bev was laughing again and had to find a tissue to blow her nose. ‘They rented an old woolshed off my brother for the summer, so I saw quite a lot of them. Well, truth be told, I made it my business to hang around. I remember Sarah was very pretty, long blonde hair—turned out to be Canadian, or something like that. There was some talk about them setting up a commune but it never came to anything. When they moved on, she stayed behind and moved into the Sullivans’ place.

‘They didn’t get married straight away, though. In fact it wasn’t until a couple of years later and the baby was on the way. Last thing people expected. Well, we all thought John was set as a bachelor. He must have been in his forties by then and she’d have been a lot younger and hardly what you’d call his type. Can’t understand what they saw in each other, or why a young woman like that would want to shut herself away in that place. Still there’s no accounting for people, is there?’

‘How did it happen?’ I asked, ‘I mean, how did she die?’

‘Die? She’s not dead.’

‘Not dead?’

‘No. Is that what Jason told you?’ That was Maggie.

‘No, I just…I mean…she’s
not
dead?’

‘No, of course not,’ Bev cut in. ‘Mind you, she might as well be, as far as the family’s concerned.’

‘Why, what happened to her?’

‘They took her away. You know, up to the house.’ She jerked her head in no particular direction. Obviously I was supposed to know what she was talking about.

‘Which house?’

‘Harston House, of course. At least that’s where she ended up. Got taken to the hospital first, of course, didn’t she, Mum?’

‘That’s right. She was there for months, as I remember, but they couldn’t do anything with her. Eventually John Sullivan had her sent to Harston House. Been there for years.’

‘What is this place?’

‘Private nursing home, they call it. Very posh by all accounts, more like a hotel. Well, they can afford it I suppose. But it’s still a mental home.’

‘Hang on, can we just back up a little? Are you saying that Sarah Sullivan, Jason’s mother, had some sort of breakdown and has spent the last, what, sixteen years in a psychiatric hospital?’

‘Yeah, that’s what she’s saying.’ Maggie picked up the story again. ‘Though I can understand Jason making out she was dead, poor kid. Fancy something like that happening to your mum at that age. Mind you, she always was a bit odd. Not like a proper mother.’