Songs of Love and War (48 page)

They entered the hall. It was just as chilly as outside in spite of the threadbare rugs that covered the flagstone floor. The vast fireplace was empty. Dusty portraits of ancestors in fine silks
and suits of armour hung on the walls to remind the family of their illustrious heritage, which was now frayed and shabby like the moth-eaten tapestry of the MacCartain history that hung on the
opposite wall. The place had a feeling of deprivation that would have horrified Maud. Kitty noticed there was no butler to greet them. Even if there had been she would have been reluctant to
relinquish her coat. A scruffy maid stepped out of the shadows to take Hetty and little Jack upstairs. Robert informed her that the luggage was about to arrive but she just blinked at him dumbly,
like a sweet cow.

The drawing room was surprisingly charming. It seemed to Kitty that Elspeth and Peter must have lived only in that room for it was warm, thanks to a lively turf fire, and full of family
photographs, books, objects and other paraphernalia belonging to a married couple who never threw anything away. The sofa had a hole in the back, which Elspeth had tried to conceal behind a
cushion, and the velvet on the chairs had worn away on the arms and was markedly stained. There clearly wasn’t the money for repairs.

Peter appeared at once with two large dogs at his heels. His face was ruddy from outdoors, his boots leaving mud on the carpets. His tweed coat was as shabby as Hubert’s had been. He
embraced Kitty with affection and shook Robert’s hand. ‘Welcome to Dunderry Castle,’ he said jovially. ‘You haven’t got a drink?’ He looked at Robert’s
empty hands with dismay. ‘Where’s O’Malley?’

‘Parking the car, darling,’ said Elspeth. She turned to Kitty sheepishly. ‘O’Malley is our butler, driver and odd-job man. Whatever we need him for, really. He’s
wonderful. He can do anything.’

‘Except be in two places at once,’ said Peter drily. ‘Right, what can I get you? Sherry? Whiskey and soda?’

‘I’m sure Kitty will have sherry,’ Robert replied.

‘I’ll join you for a glass of whiskey then,’ Peter added happily. He trailed mud all the way to the drinks tray which was placed at the other end of the room near a dilapidated
grand piano. ‘How was your crossing? Rough as usual, no doubt!’

‘Quite rough,’ said Kitty. ‘It’s lovely to be here though.’

‘Ireland doesn’t change, does it?’ said Elspeth. ‘People come and go and do such awful things to each other, but Ireland is always the same. As it’s been for
thousands of years.’

Kitty sat near the fire. A log of turf had fallen onto the front of the grate and was smoking into the room but neither Elspeth nor Peter seemed to notice. ‘Have you seen Papa?’
Kitty asked, waving a hand in front of her nose to clear the smoke.

‘Yes, I’m afraid he’s much changed, Kitty,’ Elspeth told her, her forehead creasing into a frown. ‘He drinks too much. Has terrible mood swings and is altogether
very disagreeable. Grandma spends all day in the castle talking to herself. It’s all very sad. Not like it used to be. I go and see the Shrubs every day. You must come. They’ll be so
happy to see you. They barely leave their house, so I do the shopping for them and make sure they have everything they need. They seem to think everyone in Ballinakelly is the enemy, even though
I’ve told them hundreds of times that the wars are over and any animosity now is between the Irish. We Anglo-Irish have never been safer. But they miss the security of the British
Army’s presence on the streets and they complain that there’s a distinct feeling of unrest and suspicion.’

‘I’d like to go today and see Grandma,’ said Kitty. ‘I thought perhaps Robert could talk to Papa about Uncle Rupert’s house. I don’t want to be a burden to
you and Peter.’

‘You’re not a burden,’ Elspeth gushed. ‘We’ve been longing for you to come.’

Peter handed them both a glass of sherry. ‘I’ll drive Kitty over myself,’ he suggested.

‘I’d prefer to meet you there,’ said Kitty, knowing that when she returned to Castle Deverill she’d want to be alone. ‘Elspeth says you have a mare I’ll
like,’ she added hopefully.

‘I do. She’s called Tempest and she goes like the wind,’ Peter replied.

‘So I heard. She sounds perfect. I can’t think of anything nicer than riding out on my own. Just like the old days.’

Elspeth smiled shyly. ‘I’d come with you, Kitty,’ she said, placing a hand on her belly. ‘But I’m expecting another baby.’

‘Oh Elspeth!’ Kitty exclaimed. ‘Your third!’

‘It’s early days, but I want you to be the first to know.’

Peter raised his glass. ‘To my clever wife,’ he said, beaming with pleasure. Robert and Kitty raised theirs, too. ‘It’ll be
you
next,’ Peter added to
Kitty.

Kitty smiled tightly. ‘When shall we go?’ she asked, swiftly changing the subject. At this rate the only chance of a child for her was by immaculate conception.

‘We’ll go to Castle Deverill after lunch. I’ll take Robert in the car. Kitty will meet us there and you, my darling, will rest.’

‘Then I will show Kitty around before lunch and introduce her to her nephews!’ She turned to her sister. ‘The castle is rather run down, I’m afraid. But I love it. Peter
and I are so very happy here with the boys.’ She patted her stomach again. ‘I do so hope this one’s a girl. I’ll cherish her in the way a mother
should
cherish her
daughter.’

‘So Mama doesn’t know?’

Elspeth grinned. ‘I’ll tell her when the baby’s born. The only response I got after the boys’ births was rather stilted telegrams of congratulations. She’s never
shown the slightest interest in meeting them.’

’Come,
I
want to meet John and Jasper,’ said Kitty, getting up. ‘Let’s not depress ourselves by talking about Mama. I want you to show me everything!’

Later, dressed in a pair of slacks, tweed jacket and riding boots, Kitty rode like a man over the hills towards Castle Deverill. The last time she had worn a long skirt to ride had been the day
she had confronted Michael Doyle at the farmhouse. Afterwards, she had shed it like a snake sheds its skin and cast it into the furnace of oblivion, along with everything else that had happened
that morning. Never again would she be that woman. Now, the feeling of sitting astride a horse gave her a reassuring sense of control and disconnected her from the girl she had lost.

When the sight of the charred ruins of the castle came into view Kitty’s throat constricted with emotion. She stopped her horse and remained for a long moment gazing down with glassy eyes
on what had once been her home, rising forlornly out of the mist that edged in over the water. Nestled among the trees, its dull, lifeless eyes looked out over the gardens where its memories lay
scattered among the rooks and crows that hopped about among the weeds. There was no sign of life in those blind windows. No sign of life behind those walls, only a thin ribbon of smoke that slipped
out of the chimney in the western wing to be carried off by an unforgiving wind.

Kitty cantered as fast as she could down the hill and over the fields. She jumped the wall with ease, halting where once the croquet lawn had been and dismounting. She walked her horse round to
a suitable tree and tied it there. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she took in the ruins, fighting the memories that crept out of every corner of the building like ghosts. With a heart full
of sorrow she walked round to the old kitchen entrance. Inside, there was much that was untouched by the fire. The flagstone corridor was as it had been when Kitty and Bridie had run up and down
it. Their little cupboard beneath the stairs was unchanged. The kitchen itself, where Mrs Doyle had cooked for the family and the maids and footmen had dashed in and out with heavy trays, had only
gathered a thick layer of dust. The long oak table was still there, the pots and pans hanging from a rack on the ceiling as they always had, the stove cold with a light sprinkling of ash, but the
tall chests and dressers were unharmed. It was a small oasis of normality. Kitty almost expected Mrs Doyle to bustle out of the larder and look at her with surprise.
What are you doing staring
at me with eyes the size of saucers, Miss Kitty? Can’t you see I’m busy
!

But as she climbed the stairs the smell of burned wood hung heavy in the air. She opened the old green baize door into her grandparents’ side of the castle to find the rooms black with
soot, piled high with rubble, open to the elements and crows who still found small treasures among the debris. In the midst of the rubble were patches of wall where the fire had not reached,
glimpses of the castle’s former life revealed like flashes of memory that Kitty seized upon with nostalgia. Dizzy with sadness, she retreated to the stairs and climbed up to the little room
in the western tower where she had so often hidden with Celia and Bridie and talked to Barton Deverill, who used to sit in the silk chair with his feet up on the foot stool.

She heard her grandmother’s voice long before she entered the room. It rose and fell like a song as she merrily reminisced with Hubert by the turf fire as if they were still in the
library. Kitty stifled a sob and pushed open the door. Adeline turned her attention to the visitor. Her eyes widened and her face broke into a smile. ‘I was just saying to Hubert, now we
haven’t seen Kitty for some time. Have you been hunting, my dear? It’s fine weather for the hunt, so they tell me. Hubert shot some snipe this morning. He says there are plenty in the
marshlands. Those dogs are frightfully good at putting them up.’

Kitty blinked back tears and knelt beside her and allowed her grandmother to stroke her hair. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she said, gazing into the face that time had suddenly
remembered and aged in a hurry to make up for the years it had overlooked.

‘I had lovely red hair like yours when I was a girl. Of course in my day they made me put it up, but as soon as I was out of sight I’d pull out all the ribbons and let it fall about
my shoulders.’ She scrunched Kitty’s hair in her fingers. ‘Your mother never liked your hair. She thought it terribly ugly. She didn’t know it was made of spun gold and
sunbeams. I never liked Maud. When your father married her I was very sad. I saw what she really was, but men are blinded by beauty, aren’t they? She was full of ambition and pretence. Then
her head was turned by the Duke of Rothmeade. I’m not sure whether she loved
him
or what he represented, but she would have left Bertie, I think, and run off with him if it
hadn’t been for you.’

Kitty sat up. She had a vague memory of the Shrubs discussing Eddie Rothmeade in the library. ‘What are you talking about, Grandma?’

‘The Duke of Rothmeade. He was very handsome. He used to come and stay to shoot and hunt. He was a terrific horseman and a great friend of Bertie’s. Maud went out with the hunt,
sometimes three times a week, which is why she suffered those miscarriages after Harry. She was so keen to be with him she went flying over the hedges without a thought for the children she carried
inside her. The Duke was very taken with her, you see. Then she became pregnant with you and no amount of hunting could dislodge
you
from her belly. You see, only rotten apples fall from the
tree. You were the finest apple in the orchard. Because of you Eddie Rothmeade gave up on her. I heard the whole scene from the greenhouse. He was furious. I suppose she had said her marriage to
Bertie was in name only and he had believed her. She was very manipulative.’ Adeline narrowed her eyes. ‘I even think, the stars in her eyes as bright as they were, that she would have
turned her back on Harry had the Duke asked her to. But he gave her up without a backward glance. Between you and me, I think he was simply looking for an excuse and you were a very good
one.’

Kitty was astonished. She didn’t know what to say. ‘Would you like some cake? It’s terribly good,’ Adeline continued. ‘Mrs Doyle makes wonderful porter
cakes.’ Kitty looked around the room. There was no cake to be seen anywhere. ‘Hubert would love a rubber of bridge. The Shrubs will come down when they’re ready. Laurel takes so
long over her bath. Colonel Manley is coming for dinner. Do you think he likes to play bridge? What do you think, Hubert?’ Adeline looked at the chair opposite, listening to Hubert’s
reply. It had been so long since Kitty had seen a ghost that she was almost surprised when Hubert came into focus, a faint, fuzzy light, but undeniably him.

‘It won’t be long now,’ he said and Kitty looked at her grandmother fearfully.

‘I would love a rubber of bridge,’ she said, putting her head on Adeline’s lap and closing her eyes to hold back the tears. ‘Do you have any cannabis, Grandma? I’d
like to drink cannabis tea and laugh and gossip like we used to in the library. Those were happy times.’

‘I have lots of cannabis in the greenhouse. Why don’t you go and pick some. The Shrubs will be down soon and they’d love a little tea. It does wonders to calm their nerves.
Colonel Manley has a soft spot for Hazel, I’m sure of it.’

Kitty hurried into the vegetable garden, wiping away tears and choking back her sobs. Her grandmother was losing her mind. Up there in the tower all day she was slipping slowly towards death.
Hadn’t her grandfather said it wouldn’t be long? Not only was she losing her mind but she was losing her sense of discretion as well. What about this Duke of Rothmeade? Was it true that
her mother’s pregnancy had ruined their affair? Was that the real reason Maud had so resented her? She stumbled over the weeds that had grown thick and tall and finally reached the
greenhouses whose glass windows were now covered with lichen and moss. She pushed open the door that had grown stiff due to the damp, and stepped inside. In spite of the neglect it was pleasantly
warm and smelt as it always had. Kitty searched the overgrown plants and vegetation for cannabis. She remembered what it looked like. The leaves were very distinctively star-shaped.

At last she found them. Great heaps of vibrant green leaves that seemed to have seeded themselves and grown beyond all measure. Adeline wouldn’t be able to drink this much cannabis tea
even if she lived for a thousand years, Kitty thought in amusement, but
she
could make a start. After all, if it was good enough to calm her grandmother’s nerves, it was good enough
for
her
. Kitty picked a big handful then headed back out into the drizzle. As she began to walk towards the castle she saw, out of the corner of her eye, the wall where she had exchanged
notes with Jack. Her heart gave a little tug. She stopped and stared at it, remembering the last time she had seen him on the station platform, falling to the ground with a rifle butt in his
stomach. If his plan had worked they’d have been in America now and who knows what their lives would have been like.