The Kilternan Legacy (23 page)

I did, because Shay did reassure me in spite of all these unwelcome undercurrents and curious nuances. I must try to figure it all out one of these days.

FRESHLY BAKED brown bread, good butter, and honey made one of the most satisfying meals I’ve had. We ate completely through the loaf, even to wetting fingertips to lift the last remaining crumbs from the table.

“Why did you give Shay Kerrigan such a cold ‘no’?” I asked my daughter.

She frowned. “I like Shay, but he was going to Ann’s, and she said he’d never set foot in her house again.”

“I’ve been given the impression that they’ve known each other a long time.”

Snow gave one of her indifferent shrugs. “She was pretty positive, Mom. And she wouldn’t say doodly-squat more than that.”

“Doubtless you attempted to ascertain more details?”

“Sure did, and she warn’t ascertaining nothing more. And when Ann Purdee has clammed up, Mom, the clamshell is shut.” Snow frowned more deeply, because reticence is a challenge.

“Now, Sara, don’t you go antagonizing Ann.”

“Naw, I wouldn’t do a thing like that,” and she glared at Simon for his massive snort of disbelief. “I’m more subtle.”

“I bet I find out more than you, and sooner,” said Simon. “Man to man.”

Abruptly Snow came out with the startling notion that we should forthwith tackle the hall’s redecoration, idle gossip being an unconstructive way of spending time. Simon sourly remarked that we hadn’t done the finishing in the living room yet. A wrangle developed, which I ended by suggesting that Simon finish the living room and we slop up the hallway. Snow took exception to my phraseology, and I had to put my foot down.

We did the kitchen. It was smaller. Ann came over as we were putting on the last of the contact paper.

“Oh! How lovely it looks!” she said, but she was panting with exertion. She had a child on one hip, Meggie, her Tom, and Fiona holding on to her skirts. I’d thought she wore skirts so much to flatter a thin figure. Now I could see the practical aspect of many handholds for nervous children.

“What’s the matter?” I asked her, because her worry was apparent. “Not that husband?”

“I saw Kieron holding back someone at the lane …” She was still breathless from hurrying. “And I just thought… that if no one was in my house …”

Snow was already hauling her into the room and smartly closing the door behind her.

“Well then, since you’ve a spare minute,” said my daughter, “come see the rest of the first floor.”

Ann was truly an encouraging person to show through a half-redecorated house. She was overwhelmed by the changes. Snow was urging her up the steps to the second story just as the doorbell wheezed.

Simon waved me back and advanced on the door. Not that Aunt Alice waited for him to open it. She barged past my astonished son.

“Why did you have to kill old Mrs. Slaney? Why couldn’t you have stayed in America where you belong?”

I stared at her, unable to credit my ears.

“Now just a living minute,” said my son. I’d never seen Simon so angry. “Where did you hear that nonsense? And how dare you accuse my mother of anything so vile?”

“I knew, I just knew, there’d be nothing but trouble and disgrace the moment I learned a foreigner had Irene’s property. This never would have happened if Irene’d listened to me.”

“Alice Hegarty, get the hell out of this house.” Kieron came striding in. He took hold of my great-aunt by the elbows and bodily lifted her out the door, heedless of her enraged sputterings. “Rene no more killed Mrs. Slaney than you did. Tom bashed her once too often.”

Alice Hegarty had grabbed the door frame. Her face was contorted with a variety of emotions as she stared at me, but the hatred she emanated made me so ill that I sank to the steps, clutching at the banister for support.

“He said she did it.”

“Jasus!” cried Kieron. “And you’re the gobshaw who’d believe him!” He laid a large hand on hers and pried her fingers from the wood, spun her around, and shoved her down the walk.

“You’ll see, Irene Teasey, you’ll just see!” Alice kept ranting as Kieron manhandled her into her car. He had no sooner slammed that door than another car came to a squealing halt.

“Merciful heavens, Alice, are you out of your mind?” It was Winnie, her voice fluting with distress. “Oh, Alice, how could you? Whatever will Rene think of us?”

“Winnie Teasey, you get that woman off this property.”

“Who are you to give orders, Kieron Thornton?” said Alice in a penetrating shriek. “You’re no better than any of the other floozies and strumpets on the place. Just you wait…”

“So help me, Alice, I’ll thump you. And there’s no one here who won’t say you were hysterical and needed a clip on the jaw!”

Alice shut up in mid-vituperation, but the force with which she drove offset Kieron spinning to the side of the road.

“Oh, Kieron,” Winnie was crying, wringing her hands in distress, “you wouldn’t, you couldn’t…”

“I didn’t have to,” said Kieron with a mirthless laugh, dusting his hands off, “but, oh Jasus, wouldn’t I have liked to!”

The black Morris was bucking, stalling, starting, and jackrabbiting toward the main road. By the time it had paused there, I realized I’d been holding my breath and that I was trembling with reaction. I wished I’d never come to Ireland. I wished I’d never had an Aunt Irene. I just wanted to go up those stairs, pack my bags, and get the hell back to Westfield, New Jersey.

“Oh, Rene, I am so terribly, terribly sorry,” Winnie was babbling, peering up at me through the railing. “The moment she rang off I
knew
she’d do something outrageous! But I never … I mean I drove as fast as I could to get here and stop her. I don’t know
what
can have possessed Alice …”

“Greed,” said Ann Purdee in a hard voice. “Covetousness. She had her plans for this property, and well you know it, Winnie.”

“Oh dear, but I thought she’d forgotten. Tom spoke to her about it.” Winnie’s face twisted, and she began to cry.

“Oh, do stop weeping, Winnie,” Ann said contemptuously. “You’ll start all the children.”

“You’re not responsible for your sister-in-law, Winnie,” I said, because I couldn’t stand her distressful bleating either. “It was good of you to come over.”

“Where,” demanded Simon, “did she get that garbled version?”

Winnie looked startled. “I couldn’t tell you.”

“The truth of the matter is,” said Kieron, coming back into the hall, “that Rene went down to introduce herself to Mrs. Slaney and saw her sitting up in the bed just staring at the window. She was frightened and called me. The door was locked, so I opened the window and saw enough to realize the old lady was dead. So I asked Rene to call the Gardai.”

“Then no one entered the house before the Gardai?” asked Winnie, her eyes round.

“Why?” asked Ann. “Because Alice had it that Rene was discovered throwing the poor old soul out of her house so she could let in some other floozy or strumpet?”

In Winnie’s startled gasp we heard the truth, which she tried frantically to deny. I felt sicker than ever, and hugged myself against the venom of such a perversion. That settled it. I was in no way required to take this sort of slander. I would appoint a caretaker for the place. We’d make it a home for unwed mothers.

“Winnie, if you don’t mind …” Kieron said, indicating the door.

“Oh dear, oh dear. I didn’t mean to upset you, Rene,” she said, coming toward me instead, but Ann firmly guided her out the door.

Suddenly Snow began to laugh. She wasn’t hysterical, and I resented her capacity to find anything remotely funny about the past few minutes.

“Well?” I asked.

“But Mother … No one … would believe it. This scene … is … like wow!”

Simon’s grim expression began to echo his twin’s interpretation. By the time Ann and Kieron had returned, the two of them were rolling with laughter and the small children were giggling uncertainly.

“Will you two ghouls stop it?”

“My mother—the Irish murderess!” Snow made a dramatic pose. “A week in Ireland and she done Dublin dirty. Foul American Murders Ancient Crone She’s Never Met!” Snow made banner gestures with her hands. “Westfield will never believe it of you, Mommy!”

It was nothing to mock at, and yet Kieron was grinning and Ann Purdee looked considerably less grim as the twins went on, falling into Batmanese. “Westfield Widow Witch! Will This Dastardly Deed Defy Dublin’s Dauntless Detectives?”

“Look,” Kieron said to me when the kids had somewhat subsided, “you get in that car and take yourself off for a nice long drive … away from here …”

“Go see the Lady Twins,” said Snow.

“I don’t want to see anybody.”

I started up the stairs, but Simon blocked my way and Kieron marched me to the door, grabbing my handbag and keys from the hall table.

“Go down to the Silver Tassie and have a few quick jars. Go down to the Strand at Killiney and observe the shining sea!”

Getting away from it all did appeal strongly to me. I drove down the lane, each wheel revolution increasing the intense relief. I turned right and put my foot down on the accelerator. I took the next left-hand turn and got lost, naturally. I emerged at a signpost somewhere near Powerscourt, but stately homes were not soothing. Still, the drive was pretty, and I went on and on and on, and there were lovely mountains around me, with richly green growing things.

Power of suggestion and all that, I was at the bend in the Kilternan Road before the Brandel cottage when I recognized my whereabouts. I was determined not to stop, not to inflict myself on anyone or be forced to consider anyone else’s troubles and found myself flicking the turn signal.

Lady Maud was in the garden, in much the same spot as we had first seen her, and Lady Mary appeared in the doorway as I closed the garden gate. It was such a repetition of the first encounter that I momentarily wondered if they might not really be dolls, timeless and immobile, until opening the front gate started the action.

They’d already heard about Mrs. Slaney’s death. They wouldn’t, however, talk about it until I was ensconced on the love seat, sipping tea and eating dainty sandwiches which appeared magically. I
was
hungry!

“The one facet of today’s episode which is completely reprehensible,” said Lady Maud when I’d related the day’s events, “is Alice’s intrusion. I cannot, Mary, like the woman.”

Lady Mary sighed. “Maudie love, you are a
very
astute judge of
character
.”

I said it without thinking: “Do you know Shamus Kerrigan well?”

Their smiles told me the answer. “He is
such
a charming gentleman.
Always
punctual, and such a
good
heart.”

“Then would you know why my aunt turned against him?”

Lady Maud’s brows creased in the tiniest of frowns, and she looked down at her shoe tips as she reflected on my question. Lady Mary sighed.

“
Truly
we
don’t
know.”

“Though we had been aware of Irene’s sudden and inexplicable dislike of dear Mr. Kerrigan.”

“It seemed to begin after her
first
stroke, didn’t it, Maudie?”

“Yes, I believe that’s correct, Mary.”

“But he
kindly
drove us to
visit
her in hospital, and
brought flowers
and candy, and did
all
that was to be
expected
…”

“I hate to press you, Lady Maud, Lady Mary,” and both Ladies nodded acceptance of my reluctance, “but you see, he does want to use the lane to get into the land he owns. Only, in her letter to me, Aunt Irene forbade it. And he’s been so charming to me and the twins … But I can’t go against Aunt Irene’s specific instructions unless I know.”

“Mr. Kerrigan comes from a
very
good
family
, ” was Lady Mary’s contribution. “County Meath.”

“Irene could be very harsh with those who disappointed her. But she was fair,” said Lady Maud slowly.

“He says he doesn’t have an inkling of what he did.”

The two Ladies smiled at each other and then at me.

“Men often don’t, my dear,” said Lady Maud, her blue eyes twinkling.

“He’s
so
charming”—Lady Mary took up the narrative—“that one would feel
obliged
to
forgive
him almost
any
thing.” Then they beamed at me again.

“I expect it will all come out right in the end,” Lady Maud added, in such a brisk manner that I realized this subject of conversation was now closed.

“Could you tell me how you heard about Mrs. Slaney, Lady Maud?”

“Actually, it was John the postman who told Mary.”

“The postman?”

“In
Ireland
the
postmen
are usually the
worst
gossips of all,” and Lady Mary tittered.

“Did he say where he’d heard it?”

“No, I don’t recollect that he did.”

I think Lady Maud would have been more surprised if he’d acknowledged his source.

“However, Pat the butcher knew it. But then, his wife has a cousin in the Gardai at Cabinteely, so naturally he’d know. And James would tell us, because he knows we’re acquainted with Hillside Lodge.”

I sighed in surrender, and the conversation turned to other things. They were delighted to learn that I had sung at the tea, exultant at the reactions. They learned that I had met George Boardman. (Oh, a charming young man … such a jolly right Pirate King, too …) And wouldn’t I consider staying on and doing an audition for next year’s show?

I started my usual disclaimer.

“Tell me, dear Rene,” asked Lady Maud, “what sort of a life would you be leading in the States next fall?”

“Well, I… I mean … I’d be …” My voice trailed off as I reviewed my probable activities, dull indeed compared to what was already in progress here. There are certain advantages to being dull—safety from slander is one of them. But how much did I really want to feel safe? And how much more stimulating, if irritating, life seemed to be here!

Lady Maud smiled back at me, nodding, her eyes twinkling more merrily than ever, as if she realized the impact of that casual but shrewd question. I evaded any further answer by rising and suggesting that I’d taken quite enough of their time and I’d better get back to my twins before they listed me as missing.