2004 - Dandelion Soup (12 page)

And he’d also been seen buying fancy talcum powder and soap in the general store in the next village.

Nancy Carmichael poured a generous measure of brandy into a cup and swallowed it down in one gulp to steady her frazzled nerves. Something wasn’t quite right at all in Ballygurry.

Father Daley walked along Mankey’s Alley, and as he did he wondered if the rumours he’d heard around the village were true. All the talk in the village was that Solly Benjamin had a fancy woman installed in his house. It had certainly set the tongues wagging in Ballygurry. He’d heard Mrs Cullinane tell Miss Drew that she’d seen lights on in an upstairs window of Nirvana House in the small hours. Honest to God, to get a sight of the windows she’d have had to be perched on top of her chimney, and if not she must have been wandering around Ballygurry in the dead of night. Come to think of it he’d seen Mrs Cullinane skulking down to Kenny’s farm once or twice.

He stepped up to the front door of Nirvana House and rang the bell. A few seconds later a flustered Solly Benjamin answered the door.

“Good evening, Father, come in do. I was just having a quick tidy round when you rang the bell.”

Father Daley stepped into the hallway and looked around him. It really was a very beautiful house and, although it looked a bit run down from the outside, the inside was lovely.

He followed Solly along the hallway and into a large wood-panelled sitting room where a fire burned merrily in the hearth. Solly indicated that he take a seat and he sat in a large comfortable leather armchair on one side of the fire.

The only strange thing about the exquisitely furnished room was that on a side table an expensive-looking Chinese vase was filled with freshly cut dandelions. Father Daley wondered was there a Jewish custom regarding dandelions maybe?

“Let me get you a drink. Beer? Whiskey? Gin?”

“A whiskey would be grand.”

Solly poured whiskey from a decanter into two cut-glass tumblers and handed one to Father Daley.

“Your good health, Father.”

“Good health. Please call me John.”

They sat on either side of the hearth for a while in comfortable silence.

“So how are things going for you in Ballygurry, John?”

“Oh, so-so, it takes a bit of getting used to. They don’t teach you half the things you need to know in the seminary.”

“What sort of things would they be?”

“Well, I’m inundated every day with broths and cakes, offers of Sunday lunches. I’ll be the size of a house by the time I move on.”

“Are you thinking of moving on already?”

The priest blushed and was about to reply when there came a loud bump from overhead and a muffled cry.

Solly Benjamin leaped to his feet in alarm.

“Just excuse me a moment, John.”

He hurried from the room and Father Daley listened intently. He thought he could hear the sound of murmuring voices coming from upstairs. The fancy woman no doubt.

After a few minutes Solly came back into the room and picked up of all things a rosary from a side table and went back upstairs.

Father Daley wondered if perhaps the rumours about Solly Benjamin’s fancy woman being a Catholic were true.

Outside an owl hooted and through the windows he saw the huge pale moon rise above the tops of the trees of the Dark Wood.

Father Daley took a long swig of whiskey and sighed. No smoke without fire, he thought. Still, it was none of his business. There was definitely someone upstairs, though. Maybe Solly Benjamin was like Mr Rochester and lived like a recluse because he had a mad wife hidden in the attic. He thought about the scream he’d heard that day when he’d climbed over the wall into the Dark Wood and he shuddered.

Then he heard the sound of Solly’s footsteps as he came back down the stairs.

“Sorry about that. Where were we? Talking about moving on.”

“Oh, take no notice of me. I dare say when it comes to it I’ll stick it out. It’s just all strange at the moment.”

“And lonely?”

“Yes,” said Father Daley and took another gulp of his whiskey. “No one warns you about the loneliness,” he added sadly.

The fire was warm and the whiskey had mellowed Father Daley, loosened his tongue, for he spoke again without thinking.

“The thing is, I’m in the most almighty pickle. The last priest, you’ll probably remember him, Father Behenna, well it looks as if he’s done a runner with the entire amount of money for the pilgrimage to Lourdes.”

Solly Benjamin raised his eyebrows, guessing that the man had been troubled by this for some time and couldn’t wait to get it off his chest. Sometimes it was easier to confide in a stranger.

The priest swallowed more whiskey and looked uncomfortable.

“Well, that does put you in something of an awkward position.”

“The thing is, I tried to contact him to sort the whole thing out, but it seems he’s vanished to London.”

Solly rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“Have the hotel bookings been made?”

“No. I contacted the hotel where we were supposed to be staying but nothing has been booked and, what’s worse, all the hotels in the area are already full.”

“There is always a solution to a problem in one way or another,” Solly said softly. “More whiskey?”

Father Daley held out his glass.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t unburden my problems on you.”

“Like I said, every problem has a solution. Something will undoubtedly turn up.”

Solly looked at the young priest and his heart went out to him. He was a man of integrity, a good man.

“Perhaps we could exchange our difficulties. I’ll have a try at solving your problem and there’s a mystery perhaps you could help me with.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Let me get us a refill and 111 explain.”

Solly poured two generous measures of whiskey and sat back down.

“It seems to me, John, that you have several options. Firstly you blow the whistle on Father Behenna and the law becomes involved, but I sense that you’re reluctant to do, that am I right?”

“Yes, you see the thing is I only spent a few days with the old fellow but I don’t think he was, well, quite himself, he was throwing bucketloads of drink down his throat. I mean he must have been eighty-odd if he was a day. I don’t really want to set the law on his tail and have him spend his last days in jail.”

“Problem one solved then. Leave the law out of it. So the only other problem is obtaining the money to replace what is missing.”

“You have it in a nutshell.”

“That I can solve for you. I can let you have the money.”

“No, no that wouldn’t be right, I mean you’re not even a…”

“A Catholic, Father? It wouldn’t be right for a Jew to pay for a bunch of Catholics to go on a holy pilgrimage?”

Father Daley blushed and smiled weakly.

“Miss Carmichael and Miss Drew would never sleep at night! I’m serious, though. I have more than enough money for my needs. I’ll get the cash to you tomorrow.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“A simple yes will do. The third problem is one of accommodation, which is harder to solve, but I have every faith in you, John. Now lefs see if you can solve a hypothetical mystery for me…”

“Fire away!”

“A man receives an unexpected present.”

Solly paused.

“Through the post?” Father Daley asked.

“No. The, er, present arrives on his doorstep in the dead of night.”

“So someone actually brings the man a present in person.”

“Not exactly. The present arrives but the sender of the present is nowhere to be seen.”

“Ah? So you want to find out the identity of the sender?”

“Yes, but there are no clues except a sort of gift tag on the present itself.”

“And it says?”

“Just the man’s name and address.”

“Does the man recognize the handwriting?”

“No.”

Father Daley scratched his head.

“The sender of the present doesn’t contact you to make sure the present has arrived?”

“No. No word from the sender.”

“So the mystery sender doesn’t want you to know who they are?”

“So it would seem.”

“Is the present a valuable one?”

“Like a good woman, priceless.”

“Does the nature of the present give any clues as to who the sender is, you know, is it maybe a romantic gift?”

“Most definitely not a romantic gift.” Solly smiled bashfully.

“Am I allowed to know what the gift was?”

“Not at the moment it being a hypothetical mystery.”

“Well, all I can suggest is that you check to see whether anyone was seen arriving at your house in the dead of night. Time may well reveal an answer.”

“Yes indeed. More whiskey?”

With their glasses refilled they sat together in the firelight, talking about all kinds of things until, glancing at his watch, Father Daley said he had to go. He was about to step out of the door when he said, “Is that yours?” He pointed to the small brown suitcase that was standing against the wall.

“No, it, er, belongs to, er, an old friend of mine.”

“Well, remember when we were on the beach I was telling you about the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela?”

“I do.”

“See all those stickers on the side of the case? Most of those are the major towns on the route to Santiago.”

Solly looked down at the suitcase with interest.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. It’s long been a dream of mine to go to Santiago, though I don’t suppose I ever shall. Anyway, as I said before, I am a mine of useless information.”

Solly smiled.

“Well, good night, Solly, and thank you for everything. I only hope I can help you out some day.”

“You already have,” said Solly.

Father Daley stepped out into the cold night and set off down the drive. He was filled for the first time in many days with hope. There was a spring in his step and a great deal of whiskey in his belly as he staggered along Mankey’s Alley towards home.

Donahue was about to shut up for the night when Michael Leary the schoolmaster came in through the door.

“Am I too late for a drink?” he asked.

“Never let it be said that it’s too early or too late to get a drink in Donahue’s. What would you like?”

“Whiskey, I think. Something to warm the cockles of my heart it’s nippy out there tonight.”

“The weather’s changeable at the moment. Let’s hope it calms down a bit before the Ballygurry pilgrims set off. I had Miss Drew and Miss Carmichael in here today. Miss Carmichael bought that many tins of food to take with them they’ll need a cure for the backache by the time they carry them all the way to Lourdes.”

Mr Leary grinned, took off his glasses and cleaned them.

“I don’t know why they bother. The food is grand abroad.”

“Can’t say I fancy it myself, bits of frog and snails, for God’s sake. Who in their right mind would want to eat that kind of shite?”

“Ah, Marty, don’t listen to all you hear. Travel broadens both the mind and the palate.”

“Anyhow, did you hear the talk about the Black Jew?”

“No.”

“They reckon he has a woman shacked up in the house with him, the dirty lucky old beggar.”

“What’s so dirty about that? I wouldn’t mind one myself.”

“I thought you had a young woman abroad?” Donahue said.

“Sore point, Marty, she’s stopped replying to my letters.”

Donahue leaned across the bar and whispered even though there was no one else there.

“A fancy piece from Cork so they say.”

“Well good for him.”

“Michael, the man is a heathen and the talk is that she’s a good Catholic girl.”

“Have you seen her?”

“No, but he buys her chocolate eclairs and coconut macaroons, to keep her strength up I suppose. Oh, and scented soap by all accounts.”

Mr Leary scratched his head. He wasn’t quite in tune with Donahue’s logic.

“Well, Michael, how is the schoolmastering going? Rather you than me. I couldn’t stand being cooped up all day long with all those snotty-nosed little buggers.”

“It’s a great job, Marty, and remember you and I were snot-nosed little sods once upon a time.”

“Suppose so. Fancy they’re taking that Padraig whatshis name on the pilgrimage.”

“O’Mally. He’s a grand little lad.”

“Ah, is he now? Well, they’ll all need a rest cure after a fortnight with him.”

“He’s just very bright that’s all and a bit lively.”

“Ah, brains can be dangerous on that sort.”

“Marty, what sort are you referring to?”

“Well, he could get above himself. People need to know their station in life.”

“That’s bollocks and you know it. I’ll have another whiskey and one for yourself.”

“Thanks. Well, from what I’ve seen of him serve the Australians right. They’ll have to cope with his brains and good riddance.”

“What Australians?”

“Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“They’re going to start shipping them out. Make a new life for themselves down under.”

“Who?”

“The orphans.”

“Has anyone asked them if they want to go?”

“You don’t ask kids, Michael, you tell them. You should know that being a schoolmaster.”

“That’s disgraceful. You can’t ship kids to the other side of the world and then just dump them.”

“The church can, and you take heed, they will. There’s talk that St Joseph’s will become an old people’s home. Less trouble and more money to be made if you ask me. Not that they need the money, there’s a lot of money comes into that place.”

“You wouldn’t think so from the way they treat those kids. They reckon the food is disgusting.”

“Ah well, you don’t want to be feeding them orphans up; they’re enough trouble when they’re skinny. Big strong ones would be a nightmare.”

“Marty, you’re full of shite. How do you mean about the money?”

“Well, years ago there were a couple of rich old biddies living there. Separate from the orphans like, had their own rooms and that. You used to only see them at mass, sitting at the back between a couple of nuns acting like bodyguards. A bit simple the pair of old girls were.”