A Son of Aran (2 page)

On the occasion of their first meeting, Peadar, anxious to get back to his mother as quickly as possible, stayed only one night in Galway. Saureen gave him directions to a house where he would find accommodation. He thanked her for her advice in placing the cattle and promised to come to the café in November when he was back for the next fair.

‘Wasn't I lucky to have met you,' he said, as they bade one another goodbye. Back home, he thought a lot about her as he went about his work, digging the potatoes and gathering the hay and rye into the haggard where he secured them against winter storms. His mother was pleased when he told her he had met a young woman and how she had helped him.

‘Only for her, I don't know where I would have found a place for the cattle,' he said.

‘Buíochas le Dia'
(thanks be to God), his mother exclaimed as she looked up to the picture of the Sacred Heart. ‘I prayed that everything would go well for you.'

Peadar told his story to Máirtín who looked after Peadar's mother, milked the cow and herded the other cattle, while he was absent. As well as being partners in the fishing trawler, they had been firm friends from their youth. Máirtín had spent some years working on the buildings in England. Listening carefully to what Peadar had to say about Saureen, he looked at the ground but made no comment.

At the November fair, Peadar was more successful. He sold his cattle at a good price and decided to remain in Galway to celebrate with two other men from the island who had come to town for the same purpose. All three had money to spend. They went to an adjacent public house where they spent the evening drinking and exchanging experiences. Night had fallen before they remembered they hadn't eaten all day. Peadar suggested Rhona's café. They headed in that direction only to find it closed.

‘Where will we turn to now?' they asked one another. None of them knew the city very well. As they stumbled awkwardly along Shop Street, in the light of a street lamp, Peadar saw a well-dressed lady in high heels, ankle-length fur coat and matching headgear, approaching on the footpath. He was about to accost her for directions when, looking more closely, he saw it was Saureen. She recognised him too but she appeared detached and unwilling to linger. Looking anxiously over her shoulder, she said curtly, ‘I can't talk to you now. There's a café in Quay Street where you will get food at this late hour,' and continued on her way. Peadar was puzzled by her reaction but he put the thought out of his mind as they made their way to the restaurant. Later he brought his companions to the house where he had previously stayed and all got accommodation for the night. Before departing for Aran the following day he paid a visit to Rhona's cafe where he found Saureen busy serving tables as usual. She said ‘hello' to him briefly as she took his order but she made no comment on their previous night's meeting. Her usual frivolity with other customers appeared to have evaporated. Although he couldn't understand her attitude, Peadar didn't draw her into conversation. He paid his bill and left.

Try as he might, he couldn't put thoughts of Saureen out of his mind as he went about routine winter jobs back home in Aran. His mother's deteriorating health was a source of concern to him. Following weeks of treatment by the island doctor, the stomach ailment from which she suffered had not abated; he recommended that she should be transferred to hospital in Galway for further investigation. Peadar consulted Máirtín. The long voyage to Galway at that time of year did not appeal to either of them. They decided that, given a lull in weather conditions, they would take her in the hooker across the shorter route to Rossaveel and from there by road to the hospital. They arrived at their destination two weeks before Christmas. Máirtín returned to Aran while Peadar stayed on in Galway to be near his mother. After visiting her in the hospital every day he still had a lot of time on his hands. He thought of making contact with Saureen. This proved more difficult than he had anticipated. Workers in Rhona's informed him that she had left there a few weeks earlier. Somebody suggested that she resided at Long Walk—they didn't know which house but they were sure local people would be able to direct him. The long line of houses fronting the Claddagh basin looked ramshackle and run-down as he sought to locate the one he wanted.

‘Try the red door,' a woman in a black shawl advised him. As he raised his hand to the knocker, the door opened and a tall swarthy man immaculately clad in a long coat, white collar, silk waistcoat, silver watch chain across his breast and a tall black hat, emerged. He glanced furtively to left and right before walking briskly away in the direction of the Spanish Arch. Peadar took advantage of the open door to enter. He knocked timidly on an inner door down the hallway to his left. There was a pause during which he heard some commotion within. The door was partly opened by a woman in furry slippers, long dressing gown and multicoloured head-piece knotted beneath her chin. In the dim light Peadar had to look closely before he was sure it was Saureen. She looked surprised to see him. Blocking the doorway with her body, she inquired the purpose of his visit to Galway. She listened to his story about his mother's illness and expressed sympathy.

‘I'm afraid I can't ask you in,' she said. ‘As you see, I am dressing for an appointment. Perhaps we can meet later— say ten o'clock in the Arch Bar; we'll talk some more then and, if you wish, I will accompany you to the hospital sometime to visit your mother.'

Looking urgently at her gold wrist-watch she continued, ‘I'm afraid you'll have to leave now, I must get dressed.' Grateful for her few short words, Peadar walked on air as he beat a hasty retreat from the complex. He had found her; he would be seeing her again in a few hours. A high tide lapped the quay wall across the road. Studying the area he reckoned it wouldn't be a very safe place after dark; he wondered why Saureen chose to live there. He must remember to ask her when they met.

The hospital doctor was not hopeful. Investigation revealed that Peadar's mother was suffering from an advanced form of leukaemia. There was no cure for the condition. All that the hospital staff could do was to minimise her suffering and make her as comfortable as possible in the circumstances.

‘Is she going to die, doctor?' Peadar asked, as he wiped tears from his eyes.

‘I see no other outcome, unless of course you believe in miracles.'

Peadar was inconsolable. His mother had always been there for him. He couldn't imagine what life would be like without her. Stunned by the news, he walked across the Salmon Weir Bridge to the Franciscan Church. As he knelt before the Blessed Sacrament he wept uncontrollably and prayed aloud: ‘Please, God, don't take her from me—at least not yet.'

A stranger put a hand on his shoulder. ‘My poor man, what is it that causes you such distress?'

In a broken voice, Peadar related the story of his mother's illness. The man listened until he had finished.

‘Dry your tears,' he said. ‘Come with me and we'll have a cup of tea. It will do you good to talk about it.'

In an adjacent café Peadar revealed the story of life with his mother in Aran, how he had never been away from the island except for an occasional trip to Galway and how, apart from his neighbour, Máirtín, he had no close friends. If his mother died he couldn't bear to go back there.

‘What will I do at all?' he sobbed. The man was sympathetic.

‘Do you know anybody in Galway?' he asked. ‘Have you a place to stay while your mother is here?'

Peadar mentioned that Saureen had directed him to a boarding house in Shantalla and told him he was meeting her later that evening. The man inquired about this woman, what was her name, and where she lived. He frowned on hearing that she had a place on the Long Walk.

‘Not the best district,' he said. ‘There are many stories about it. You would be wise not to go there after dark. I live on my own in Wood Quay, a short distance from here. You seem to be a decent man. If you wish, I can offer you accommodation for a little while until you come to terms with your mother's illness. It isn't good for you to be on your own at a time like this.'

Peadar moved into the home of Festy in Wood Quay. It was convenient to the hospital where he visited his mother every day. He wrote to Máirtín, giving him the address and telling him the news of his mother. He asked him to look after things for him in Aran until he got back. He didn't reveal the doctor's pronouncement to his mother. He had a feeling that she herself knew she wasn't going to get better but was keeping up a brave face for his sake. Festy's companionship was a boon to him. They became very friendly and occasionally shared a pint in the local public house where Festy introduced him to his friends and told them of his predicament. People were sympathetic—they told him not to lose hope.

‘God never closes one door that he doesn't open another,' one man assured him. Peadar wondered what new door would be opened for him when his mother passed on. Thoughts of Saureen kept coming to his mind all the time. He met her as arranged at the Arch bar. She was friendly towards him, asked about his mother and who was looking after things for him in Aran.

‘I have never been to the island.' she told him. ‘Perhaps I can accompany you there sometime?' she suggested, as she sipped a gin and tonic while he lowered a pint of Guinness. When he pressed her, she drank two more. Over the following weeks they met regularly but he thought it odd that she never invited him to her apartment. Nevertheless he was pleased to be in her company and he told her so. He would be glad to take her to Aran when an opportunity arose.

Christmas in Galway was a revelation to Peadar. He had never before experienced the spirited scene that prevailed during the days and nights leading up to the festival— crowds milling through the streets, decorated shop windows laden with fashion wear, toys, plum pudding, sweet cakes, Christmas stockings and giftware. Hams and turkeys hanging from butchers' ceilings, mouth-watering beef steaks, chickens, chops, rashers, sausages and black puddings displayed in windows, shoppers, laden down with baskets and parcels, greeting one another in festive tones as they carried their purchases home. Crowded bars and hotel lounges remained open long after Peadar had retired to bed. The shouts of revellers reached him as he drifted off to sleep. He had no heart for celebration. Apart from a hot whiskey with Festy as they sat beside the fire after midnight Mass on Christmas night, and a fling with Saureen to welcome in the New Year, he remained abstemious. The days lengthened—soon it was the feast of Saint Brigid, a time when, back in Aran, his mother wove crosses from willow rods and placed them in the rafters to ward off evil for another year. He remembered the mummers who went from house to house with their faces concealed behind masks, twirling and twisting around the kitchen floor while his mother plied them with sweet cake. As he watched her face grow pallid and her hair falling out every time he smoothed it, he knew instinctively she would never again do those things.

‘Not much longer,' the doctor said. His prognosis proved correct. On the night of February 14, (Peadar couldn't forget the date because Saureen reminded him it was Saint Valentine's Day), his mother passed peacefully away. Festy and some of his friends rallied around. They carried her coffin to St. Joseph's church where High Mass was celebrated next morning. Afterwards they laid her to rest in Bohermore cemetery. Peadar would have liked to bring her remains back to Aran where her forbears were buried but, as his father's body had never been found, he didn't see a need to incur the additional cost and inconvenience.

‘A family grave in Galway might be more meaningful,' he thought to himself; ‘maybe I will eventually make my home here.'

He made a return trip to Aran for St Patrick's Day bringing Saureen with him. In the cobbled street in front of the cottage, hens crowded cautiously around her feet and rose in fright as she impatiently shooed them away. She admired the stone cottage that Peadar had shared with his late mother, the open hearth fire set by Máirtín in anticipation of their arrival, the overhead mantelpiece with its complement of china dogs and vases, the neat bedroom with its soft feather bed, and the small four-paned curtained windows that were never opened. Peadar related to her how the doors of houses in Aran were always left on the latch. Neighbours would drop in without ceremony at any time of the day or night when the family was in residence. A stout bolt shot home on the outside of the door was an indication that nobody was at home, in which case people wouldn't intrude.

‘Despite the dirty hen-litter and the messy ashes from the turf fire, I could feel at home here,' she muttered under her breath.

She looked at Máirtín, his workman's hands scarred from old cuts, his nails gnarled and thick, as he shook her hand. He greeted her as Peadar's friend but she sensed that he wasn't overly impressed. He reminded Peadar that it was planting time and asked him if he was going to sow potatoes as he had done every year. Peadar was non-committal.

‘I'll think about it,' he replied.

For the next two weeks Peadar took Saureen on trips around the island, showing her the sandy beaches, the steep cliffs, the ancient fort of Dún Aengus, and the ruined monastery of Saint Éanna. They walked the bare limestone plateau and looked across at Inish Meáin and the coastline of County Clare. She loved the open air and scenery but wondered if she could endure the isolation of island life— it would be so different from the freedom of living on the mainland. If Peadar would sell up and move to Galway there might be a possibility of them making a life together. He hadn't proposed to her yet but she was in no doubt that he would do so before long. In the meantime she would use her womanly wiles to lead him on.

Peadar didn't return to Galway for several weeks. Saureen told him she had things to do there and assured him that she would eagerly await his return.