A Son of Aran (31 page)

‘“Would you consider,” he said, “teaching children in the locality whose parents cannot afford to give them secondary education? The university authorities would be willing to fund a school if suitable premises can be found and teachers become available to cover a limited number of subjects. With your qualifications in English, French, and Spanish, I feel you would be the ideal person to teach languages. All of this would of course be subject to your agreement and to approval by the Spanish Education Authority.”

‘I told him I thought his proposal for a school was admirable, but I would have to take time to ponder my involvement with it. What do you think, Seosamh?'

‘I am fully behind you in whatever you decide, Eileen but, will it not be a huge commitment on your part? Won't it tie you down in regard to your other interests? Will it interfere with how we wish to spend our time; for instance we might like to go away for a break? You told me a little while ago that I should cut my involvement with the community in order to be more at home—are you now about to get involved in a similar way yourself? Let's throw the idea around with Peadar and see what he thinks.'

Peadar was not enthusiastic:

‘I agree,' he said, ‘that education for young people here is essential if they are to rise above being manual labourers. It's all right for the older generation, that's what they've been used to doing during their lifetimes. The improvement that has come about in their circumstances since they got access to Estat de Tirelle has fulfilled them. Despite the progress made, many of their children remain in the family home after they have completed their primary education. The little holdings can support no more than one family; if they subdivide the land, there will be less chance of survival for all of them. That's what gave rise to the terrible famine in Ireland in the last century—too many mouths to be fed and not enough for any of them when the potato crop failed. In the light of our Irish experience, I reckon the government here should be responsible for providing education for those young people. What is the Catholic Church doing about the problem? They supported Franco in the civil war—why don't they bring their influence to bear on him now that he is in power? I wouldn't be in favour of you getting too deeply involved in Father Benedictus's scheme. After all, these people have already done very well in gaining access to land from Estat de Tirelle, and in having research facilities put in place to identify their agricultural problems. Government authorities are well aware of our contribution to the peoples' welfare. It's up to the government to proceed from there and set up an educational system for the children. Eileen, you and Seosamh have responsibilities of your own—your priority is looking after your home, your children, and me too, of course.'

The visitors arrived almost simultanously. In issuing invitations, Seosamh and Eileen indicated the last week of May as most opportune. It was a quiet time of year on the Coughlan farm and, for Chrissie, the busy holiday tourist season in Galway had not yet commenced. Weather in the north of Spain was normally favourable in May—the torrid heat of mid-summer hadn't yet taken effect. A little rain could be expected from time to time, which should present no difficulty to people from Ireland. It was open season for bull fighting—that would provide an added attraction. All four conveyed their appreciation of the invitations. They were delighted to accept.

Vincent expressed his amazement at the vastness of the landscape. ‘At home we thought that our fields in Offaly were the biggest to be found anywhere, but they pale into insignificance when compared with yours,' he remarked, as Seosamh showed him around the estate. Saddling the horses, they ranged far into the countryside, viewing in turn the scope of cultivated lowlands, rugged foothills, and higher mountains in the background. Seosamh's acquired knowledge of Spanish was adequate when they stopped to dialogue with the native people. Everywhere they went they were greeted cordially and offered cheese, fruit, cider, and wine produced by local landowners. Seosamh was widely known for his involvement with the smallholders—the degree of respect shown to him in the presence of his friend lifted his ego.

‘It's a great country to live in,' he declared. ‘Am I not glad I got the opportunity of coming here; it was all so fortuitous! When I was growing up in Aran, trying to earn a bit of money planting potatoes and gathering seaweed, I had no idea of what was in store for me. With Eileen for my wife, and baby Carl in his pram, I am the happiest man in the world.'

‘I am so pleased to hear you say that,' Vincent replied. ‘I wish I could say the same. At home, the problem of family inheritance has raised its head. My father wants to call it a day but, before he does that, he is anxious to install one of us as farmer. The trouble is he can't decide between my brother and me. Whoever eventually succeeds to the land will not have an easy run—he will have to raise sufficient finance to pay off his three siblings. It's a no-win situation. I'm not sure that I want to be the chosen one. On the other hand, how else can I earn a living? Any skills I have acquired are agricultural—in what way can I utilise these other than in farming?'

‘Tis a problem all right,' Seosamh consoled. ‘I sympathise with your predicament. However, there are ways of getting over your problem. I've heard of landless men in Donegal who grow a hundred acres of potatoes every year on rented land. They wouldn't buy land even if the opportunity arose. By renting they can choose what they call ‘clean' ground on which a potato crop has not been grown for several years, which leaves it free from carry over of unwanted tubers and soil borne diseases. Similarly, growers of large acreages of barley and wheat in Leinster, rent their requirements of land for tillage. You might be fortunate enough to inherit a holding from a family relative, to have enough money to purchase land, or to marry a woman who owns a farm. I was fortunate in having known Eileen before she inherited Estat de Tirelle. Have you cast your eye on any girl that might fit the bill in your case? You come from well-respected farming stock—there's many a father would be pleased to have you for a son-in-law.'

‘I have given a lot of thought to what you suggest but I don't have the stomach for marrying into a farm. Even though mutual arrangements are agreed between the parties in advance, residing in another woman's house would make me feel like a poor relation. It's different for a woman marrying into her husband's place. I'd rather scrimp and save to get enough money to buy my own farm, no matter how small it may be, and to find a girl I like well enough to join with me in making a go of it. I'm regarded by my siblings as very independent but I can't help holding those views. You and I learned at agricultural college that there are ways of making a good living on limited acreage through intensive cultivation of specialised crops of fruit and vegetables. If things don't work out to my satisfaction on the home farm, I reckon that's the way I'll go.'

‘Vincent, knowing you, I am sure you'll not fail for want of trying. I wish you the best of luck in whichever road you select; I look forward to visiting you and your partner when you are settled in your chosen occupation.'

Eileen was delighted to meet Mary and Seona Coughlan whose praises, she told them, Seosamh was wont to sing. Accompanied by Chrissie, they went for long walks around the Estat, taking turns at wheeling Carl in his colourful high pram or carrying him in their arms. The girls complimented Eileen on her beautiful mansion, and marvelled at the stately reception rooms and spacious bedrooms. To accommodate the visitors, Santa Clara had spring-cleaned rooms on the uppermost floor which, not having been required for family purposes, were rarely used. Views from the windows were even more spectacular than at lower level. Mary and Sheona shared a room; Chrissie and Vincent each had separate rooms. Seated with Peadar, Seosamh, and Eileen, around a huge table in the ornate dining room, the visitors thoroughly enjoyed tapas prepared by Eileen, served by Santa Clara on a large silver tray, and washed down with best quality Rioja wines. Afterwards in the drawing room, with glasses replinished, Peadar entertained the company with a selection of his favourite Irish ballads—Babaró, Annach Cuan, and Cill Aodán.

‘How wonderful it is to hear him sing again,' Eileen thought to herself.

Seona and Mary, in their talented sweet voices, contributed duets of songs made famous by Sydney McEwan, Nelson Eddy, and John McCormack.

‘It's been a long time since entertainment like this echoed through the halls of this house,' Santa Clara was heard to remark to her helping maid, as they cleared the dining table next door.

Satiated, inebriated, and feeling thoroughly fulfilled, the visitors struggled up the winding stairway leading to the top floor. The room allotted to Mary and Seona was tastefully furnished with double beds adorned with brass rails at head and foot, marble- topped dressing tables, wash stands, each with a broad rimmed basin, a ewer and chamber pot of brightly coloured delph ware. A casement window opened onto a verenda from which an iron ladder stretched almost to ground level—designed, no doubt, as an escape route in case of emergency. Another window overlooked the rear yard where outbuildings were separated from the house by a narrow alleyway. Despite their inclination to settle down for the night, in the light of the full moon, the girls stopped to gaze with admiration at the rolling hills and level plains which appeared to stretch to the horizon.

‘What a wonderful panaroma,' Mary remarked ecstatically. ‘Eileen and Seosamh are lucky people to have inherited such an exclusive property.'

‘More than you or I could have offered Seosamh if we succeeded in nabbing him when he stayed in our house,' Seona replied laughingly. ‘Do you think we might be able to find two millionaires who would provide for us like this?'

Sharing a joke, fatigued from the day's activities, they undressed, and soon were fast asleep—the room echoed to their sonorous snores.

‘What was that noise?' Seona yelled, as she sat bolt upright and looked frightenedly in the direction of the window.

‘Seona, you have drunk too much wine,' Mary answered yawningly. I didn't hear anything. Go back to sleep; I'm sure it was nothing more than a bird striking against the window pane. Now that you have disturbed me, I won't be able to get to sleep again and I was having such a wonderful dream—I thought that you and I were flying across the sky on a multi-coloured Persian carpet with two handsome young men. One lad, who had his arm around my waist, was about to plant a soft kiss on my cheek when you called out. I would love to know how the dream would have finished if you hadn't interrupted.'

‘Maybe, I'm being dramatic,' Seona said, ‘but I distictly heard a noise in the room. When I looked towards the window, I saw the figure of a man outlined against the curtain. The drape moved slightly as if blown by the wind.'

They both examined the casement—it was tightly shut; the drape hung limp and unmoving. Outside, a full moon lit the sky, giving a clear view around the house and beyond. Nowhere was there any evidence of an intruder.

‘You must have had a nightmare, Seona. Let's go back to sleep—everything will appear OK in the morning.'

Unconvinced, Seona did as she was bidden, but sleep evaded her for the remainder of the night.

‘Who,' she wondered, ‘was the phantom intruder? Was it for real or did she imagine the whole thing!'

Listening to her story as they sat at breakfast on the following morning, Vincent related how he too had heard the sound of horses' hooves during the night. Looking from the window of his room, he saw a man on horseback riding between the house and the yard, but he failed to establish where the rider went.

‘Was it the same person that Seona saw?' they wondered. ‘Was it human or spirit?'

Peadar didn't comment. He changed the conversation

‘Who'd like to witness a bullfight?' Seosamh asked. ‘Madrid and surrounding towns are renowned for the sport. If you like, we can drive down that way tomorrow and find one of those events.'

‘Leave me out,' Peadar said. ‘After watching the bull-running event in Pamplona a few years ago, I never want to see a repeat of that kind of spectacle. Bloody cruelty, that's what it is—banned it should be. In my book it is not a sport.'

‘I agree with you, Dad,' Eileen said, ‘but here in Spain bull fighting is as much a national pastime as heavy weight boxing or coursing is in Ireland. The events draw huge crowds of spectators, especially tourists who love to experience the thrill. I think our visitors should have an opportunity of seeing a bull fight—afterwards, they can form their own opinions. Bull fighting is only one part of a lavish fete of music, dancing and entertainment in every town around Madrid. It will be nice to watch groups of dancers performing in colourful costumes, and listen to their traditional music. What say all of you? Who'd like to go? If you don't wish to come, Dad, that's fine—we'll miss your company, but we understand. I'll leave you in charge, while Santa Clara looks after Carl. Bullfighting is not likely to be his preferred amusement at this stage of his life.'

Bloody cruelty—Peadar's description, they found to be most appropriate. The friends edged their way into an advantagous viewing position amid deafening roars from spectators. In the enclosure a matador flashed his red cape tantalisingly in front of the bull, and danced and sidled to avoid the animal's long sharp horns. A picador on horseback pricked the animal with a lance, enraging him into more aggressive onslaught. When a charge took place, it was a case of man versus beast; spectators rose to their feet as the bull scored, or the matador escaped unhurt with the assistance of an accomplice who momentarily distracted the animal. In the heat of the afternoon, blood, sweat, and fetid odours of excreta and urine, permeated the arena—not a nice place to have brought one's friends unless they fancied that kind of entertainment. Our visitors didn't linger; having seen what they wanted, they settled for a selection of tapas and a glass of wine in one of the many terrazas that proliferated in every town and village, and listened to a lone guitarist strummng a rythmic melody to which his audience swayed and sang in true fiesta style.