Cave of Secrets (13 page)
Authors: Morgan Llywelyn
W
illiam Flynn and his men remained at
Roaringwater
House only for a few days before they
galloped
away again, full of high spirits. Tom watched them go with mixed feelings. His father’s attitude towards him had changed a little. Sometimes it was almost pleasant. There had been too much talk of soldiers and war, however. His father had even asked the head groom to teach him to ride. ‘If young Tom is meant for the cavalry we had best get to work right away, eh?’
Not once had Flynn asked how Tom had injured his leg, or how the boy felt. About anything.
As soon as his leg was strong enough, Tom set out for the narrow valley. He carried the walking stick but tried not to use it more than absolutely necessary. His friends – relatives! – greeted him warmly. Bríd was eager to see how well his leg was healing.
‘We wondered if we would ever see you here again,’ Muiris told him.
‘Why would I not come?’
‘Your parents could have stopped you.’
‘My mother saw me leaving the house this morning and said nothing, though I’m sure she knew I was coming here. As for my father … he was home for a brief while but has gone again. I did not tell him about you, and I don’t think my mother did either. He only cares about his own business anyway.’
Muiris said, ‘And this business of his – is it so interesting?’
While Tom related what he knew of his father’s plans, his uncle listened intently. ‘So Thomas Wentworth is Lord
Lieutenant
now,’ he said, ‘and Liam Ó Floinn is in his camp. Liam probably believes he is safely nestled in the English king’s pocket.’
His choice of words warned Tom. ‘Is my father not safe with Thomas Wentworth? He has given him an officer’s commission.’
‘I am sure your father has a splendid commission, and gold braid for his coat,’ Muiris said sarcastically. ‘Fineen Ó Driscoll had a knighthood from the English crown, and much good it did him. The
Sasanach
used Fineen for as long as suited their purpose, then cut him loose with every
Irishman’s
hand raised against him. His own son, Conor, had rebelled against him. The old man was forced to sell
everything
he owned. In the end he died penniless, with no one to tie up his jaw.
‘Believe me when I tell you: a man who can be ennobled at the whim of an English monarch can lose his nobility just as quickly. You are far safer leaning on your blackthorn stick, Tomás, than your father will ever be leaning on the
Sasanach
.’
Tom spent the day with Donal and his family in the narrow valley. For long stretches of time it was as
wonderful
as he remembered. Then, like dark clouds passing across the face of the sun, his worries returned. The complicated adult world into which his father had ridden was like the swarming sea life beneath the surface of Roaringwater Bay. Unseen, unsuspected, unknowable.
But he was close to it now. He already had one foot in it. He could not go back to being a child even if he wanted to. Nor did he know how to take the next step.
His mother was waiting for him when he returned home. ‘You were with Muiris,’ she said.
‘I was.’
‘You have lost a lot of time with your studies, Tom, so I have sent for Mr Beasley to resume your lessons next week. Otherwise you will be studying right through the summer.’
‘Are you trying to keep me from being with my uncle and his family?’
She looked hurt. ‘I would not do that, Tom. I am glad you found one another. I kept that secret too long.’
‘Why did you? Are you ashamed of them?’
Catherine Flynn lifted her head. ‘Just the opposite, I am
proud of them. I am only ashamed that I did not appreciate what I had.’
‘Does Father know about Muiris?’
‘He knew from the beginning. I would never keep a secret from him. William looked down on the Irish who had not adopted English ways, but my family still had some money then, which made them more acceptable. I did not learn until too late that they used the last of it for my dowry. I felt so guilty I could not face them any more.’
‘I’ll take you to them tomorrow!’ Tom said eagerly. ‘They will be glad to see you.’
‘They will not be glad. They hate me and I do not blame them.’
‘If they hated you, Muiris would not have come here,’ Tom pointed out. ‘Nor would he have kept an eye on you all these years. Please, Mother, let me take you to them. They have the nicest little house, so warm and snug, and the morning sun comes in the windows.’
‘I know,’ she said. So softly he did not hear.
‘They will make you welcome as they always do me and we can heal the damage that’s been done. Bríd is a wonderful healer, just look what she did for my leg.’
‘A broken leg is not the same as a broken family, Tom. We Irish carry our injuries to the grave.’
It was the first time Tom had ever heard his mother say ‘we Irish’.
‘It doesn’t have to be that way!’ he protested. ‘I know it doesn’t. Please say you’ll come with me tomorrow, I know the way.’
‘I know the way too,’ Catherine Flynn replied.
This time he heard her.
* * *
In the morning it was raining. ‘I shall have to wait for another day,’ Mrs Flynn said at breakfast. She sounded relieved.
‘If we don’t go now you’ll never go.’
‘Of course I shall, Tom.’
Virginia spoke up. ‘I think we should all go together, as I said last night. They are part of our family too.’
‘We cannot pay a call in weather like this!’ Caroline
protested
.
‘The weather is always like this,’ said Elizabeth. ‘We live on Roaringwater Bay, remember? We can wrap up warmly and wear heavy boots.’
‘That will not be necessary,’ Mrs Flynn told them. ‘This time I think it should only be Tom and myself.’
Tom reached across the table and seized his mother’s hands. ‘This time? Then you
are
going!’
‘I have not yet decided if–’
‘Say you will. Please?’ The eyes gazing at her so earnestly were his father’s eyes; William’s eyes as Catherine
remembered
them, when he and she were young. How could she refuse those eyes anything? ‘I shall go,’ she said at last.
Warm outer clothing was gathered with a sense of urgency. Tom was afraid that if he wasted any time his mother would lose her nerve. Elizabeth and Virginia clamoured to
accompany
them, but Mrs Flynn would not allow it. What she was about to do would take all the courage she had. If she were rejected, she did not want her daughters as witnesses.
They made slow progress, the woman in her heavy cloak and the boy with his walking stick. For once there was little wind off the bay, but the rain pounded like a fist on their heads and shoulders. Where the going was rough Tom held his mother’s arm. He threw down the stick because it got in his way.
‘It’s a strange thing,’ he remarked to her. ‘Sometimes it takes forever to reach the valley, and other times I come upon it long before I expect to.’
She said nothing.
Tom did not take a wrong turning. He found the marsh at the river mouth just where it should be, and led his mother to the narrow valley without mishap. The familiar cabins were waiting for them, snugly huddled under their thatch, their limewashed walls gleaming in the grey light.
Mrs Flynn stopped walking. ‘They have not changed,’ she said in a voice full of wonder. ‘Everything else has changed, but not …’ She began to cry.
B
ríd had a pile of mending on her lap when she heard the knock on the door. ‘Who but a fisherman would be out in this weather?’ she muttered to herself. ‘And I after telling himself we already have enough dried and salted fish to last until the summer, but would he listen? Not Muiris; not when there’s something troubling his mind. Then he has to be busy.’
She raised her voice. ‘The door’s not latched, come in!’
The knock was repeated.
She thrust her needle through the topmost garment and set the pile aside. ‘Have ye gone deaf?’ she asked as she opened the door. ‘Tomás, lad! Come into this house, you’re very welcome.’
He did not step inside. ‘My mother is with me, and she’s crying. I can’t get her to come any farther.’
Looking past him through a curtain of rain, Bríd saw
a woman muffled in a heavy cloak. She was bent almost double, with her two hands over her face. Bríd ran to her. ‘Help me, Tomás!’ With one on one side and one on the other, they walked Catherine Flynn through the open
doorway
and into the cabin.
‘Sit by the hearth and warm yourself,’ Bríd said. ‘Och, look at the state of you, you could have come from the bottom of the bay. Take off that wet cloak at once.’ She tried to fold Catherine’s hood back.
‘Leave me,’ Tom’s mother moaned. ‘Please leave me be.’
Bríd pulled the hood away. ‘Caitríona? Is it really yourself?’
‘I am Mrs William Flynn,’ the other woman replied. In her whisper voice.
Bríd made a clucking noise with her tongue. ‘Muiris has taken Donal upriver to collect bait, but they will return soon. Would you have them see you like this?’ She began to mop Mrs Flynn’s wet face with her apron. ‘Tomás, my comb is on the dresser. We need blankets too, you know where they are.’
‘Tomflynn!’ came a glad cry from overhead. Maura scrambled down the ladder from the loft. ‘I was ’sleep,’ she announced, ‘but I’m ’wake now!’ She flung herself at Tom and gave him a great hug. A moment later she was in Mrs Flynn’s lap and hugging her too.
Soon the two Flynns were warm and dry and enjoying a hot meal. There was little chance for Bríd and Catherine to talk to each other. Maura monopolised the conversation
with her customary babble about everything and nothing, punctuated with frequent hugs for the guests.
During a momentary lull Catherine managed to say, ‘I was afraid you might hate me, Bríd.’
Before Bríd could answer the little girl exclaimed, ‘We love you! We love you and Tomflynn lots!’
Muiris and Donal returned to find Bríd and Catherine sitting by the hearth, finishing the mending together. Tom was trying to teach Maura to count to ten. The cabin was filled with a warm glow which only partially came from the fire in the hearth.
An amazed Muiris paused in the doorway, hardly
believing
his eyes.
His wife glanced up. ‘You’re after letting the rain in, you foolish man. Be inside or be outside but don’t be doing both at once.’
Catherine Flynn smiled at her brother. ‘As you can see, Muiris, I am inside.’
* * *
Every member of the small community wanted to call on Catherine. Bríd decided against it. ‘Caitríona is like a robin that lands on your outstretched hand. If people crowd around her she will be overwhelmed.’
Maura stationed herself at the door. Whenever someone
knocked the little girl opened the door just a crack and said, ‘Tomflynn’s mother is a robin. Don’t ’whelm her.’
The day was far too short. When the light began to fade Catherine announced they must leave. Muiris urged her to spend the night but she declined. ‘I have three girls waiting for me at home, and a household to run,’ she reminded him.
‘But you will come back?’
‘It is not as far as I thought it was,’ she said.
She and Tom were both tired. The rain had stopped but neither felt like talking. They saved their energy for the walk. Once Roaringwater House was in sight, however, Tom said, ‘Did you think they hated you because of the money?’
‘I suppose I did. It all happened so long ago and I was very young, but when I look back …’ She stopped walking. Tom waited.
‘When I look back,’ his mother said, ‘I realise they did not hate me. We never really hate the people we love, even when they make us angry. I see now that my family was just disappointed in me. They thought I was turning my back on them.’
‘And were you?’
‘I was not! I was simply turning towards William. How strange,’ she mused, ‘that time has erased all that long-ago pain.’
‘Footprints,’ said Tom.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Did you ever leave footprints on the beach, Mother, and come back later to find the sea had washed them away? It leaves the sand clean.’
Catherine Flynn smiled.
Tom’s sisters were waiting eagerly to hear the details of the visit, but all Mrs Flynn said was, ‘They were kind to us.’ She went straight to her bed.
Tom answered their questions until he could not keep his eyes open any longer. Then he too retired. To the cave of the bed-closet.
On the following day Catherine Flynn had a talk with her children. ‘When your father comes home again you are not to mention my brother or his family,’ she said. ‘Not a word about them, do you understand?’
Caroline immediately said, ‘Why?’
‘When William and I married there were certain
problems
…’
‘What sort of problems?’ Virginia prompted.
‘My people had once been very wealthy,’ her mother explained, ‘so William boasted of being related to the O’Flynns of Ardagh Castle, between Skibbereen and
Baltimore
. Like ourselves, they were a branch of the Corca Laoidhe.
‘My father was still alive at the time. When he realised we were determined to marry, pride compelled him to give me a dowry appropriate to William’s station. Shortly after the
wedding I learned that William was merely a poor relation who had inherited a piece of land no one else wanted. I also discovered that the last of my family’s fortune had gone into my dowry. A little honesty at the beginning would have
prevented
much resentment afterwards.’
‘You would have married Father anyway,’ guessed
Elizabeth
.
‘Probably,’ her mother admitted with a wry smile. ‘We were very young. Unfortunately, as a result of some of the wild tales Seán told at our marriage feast, William thought the Ó Driscolls had a great hoard of hidden gold. He became obsessed with the idea. He convinced himself that my family had defrauded him and could have paid a much larger dowry. He forbade me to have anything more to do with them. To keep peace in the marriage, I agreed. If William knew Muiris had come here …’
A look passed between Tom and his sisters. ‘Father will not hear about it from us,’ Elizabeth promised.
Elizabeth waited until she could catch Tom alone. ‘Did you know anything about that?’ she asked her brother.
‘About what?’
‘The tragic mistake both sides made, of course. Just
imagine
, Tom. Aside from Mother’s dowry our parents started out with next nothing. They were very brave.’
Virginia joined them. Her face was flushed with
excitement
. ‘You have seen how the Ó Driscolls live, Tom. Are they
wealthy after all? Did they cheat Father?’
Tom gave his sister a withering look. ‘You must be joking.’
‘If they are wealthy,’ said Virginia, ‘I might be an heiress. Then I could go to Paris and study art.’
‘And I would not have to marry Herbert Fox!’ Elizabeth added.
* * *
Tom was now able to visit the narrow valley openly. As the days grew longer, he hurried with his lessons so there would be enough light left. His sisters pleaded to go with him but their mother continued to refuse. ‘If all four of you go
wandering
along the coast someone will notice, and your father is bound to hear of it.’
Now it was Tom who was receiving special treatment. At first it was wonderful. Then he remembered how it felt to stand off to one side watching. He felt sorry for his sisters.
Elizabeth was fascinated by her newly-discovered relatives. ‘We must begin calling on them soon,’ she urged her mother. ‘I am to be married this coming September. Ginny has made out all sorts of lists and we have to invite your family to the wedding. It would be a scandal to ignore them.’
It was the first time Elizabeth had demonstrated any
interest
in the upcoming wedding.
Herbert Fox, on the other hand, was showing no interest
at all. He paid no more calls on Elizabeth. For New Year he sent her a box of linen handkerchiefs.
‘Cheap linen at that,’ Missus remarked to Eithne.
Elizabeth’s
marriage was a constant source of gossip below stairs. There was even a wager among the male servants. Only the head groom was betting that the wedding would take place.
The female servants were more hopeful. They would be disappointed if the excitement of another celebration was denied them.
Tom was disappointed when Muiris told him they were not doing any smuggling right now. ‘Everything has a season,’ he explained. ‘Merchants are reluctant to send valuable cargos in the winter when they expect gales and ice.’
‘But it’s spring now,’ Tom argued. ‘Will we go out again soon?’
Muiris said, ‘You are very keen, lad.’
‘I like the sea. And the boats.’
‘There are honest ways to enjoy both, Tomás. When you are a bit older–’
‘When I am older my father wants me to be a soldier.’
‘Is that what you want?’
‘I just want to be a man, Muiris, and make my own
decisions
.’
‘Men do not always get to make their own decisions. Sometimes life chooses for us. Do you think I wanted to be a smuggler? I used to compose poems. In our family Seán
was the
seanachie
but I was the bard.’ Muiris gave a careless shrug, dismissing all that could not be. ‘If it is the sea and the boats you want, Tomás, I shall take you out myself and teach you to navigate in the bay.’
‘Can I come too?’ Donal pleaded.
Maura pounded her little fists against her father’s hip. ‘And me. And me!’
Muiris scooped her up, laughing. ‘All of you, then. And if you turn us over and drown us, God ’a’ mercy on us.’
On the first bright day when Tom had no lessons, Muiris and Seán took the three children out in a currach. The boys were given oars. Maura was perched in the prow and told to watch for sea-monsters.
‘How will I know if I see one?’
Seán said seriously, ‘A giant snake will come leaping out of the water with its nostrils breathing fire.’
Maura shook her head until her curls bounced. ‘Will not. The water would put out the fire.’
‘The only way to stay ahead of this girl is to get up yesterday,’ said Muiris.
A dazzling spring day with a high wind blowing and
feathery
clouds streaming across the sky. Five people in a boat on the bay. Smiling and laughing. With not a care in the world.