The Ghost of Grania O'Malley (19 page)

‘I won't say it goes a lot better, Jack,' he said. ‘You'd need a miracle for that, and I think we've used up all the miracles due to us, don't you? But the exhaust sounds different, I'll give you that. Ruder.'

As the ferry moved out of the harbour and into the swell of the ocean, the goodbyes dying on the wind, Jessie began to wish she had stayed at home. Jack seemed so sunk in himself. He kept turning the arrowhead over and over in his fingers, and hardly looked up at all. Once back on the mainland, they sat side by side in the back of the car. She had so much to say, but could say nothing. They would catch each other's eye from time to time to try to smile, but they couldn't. Jessie was crying inside already. She just hoped she would be able to manage a smile when the time came to say goodbye.

At the departure gate at Shannon Airport there was a panic about his passport before Jessie's mother found it in a sidepocket of his bag. ‘A pity,' she smiled ruefully. ‘We could all have gone home again for peanut butter sandwiches and Coke. We're going to miss you so much, Jack. Give my love to your dad, won't you?' And she hugged him tight. ‘God bless,' she said.

Jack put his baseball hat on Jessie head, fixed it sideways at the proper angle, and said, ‘See you, Jess.' He walked backwards for a few steps. ‘I'll write you,' he called out. He waved once and was gone. And she hadn't even said what she had meant to say, that she hoped his father would get better.

He did write, but not for some time. Jessie searched through the post whenever it came, but it was over a month before Jack's letter finally arrived. Jessie ripped it open and read:

Dear Jess,

I had a great time. I met just about the best friend I'll ever have too – and I'm not talking about Liam or Marion. They're good guys, but I'm talking about you. Are you sure what happened up on the Big Hill really did happen? Sometimes, now I'm back home, I think the whole thing was just one wild dream. It wasn't, was it? I'm glad it wasn't only you and me that saw her – her and her pirates. I guess if everyone else saw them, then it really did happen, didn't it?

I've still got the arrowhead, only it isn't mine, is it? I thought it was, but mine had the point chipped off. But I figured it out. It's Grania O'Malley's, isn't it? She gave it to you, and you gave it to me, and you had to pretend it was my lucky arrowhead, the one I lost. Well, if you see her, will you tell her thank you, and tell her that her arrowhead is a lot luckier than mine was. When I had mine, Dad was sick and getting sicker. Now he's a lot better after his surgery, and better every day. He's smiling again. He says the new valve in his heart is real state of the art, and better than anything I've got in my VW Bug. Some arrowhead!

After what happened with you, the treasure and the Big Hill and all, I don't believe things just happen. I think maybe we can help make them happen. Next year I want you to come over to Long Island. I've asked Dad, and he says yes. I'll show you my VW Bug. OK, so I know you're not that interested, but I'm going to show you anyway. We'll go sailing and I'll take you Rollerblading in Central Park. But I can't promise you ghosts.

The other day I told Mrs Cody – she's my teacher, remember? – that during the vacation I found out it was the Irish, an Irish pirate called Grania O'Malley, who discovered America first, and not the Dutch, not the French, not the British. She told me it was all just wishful thinking – the Irish blood in me. She'd never even heard of Grania O'Malley. One day I'm going to prove it, not just to her, but to everyone, then no one will be able to argue.

I hope you're getting along with Marion – she wasn't too bad after all, was she? Say hi to your folks and to Liam and all the guys. And a big hi to you and to Mole and to that stinky old dog of yours.

Love,

Jack.

Jessie sat down and replied at once, on Miss Jefferson's word processor which she had been practising on, and which she now found a lot easier than writing by hand.

Dear Jack,

Thanks for your letter. A lot's happened. You'll never guess. It's about the Big Hill. It was old Mister Barney's idea. My dad took him (and me) along to see Marion's dad, because he's the only one with the money to set it up, and because Mister Barney says you can't be blaming him for ever, that it was everyone's fault, not just Mr Murphy's. Anyway, we went to see him. He wasn't too happy at first. Then Mister Barney told him his plan, and he got happier by the minute.

Mister Barney said how he'd been thinking about Coke and how horrible it was, but how everyone else in the world seemed to love it. And there was the best and purest water in the world, pouring down the Big Hill and going nowhere in particular. How about we set up a bottling plant, and sell it? We'll call it ‘Grania'. We'll have her picture on the label and sell it all over the world. we'll make a whole pile of money for everyone on the island, including Mr Murphy – lots of jobs and all that – and we'll not have to shift a single rock on the Big Hill.

Mr Murphy offered him a whisky and old Mister Barney said he'd rather have water – you live longer, he said. I can't help thinking that Grania must have put the idea into his head. After all, she did just about everything else, didn't she? I'll send you over a bottle of ‘Grania' soon as they start bottling it – probably be next spring, Dad says.

We've still got lots of people coming over to Clare looking for ghosts. There were some Americans here last week. They came for tea, so we gave them the last of the peanut butter. They didn't seem to like it much. They asked me lots of questions and they had a recording machine on. Afterwards they told us they were from Los Angeles, and they made films. They said they might make a film all about the ghost of Grania O'Malley and the Big Hill, and if they did they'd film it here on the island. Dad says it's a pipe dream. Grania O'Malley smoked a pipe, didn't she?

Mole and Panda send you lots of love and so do Mum and Dad (and Marion of course) and so do I. And yes, I'd love to come to Long Island as long as I don't have to get oily hands, if you know what I mean. Mum says it's a bit expensive, so maybe I'll come over by boat, by galley, and surprise you. We've got someone here who's been before remember? So she knows the way. I'll ask her when I next see her, shall I?

See you soon,

Love from Jessie.

PS I haven't seen her again, but she's been here. I was changing Barry's water last Sunday, and I found my two earrings under the stones. I wear them all the time. Dad says I look a million dollars. And he's right too.

POSTSCRIPT

Grania O'Malley and Clare Island

Of all the characters in this book, the only one who
really
lived was Grania O'Malley herself. She was a pirate queen who, for many years, held sway all along the coast of Mayo and Galway, and in Clew Bay in particular. In her long life - she lived from 1530–1603 - she had many galleys, many castles (amongst them one on Clare Island and one at Rockfleet, both still there), and she had many husbands too. The English called her Grace O'Malley, the Irish Grany O'Malley - pronounced Grania. She
did
have a son called Tibbott and he
was
imprisoned by the English. She
did
go to Greenwich in London to seek his release from Queen Elizabeth. So the two pirate queensmet. No one knows what passed between them, only that some months later Tibbott was released.

An Armada galleon
was
wrecked off Clare Island in 1588, and there
was
treasure on board. In April of 1994 1 went to Clare Island with my wife. We were not looking for treasure, but to see where Grania O'Malley had lived. We found a kindly people who took us in out of the driving rain, fed us and helped us with our research. Many of them were called O'Malley. We saw the ‘Big Hill', as they call it. We went into the ruined abbey. We saw Grania O'Malley's grave. There's a school close by. We visited her castle. We heard there'd been gold found on the nearby island of Inishturk. We found the spirit of Grania O'Malley alive all over the island. That's why 1 came back home and wrote this story.

None of the Clare Island people in the story are real of course, but the place is; and as for Grania O'Malley, she's as real as you or me; as real as you want her to be.

M.M.

September 1995