The Old Jest (19 page)

‘I suppose,' said Aunt Mary, ‘you shouldn't say things like that, Nancy.'

‘Like what?'

‘That … about your point of view. You are too young to understand these things.'

‘I don't think you understand them very well either, so you shouldn't really criticise me.'

She blushed after she had spoken.

Miss Celia Brabazon put her spoon and fork neatly together on her plate.

‘Ireland unfree will never be at peace,' she quoted.

‘Gabriel wore that uniform. I thought of him when I saw that poor young man lying there.'

‘Gabriel died fighting someone else's war.'

‘But this isn't a war.'

‘Of course it's a war, Mary dear, whether you like it or not, and one day you're going to have to decide which side you're on. Nancy, for what it's worth, seems to have made her decision.'

The small Miss Brabazon stood up.

‘I think we should go home, Celia. We're all tired and upset. We should go to bed. I want to go to bed. I don't want to talk about war and death and decisions, and I'm sure Mary doesn't either.'

The doorbell rang.

The room was dark and in the candlelight their faces hung like golden carvings around the table. They listened in silence to Bridie's footsteps as they marched along the passage and across the hall. She opened the door and they could hear the low murmur of voices. Her steps came towards them, and, as she opened the dining-room door, the room was invaded by the light from the hall. The candles flickered.

‘Mam.'

‘Yes Bridie, who is it?'

‘Them.'

Bridie's voice was sepulchral. Nancy felt like bursting out laughing.

‘Do put on the light till we see where we are.'

Bridie touched the switch and they all blinked. Standing in the doorway was an officer, cap in hand.

‘Miss Dwyer?' He looked around the table.

‘We're just finishing dinner,' said Aunt Mary, somewhat unnecessarily.

‘I'm sorry to disturb you.'

‘Do come in. What can I do for you?'

‘My fellows are outside having a look round. I just wondered if I could have a word with you. Captain Rankin is my name.'

‘Good evening, Captain. Miss Celia Brabazon, Miss Georgina Brabazon, my father General Dwyer and my niece Nancy.'

He bowed.

The old man had stopped drumming on the table and was looking the soldier up and down.

‘Mary …'

‘Yes, darling?'

‘What's that fellow doing here?'

‘He's just come to ask a few questions.' She turned to the young man. ‘My father's not quite himself. You'll have to excuse him.'

‘I told you I saw soldiers all over the place today.'

‘I expect you've heard about today's tragedy, Miss Dwyer?'

The tall Miss Brabazon stood up and walked across the room towards him. She held out her hand.

‘We must offer our sympathies. Please accept …'

He took her hand and held it for a moment.

‘Thank you.'

‘Now, if we may, we must go. George. We've had a terrible, bloody day.'

George moved towards the door. As she passed Aunt Mary, she put her hand on her shoulder.

‘Go to bed early. Don't let anyone stop you from doing that. We will ring you on the telephone tomorrow. You see,' she explained to the soldier, ‘we were there. We saw …'

‘I'll come to the door,' said Aunt Mary, getting up. ‘Please excuse me for a moment.'

The three women left the room. Nancy stared out of the window. How silly the poor flickering candles looked now that the light was on! She watched their movement in the window. The soldier stood quite still just inside the door, cap in hand.

‘Gabriel. What happened to Gabriel?'

Nancy wondered if he wanted a reply. The voices of the women drifted into the room.

‘Talana Hill. Maybe he went at Talana Hill.'

‘No,' said Nancy. ‘Not Gabriel.'

The hall door banged. ‘Were you by any chance at Talana Hill? You. You, young man.'

‘No, sir. I …'

Aunt Mary came into the room.

‘I'm sorry. There are soldiers in the yard, Bridie says.'

‘They're my men. We're just having a look round. You see, we're looking for this man …'

‘I hope they won't upset Bridie.'

‘I don't think … It's a routine search. It's for your safety, too. You see, he could be armed. Dangerous.'

Nancy stood up.

‘I think I'll go to bed.'

‘I'd rather you stayed. I've a few questions to ask. Only a minute or two.'

‘Yes, dear. You must stay. You're looking for a man, you say?'

He took a photograph out of his pocket and handed it to her.

‘This is the man. Have you by any chance seen him around here? We believe him to be in this neighbourhood. We have been looking for him for a very long time.'

There was a long silence while Aunt Mary studied the picture in her hand. Nancy pushed her hands into the pockets of her cardigan and hoped they wouldn't still be shaking when the photograph was passed to her.

Aunt Mary shook her head slowly. ‘It's strange. The face rings a bell. Oh, very far away. No I haven't seen that man. No.'

‘Are you sure? It's very important.'

‘I'm sure. It could be a face from the very distant past. Or not. I'm not sure.'

‘Could you name the man?'

Aunt Mary handed him back the picture.

‘No … I couldn't do that.'

‘General …' He approached the old man with the picture in his hand.

‘He never goes out. Never beyond the terrace. There would be no point in asking him anything. He spends most of the time asleep.'

Grandfather's head had fallen forward on to his chest. His eyes, though half open, saw nothing.

‘Miss … er … Nancy?'

Nancy didn't take her hands out of her pockets. She looked down without moving at the photograph that the soldier had put on the table beside her. It was Cassius. Dressed in the uniform of a major, he stood by the door of an old stone cottage. The sun was shining and his eyes were slightly screwed up against the glare. In one hand he held a short cane. He looked very fit, as if he intended to live a long time.

‘No.' Her voice had no tremor.

‘He wouldn't of course be dressed like that. Not now.'

She shook her head.

‘No.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘I'm sure.'

Carefully he put the picture back into his top pocket.

‘If by any chance you do see him, or a stranger, round the place, would you let us know, or the police. It is very important.'

‘He is a very dangerous man,' said Aunt Mary in a matter of fact way.

‘He is an organiser. An invisible man. A vicious, ruthless rebel.'

‘Goodness gracious!'

His face reddened.

‘It would be in your own interest to assist. In every way. We strongly suspect he planned this atrocity this afternoon.'

‘We will do what we can, Captain Rankin. I'm sorry we haven't been of more help to you.'

‘I won't disturb you any longer. Goodnight.'

‘I saw a man on the railway line.'

As Grandfather spoke, Nancy turned and looked once more at the reflections in the window. She watched the soldier turn and move back to the old man.

‘Sir?'

‘A man on the railway line.'

‘Oh father dear, you do carry on so!'

‘When would this have been, sir?'

She watched him fumble in his pocket for the photograph.

The old man shook his head.

‘I don't remember.'

‘In the last few days? Today perhaps? Here, could this be the man?'

He pushed the picture into the old man's hand. He stared at it for a long time. That's not my son,' he said. ‘That's not Gabriel.'

‘Darling, of course it's not Gabriel.'

She crossed the room and took the picture from his fingers. She handed it back to the soldier.

‘I told you, he sees nothing except what he imagines. You'll upset him. You mustn't do that. Please go now.'

‘Ask Nancy,' said the old man. ‘She was talking to him.'

Nancy turned back towards them.

‘That was only an old tramp. I told you that. It was old Forty Coats.'

‘When would this have been, Miss Nancy?'

‘I don't really remember. A couple of days ago. It was Forty Coats. He's always hanging around.'

‘On the railway line?'

‘Well, yes. Anywhere. He comes and goes. He's a tramp.'

‘He's been wandering round since I was a child,' said Aunt Mary. ‘He's quite harmless.'

‘That's who Grandfather saw me talking to.'

‘Would that be correct, sir?'

‘Correct?'

‘Would it be this tramp Forty Coats that you saw talking to Miss Nancy on the line?'

‘Mary?'

‘I think it must have been, pet.'

‘Very well.'

He waved his hand in a dismissive way at the soldier, as he might have done twenty years before.

‘Very well then.'

The young man bowed to Aunt Mary and then to Nancy.

‘Nancy, will you see Captain Rankin to the door? I must put father to bed.'

They crossed the hall without saying a word. She opened the door. He stepped out and put his cap on. Away beyond the railway the moonlight made a bright path on the sea.

‘Goodnight,' he said.

‘Goodnight.'

When she went back into the dining room, Aunt Mary and Grandfather had gone. She switched off the light and pressed her hot forehead against the window. Eight or ten men in file moved down the avenue. It looked to her as if they were carrying rifles. Her head ached with fear. I suppose I've helped to kill twelve men, she thought. God forgive me for that. She thought of Aunt Mary covering the young man with her raincoat and then of Grandfather on Talana Hill being shot at by his own side. Hold your fire. If I could see the pattern, then maybe I could understand. There has to be a pattern. It can't all just be futile in the end.

‘Mooning?' asked Aunt Mary, coming into the room behind her.

‘I suppose so.'

‘I'm going to have a very strong drink and then go to bed. Would you like one too?'

‘No thanks.'

Aunt Mary came over and stood beside her. The moon silvered their faces. The soldiers were gone.

‘I think it's a good thing we're leaving here. I wouldn't want you to be weighted down by my ghosts.'

There was a long silence. Two bats swooped and soared, like the swallows in the sunlight.

‘It wasn't a tramp, was it?'

‘No.'

She was glad she had said it.

‘Old Forty Coats hasn't been around this way for a long time. I hope you're not doing anything you'll regret.'

‘How do you ever know?'

Aunt Mary sighed. ‘You don't.'

‘The man in the picture? Who was he?'

‘Perhaps I'm not right about him. His face is just one of the shadows in my mind. They used to live over near the Cherry Orchard. Barry was their name. The house was pulled down some time ago. Ages ago … Barry. They sort of died out. Angus was his name. We used to call him Angoose.' She smiled. ‘They died out. Except for him. Mind you, I thought he was probably dead too. Killed like … well, so many. I'm glad to think he's still alive, even if …' A third bat joined its companions. If I were out there, Nancy thought, I would be able to hear them calling, but Aunt Mary wouldn't. ‘I suppose I'll have to go up to town one day and find a suitable landlady for you. Someone who'll keep an eye on you and not let you go wandering round Dublin getting yourself into trouble. If such a person exists.'

‘I suppose so.'

‘We used to go to such lovely parties and balls and everyone seemed happy.'

‘I don't suppose they were.'

‘Bed.'

‘Yes.'

‘You don't want to tell me anything?'

‘No.'

‘Goodnight then.'

She went to get her strong drink.

She didn't turn on the light in her room, in case the bats came in through the open window. She sat on the side of her bed fully dressed waiting for the household sounds to fade away. It took a long time. Aunt Mary wandered restlessly from room to room, switching lights on and off, no doubt refilling her glass from time to time. Water rattled in the pipes, stair treads creaked, doors here and there opened quietly and closed again. Finally there was the quiet, breathing silence of night time. Bars of moonlight lay on the stairs as she went down. Outside there was only silver and deep black shadows; even the bats had gone. There seemed to be emptiness. She ran across the fields and over the line and then down on to the sand. If they were watching the line, she thought … oh God, if they were watching the line! If they were watching … if … She ran straight down to the sea and then along through the edge of the freezing, rippling water, her feet stirring the phosphorescence as she ran.

There was no sign of life at the hut. The guardian seagull crouched down into its feathers on the roof. As she approached the door, she prayed that he would be gone, but he was there, lying in the corner, wrapped in the rug. She left the door open behind her and the silver light followed her into the darkness.

‘I thought I told you not to come back.'

He sat up slowly and looked at her.

‘I hoped you'd be gone. I think they'll be here in the morning. They've been everywhere asking questions, searching. Grandfather told them he saw a man on the line. He didn't mean any …'

‘That's all right, Nancy. It was only a matter of time. I was going to go when it got light, now I'll go a bit earlier.'

He got up. He then bent down and picked up the rug; he shook it and folded it neatly. A small canvas army bag leaned against the wall.