The Insect Rosary (2 page)

Then

They looked like two cupboard doors either side of the fireplace. The one on the left was forbidden. The one on the right was a larder built into the alcove. This was where we got the glacé cherries from. Sometimes Sister Agatha gave them to us when we'd behaved ourselves and let us pick one out, stickily pulling it from our fingers before chewing it quickly and hoping for another. More often we dared each other to climb on the armchair and fetch them down two at a time. That was mostly me, even though Nancy complained that I'd had my fingers on them. How she expected me to balance on the arm, open the door and hand her the clear, plastic pot to choose her own, I'm not sure. That was only giving me more of a chance to get caught.

This time I did get caught. The sound of the door opening and Nancy's gasp made me twist and I fell from the arm of the chair onto the cracked, brown tiles of the hearth. My arm hurt like Nancy had kicked it with both feet at once and I cradled it like a baby until Mum came to see why Sister Agatha was shouting. I could hear Florence crying in the distance so knew she was already in a bad mood.

‘She's a thief,' said Sister Agatha, shaking her head. ‘Stealing from her own family. I don't know what you've been teaching that child. I knew someone was, but I'm not one to point the finger. And,' she pointed at Nancy, ‘that one's no better. She knew exactly what was going on.'

I thought later, after I'd stopped crying, that they played with blame like me and Nancy. That when me and Nancy were old and grumpy, we'd still be the same and try to wriggle out of getting told off. Adults got told off a lot in this house. Every time Mum was angry she called her Sister Agatha, and she did now.

‘Oh, you're so much better than the rest of us. If only you'd had children you could have shown us all how it was done. What a shame you married Jesus instead, Sister Agatha.'

Sister Agatha drew her black cardigan around herself and stood, arms crossed. ‘Agatha. And I know your children call me Sister Agatha too, just to be offensive.'

‘Look at you, all in black, just like a pretend nun. It's no wonder, is it? Except they chucked you out.'

‘I left, and you know full well why, Eithne.'

I had quietened now and watched with amazement as they argued above my head. They'd forgotten I was there, sitting in the white ash that surrounded the fireplace. Nancy was long gone.

‘I know it was nothing to do with me. I don't know why you're so touchy about it, it was your decision.'

‘When your ma asks you something on her deathbed you don't have any choice.'

‘It's not my fault you had nothing better to do than move back in here. I had a family of my own. I had a life.'

‘You –' Sister Agatha looked down at me. ‘Get out of the fireplace so I can clean this mess up.'

I tried to get up without using my hands, but the brush was underneath me, my legs arched over the fire surround.

‘I can't get up.'

Mum came over to me and pulled me up by putting her hands under my armpits. I cried out.

‘Where does it hurt? Can you move your fingers?'

After a physical check she took a tea towel from the kitchen, tied it around my neck and helped me place my arm inside it.

‘We'll talk about this later,' she said, and sent me from the room.

I looked at my sling proudly. This would impress Nancy. I was officially injured and must look sad and remember not to use my arm until at least the next day.

 

By lunchtime I'd forgotten and picked up my fork in my hand.

‘If you can do that, you don't need a sling,' said Mum.

Reluctantly I slid it over my head but was pleased to see a large blue bruise marking my fall.

‘You were very lucky,' said Mum. ‘The fire could have been lit, you could have bashed your head open, all sorts of things. You must never do that again.'

I felt like telling her how many times I had done it without anyone knowing at all, but decided against this. I nodded and Mum's eyes fluttered.

‘I know a very silly girl who stood on the side of the chair and fell into the fireplace and had to stay in hospital for three days because her brain had been squashed. You wouldn't like that, would you?' She seemed very cheerful about telling this gruesome story, her face tight with the effort not to smile.

‘Was it Nancy?' I said, breathlessly.

‘No. I can't tell you who it was as you would only think badly of them. You might even think that they had forgotten what it was like to be young and excitable.'

I scanned the faces at the table, all blankly looking at Mum apart from Sister Agatha who was biting her lip, her face flushed.

‘I'm not sure concussion is a laughing matter, Eithne. No wonder your children are so badly behaved if that's the kind of thing you think is funny.'

Mum spluttered into her tea and took a few minutes to compose herself before she could finish her dinner.

‘As a punishment, Bernadette can help me prepare the dinner,' said Sister Agatha.

I looked pleadingly at Mum, but she shrugged and the subject passed for everyone but me. A whole afternoon spoiled by having to stay in the kitchen with long, black Sister Agatha instead of racing Nancy down the driveway to see who was quicker, or seeing who could cross the cattle grid quicker without letting their feet slip between the bars. I was getting good at that, although I had twisted my ankle twice getting good.

‘Can Nancy help too?' I said, not looking at Nancy.

‘No,' said Sister Agatha, ‘I have to keep my eye on you.'

I didn't have to look at Nancy to know I would pay for that, but it would have been worth it to have her there.

When Sister Agatha took the plates into the kitchen Nancy leaned over to me.

‘Bern, I dare you,' she said, ‘to call her name three times without stopping.'

My eyes widened and I shook my head. Sister Agatha came back in with afters and I couldn't look at her because I was thinking about it. Nancy knew I was too and was giggling too much to say thank you for her slice of cake.

‘Nancy,' said Mum, ‘what do you say?'

Nancy opened her mouth and laughed long and hard. When she got her breath back she managed to whisper, ‘Thank you,' but by then I'd started laughing. I always took much longer to stop. That meant I usually got the blame. Every time I felt nearly in control I caught Mum or Sister Agatha's disapproving stare and that was it for another few minutes.

‘Eithne, I don't believe either of those girls deserves cake.' Sister Agatha was poised to snatch them back. ‘“Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth; keep watch over the door of my lips.”'

‘They can just sit there until they say thank you properly,' said Mum.

Sister Agatha sat down, cringing at each new burst of laughter. Florence looked from one face to another as she ate half her cake and sprinkled the other half in crumbs around her.

I tried to stop. Sister Agatha had caught us and specifically banned us last week from saying someone's name three times even though we explained that Nancy had jinxed me for saying something at the same time as her, and you can't break a jinx without saying a name three times. And if you couldn't break a jinx you couldn't ever speak again.

‘What a blessing that would be,' she had said. ‘I can't believe your ma encourages all this devilish talk of jinxes.'

‘She doesn't mind,' swaggered Nancy.

‘But, as she well knows, calling someone's name three times can be fatal. Why would you want to draw Satan to you, that's what I don't understand.' She shook her head, ‘And when your mammy recites the rosary with you, do you thank God for the time she gives to you?'

I knew that was a trick question, but Nancy went, ‘Oh, we ever don't do that.' That had been the end of that afternoon. Learning the rosary gave me very sore knees, and I didn't want to spend another afternoon in penance, especially when I had to do the dinner anyway. But Nancy asked me to and I liked to make her laugh, especially about Sister Agatha.

Now she scowled at Nancy instead of me, for a change.

‘Nancy, you'll be washing up,' said Sister Agatha, ‘after both meals today.'

Nancy looked at her and appealed to Mum.

Mum shrugged. ‘If you find everything funny you have to realise it irritates people.'

‘But it isn't fair!'

‘It stopped you laughing.'

Nancy scowled at me and picked up her cake.

‘What do you say, Nancy?' said Sister Agatha.

‘Thank you.' Nancy scowled at me again. It had definitely become become my fault. Everyone was waiting for me to beg for my cake too, but I couldn't. I would laugh again, spit crumbs everywhere probably, so I sat and watched them eat and kept my fingernails deep in my palm.

‘Just say sorry, Bernadette,' said Mum.

Sister Agatha shook her head, ‘Never has the phrase blue-eyed girl been less fitting, Eithne, than with that one there.'

I hung my head. I hated being the only one with blue eyes, the only one with dark brown hair. I told friends at school that my dad had blue eyes but it wasn't true. It was just me. And Uncle Ryan, but we never saw him now.

Now

Elian looked so disappointed that Nancy became quite enraged with him.

‘No, it's not quite the European experience you had in mind, but it's important to me. It will be sold, sooner or later, and I might never be able to come back.'

They were having a hissed argument across the emptying suitcase, even though Elian was clearly trying not to.

He spread his hands. ‘It's fine. I'm just tired, and it isn't quite what I was expecting.' He hesitated. ‘Is it what you were expecting?'

‘Kind of,' Nancy hedged. ‘I thought they'd be more pleased to see us, I suppose.'

‘That's all I meant.'

Elian crossed to her side of the bed and put his arm around one shoulder. Nancy shrugged it off.

‘It wasn't quite what you said.'

‘We've got a month and we can stay a month. I was just saying, I've never been to Europe and Italy doesn't feel so far away now we're here. It was a suggestion, nothing more.'

‘Well, it wasn't what we agreed and I'd rather you didn't just say it again.'

‘Fine,' Elian backed away with his hands raised. ‘No problem. Just saying. It might get a bit cramped when your sister gets here with everyone. Is it the family? Or just her?'

‘I have no idea. I think they're just confused.'

The sun was filtering through the thick tree canopy. It was the only sun they'd seen all day. When they flew in the cloud was thick and low. When they waited for Donn to pick them up outside the airport it had started to drizzle, and their drive to the farm was in full downpour most of the way.

Hurley walked in.

‘Why didn't you knock?' snapped Nancy.

‘They said to get you right away for dinner.'

‘We're coming,' said Elian. ‘Have you been having a nice talk downstairs?'

Hurley looked at him and then left.

Nancy said, ‘Can you just not talk at dinner?'

‘You can't mean not talk at all.'

‘I do. Just slow down and speak when spoken to. You're very overbearing at times.'

‘Would you like to pick any more holes in my personality?'

‘I may do later. And for God's sake, nothing on the oppression of the Irish people.'

Nancy left the room to go downstairs and realised that Hurley had been standing just outside the bedroom door.

‘I thought you'd gone down.'

‘I was waiting for you. I don't understand them.'

‘You understood that they wanted you to come and get us.'

‘They did this.' Hurley mimed eating, walking upstairs, the number three and walking downstairs.

‘Wow. Complicated.'

They waited for Elian and went downstairs, Nancy noting all the familiar creaks. They let her go into the parlour first and sat around her at the table. Agatha and Donn had started to eat so they helped themselves to the soft potatoes and slices of chicken. The light had faded from this side of the house, not even hitting the high roofs of the garage and barns opposite. They had managed to sleep through most of the day's sunlight. There was tea on the table and Nancy poured for them.

‘Tea leaves,' she said, as she handed one to Elian. He nodded and mimed zipping his lips.

‘When are you going to the retreat?' she asked Agatha.

‘Agatha isn't sure she wants to go anymore,' said Donn.

Nancy choked on her chicken and made an effort to swallow it down.

‘Why's that?'

‘I am sure,' said Agatha. ‘I am going.'

‘You said that with a houseful –'

‘Never mind what I said in private to you,' she interrupted Donn. ‘I'll be off in a couple of days, I expect.'

‘What time?'

Agatha snapped her head up. ‘You're in a rush to see the back of me, Nancy.'

‘It's only I was going to ask to borrow the car so we can get some juice and things that . . . things like that.'

‘We always used to walk,' said Agatha, ‘didn't we Donn? Five miles to school and back. No-one thought twice about it.'

Nancy looked at her and thought about asking when she'd last walked to the shops and back, but changed her mind.

‘Maybe there's a bus we could catch,' said Elian.

Agatha shook her head, ‘By the time you get to a bus stop you're in the village.'

‘Can we hire some bicycles, maybe?'

Nancy, Agatha and Donn all stared at him. He seemed to remember that Americans shouldn't talk and put his head down. He ate studiously for a while but no one else spoke.

‘How far is it?' he asked.

‘Two and half miles,' said Donn.

‘That's why I said it was five miles there and back,' said Agatha, slowly.

‘Sure, thanks.'

Nancy looked at the clock. It was nearly seven and she wondered how early they could all go to bed and start again tomorrow. Or maybe they should take a walk after dinner. It was the countryside that people came for, after all. And it wasn't raining for once. Elian could use his smartphone to navigate a route somewhere and then he could feel a little bit in charge of events. That would make him happier. She would feel happier when Agatha was off being holy and Donn might be a bit more talkative.

Nancy kept her voice light. ‘Has anyone heard any more about when Bernadette is coming?'

‘I thought you'd all worked this out months in advance,' said Elian. ‘Didn't you speak to your mother about it?'

‘I did. I thought it was all arranged.'

‘No one arranged it with us. We weren't told,' said Agatha. ‘Your ma just said that you were all coming over to say goodbye to the farm, for some reason, and could we air the rooms. We weren't so much as asked, were we, Donn?'

Elian and Nancy looked at each other.

‘We could stay somewhere else,' Elian said quickly. ‘We don't want to intrude.'

Nancy clenched her hands around the cutlery.

Donn said, ‘It's all arranged now and Bernadette is coming.'

Nancy said, ‘But you really don't know when?'

‘We didn't know when you were coming until this morning and we get our orders to collect you.' Agatha cut her chicken but didn't seem to be eating much. ‘Your ma would know when. Haven't you spoken to Bernadette herself?'

Nancy shook her head. ‘Not for a while. It's expensive.'

It had quickly become a Christmas and birthday card relationship, friends on Facebook to catch up with the basics and little other contact. Her mother still used the phone, and even sent letters with funny little stamped heads.

‘You should phone her,' said Elian. ‘Then at least we'll know what's what.'

‘I will,' said Nancy. She didn't want to and wondered how she could persuade someone else to do it for her. ‘I might phone Mum tonight, just to let her know we're here safely.'

The rest of the meal took place in silence and Nancy relaxed. She looked around, spotting the familiar corners, and noticed how the door to Cassie's room framed Agatha at her end of the table.

 

Walking down the driveway, Nancy didn't know which way to take them. She knew which of the nearest fields belonged to the farm, but she somehow thought Donn rented most of them out now.

‘Let's walk along the road,' she said.

‘There's no sidewalk,' said Elian.

‘If a car comes, just get on the grass.'

Hurley stumbled on the cattle grid and Elian picked his way across before losing a toe between the bars.

‘What the hell is this, a man trap?'

‘It's to stop the animals coming this way.'

‘Jesus, you could break your legs.'

She was hoping that when they came to the peat bog, part owned by the farm, she'd spot it and they could talk about bog men dragged from the depths, stained black by the peat and rigidly clinging on to their past and the way they died. More likely though, Elian would question whether it shouldn't just be left for future generations, rather than burned on the fire. She had liked digging the peat blocks and turning them to dry out quickly. It seemed a better use than crumbling it into pots of tomato plants, which always seemed to want more water than she could remember to give them. She had no green fingers, unlike her mother, or patience, but in that she and her mother were quite matched.

The sky was still a pale blue in the west. The rain from the day was scenting the earth and grass, so the smell seemed stronger than on the hottest days. When they came to an aluminium gate at the entrance to a field the trampled and darker mud pooled around the entrances. The sheep stayed well away from them, despite Hurley's insistence on climbing onto the lowest rung to dangle longer, juicier grass from the roadside. The sheep bleated a warning to each other and retreated well away from his hand.

‘Donn might ask you to help him move the sheep to a different field,' she told him.

‘Why?'

‘For fresher grass. I'm just saying because he can get a bit cross if you run at them. If you fancied it you could, but I'm just warning you.'

‘Doesn't his dog do it?'

‘Yes. Most likely.'

That dog. She'd forgotten about it. Unlike Bruce it hadn't run around to walk out with them, but lay down as if determined to herd them back into the house at the first nod from Donn. It must be a good sheepdog, or Donn wouldn't bother to feed it. She'd seen him take the leftovers, the potatoes and chicken left uneaten at the table, and tip it into Bruce's steel dish under the staircase. It had waited until he was back inside before it started to eat. It was clearly an obedient dog, when it came to Donn.

She looked behind them, but the dog hadn't followed. The grass in the verges sparkled with single strands of gossamer, stretching across and up and over, but she couldn't see any webs. Hurley probably wasn't interested in spiders any more. Elian looked at the way the landscape curved into groups of trees and pointed out to Hurley distant farmhouses. He was from a town and lived in a town. He'd taken her on road trips out into Michigan but they hadn't really got out of the car anywhere where there weren't already other people. One time they'd driven past a field of buffalo and she'd made him park up on the roadside so she could stroke their noses and take in the wilderness in their fur. Their food had been poured over the gate for them, straight onto the ground, and she could see uneaten strawberries in the mix which struck her as odd. After driving on for half a mile they'd seen a diner promoting its buffalo steak and her stomach had clenched. She knew the link between animals and meat, she'd been on a farm every summer for twelve years, but she'd never got used to it.

‘Shall we turn back?' said Elian.

The breeze had picked up and his fleece was zipped up to his chin, his shoulders hunched. She looked at Hurley, jacket flapping open and his hands in his pockets. They hadn't made it to the end of the road but she nodded. On the way back she tried to conjure up memories to stick to the places they passed.

‘Down there was Mary's house, that's the sheep dip. The silo is over there.'

‘What's a silo?' asked Hurley.

‘I don't know, really. Sometimes there were cows in there. It was next to the hay barn. We can go back that way.'

They crossed the road and took the lane towards Mary's until they got to the silo. The large barn, as high as two storeys, had holes in the corrugated roof but the smell of cow pats was as strong as ever. Elian and Hurley covered their noses. Nancy pointed to the hay barn, only half as full of bales as she remembered it.

‘Hurley, you musn't go in there, OK? It's full of rats and the bales can topple over and smother you.'

Hurley looked at her as if going in there had not crossed his mind. They went through the gate, past the row of stable buildings, some of which no longer had doors.

‘It's really dangerous in these buildings, too. The roof could come down at any minute.'

If it was true more than thirty years ago it must be true now. She saw the stable with the door high up in the wall and walked up to the blue door. It took a few goes to pull the rotten door open enough to look inside. She took her mobile from her pocket and switched on the flashlight app. There were glimpses of stalls, of steps and of heaps of metal that glinted. She stepped back and realised that it was nearly dark outside. Elian was waving his phone around, above his head.

‘I haven't had any reception since we got here. Have you?'

She checked. ‘No.'

She led them back through the mud to the next gate at the yard and, too late, she remembered the dog. They watched him for a moment before deciding to use the front door. In the space between the outside and inside doors they took off their shoes and left them, lined up and stinking, before taking it in turns to wash the mix of mud and whatever else from their hands in the kitchen.

‘Next time we'll wear wellies,' said Nancy. She hoped they would say something, something nice about the farm or the fields, or even the sunset, but they both slumped down at the table.

‘The TV's on in the front room,' she said to Elian. ‘Why don't you watch it for a while, while I phone my mum? Hurley, you can get ready for bed.'

They went to the hall.

‘Are your relatives in there?' whispered Elian.

‘The TV doesn't usually switch itself on.'

She watched him tentatively turn the door handle to the front room and edge his way in.

‘Close the door,' she heard Donn say.

He closed the door.

‘Can I have a shower?' asked Hurley.

‘There isn't one. Just have a quick wash, I'll come up soon.'

Hurley lingered and then went upstairs.

Nancy picked up the receiver of the grey telephone, the same one as she remembered from before, she thought, and phoned her mother. It seemed to take so long using the rotating dial, but it finally began to ring. Her mother answered.