The Birds of the Innocent Wood (16 page)

‘Did you rise before the dawn to see the sun dance?’

It is Easter Sunday morning. Catherine is holding a cup of tea, and on the bedside table there is a chocolate egg wrapped in brightly coloured tinfoil. Both of these things have just been given to her by her sister, who smiles now and says, ‘Of course I didn’t. I say every year that I will, but you know that I never do.’

‘I should have risen myself,’ says Catherine, ‘this year above all.’ Sarah does not reply, and Catherine sips the hot, sweet tea. Suddenly, Sarah leaves the room, and Catherine lies back upon the pillows, utterly dispirited. But she is wrong in what she has understood by this, because Sarah returns quickly, carrying the delft bowl in which five pink tulips have blossomed to perfection. She clears a space on the bedside table, and sets the bowl down. For a moment, the sisters admire the flowers in silence.

‘The nice thing is,’ Catherine says at last, ‘that when the flowers fade, you can plant the bulbs out in the garden, and then they’ll come up again year after year, like the daffodils on the big demesne.’

‘Yes.’

When Sarah glances from the stiff formal tulips to her sister’s face, she sees there suddenly her own mortality. The previous night she had gone to church in the hope of finding some comfort, but in the ceremonial fire, the water and the light, she had found instead that there were things beyond comfort Now she knows that such things must be recognized, and that to seek to be comforted for them is worse than cowardly, it is merely banal. She also knows to hold her imagination well back from any notion of redemption, resurrection, or how the look of the room will affect her when her sister is gone.

‘Sarah?’

‘Yes?’

‘Open the window for me, please.’

The spring air is cool, and the sisters can hear more clearly now the noise of the birds.

‘Will you leave me now for a while? I want to sleep again.’

‘Yes.’

Sarah lifts the empty teacup, and Catherine says, ‘Thank you again for the chocolate egg.’

As she speaks, Sarah is crossing the room. She stops by the door, turns and looks back at the thin face upon the pillow. The sisters both smile. Then Sarah shrugs, and she says lightly, ‘Happy Easter, Catherine.’

‘Happy Easter.’

Deirdre Madden is from Toomebridge, Co. Antrim. Her novels include
The Birds of Innocent Wood, Nothing is Black, One by One in the Darkness,
which was shortlisted for the Orange Prize, and
Authenticity
. Her novel
Molly Fox’s Birthday
also was shortlisted for the Orange Prize. She teaches at Trinity College, Dublin and is a member of the Irish Arts Academy Aosdana.

HIDDEN SYMPTOMS

REMEMBERING LIGHT AND STONE

NOTHING IS BLACK

ONE BY ONE IN THE DARKNESS

AUTHENTICITY