A Son of Aran (36 page)

Seánín couldn't believe his luck. ‘After all my rambling, I have landed on my feet,' he told everybody. ‘Only for meeting up with Cáit, I'd be beyond in England with nobody giving a damn about me.'

The wedding day arrived; neighbours and friends gathered in the parish chapel to see and support the happy couple. Seánín arranged transport on a jaunting car for the bride, the groomsman, the matron of honour, and himself. The jarvey, seated top centre, applied his whip to the rather reluctant pony, and the party set off at a fast trot along the uneven road surface. Screams of terror arose from the ladies when a wheel hit a rut, and the car swayed on its springs. For safety, Cáit clung to her Seán, and Siobhán hung on to Peadar—they were in no danger really—it was all good fun. On arrival at the church, a brief interval was allowed for smoothing ruffled bonnets and setting strands of hair displaced by the wind. Seánín, resplendent in the pin-stripe suit that he wore on his journey from England, never since taken out of the box, marched up the aisle, straight as a lamp post, his left arm hooked in Cáit's right.

‘Maise, don't they make a lovely couple,' a neighbouring woman said to another, ‘it's a shame they left it so long.'

After the church ceremony, Seánín wanted to bring the whole attendance to the local pub for drinks; Cáit wouldn't hear of it. They adjourned instead to their newly painted dwelling house, where a tent had been erected in the garden to accommodate the crowd. Whiskey for the men, sherry for the ladies, followed by a buffet of turkey, ham, tomatoes, and green salads—there was food and drink for everybody. Ladies sat on chairs and stools, men lay down on the warm sward. Eating and drinking, continued for hours, helped by generous libations of poitín and best Bordeaux brandy on which excise duty had been evaded. Seosamh came propelling his wheelchair; Eileen wheeled their youngest in a pram, and carried their son, Carl, in the crook of her arm.

‘If only I could entertain you with music,' Seosamh apologised to those assembled—'my repertoire on the tin whistle consists of two airs only, The Dawning of the Day, and The Stack of Barley.'

‘Bravo, Seosamh,' all said, ‘we couldn't have done better ourselves. ‘Tis great to hear Irish music played by a native Aran man. For far too long, we've had no traditional music except what we heard on the wireless—it's no substitute for the real thing. Keep up the good work, Seosamh, you're doing fine.'

Peadar, in his fine tenor voice, obliged the company with renderings of Down by the Glenside, The Valley of Knockanure, and The Shawl of Galway Grey.

‘
Go mairmid go deo
(May we live for ever),' they chanted as, falteringly, they dispersed to their homes when day was already breaking. All agreed that it was a great celebration as they shouted, ‘long life to Seánín and Cáit; may their only troubles be little ones.'

Peadar's search for a suitable house proved more difficult that anticipated. Máire O'Connor was favourably disposed to long term letting, provided a rent could be agreed. She pointed out that seasonal lettings to tourists for the holiday months were very profitable—Peadar would have to match these.

‘Money will not be an obstacle,' Peadar said to her. ‘There is, however, a question of access for Seosamh's wheelchair, and downstairs sleeping accomodation for him and Eileen. Outer and interior doors are not sufficiently wide to cater for the wheelchair; renovations will have to be done if a letting is agreed.'

Máire was reluctant to allow renovations to be carried out on her house—a stalemate arose. No, she would not agree to any disruption.

Apart from custom-built upmarket guest houses that were unavailable for letting, similar entrance dimensions applied to most houses on the island. Another solution would have to be found. Peadar came up with an idea:

‘If I were to adapt our own house by widening the doors, wouldn't Eileen, Seosamh, and the children have sufficient space for now. With help from Micilín, and Máirtín, I could add another room or two in quick time. In the meantime, I would sleep in the motor van. In that way we would be together for eating and conversing, and the children would have the benefit of seeing everything that was going on around them.'

‘Living in the sleeper van is not an acceptable arrangement, Dad,' Eileen remonstrated. ‘We can't evict you from your bed. If anybody has to move out, it must be Seosamh, me, and the children. In any event we wouldn't be able to stay in the cottage while renovations are in progress. Let's put up with the limited accomodation that the cottage provides until an alternative solution is found.'

Vincent and the Coughlan girls had never been to Aran. When they were told of Seosamh's predicament, and that the family had returned from Spain, they immediately made plans to visit.

‘Seosamh and Eileen, we are extremely grieved to learn all that has happened to you since our time in Estat de Tirelle,' Vincent said. ‘As friends, we would like to help to relieve the situation for you in any way that we can.'

‘We have a big house in Offaly where we would be glad to host you if you are willing. Now that our parents have retired from active farming and the girls come home from Dublin only at weekends, we have lots of space for everyone. In the farming situation, our rear door is wide enough to accomodate a tractor—there would be no limitations of access for a wheelchair. I would dearly love to have Seosamh on hand for discussion about my future career in agriculture. If you can see your way, please consider our invitation.'

While Seosamh took care of the children, Eileen toured the girls around Innis Mór, showing them all the notable sights. Vincent stayed behind.

‘You remember the conversation we had in Spain about your plans to enter farming. Did you take any steps in that direction?' Seosamh asked.

‘Yes, I think I now have a clear insight into what I will do. In return for a cash settlement, I will cede my right of inheritance to the home farm. With the proceeds, I intend to purchase a smaller holding, say twenty to thirty acres, within reach of a market town. I will go into market gardening and fruit production, with the object of supplying local demands for potatoes, vegetables of all kinds, and glasshouse crops—tomatoes, gourds, sweet corn, and such like. I figure that, with hard work and dedication, I will be able to apply to advantage the teaching that you and I received at the agricultural college.'

‘Bravo, Vincent, I am delighted for you. I agree that huge acreage is not necessary to earn a good standard of living from land. Have you got any location in mind for the project?'

‘I am working on that at the moment. Strange as it may seem, despite working our butts off gathering potatoes, and harvesting sugar beet at the college at Athenry, I acquired a liking for the west of Ireland. If I am successful in purchasing a suitable holding of good land in the vicinity of Galway City, I will settle for that. I have engaged an auctioneer to look for potential sites. I have a consultation with him next week before I return home—he may have some places for me to view. '

‘Can I ask you something, Vincent? Does Chrissie fit into your plans?'

‘You have keen perception—I was going to tell you before I left in any case. Chrissie and I have been seeing quite a bit of each other since we met in Spain. We have reached an understanding; she is fully behind me in my market gardening proposal.'

‘Let me shake your hand. I knew you would put your agricultural education to good use. Heartiest congratulations to you and Chrissie. May you be successful and fulfilled in your new roles. Eileen and I will be thrilled to have you within easy reach as long as we continue to live in Ireland— we will visit one another from time to time.'

‘Can I ask why you suddenly decided to abandon your Spanish interests and return home?' Vincent asked.

‘We had a number of reasons. Spain, under Franco's regime, has become unsavoury for many of its residents— particularly those who decry the oppressive treatment doled out by his henchmen to people who do not agree with him. As strangers in the community and inheritors of a sizable estate, we incurred the wrath of various unidentified sources, prompted, no doubt, by jealousy and avarice. We were subjected to threats. My own misfortune, when I was pushed off the road by two men driving a heavy vehicle, was no accident—we took it as a fnal warning to us to get out of Estat de Tirelle. There will be no stability in Spain until Franco recinds power to a democratically elected parliament—probably many years from now. Meantime it would be an uncomfortable situation for us foreigners and a constant source of danger to us and our children. Eileen has made arrangements with Salamanca University for use of the property in our absence. In the light of our present circumstances, it is possible we may not return there at all. An invitation to Peadar to act as best man at Seánín Mhicil Dubh's wedding was timely. It gave us an opportunity of leaving without attracting undue notice from the establishment. I am delighted that we are back in Aran.'

News reaching Eileen from Spain was not encouraging. Santa Clara reported that, soon after they had left for Ireland, the Guardia Civil paid another visit to Estat de Tirelle. They asked many questions of Jago and herself. ‘Where have the owners gone? Why did they leave? Did they suffer pressure from local people? Had they received threats? Did these come from coloured people? Was there any evidence of subversive activities in the neighbourhood? Apart from you who work here, who will occupy the house in the absence of the owners? Have you any fears for your personal safety?'

Some days later, without prior consultation, a notice was affixed to the front door of the mansion:

The civil authorities have decided that, in the interests of public security in Tirelle district, a detachment of Guardia Civil will occupy these premises until further notice.

A further missive from Father Benedictus informed Eileen that the authorities had scrutinised the university's lease of lands at Estat de Tirelle. They inquired as to the purpose of their research. To date there had been no indication of their reaction to the arrangement entered into with the college, but one never knew from day to day.

‘We can only wait and see,' he added, ‘the Franco regime is devious and unpredictable.'

‘So much for Spain and its government,' Eileen remarked. ‘I'm glad we got our heels out of the place in time.'

Vincent appeared excited when he wrote to thank Eileen and Seosamh for their hopitality and kindness to his sisters and himself on their recent visit to Aran. He had enjoyed the exchange of views with Seosamh, the girls were enthralled by the island, its people and its array of ancient heritage sites. They would come again, without doubt, when he had found a site for his farming project. He and Chrissie looked at a place near Bellharbour on the northern coast of Clare, which the auctioneer indicated was for sale. The farm of thirty acres was laid out in fields of around three to four acres separated by dry stone walls. The place had a southerly aspect and was sheltered from the west and northwest. It had recently been cropped with barley and potatoes; the soil was fertile and easily cultivated. A neat white-washed cottage and some outbuildings were included in the sale. Subject to agreement on a price which, he reckoned, will not be beyond their reach, they have made up their minds to purchase. They should know in the course of a week or two if their offer is accepted.

‘Bellharbour, on the Galway-Clare border—what a location!' Seosamh exclaimed, ‘only a short distance across the bay from Aran, if we used field glasses we should almost be able to see one another; it is but a short journey in the hooker if we decide to visit.'

‘I am happy for them,' Eileen added, ‘especially for Chrissie; she was a good friend to me during our days in Carna; she deserves all that is good in life. She couldn't have found a nicer partner than Vincent.'

‘Have you ever seen so many unattached men as we have here in Aran?' Eileen remarked to Seosamh one night as they lay awake in bed. There's our friend, Máirtín Neachtan, Cáit's brother Thomasheen, your own brother Micilín, and Peadar. They are the only ones we know—I am sure there are others around the island. Is it any wonder that the population of the island is declining all the time? Would you know why so many men choose to remain single when they could have the comfort and companionship of a woman?'

‘I asked that question of a man once,' Seosamh said. ‘Would you like to hear the answer he gave me? ‘Why should I make one woman unhappy when I can make so many others happy?' I am not suggesting that this is the reason so many men on Aran remain single, but his reply set me wondering if I had missed out?' Seosamh said teasingly.

‘You'd better watch your conversation if you want to sleep with me,' Eileen retorted. ‘You're a little unfit for the market in any case,' she added. ‘It is I who should be on the look out for someone to keep me happy.'

‘Never fear, Seosamh is here,' he replied laughingly, ‘turn over to me and I'll give you as good a squeeze as any man on the island.'

‘Seriously, Seosamh, if we are going to be in Ireland for the long haul, do you think we should remain in Aran? Instead of enlarging Peadar's house, maybe we should look for suitable accomodation on the mainland. You need to have access to physiotherapy for your back and to hospital treatment at close range if that should become necessary. Here on the island we are relatively isolated from those facilities. If Vincent and Chrissie settle down near Galway we would have their company. You would be able to give some assistance to Vincent with his glasshouse crops; I could become involved with teaching French or Spanish in my spare time. We'll not find until Carl and Eileen Óg are at schoolgoing age. They are country children—for their sakes it would be an advantage to have them attend school on the mainland when the time comes. We will talk the whole thing through with Peadar and see what he has to say. Meanwhile, good night lover boy.'