The Godforsaken Daughter (20 page)

“Your wife was foolish enough to involve herself with the IRA. This was—”

“That’s a lie!”

“Be quiet, Doctor. I warn you: any more interruption and this meeting is over. I shall summon the duty sergeant and instruct him to charge you with possession of an illegal substance, plus the impersonation. You will stand trial and be sentenced to at least five years for those crimes, and will be struck off the medical register. In other words, Doctor, I will ruin you. I have it in my power to do so, and I will not hesitate if you continue to thwart this investigation. Nod if you understand.”

Henry nodded again. His back was damp with perspiration. He thought he could smell his own fear. Nothing from his psychiatric training had prepared him for this.

“When you leave this room, Dr. Shevlin, you will forget everything I’m about to tell you. For your own good. I will not even tell you my name, because as far as you’re concerned we never met, and this conversation never took place. Harris Halligan is one of our operatives, working undercover for British Intelligence. Unfortunately, your wife got involved with him. We do not know the details of her relationship with him, and to be honest, it’s immaterial to me at present. The only reason I’m telling you this is that I don’t want you jeopardizing the whole operation. If you want her to come out of this alive you must stop looking for her.”

Henry was speechless. He knew enough to understand what it meant to be a British undercover agent, and the price an agent paid if unmasked. Such spies—for spies they were—ended up being tortured, executed, and buried in unmarked graves by the Provisional IRA. The thought of Connie being associated with such dangerous people was too horrible to contemplate.

“Have I made myself clear?” the man was saying.

Henry nodded dumbly.

“Good. You see, Doctor, if you go looking for your wife then you’ll also be placing yourself in mortal danger. When the time is right we will contact you. So step back, and let us do our job.”

“When the time is right? I don’t understand. What do you mean, ‘the time is right’?”

But the answer he gave was just as ambiguous.

“As I said, Doctor: If you want to see your wife again,
stop
looking.”

Chapter twenty-three

S
aturday afternoon found Ruby at the kitchen sink, scrubbing a saucepan. She hadn’t slept well and was feeling anxious at the thought of the twins’ arrival off the three o’clock bus.

The previous weekend, they’d gone to Manchester to see George Best playing at Old Trafford. Maybe they’d have his autograph, but she wasn’t holding out much hope. They rarely gave her gifts, just stuff they didn’t want themselves or had grown tired of. There was a drawer in her bedroom chock-full of half-used bottles of perfume, worn handbags, fake jewelry with bits missing . . . the works.

In the front room, Martha was having a chinwag with Ida Nettles. It was unusual for Ida to visit on a Saturday, but Ruby was in no doubt that her actions the previous evening, and Father Kelly’s visit, had sent her mother to the phone with an invitation to her friend.

She rinsed the saucepan under the faucet and set it on the drainer, stood for a while staring out the window. It was a calm afternoon: the sun shining, Beldam Lake as smooth as glass, shimmering in the distance. The window was in need of cleaning, but Ruby didn’t much care. She now had more important things to think about than cleaning windows and knitting tea cozies. She’d allowed the more mundane household chores to slide of late, but the mother hadn’t seemed to notice. Or if she had, she didn’t say anything. Ruby knew that her daughter’s mental state was more of a concern to Martha these days. Why else had she summoned Father Kelly?

Thoughts of the priest stole into her mind. Every time they did, she pushed them out by envisioning the ritual she’d perform at the solstice, just four days away. It was now more important than ever that she stick to her plan. Because she was sure he was trying to break her connection with Dana. Snatches of Edna’s writing came to her.

Be wary of one who would dominate you . . .

twist worship from you for their own gain and glory . . .

Yes, she knew his game.

But next Thursday night she’d be gaining access to a world that he, a mere priest, could not even begin to imagine.

Raise the curv’d blade at the moon

On the twenty-first of June

This rite shall make thy dreams come true,

And wondrous powers shall thee accrue.

The specter of May and June came hard on the heels of the priest. She’d learned so much in the two weeks since she’d last seen them; her inner life, enriched beyond measure by the secrets in
The Book of Light
. She was confident that she’d taken every measure possible to keep those secrets safe. The case was still under her bed. There it would stay. She’d thought about hiding it out in the shed, but felt it would be a betrayal of all that Edna and the Goddess stood for. Her grandmother’s dying wish was that it remain in the farmhouse. That link she’d forged with Edna would not be broken. Not for the twins. Not for anyone. She’d simply lock the bedroom door against them.

A raven alighted in the back garden. Ruby blinked. It was a sign. When her father died in the field, a raven had landed beside his body. Now she knew what it meant. Her heart lifted. The raven was a symbol of the afterlife. It moved between the worlds of the living and the dead. And she, Ruby, would be moving between those worlds very, very soon.

“W
ADE IN WATERS STILL AND DEEP.
W
HERE THE LITTLE BOY DOTH SLEEP.
”

The voice was back! She was elated.

“Wade in waters still and deep. Where the little boy doth sleep. Yes, I will, I will, very soon.”

“Are you all right, Ruby?”

She jumped and turned.

Ida Nettles was gazing up at her, small eyes glinting with presentiment.

“Yes . . . yes, Ida. I . . . I was miles away.”

“Who were you talking to?”

Ida had never forgiven Ruby’s jibe in the supermarket concerning her purchase of hair dye.

“No one. Is it more tea you want? I’ll . . . I’ll put the kettle back on.”

Ruby made to move toward the stove, but Ida caught her arm.

“Where the little boy sleeps? What little boy were you talkin’ about?”

“I . . . I don’t know what
. . .
you’re
talking about.”

“Oh, you know very well, young lady! Your poor mother’s beside herself with worry about you. Now: what are you up to?”

“I
T IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, YOU NOSY, MEDDLING BUSYBODY.
”

“It is none of your business, you nosy, meddling busybody.”

Ida, aghast.

“Your mother is right. You’re . . . you’re not yourself, Ruby Clare.”

“H
OW WOULD
YOU
KNOW WHO
I
AM
?
”

“How would
you
know who I am?”

“Don’t you talk to me like that! And don’t you be going near that lake.”

“Lake? Who said anything about the lake?”

“You were down in them woods and you weren’t pickin’ no blackberries neither. And you lied to the priest, God forgive you!”

Ruby had had enough. She didn’t need the voice to prompt her; she knew what to do. She marched into the sitting room.

It was time to confront her mother.

“Come back, here!” Ida shouted. “Your mother needs peace.”

“Right, Mammy, what’s goin’ on here? Why are you talkin’ behind my back? If ye have anything to say, say it now to me face.”

“I tried to stop her, Martha, but she wouldn’t listen.”

“You keep out of this, Ida Nettles. This is between me and Mammy.”

Martha, seated in an armchair, put a hand to her heart. She looked frightened. “My goodness, what’s got into you at all?”

“Nothing’s got into me. I’m tired of being treated like a child. I’ll say what I like, and if you don’t like it, that’s tough! All you do is complain about me to Father Kelly.” She pointed at Ida. “And now
her
.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Ruby.
You’re . . . going the way of your grandmother. She—”

“You keep Grandma outta this! She was a good woman and you hated her ’cos she was in the way when you married Daddy. You wanted this house to yourself and . . .”

“S
HE HAD TO GO TO HER BEDROOM AND LIVE LIKE A PRISONER, BECAUSE YOU HATED THE SIGHT OF HER.
”

“. . . she had to go to her bedroom and live like a prisoner, because you hated the sight of her.”

The color had drained from Martha’s face. “How could . . . how could you know that? Dear God, you were only a baby. You . . .”

Ida stood behind Ruby, ears cocked for every last morsel of detail. There was enough mileage in this story to keep the whole village going for a week at least.

The mother began to weep.

“Now look what you’ve done.” Ida pushed Ruby out of the way and went to comfort Martha.

“I’ve done nothing.” Ruby rounded on her. “How dare you push me?!”

“What’s all this?” Shrill voices in the doorway had them all turning to look.

May and June stood on the threshold, June carrying a large plaster angel under one arm.

At sight of them, Ruby sped up to her bedroom and slammed the door shut.

She settled on the bed and tried to calm herself. With those two home, all hell would break loose.

“T
HERE IS NO DARKNESS BUT IGNORANCE.
Y
OU ARE PROTECTED.
”

“Yes, yes, I know . . . I know. There is no darkness but ignorance. I—”

A sharp rap at the door.

“Ruby, are you in there?” May’s voice. Testy, impatient.

“Yes. What do
you
want?” Ruby pressed her thumb and forefinger together, hard. In the sure knowledge the Goddess would come through.

“I want to talk to you . . . for a minute.”

“Why?”

“I’ll let you know when you open the door.”

Ruby heaved herself off the bed and turned the key in the lock.

May did not look well. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her face was chalk-white.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be? You’re the one that’s not all right. Why are you upsetting Mummy again?”

“I
WAS NOT UPSETTING ANYONE.
I
WAS MERELY POINTING OUT SOME FACTS.
”

Ruby took a deep breath and looked her sister straight in the eye. “I was not upsetting anyone. I was merely pointing out some facts.”

May snorted, face twisting in a sneer. “‘I was merely pointing out some facts,’” she imitated Ruby in a childish voice, shaking her head from side to side. “You wouldn’t know a fact if it came up and bit you in your fat, ugly face.”

“H
OW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT, YOU WRETCHED WAIF.
”

“How dare you speak to me like that, you wretched waif.”

“What did you say?” May in shock.

“I
SAID HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT, YOU WRETCHED WAIF.
Y
OU ARE BEHAVING LIKE A CHILD.
N
OW, GO BACK TO YOUR TOYS AND LEAVE ME ALONE.
”

“I
said
how dare you speak to me like that, you wretched waif. You are behaving like a child. Now, go back to your toys and leave me alone.”

May began backing out of the room. “Oh God, you
have
gone mad. I know now what Mummy meant on the phone. She said you weren’t yourself. And—”

Ruby shut the door quietly on May’s stunned face. She turned the key in the lock.

The action had her sister hammering frantically. “You bitch! You mad bitch! You’ll pay for this, Ruby Clare. You’ll really, really pay for this. We’re going to put you in the loony bin, where you bloody belong.”

But Ruby had had her say.

My, did it feel good!

Chapter twenty-four

G
od-savus, Biddy, have you found the talking teeth yet?”

Midafternoon, Rose, Paddy, and Jamie pulled out chairs at a Formica table in the Cozy Corner and settled themselves. At that slack hour there were no other customers, apart from itinerant scrap dealer, Barkin’ Bob, in a corner, laboring over a gravy chip while humming a speeded-up version of “Amazing Grace.”

“’Cos, you know,” Rose continued, “from the time my Paddy was in with you last week, I thought maybe a body would of run across them, like.”

Biddy Mulhern, for thirty-five years the proprietor of the greasy spoon that was the Cozy Corner, leaned over the counter, cradling her bosom in flour-coated arms, and said, “Well, you know, Rose and Paddy, you’ll never believe it.” She disappeared from view, and seconds later, a set of shiny pink dentures appeared on the trio’s table.

“God-savus,” said Rose, staring in disbelief. “Yer talking teeth, Paddy.”

“Well, that’s the damnedest thing.” Paddy snatched them up. “Niver thought I’d see them again.”

“Are you sure they’re yours?” Jamie asked. “’Cos one pair-a dentures is very like the other.”

“Oh, they’re mine all right, Jamie
. . .
would recognize the wee blighters anywhere.”

He pointed to the inside of a molar. “See that wee dot of red paint—”

“I put that there, Jamie,” Rose chipped in, eager to have her say. “So he could tell the differs between the talking pair and the eating pair. But that’s neither here or there. Who found them anyway, Biddy? And we’ll have a cuppa tea and some of your flaky knobs. I was tellin’ Jamie here how good they were.”

“Good enough,” said Biddy. “Well, you’ll never guess who found them. Honest Thomas was the first to find them, and then Sergeant Ranfurley handed them in.”

“Get away!”

At the mention of Ranfurley’s name Jamie scowled.

“The sergeant came in here yesterday,” continued Biddy. “Had them in a paper bag. Tolt me that Honest Thomas had found them sitting on Butcher Magee’s windee-sill, and handed them into the station.”

“But how did the sergeant know to give them to you, Biddy?” asked Paddy, perplexed.

“He said that since this was the only café in the town it was more than likely somebody had taken them out before having a bite to eat. And that
I
would very likely know who that body might be. They were his very words.”

“God, he’s a terrible smart man,” said Rose.

“Oh, he’s not a sergeant for nothin’,” observed Paddy, attempting to put the teeth back in.

“Now, Paddy, where’s yer manners?” Rose grappled the dentures from her husband. “I’ll give them a wee warsh under the tap, ’cos you niver know how many pairs of hands have been on them, and you could end up with mumps in yer mouth, or worse.” With that, Rose took herself off in the direction of the ladies.

Jamie felt moved to speak. “But, Paddy, if they’re yer talkin’ teeth, sure you don’t need tae put then in now, ’cos you’ve got your eatin’ teeth in already.”

“Begod, ye know, you’re right, Jamie. Never thought of that.”

Biddy set a tray down on their table and off-loaded the tea and cakes. “Now, Jamie, flaky knobs for you and Rose
. . .
and some iced fingers for you, Paddy, ’cos the knobs might stick in yer dentures and we wouldn’t want that.”

“That Ranfurley’s only an oul’ bully,” Jamie muttered, remembering how he was manhandled and handcuffed, and made to sit in a cell for the best part of four hours because auctioneer Bertie Frogget had pulled a fast one over the price of his heifer.

“I heard about that, Jamie.” Biddy stood with the tray pressed to her chest. “But don’t you know, he wouldn’t arrest the like of Frogget, ’cos he’s a big Prodizent with plenty of money
. . .”

“Now you’ve said it, Biddy.” Jamie laid into a flaky knob, grateful for Mrs. Mulhern’s support and understanding.

“. . . but wasn’t it good that Rose and Paddy got you out? ’Cos, God knows, you maybe might’a been still sitting there, countin’ the four walls.”

“Oh, it was very good of Rose and Paddy
. . .
don’t know what I’d do without them, Biddy.”

Rose returned with one set of cleansed dentures.

“Now, Paddy, I
’
m putting these in me handbag. We wouldn
’
t want yeh to lose them again.”

“Good enough, Rose.”

The door opened, bringing in the blare of a car horn and the sprightly Ida Nettles.

Biddy excused herself and went back behind the counter. She was eager to hear the latest gossip. Her friend rarely disappointed.

Ida plonked down her doctor’s bag. “God, Biddy, you wouldn’t believe what’s happened since I seen you last.”

At the table, Rose’s ears pricked up.

Ida lowered her voice. “You know that daughter of Martha Clare’s?”

“Ruby? Oh, I know Ruby surely. Her and her daddy used to come in here every Friday
. . .
but she’s never been in since his death, God help her. Would maybe be too hard for the poor critter.”

“Well,” Ida said. “She’s goin’ crazy, so she is. Talkin’ to herself, and poor Martha’s beside herself with worry.”

“What? Poor Martha doesn’t need no bother, with Vinny not about no more.”

“How is Martha?” asked Rose, unable to resist a conversation developing without her input. “Haven’t seen her about in a long time.”

Ida turned her attention to Rose. “Well, now, she’s not so good, Rose, ’cos that daughter of hers . . . that Ruby one . . . is giving her a lot of bother, so she is.”

“Oh, that
’
s too bad,” Rose said. “I wouldn
’
t know Ruby that well.”

“I know Ruby,” Jamie announced suddenly, remembering the pleasant young woman he’d met in the field not so very long ago.

All eyes turned to Jamie. Rose’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. She thought she knew everything about Jamie’s life, but how come he hadn’t told her about Ruby Clare?

“That’s right,” Ida chipped in. “Martha was telling me that she put you out of the field you were wantin’ to rent.”

“God, Jamie, you didn’t tell me that,” said Rose.

“Och, I only met her for five minutes, Rose, and she didn’t put me outta the field
. . .
She said her father died in the field and that’s why she didn’t want to rent it out.”

“Well, that was a very good reason not to want to let it,” Paddy added.

“Aye, I thought so, too,” agreed Jamie.

“Anyway, she’s going a bit crazy,” Ida continued. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up in St. Ita’s one of these days.”

Jamie blanched at the very sound of St. Ita’s. He knew what it meant and hoped Ruby would not have to go in there, either.

Rose, alert to the sadness in her friend’s feelings, said, “God willing it won’t come to that for poor Ruby. She must miss her daddy very badly. Vinny was a great man altogether.”

Barkin’ Bob stirred himself in the corner and prepared to take his leave. He came forward and left money on the counter.

“Good day tae you, Mrs. Mulhern,” he said tipping the brim of a brand-new Stetson.

“Right you be, Bob,” said Biddy. “See you again.”

They all watched from the café window as Bob climbed into a shiny green van with the words
Bob’s Wares
emblazoned in gold lettering on the side.

“God, Bob’s lookin’ terrible well these days,” Paddy remarked. “He can sell stuff for nothin’ and still make a profit. Don’t how he doz it.”

“Oh, bargains galore,” enthused Rose. “I bought twelve toilet rolls, thirty-seven clothes pegs, two pairs of tights, and a hairnet off him yesterday, for only a fiver.”

“Now, I heard that he was left a legacy by some relative in Amerikay,” Ida said.

“Is that so?” Biddy put in. “Well, I heard he’d won the football pools. Now, what’s this we were talkin’ about before Bob?”

“Ruby Clare,” Jamie declared, surprising them all.