Madam Tulip and the Rainbow's End: (A Madam Tulip Mystery - Book 5) by David Ahern

Author:David Ahern [Ahern, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery, thriller, suspense, female protagonist, Amateur sleuth, crime fiction, Humorous
ISBN: 9780993544897
Publisher: Malin Press
Published: 2022-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

23

Never before had Derry seen her mother gape. Gaping did not belong in the repertoire of a cosmopolitan businesswoman of faultless manners and exquisite wardrobe. But Derry’s own mouth was also agape. For in the doorway stood a different Jacko, a Jacko never before seen by mother or daughter.

If Derry had been able to master her amazement and search for a suitable simile, she might have said that the transformation in Jacko was like a gorgeous butterfly reverting to hairy caterpillar.

Gone was Jacko’s jaunty wide-brimmed hat, his green riding cape, his exquisite linen shirt and polished riding boots. He did indeed sport a hat, but its black had faded to grey and its brim was misshapen. His shirt was a coarse weave, dull blue and collarless. The trousers were rough-spun brown tweed held aloft by a colourful, woven belt of cloth. On his feet he wore clumsy work boots, aged and scuffed, fastened by string of two different colours. Under his arm he carried a large cardboard box.

In Derry’s mind recognition slowly dawned. ‘Man of Aran!’ she declared, unable to stop herself laughing. ‘You forgot your harpoon!’

Derry had seen the film at college—a famous 1930s documentary purporting to show the proud and fearless inhabitants of a Gaelic island hunting sharks in a gale. Less patriotically-minded critics complained that shark hunting hadn’t been practiced on those islands since the days of Finn McCool but were roundly condemned as missing the point entirely.

‘I come to bid you farewell,’ said Jacko, throwing himself into a leather armchair and placing his box on the floor beside him. ‘With a heavy heart, I must leave these shores in search of simplicity and solitude. Already, I feel myself cleansed of the toxins of modern life.’

Vanessa frowned. The leather suite was pristine white and had never before been exposed to peasant fashion. Only when Jacko crossed his legs, revealing the soles of his boots to be unsullied by evidence of actual work, did she relax.

‘I’m sure we wish you well, darling,’ she said. ‘But don’t you think this is all a touch … extreme?’

‘ “Not even the gods fight necessity,” ’ proclaimed Jacko. ‘I find myself compelled to withdraw from the conveniences of the modern world for lack of means. Instead of bemoaning my fate at the hands of those who grow fat on the labours of others,’—he inspected the ceiling by way of indicating no one in particular—'I seize the opportunity for spiritual renewal.’

‘But Jack,’ protested Vanessa, her furrowed brow indicating the deepest concern, ‘what of one’s duty to society at large? Surely the artist must engage with the wider world?’

‘If, by the wider world, you mean having my retinas scanned before I am permitted a second pint, and having a computer reject me for a trifling loan while calling me by my first name, you may keep it,’ retorted Jacko.

‘I guess the active vacation is all the rage?’ said Vanessa. ‘A change is as good as a rest, and so on?’

‘Vacation, is it?’ said Jacko, indignant.

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