The Elephant of Belfast by S. Kirk Walsh

Author:S. Kirk Walsh
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781640094017
Publisher: Counterpoint
Published: 2020-12-23T00:00:00+00:00

That evening, as Hettie sat in the courtyard paring carrots, potatoes, and turnips for dinner, she heard the telephone ringing from inside the house, and Rose answered. She heard her mother utter a few huh-uhs followed by Did you receive our telegram about Anna? Then there was a silence and a few more exchanges. I think they’ve gone to the countryside with his family. I don’t know if they will be returning. Rose’s tone shifted into something more neutral. Almost businesslike. Not to worry, she said. We’re fine. And then finally, Yes, I’ll tell her. Yes. Yes. Goodbye.

Rose hung up the phone and appeared in the doorway. She wiped her hands on a stained tea towel. A degree of peace and sadness seemed to have settled into her mother’s eyes and lips. Rose continued to wipe her hands on the towel even though they were already dry.

“That was your father,” she finally said.

“Where on bloody earth is he?” Hettie asked.

“Norwich.”

“When is he coming home?”

“He said the Merchant Navy needs him,” Rose said, sitting down on the concrete step. “Now isn’t a good time to leave.”

“Do you believe him?”

“No,” Rose said flatly, “I don’t believe him, but I don’t think that matters so much anymore.”

“Did he ask about Anna? Does he even know about Maeve?”

“He said he was sorry that he didn’t make it home for the funeral,” Rose said, her voice low. “He was very sorry about that.”

“Did he ask to speak me?” Hettie asked, even though she already knew the answer.

“He sounded hurried, as if someone else was waiting to use the phone—”

“He’s not coming home this time, you know,” Hettie interrupted, her words sharp and acerbic. “He’s never coming home.” She felt an impulse to throw the bucket of peeled vegetables against the brick wall of their courtyard or to throw her fist against the hard surface.

“No, I don’t think he is coming home.” Rose lowered her gaze to the pavement littered with vegetable peelings and then looked up at Hettie. A clarity seemed to sharpen Rose’s features.

Hettie realized that it was the first time her mother had admitted that Thomas wasn’t returning home, that somehow she had stepped out of the ever-present fog of her grief into the reality of her life: Her oldest daughter was dead; she was estranged from her only grandchild; and her husband of twenty-five years was gone. Despite the undeniable grief of all this, Hettie found she felt strangely relieved to finally know that her father would not be returning home.

“We’re going to be fine,” Rose said with an unfamiliar steadiness in her voice. “We don’t need him.”

Hettie dropped the broken carrots into the bucket.

“I’m sorry, you know, about Anna and Liam,” Rose continued.

“It’s all right, Mum,” Hettie reassured her.

“I wanted a certain kind of life for your sister and her baby,” Rose said, wringing the towel in her hands. “I wanted Maeve to be raised a certain way.”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“Have you heard from the Keegans? How are they getting along?”

“Liam found himself a job with a local mechanic.

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