Cashelmara by Susan Howatch

Author:Susan Howatch [Howatch, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4532-6342-6
Published: 2012-09-09T22:31:00+00:00

III

Marguerite protested so strongly when we announced our plans to leave that we immediately invited her to come with us and spend Christmas in Ireland.

“We would so love to repay you for all your hospitality,” I begged her. “Can’t you give us an opportunity to begin as soon as possible?”

“But are you sure you’re not going back too soon? You won’t see much rent before next spring.”

“There are one or two pictures I can sell to tide us over,” said Patrick, “and MacGowan’s recent reports have been very optimistic. There’s no difficulty, Marguerite.”

“Well, if you’re certain …”

“Positive.”

“Then I’ll come. But it’s odd,” Marguerite said, puzzled, “that we haven’t heard again from Madeleine.”

We decided to leave at the end of November. Thomas and David would still be at school, but Patrick wrote to tell them to travel to Cashelmara with Edith as soon as their term ended. Edith, thank God, had embarked on another visit to Clara, so there was no question of her coming to Cashelmara immediately; but even without Edith and the boys we were to be a large party, and several days passed before Patrick had made all the travel arrangements.

“Home!” said Ned, skipping for joy. “We’re going home!”

His excitement was infectious. Even I became so excited that I forgot the oppressive silence of Cashelmara, the mist, the rain and the damp, and thought only of the sunlight sparkling on the waters of the lough and the mountains shimmering in a purple haze. Eagerness, bizarre but undeniable, took possession of me, and by the time we left at last for Cashelmara I was in a fever of anticipation.

Holyhead, a rough crossing to Kingstown, the awkward journey between Kingstown and Dublin with the baby screaming and John crying and all the servants distraught. A night in Dublin, a cheerful start to the station, the long dreary journey west to Galway, another night in a hotel and then the hired carriages, shabby and noisy, which were to take us those last miles to the gates of Cashelmara.

The horses were changed at Maam’s Cross. The weather was sunny and mild, and despite the appalling journey I felt my spirits rise.

“Why don’t we see any people?” said Ned. “Why are all those cabins in ruins?”

“All the people have gone to America, dear,” said Nanny. “It’s nicer for them there.”

“But why did they pull down their homes before they left?”

“I dare say the landlord did that, dear, when the naughty people didn’t pay their rent.”

“Why didn’t they pay their rent?”

“They didn’t have enough money.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve never known any child to ask as many questions as Ned does,” I said to Marguerite with a smile.

“Thomas was just the same. I must say, the countryside is extraordinarily deserted. I’ve never seen it as empty as this before.”

It was late afternoon by that time, and it was later still when the carriage edged through the pass above Lough Nafooey and we looked down upon Cashelmara.

The walls were as white as a bleached skull.

That was when the nightmare began.

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