The Butterfly State Page 16

  When Sam arrived at the solicitor’s for his appointment, he was led into the office of Éamonn McCracken, who shook his hand jovially and made small talk about the weather. Sam felt he was on to a winner and slowly introduced the reason for his visit. He watched as the ginger-headed man’s face changed to an expression of shock and then anger and knew he had hit a nerve, although he had no idea why. McCracken soon composed himself and changed his previously friendly, confident manner to answering questions haltingly, stating in a dull, flat voice that while he personally didn’t handle the Byrne will, his company did, and he could not divulge any personal information relating to any of their clients’ affairs, living or dead. Sam tried to coax him, even tried to run his “just between us” routine but got nowhere.

  “And you didn’t know him personally then – never met him?” he asked.

  “Like I said, Mr Moran, I didn’t handle his case.”

  “Did you handle any legal issues for any of his family? Seems strange that he came here. It’s a long way from home and –”

  “What’s your point, Moran? I haven’t got all day.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense, Mr McCracken – can I call you Éamonn?”

  “No.”

  Sam, undaunted, continued. “My point is this. Like you, I’m a Dub. It doesn’t really matter to me where I buy my meat, clothes, go for legal or any other type of advice. But I know the people around those parts. They don’t change their habits easily. Not without a good reason anyway. Something made Michael Byrne drive over forty miles to write a will in Dublin, something made him come here specifically to you. Have you any idea why, Éamonn?” Sam was looking somewhat smug. He knew he wasn’t going to get anything out of McCracken but he could at least annoy him a little before he left, or got thrown out.

  McCracken leant back in his expensive leather chair and stared hard at Moran, his green eyes suddenly looking as black as coal, like small shiny black beads beneath his large red eyebrows, until the would-be journalist shifted nervously in his seat. He seemed to be thinking, his eyes darting left to right without ever fully taking them off Moran who had begun to sweat slightly.

  Eventually McCracken spoke.

  “I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time, Mr Moran. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment.”

  McCracken stood and moved toward the office door which was slightly ajar but stopped abruptly and turned to Sam, offering him his hand. He was a tall, strongly built man and Moran could see small white scars on his face. Then McCracken leant so close to Sam that he stiffened and pulled back, unsure of what McCracken was doing.

  McCracken put his mouth close to Sam’s ear. “It might be better for you, and for yours, if you don’t go asking any more questions about me or my business. Do you understand me?” he whispered.

  Sam took a step back and tried to prise his hand from McCracken’s tight grasp. He considered making some smart comment or another but knew that if this solicitor, who knew the law, was threatening him, he had something big to hide, very big, and maybe very dangerous.

  “Yes, I understand,” he said in a quiet voice, his only goal being to get out in one piece and think later.

  “Good,” McCracken said slowly while releasing Moran’s hand at the same slow speed. He opened the door and stood to one side, watching Moran walk away then turn his head nervously back before leaving the building.

  There had been something in McCracken’s demeanour that shook the Dubliner who was not easily frightened. Sam felt he had drifted onto something but he didn’t know what. As he left the building he felt very uneasy and slightly dazed and stood for a moment looking into the polluted Liffey below him. It was almost three o’clock and he was supposed to cover an article for Talbot on illegal dumping. Despite his nervousness, he understood that McCracken had threatened him which, rather than put him off, had excited him. This story was probably bigger than he realised.

  Sam decided to remain in Dublin for one drink before going home and sat in the far snug of Finnegan’s pub mulling things over. McCracken had worried him and he wanted to know more about who he was dealing with. After what happened in the solicitor’s office, his instincts should have told him to stop working on the story, to tell Talbot he had come up empty, but he decided to make a few enquiries about McCracken. He needed to be sure that McCracken wouldn’t come after him even if he dropped the story. Perhaps he was bluffing, although he didn’t think this was the case. Sam still had some contacts in Dublin, especially the not so law-abiding kind he had grown up with. He wandered down Moore Street, a street in which he had learnt all there is to know about life, a street where he had stolen his first wallet only to receive a beating he still remembered from his father who made him return it, red-faced, to its owner. He felt slightly depressed walking through these familiar surroundings, looking at the recognisable faces of people still poor despite the long days of hard work in every weather, watching constantly for the police to arrive and run you if you didn’t have a trader’s licence. At the end of the street, as expected, he found Rabbit Flanagan, a nickname he supposed his old friend got from his ability to run fast when the police arrived on the street. Rabbit had been adopted by a couple with eleven children of their own and, due to his strong resemblance to the family, gossip had it that he was the illegitimate child of their oldest daughter who left to work in England and never returned. Moran didn’t waste any time with small talk and watched Rabbit’s eyes move left to right, his wild red hair giving him an almost comical appearance. Sam told him as much as he had to. Rabbit looked around to see if anyone was listening in the busy street and Sam felt his friend was putting on the spy/informant drama a little too heavily.

  “Jaysus, Moran, you don’t want to be getting involved with that lot – they’ll kneecap ya if ya get in their way!” Rabbit said, his diminutive frame only barely visible above his stall.

  “Wha’ lot are ya talking ’bout?” Sam’s Dublin accent always got stronger when he was on these streets.

  “The Provos.”

  Sam looked at his old friend and laughed so loud he definitely drew attention to both himself and his nervous-looking informant.

  “Oh come on, are ya telling me that this solicitor is involved with the IRA? That’s the best yet. The cops must have hit ya on the head once too often, Rabbit.”

  “Ya asked me, I’m telling ya and that’s the truth. He gets people off who’re involved with the Ra. Few from ’round here, I know them personally. He’s high up, doesn’t get his hands dirty, but he’s a member, mark my word.”

  Sam stood still and looked solemnly at Rabbit Flanagan to see if his friend was messing with him but Rabbit stared squarely back before nervously shooting glances left and right. Sam realised his friend really was frightened and changed the subject quickly, even buying some fruit to pass himself off as a regular customer before walking swiftly down Moore Street and towards the quays. He had missed his landfill story for Talbot, had discovered information he rather he hadn’t but was still no closer to the truth behind the Byrne murder.

  Chapter 26

  1967

  Maura’s life had not changed much in the nineteen years that she had been married to Michael Byrne. Her parents had passed away which she took very hard despite the fact that she was not close to either parent and had resented them for making her marry Michael, a resentment she knew she would carry to her own grave. She had no relationship with her brother. Although Jimmy lived within a few miles of her, they rarely saw each other. Maura’s life revolved around her three children. Seán and Kate were now almost fully grown. Her youngest, Tess, was by far the most difficult to manage and although she could be a loving child at times, she shared her father’s unusual personality and watchful way.

  Maura was almost eight months pregnant again and was surprised that the pregnancy had progressed this far, having endured three miscarriages since Tess was born. When Ben was born a few weeks later, Maura tried to show an interest in the child but left h
is care more and more in the hands of her eldest daughter. Maura found herself forgetting where she’d left things and once forgot her way home after shopping in town, walking in the opposite direction until a neighbour stopped and offered her a lift home. Her doctor said it was probably an early change of life but she didn’t think he was right. She stopped taking the sleeping tablets she had been taking for years but found her memory worsening. Since Ben’s birth Michael had not abused her in any way and Maura wondered if it was because he now had a son, although he showed little interest in the baby. Some days she allowed her imagination to run away with her and played her life out in a completely different way to the life she was living. Often never having met Éamonn McCracken. Sometimes she had married a man of her choice, a man she loved, and lived far away from Árd Glen, as far away as New York or Toronto, even though she had never been to either of these places. Maura found her memory of the past remained sharp even though she couldn’t remember what she did yesterday. She would often forget what she was saying mid-sentence only to start the whole conversation again, much to the annoyance of her children. Once the doctor reassured her, Maura stopped worrying about her memory problems, thinking if only she had difficulty forgetting her past instead of the present, it mightn’t be a bad thing at all. By the time Maura started to forget her children’s names or the fact that the baby in the house was in fact hers, tests in Dublin revealed a rare progressive early dementia for which no treatment was available. Maura deteriorated rapidly and soon after Ben was one year old, she was confined to bed with Kate and a reluctant Tess caring for her around the clock.

  Chapter 27

  1974

  After two and half years at the institution, Tess had given up hope of ever seeing her family again. The nursing staff knew not to give her the present her sister sent every year for her birthday and at Christmas as this sent her into a rage during which she inflicted deep wounds into her arms and legs and followed with a period of elective mutism during which she wouldn’t even talk to Leroy or Dr Cosgrove.

  Following several ignored letters to her family, inviting them in to meet with him, Cosgrove made an application to have Tess transferred to a children’s home. He felt she didn’t belong in a psychiatric institution but there were no places in the homes and he’d had no choice but to keep her here. He no longer tried to bring her mind back to the murder of her father. The child had no recollection of the event whatsoever and became extremely distressed whenever the murder was raised. Tess spent her time attending school at the institution and was proving herself to be a bright girl who was achieving above expectations. Cosgrove continued to keep her isolated in her own bedroom but not because he felt she was a danger to others. Rather he felt that her lack of understanding of acceptable behaviour resulted in the altercations she had with the other children. He also knew that she preferred to be alone, that she needed a quiet place where she could think. Cosgrove was worried about her as Leroy was going home at the end of the week and he knew she would be lost without him. He had told her but she did not respond and walked away from him, humming. He knew this was a bad sign. The following Friday the staff and patients gathered around a cake for Leroy as his departure coincided with his sixteenth birthday. Leroy smiled and blew his candles out. Later, when the fuss died down and the children went to their dormitories, staff allowed Tess and Leroy to sit together outside the nurses’ station.

  “I’ll write to you, Tess,” Leroy said, lowering his head to hide his tears.

  “Make sure your spellings are right,” Tess said matter-of-factly as she stared straight ahead, which made him smile through his watery eyes.

  He could hear her humming softly and noticed she had started to rock slightly back and forth on the bench, wringing her fingers to the motion. As their conversation died, Leroy felt awkward in the silence.

  “My mam got us a flat in town. It has two bedrooms,” he said nervously, even though he knew that Tess did not want to discuss his leaving.

  “Leroy?”

  “Yeah, Tess?”

  “Are you normal now?”

  “What?”

  “Are you normal now? You must be because they’re letting you go home.”

  Leroy smiled a sad slow smile at his friend. “As long as people leave me alone I am normal. So are you, Tess. Don’t forget that. It’s what other people do to us that makes us do bad things.” He cleared his throat and shifted nervously on his seat. There was something he wanted to ask her. “Tess, can I kiss you?” he asked nervously.

  “No,” Tess replied, staring hard at her friend before looking away quickly.

  “Please? I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

  Tess nodded and closed her eyes as she had seen Kate do when Noel kissed her at the front door at night before he left. Her heart pounded. Leroy leant forward. He could hear the nurse coughing loudly to let him know she was watching him as he gently kissed Tess on the lips. Tess pulled back as though the kiss had hurt her and wiped her mouth with her sleeve which made Leroy laugh.

  “Is that the first time you have been kissed, Tess?”

  “Yes,” she replied, still rubbing her mouth.

  “Did you like it?”

  “No, it burns,” she replied, staring straight ahead and resurrecting her humming.

  Leroy looked at his strange friend and laughed aloud. He wanted to hug her but knew she wouldn’t let him and was thankful that she had let him kiss her.

  The nurse came from behind the station, anxious that Leroy didn’t try anything more than a kiss on Tess who was not yet thirteen.

  “Okay, time to go to bed. Leroy, you head back to your ward.”

  Leroy stood and smiled at Tess, feeling his tears resurface.

  “Bye, Tess. I won’t forget you.”

  Tess stood and nodded, staring squarely at her friend, arms straight by her sides. Without a word she turned and walked away, leaving Leroy alone in the cold corridor.

  Tess withdrew into herself after Leroy left and took to hiding in areas of the hospital she wasn’t supposed to be in.

  When Leroy was there Tess could pass the evenings in the company of the other children and staff for sing-alongs and games and managed to hide her discomfort by sitting beside her friend, who always seemed to enjoy the activities. She did not have to speak when he was there and no one expected or asked her to join in, which she preferred because she did not understand the purpose of the games, especially the ones where there was no winner.

  She had long ago by chance discovered a place where she could be alone. The stairs at the bottom of her corridor led down to a hallway where the kitchen staff had their locker rooms, the door to which was always locked. Tess would hide patiently on the stairs and wait for one of the staff to emerge from the kitchens and go to the locker rooms. Once they unlocked the large spring-loaded door, she would sneak in behind them and make her way from there to the rows of disused, damp wards which were situated in the oldest part of the hospital. She would then wander through the cold dark corridors alone, glad to be far from the noise of the children on her ward. One of the wards faced out onto an unkempt garden, overgrown with bushes and tall trees and Tess liked to sit on the windowsill and paint in the silence as the daylight faded. She never ventured as far as the ward at the very end of the long corridor because she heard one of boys say that it faced out on an old graveyard for children and she was afraid that she might see ghosts there. When she tired of painting she would walk through the maze of wards alone, calling out occasionally as she enjoyed the sound of her voice echoing through the hallways before sitting on the floor of Ward B and humming to herself until the light finally faded into darkness. Then she would walk northwards towards the front of the hospital and past rooms which were now used as offices until she came to a large brown door that led directly onto the foyer. There she would wait to be “found” by the staff.

  Although she liked the solitude of these wards, Tess would have preferred to be allowed to go to her own room but staff ne
ver allowed this, insisting that she mix with the other children and make friends but Tess did not know how to make friends. Other children told her off when she tried to speak to them about butterflies. Like Seán and Kate, they were not interested in these things and Tess could not understand this. When the nurses would eventually find her in the foyer, they would wonder how she had got there, knowing that no matter how much they asked her, she would never tell them.

  Chapter 28

  1981

  Kate phoned for Dr Doyle to visit Seán at home for the second time that week. Her brother’s condition was worsening and, despite Dermot’s help, she found it impossible to get him to the surgery. On several occasions, she had to coax Seán from the truck as he tried to drive to town for drink. Once, despite his weakening strength, he had hit her hard in the face, Dermot moving quickly to her defence and stopping only when Kate signalled that she was fine.

  Kate found it hard to look at her brother now. His skin was yellow and his teeth had begun to rot through neglect. He hardly ate and with the exception of his bulging, raised stomach, he was now skin and bone. He neither shaved nor bathed with Kate usually trying to wash him quickly before the doctor or nurse came. He had changed mentally also. When he did speak, his words were sometimes difficult to understand. Kate did not know why but sometimes she heard Seán screaming Tess’s name. She would run into his room to find him pointing into thin air. The words Kate did understand she wished she hadn’t as Seán used such filthy language. He was severely dehydrated and when Dr Doyle suggested he be hospitalised for a couple of weeks, Kate was relieved at the break and hoped proper nursing care would help strengthen her brother. She did not go with him in the ambulance as she would have no way of getting back to the house in time for Ben’s return from school. She was glad someone else would be caring for her brother for a while and did not feel guilty as the old Kate would have done. Seán had brought these problems on himself and she was now exhausted and had long since moved beyond care or pity for her lost brother.