Skin Deep Page 3

  ‘You won’t lift a hand to me or I’ll tell Daddy!’

  ‘Tell him what?’

  ‘About you kissing Tom the Crow!’

  She dropped the wooden spoon where she stood, and looked wildly around her, but the boys were outside and there was only the two of us home.

  ‘Does he have you spying on me now, is that it?’ She whispered it, afraid that it was true. ‘What else did you see, or hear?’

  I knew I’d gone too far. I ran and wrapped my thin arms around her waist. ‘Sorry, Mammy, I’m sorry! I won’t tell him. I swear! But you can’t take us to America. We’d get lost!’

  She put her hand on the back of my head and held me close to her, and it was a long time since I’d felt her warmth, and I felt wet drops on my hair and could feel the shuddering of her body and I knew she was crying. I was scared. Mammy wasn’t the crying type.

  She turned away from me to the sodden mess on the kitchen table and began to clean it up. The ink on her pages was smeared and the words unreadable. It’s only now that I wonder how hard it must have been for her to write that letter, a begging letter essentially, to a mother who had forsaken her for making what she saw as a bad decision. She lifted the clumps of paper and threw them on to the fire, where they smouldered before slowly burning into dark ash.

  When the crying had subsided, she told me to sit down at the table and made us both a cup of coffee, strong and black for her, weak and milky for me.

  ‘Delia, your daddy is not well, you know that, don’t you?’

  I was afraid. ‘What’s wrong with him? Is he going to die?’

  She smiled to reassure me. ‘It’s hard to explain, he’s not well in his mind. You know the way he has us living out here on our own and he doesn’t talk to hardly anyone in the village? Well, that’s not normal, honey. Most people get on with their neighbours. Most people love all their children in the same way with the same love. Your daddy is different –’

  ‘You don’t love me in the same way!’ I accused her. I didn’t like the way she was talking about Daddy.

  ‘I do! Of course I do, but I have to pay more attention to the boys because Daddy ignores them.’

  ‘He doesn’t like boys.’

  ‘But, honey, that’s just not normal. You got to love your own kids! All of them, whether they’re boys or girls, no matter if they’re sick or well or anything, you got to love your own kids!’

  ‘I don’t want to go to America. I want to stay here with Daddy.’

  She sighed heavily. ‘That’s the difference, you see? I wouldn’t leave you behind, but he wouldn’t care if he never saw the boys or me again. That’s not right. Wouldn’t you miss us?’

  I thought about it. ‘No,’ I said. And before she had a chance to react, ‘Why did you kiss Tom?’

  She put her head in her hands and looked at the floor. ‘Because I’m lonely, in a way that you are too young to understand.’

  ‘What if I told Daddy?’

  She moved her chair abruptly back from the table and stood up.

  ‘Do what you want, but if I go to America, I’m taking you with me.’

  Inishcrann translates from the Irish language as ‘The Island of the Tree’ – named after the beautiful oak tree that once stood proudly at the high point of our island. The tree had been a type of miracle, Daddy said, because no trees grew on these islands. The wind would not allow it and the salt in the freezing air killed any that were planted.

  The tree disappeared sometime in the seventeenth century when the last chieftain hanged himself from its branches. His only daughter, the beautiful Dervaleen, in a fit of wild energy, cut down that mighty oak with her axe. They say it took her a week, and that ten men could not stop her. They say she never took pause for food, nor a sup of water, and neither did she lay down her head for those seven days. It was said that you would never think that she was capable of such rage, as if it were the tree that strangled her father out of malice.

  And when the oak had been chopped into kindling, nothing would do her but to start digging out the roots of the tree, for fear it would rise again. The island men, who were all in love with Dervaleen, formed an army to dig out the tendrils of the oak, and it took them six months because the roots fingered out to every corner of the island. Drystone walls were toppled and a trench was dug through the front parlours of three cottages. Afterwards, they say, Dervaleen fell into a slumber that lasted fifty-seven days, one for each year of her father’s life.

  It caused trouble among the clans because, before we had lighthouses, the only way to distinguish our island from the others nearby was by the splendid oak. It had given us a magnificence that no other island could claim.

  With ropes and harnesses, the island men and boys took the long granite stone that had lain at the entrance of our natural harbour since time began, and hauled it up to the top of the hill and stood it on its end.

  Dervaleen never married any of the men who courted her. She would not settle to any life at all, but took to living wild, rarely eating or drinking. She made her bed in the lee of the long stone, and within a few years she was found dead of cold and hunger and was buried beside it.

  Years later, a lighthouse was planned for the site, but the long stone could not be moved. The lighthouse went up ten yards from the stone, which is there now and known still as Dervaleen’s Bed.

  Daddy said we were of the same stock as Dervaleen, and descended from high kings. When he told me the story I could tell how much he admired Dervaleen O’Flaherty. ‘Her act of loyalty changed the landscape,’ he said. ‘Imagine that. It was a fiercely courageous thing for a young girl to do.’

  2

  For the next few weeks, Mammy and I watched each other like hawks. If I went walking with Daddy, she was a nervous wreck on our return. I hid the pens and ink so that no letter could be written. Mammy accused Daddy of stealing them and trying to control her. When Tom the Crow called, I fought my exhaustion and closely watched the interaction between the three of them. Daddy didn’t notice the tension that had crept in between Mammy and Tom.

  ‘Now, Martin, ’tis time you put that oul’ row to bed with the village. Come up to Biddy’s tonight and we’ll stand you a pint and I’ll make sure you get a welcome,’ said Tom.

  ‘Indeed, and I will not.’

  ‘Spots has forgotten all about it. It was near two years ago, and sure you are badly missed in the village, and Loretta too.’ He nodded at Mammy.

  Daddy put his hands on my shoulders. ‘That man disrespected my daughter and everyone stood by and let him do it.’

  ‘Oh my God, let it go! Look at her! She’s fine,’ said my mother, pointing and glaring at me meaningfully, willing me to speak up. I nestled further into my father’s arms.

  ‘I’d say Delia is well able to stand up for herself, isn’t that right, girl?’ Tom said to me. ‘And she’s a big lass now, almost too big to be sitting in her daddy’s lap, isn’t that right?’

  I didn’t like the way this was going. Mammy and Tom were trying to separate Daddy and me.

  ‘Why don’t the pair of you come up for a drink tonight? Delia can take care of the boys. They’ll not stir now, surely, it’s after ten.’ All the time, he kept nodding at me, and Mammy was trying to catch his eye.

  Daddy looked at me. ‘What do you think, loveen? Should I go up and forgive them?’

  Mammy jumped up. ‘Yes! Let’s go to Biddy’s! It’s been too long. I miss them all.’

  Daddy stopped her with a look. ‘It’s up to Delia. What do you say, a stór?’

  Mammy begged me: ‘We’ll only be gone for an hour or two, honey. You’ll be OK, won’t you? The boys are asleep, you won’t disturb them, will you?’ She was torn between leaving them with me and desperately wanting a night away. Mammy caught me pinching Aidan and Conor one time, to make them cry. I wanted to see which of them would cry the loudest. She walloped me with the back of her hand. Next time I did it, I made sure there wasn’t anyone to see me.

  Our house was
so remote that there was no chance of anyone coming to knock at the door on a bitter night. The worst that could happen was that the wind would wrench a straw bale from the roof, and the reality was that that would happen whether my parents were there or not. I nodded my permission. Daddy said he’d put me to bed first and tell me a story, and I could see my mother bristling with impatience.

  ‘I’d say she’s old enough to read her own stories, ha?’ said Tom with a laugh even though it wasn’t funny.

  Daddy looked at him. ‘Our stories don’t be in books,’ he said.

  Daddy had a contempt for storybooks. They were written by ‘outsiders’, he said. I fell asleep while he told me the one about the Druid of Inishcrann – a warlock who turned ugly girls to stone.

  There was a strange peace in the house the next morning, as if a raging storm had passed, and I saw my mother touch my father’s hand in a way that was too intimate for my liking. He smiled at her and went back to mending the nets at the kitchen table. I sat on the floor, feeding the nets up to him. Spots McGrath had shaken my father’s hand in Biddy’s bar and they’d toasted each other, and Daddy was back in favour in the village.

  Mammy of course ruined everything. ‘Do you think, Martin, do you think it would be time for us to move back over to the harbour, so that you’d be among your own people? It’s awfully lonely out here when you’re at sea. And the wind here, I can grow nothing in our patch. What do you say?’

  ‘No!’ I shouted it. ‘I want to stay here.’

  Daddy looked at me and I could see he was trying to choose between Mammy and me. ‘Maybe we could –’

  I couldn’t stand it. I was jealous. ‘Mammy’s only saying that so she can be near Tom the Crow, and kissing him again.’

  My words had the effect of a lightning strike. The boys stopped what they were doing and stared at Mammy. I could see my father in side profile and I noted the side of his jaw tighten. Brian shouted at me, ‘Mammy never kissed Tom the Crow! You’re only a liar!’

  ‘She did so. I saw them! And she’s taking us all to live in America and leaving Daddy behind. She says he’s sick in his mind.’

  Brian breathed in heavily and I watched Daddy’s chair scrape backwards along the flagstone floor as he rose to his feet, dropping the heavy nets on my lap.

  ‘Don’t mind her, she’s confused. I don’t know where she gets these ideas!’ said Mammy in a hurry.

  My father’s voice shook. ‘You kissed … Tom?’ He broke down on the name of his best friend. Aidan ran into their room and shut the door. Brian grabbed Mammy’s hand and glared at me.

  ‘What if I did? When last did you kiss me?’ My mother spat the words.

  ‘Put on your coat and wait outside,’ Daddy said to me, and his voice was ice-cold. Conor started to cry. Mammy scooped him up. I didn’t move.

  ‘Get outside!’ Daddy shouted at me, and I grabbed my coat off the hook and went to the door. I tried to catch Mammy’s eye as I opened it, but she was looking at Daddy over the top of Conor’s head, defiance in her demeanour. I waited for a moment, but she never looked at me. ‘Outside!’ Daddy roared the word again and I slammed the door behind me.

  With the wind roaring, I couldn’t hear what was being said inside but I heard the crashing of furniture and the smashing of plates and I knew for sure that I wouldn’t be going to America with Mammy. After what seemed like hours, Daddy came out and grabbed my hand and pulled me along the road.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I asked.

  ‘Did he kiss her back? What happened after they kissed?’

  I had made a mistake. I wanted our family to stay together more than anything in that moment. It was important now to make it all Tom’s fault.

  ‘He made her kiss him. It wasn’t her fault, Daddy, she tried to stop him, but he had his hands all over her. He said he’d go to America with her. She told him to get out.’

  ‘Did she? You wouldn’t tell me a lie now, would you? Think very hard before you answer me, Delia.’

  I shook my head vehemently. ‘Tom the Crow grabbed her and kissed her mouth. I swear it.’ Lies poured out of me, easily.

  3

  I was nine years old when I left the island in 1975, that day of the big argument. I knew there’d be trouble because of what I’d told Daddy, but nobody could have predicted what happened that night.

  Daddy told me a secret. He said that he and I could live in peace only if Mammy took the boys to America with her, but that he and I had to play a trick on them first. He told me that we’d go on an adventure to the mainland. He said that we would pretend to run away together. Mammy, he said, would not stay on the island without us, so if we disappeared, before long she would take off to America with the boys, and Daddy and I could return to the island and live there happily ever after without them. When I asked how long we would hide, Daddy was sure that it would only take a few days. Daddy said we wouldn’t have to share the food with them any more and that I could be in charge of the cottage. We could tell each other stories all day long, and I wouldn’t have to go to school and could stay up as late as I wanted. Daddy said he would be the high king and I could be his queen. It was urgent, he said, and we must leave that very day.

  I thought this was a fantastic game and I skipped all the way across the island to the harbour. I had only been to the village of Cregannagh on the mainland a handful of times and I was fiercely excited. When we got down to the ferry though, Daddy told me that I had to go on my own, and that he had some business to attend to and would follow on the next crossing. ‘When you get to Cregannagh,’ he said, ‘just keep running away from the village. I’ll catch up with you in a few hours.’ I fretted at the thought of arriving alone on the mainland, but Daddy said that nobody would bother me if I kept going. ‘Say nothing about running away,’ he said. ‘Tell anyone who asks that I’ll be over on the next sailing in two hours.’ He hugged me tightly as he said nice things to me, and then he said goodbye and smiled his most gentle happy smile. Then he waved until he was only a tiny speck in the distance.

  I was found miles outside the village of Cregannagh that night, on the Ballina road. Daddy hadn’t given me any other instructions but to run when I got off the ferry, and I had run as far as I could, and then slowed down to walking. He had said that he would catch up with me, but I wasn’t sure how he would know which way I’d gone. The road went north and south out of the village. What if I had taken the wrong one? I continued along the same road, which carried few cars, and there were only occasional houses. Dogs barked. I was afraid to go too fast because the next ferry was only two hours later and I didn’t want to be too far ahead of Daddy. It was much warmer here than it was on the island, and I knotted my woollen jumper around my waist and took off my boots to walk in my bare feet. The soles of my feet were as good as the boots, as I was used to not wearing shoes. As the bright summer day began to fade to dusk, I was parched and hungry and I sat down on a drystone wall to rest my aching legs. I made a bundle of my jumper and leaned over and rested my head upon it.

  It must have been hours later when I woke to see two car headlights blazing at me through the pitch-darkness. I was cold and disorientated. And then the car’s engine stalled and a man was looking down at me.

  ‘What in the name of God are you doing out at this hour, child? Where do you live?’

  I told him I was waiting for my daddy.

  ‘And is he beyond in the pub in Cregannagh?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Where are you from, girl?’

  I roused myself to say with pride, ‘Inishcrann.’

  ‘The island, is it? Well, get into the car and I’ll take you to the village. We’ll see if we can find your daddy.’

  I told him I was Delia O’Flaherty and my father was Martin O’Flaherty and explained that my father would have taken the last ferry from the island, but the man did not understand what I’d been doing five miles outside the village and I couldn’t explain it myself, without admitting that Daddy and me were ru
nning away.

  He led me across the road to his big car. There was a lady in the front seat, smoking a cigarette. She began to fuss and took her coat off and wrapped me up in it on the back seat. I was alert now, and though excited to be in a car, I was scared. Where had Daddy gone? He and I were going to run away together, and yet he had not caught up with me. Perhaps he was still on the island? Or maybe he had taken the other road that led from the harbour.

  In the village, I waited in the car while the man went into the bar across the road from the harbour wall. Under the sound of the water lapping at the sea wall, I could hear singing and chatter and pint glasses being placed on the bar, and I knew that Daddy would not be in there because he would have come looking for me.

  When the man came back to the car, he shrugged his shoulders. His wife got out and I could hear them chatting and then they got back into the car.

  ‘Now, love,’ the lady said, ‘you’re not to worry, but Dr Miller here,’ nodding at her husband, ‘spoke to Owen the ferryman, and he said your daddy wasn’t on the three o’clock ferry or on any of the later ones, and he hasn’t been seen in the village, so the best thing for you now is to come home with us and we’ll find your daddy tomorrow. It’s after midnight and the first ferry won’t go back to the island until ten in the morning. Our Clara is up in university in Dublin, but her room is all ready for her and she won’t mind you having a go of her bed, ha?’

  I burst into tears. I’d never spent a night away from my family before, never mind away from the island. But I knew I had no control over whatever was going to happen to me next. We drove on up to the top of the village to a great big house overlooking the sea, and I climbed the stairs and crawled into Clara’s bed, ignoring Mrs Miller’s pleas to have a wash first: ‘God help us, when last did you have a bath? You’re filthy from head to toe. Do they even have soap on the island, ha?’