Page 134 of The Love Letter

‘I wouldn’t say I was formally introduced, no, but I went there to the house sometimes with Niamh, God rest her soul.’ The old woman crossed herself.

‘Niamh?’

‘My older sister. Beautiful, she was, so beautiful, with her long dark hair and blue eyes . . .’ Ciara gazed into the fire. ‘Any man would have fallen for her, and he did.’

‘Michael?’

‘That’s the name he used, yes, but we know different, don’t we?’

‘Ciara, why don’t you tell me the story from the very beginning?’

‘I’ll try, so I will, but ’tis a long time since I’ve spoken these words.’ Ciara took a deep breath. ‘It was Stanley Bentinck who suggested it; he lived up in the grand house in Ardfield. He told her there was an important visitor coming over and Niamh was a maid in the household at the time. So Mr Bentinck had her look after the visitor in the coastguard’s house, as she only lived a stone’s throw away. She’d come back from there with her blue eyes shining, so she would, and a secret smile. She told me the gentleman was English, but she’d never say any more.

‘Of course, I was only a girleen at the time, not old enough to understand what was happening between them. I went across to help with the cleaning sometimes, and I caught them once, in the kitchen, embracing. But I knew nothing of love, or physical matters, at that age. Then he went, disappeared that night out to sea, before they came to get him—’

‘They?’ interrupted Joanna.

‘Those as was after him. She’d warned him, see, even though she knew she’d lose him, that he’d have to go for the sake of his life. But she was convinced he’d send for her when he got back to London. Looking back now, there was no hope, but she didn’t know that.’

‘Who was it that was after him, Ciara?’

‘I’ll be telling you when I’ve finished. After he’d gone, Niamh and my daddy had a fierce fight. She was screaming mad, he was shouting back at her. Then, the next morning, she disappeared too.’

‘I see. Do you know where she went?’

‘I don’t. Not for the next few months, anyway. Some from the village said they’d seen her with the gypsies up at the Ballybunion fair, others that she’d been spotted in Bandon.’

‘Why did she leave?’

‘Now, Joanna, you’ll stop asking questions and you’ll hear the answers. About six months after she disappeared, Mammy and Daddy went to mass with my sisters, but I stayed home, having a bad cold. Mammy didn’t want me to cough all through the preaching. ’Twas as I lay in bed I heard the noise. A terrible noise it was, like an animal in its final death throes. I went to that front door –’ Ciara indicated it with her hand – ‘in my nightgown, and listened. And I knew it was coming from the coastguard’s house. So I walked across to it with that awful sound ringing in my ears.’

‘Weren’t you frightened?’

‘Terrified altogether, but it was as if I was drawn to it, like my body was not my own.’ Ciara looked across the bay. ‘The front door was open. I went inside and found her upstairs, lying onhisbed, her legs covered with blood . . .’ She shielded her face with her small hands. ‘I can still see her face now, clear as day. The agony on it has haunted me for the whole of my life.’

Cold fingers crawled up Joanna’s spine. ‘It was your sister, Niamh?’

‘Yes. And lying between her legs, still attached to her, was a newborn babe.’

Joanna swallowed and stared at Ciara silently while she composed herself.

‘I . . . I thought the baby was dead when I saw it, for it was blue and it didn’t cry. I picked it up and used my teeth to cut the cord, like I’d seen Daddy do with the cows he kept. I wrapped it in my arms, trying to give it warmth, but nothing would stir it.’

‘Oh God.’ There were tears in Joanna’s eyes.

‘So I moved up to Niamh, who had stopped screaming by now. She was lying still, her eyes closed, and I could see the blood still seeping out of her. I tried to stir her, to hand her baby to her, to see if she could help it, but she didn’t move.’ Ciara’s eyes were wide and haunted, her mind having crossed back over the years, reliving the dreadful scene again.

‘So I sat on the bed, nursing the lifeless babe, trying to wake my sister. Finally, her eyes did open. I said to her, “Niamh, you have a babe. Will you hold it?” She beckoned me to come close to her, put my ear to her mouth so she could whisper.’

‘What did she say?’

‘That there was a letter, in her skirt pocket, for the baby’s daddy in London. That the baby should go to him. Then she raised her head, kissed the babe on its brow, gave a sigh and spoke no more.’

Ciara pressed her eyes shut, yet the tears still escaped from them, and the two women sat together in silence.

‘How terrible for you to witness that so young,’ Joanna whispered eventually. ‘What did you do?’

‘I wrapped the babe in a covering from the bed. T’was wet from all the blood but better than nothing. Then I reached in Niamh’s pocket and took out the letter. I knew I must run for the doctor with the babe and, not having a pocket in my nightshirt and in fear of losing it, I took up a floorboard and stowed the letter away beneath it to collect later. I stood up and crossed Niamh’s hands over her breast, like I’d seen the undertaker doing for my granny. Then I gathered up the babe and ran for help.’