Discarded Images

Thelma Hancock

Description

Death has a habit of opening more doors than one might expect - and not just for the deceased. After the sudden death of her mother, Kate discovers a conspiracy of silence about her childhood. Her memories are ripped apart to expose a nasty underbelly of lies and deceit. And she is not alone in having her illusions shattered... In Ireland, a priest sets out to discover his history, one that is inextricably linked with Kate's. Will they discover the truth about their complex relationship - and will that truth redeem or destroy them? In her ground-breaking new novel, Thelma Hancock explores the problems that many of us face in a society where family affairs are rarely straightforward. At its heart lies the question: can any of us save ourselves from the past?

Informations

• Publié par: 2QT Limited (Publishing
• Date de parution: 30 mai 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781910077481
• Langue: English

Extrait

Discarded Images


THelma Hancock











2QT Limited (Publishing)




First Ebook Edition published 2014 by
2QT Limited (Publishing)
Lancaster LA2 8RE
ISBN9781910077481

Copyright © Thelma Hancock
The right of Thelma Hancock to be identified as the author
of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that no part of this book is to be reproduced, in any shape or form. Or by way of trade, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser, without prior permission of the copyright holder.

Author disclaimer:
While historical details are believed to be accurate all the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all the incidents are pure invention.



Printed in Great Britain

Cover Design Hilary Pitt
Images supplied by istockphoto.com



Also available as a paperback ISBN 978-1910077-13-9














To Josie with love






glossary of Irish Words and Phrases


A chuisle – O Pulse (Darling)
Athair – Father
Athair mor – Grandfather (formal)
Beannachd De, a Mhuirnin – God’s blessing, Sweetheart
Chara – Love.
A chumann – O Affection (Darling)
Ciamar a tha thu, piuthar, a run – How are you (informal) Sister, Darling?
Dadaí – Dad
Daideó – Granddad
A ghra – Dear
A ghra. Dia Duit! – Darling, God to you (Greetings (informal))
Garda – Police
Inion – Daughter
Maimeo – Granny
Mamai – Mother/Mum
Máthair mhór – Grandmother (Formal)
A mhuirnin – Sweetheart
Mórai – Grandmother (Formal)
Na dean sin – Stop it!
Slan go foill – Bye for now
Tapadh leibh , Beannachd Leibh – Thank you; God’s blessing (goodbye (formal))
Teaghlach – Family
Thu gu math, Brathair – I am good, Brother.
Uncail – Uncle




June 1987
County Galway


The sun streamed through the open casement and threw a golden path along the uncarpeted wooden floors of the upper storey. A zephyr found the opening and followed the sun inside to blow the tight red-gold curls of the little girl. She skipped and ran along the corridor with the confidence of a three-and-a-half-year-old, headed towards the one person she was certain loved her most in the world.
She hadn’t really understood what Maimeo was talking about, but she would go to the bathroom and see if she could spot the ‘little devil’ that was inside her. She knew her mamai was in the bathroom but that was OK; Mamai could explain to her and hold her up to the big mirror so that she could look down her throat as she had when the little germs had made it all sore.
She had been neatly dressed but, between leaving her grandmother’s hands a few minutes before and escaping to find her mother, her dungarees had become unclipped on one side; one shoelace trailed like a small caterpillar on a leaf and her green jumper was bunched out. Still, the smile she had on her face reflected her inner certainties. It was the last time – for a long time – that she would smile like that.
She pushed the door open with a small hand – sufficient to allow her delicate frame to enter – and poked her face around, the ready gapped-toothed smile beginning to emerge. Her mother was on the floor, leaning against the bath. ‘ Mamai, did you fall?’ She approached on tiptoe, stretching out a small hand. ‘ Mamai , wake up.’ Her hand came away, covered in red sticky stuff, and her mother just sat there.
Kate peered at the figure, lying like a discarded toy: ‘ Mamai , Mamai , wake up.’ She touched the still figure of her mother again, and Theresa Maria Jardin slithered further away from the bath and collapsed like a blow up doll that was seeping air.
Kate shook the shoulder. ‘ Mamai !’ It was a wail that rent the fragile air and splintered the sunny morning like a sudden hailstorm.
Maimeo – coming up the stairs – muttered, ‘What does the little varmint want now? Always making a fuss about nothing.’
She bustled along the same bright, sunny corridor calling, ‘Kate, leave your mam in peace, for heaven’s sake!’ She gave a brief knock on the bathroom door and then she too pushed the door to the bathroom open. ‘Oh, God! Mother, Mary and Joseph. What have you done now, you wicked child?’
Kate’s lip started to tremble and her eyes fill with great, fat tears that began to roll down her cheeks. Maimeo grabbed a small arm and began to tow the three-year-old away from her mother’s body, shouting, ‘Eoin, Micheál: come, quick.’ She thrust the child outside the gleaming wood and stood impatiently, holding the small figure – who was wriggling like an eel in her efforts to return to her mother’s still body.
Maeve’s husband and son pushed back chairs with a scraping of wood on slate, leaving the table downstairs scattered with the toast they’d abandoned and with the cups rocking dangerously as they landed crookedly on the saucers, responding to the urgency of the voice without knowing the cause. Eoin climbed the stairs with his heart thumping with fear and energy. ‘Micheál, get this child out of here. Eoin, call for the ambulance.’ Maeve lifted Kate and pushed the sobbing child into her uncle’s arms. She went back into the bathroom to see if her daughter had succeeded this time.
Micheál, trying to digest a mouthful of buttery bread and holding an armful of toddler with a runny nose and blood-smeared hands – squinted first into the opening bathroom door and then scowled at the child in his arms. His father – after a glance of his own – clattered down the stairs in front of man and child as they turned away, his hobnails rattling against the wooden flooring as he jumped the final three steps into the hallway and leapt at the black phone on the small wicker table.
Micheál carried Kate down the stairs, looking anxiously back over his shoulder, but his mother had shut the bathroom door. He deposited Kate on a chair in the kitchen. ‘What have you done now, ye little varmint?’ He went over to the sink and picked up a cloth to wipe off the worst of the blood from his shirt where she had smeared it.
Kate sobbed even harder. She didn’t know what she’d done to her mamai , but if Maimeo said she was a wicked child it must have been her fault that Mamai had fallen. ‘I want Mamai . I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt her.’ The words hiccuped out and Micheál shook his head as he came back across the room with an old towel, drying his hands.
‘ Na dean sin . Stop it! Crying doesn’t help, and you can’t always have what you want, a mhuirnin .’ He laid a gentle hand on the curls for a minute. ‘Now stay there and be good until I see what’s happening, a chuisle .’
She sat statue-like on the hard chair, her legs dangling above the floor and her delicate little hands gripping the sides. The hands were turning almost as white as her face with the pressure she was exerting. She watched the stairway, too frightened to move in case she did something else wrong, waiting for Mamai to get up and tell her not to worry. Maimeo was an old silly, and Mamai loved her.
She was still holding firmly to the chair when the ambulance arrived. No one spoke to her. Big men in big boots and heavy uniforms came. They went upstairs with long poles and blankets; there were loud voices; she could hear Maimeo shouting at her athair mor .
‘This is the third time, Eoin. She’ll have to go. I can’t cope any longer.’
Kate shivered, her small body covered in goosebumps. Where would she have to go? Was she going to be sent to bed with no lunch or supper again? Maimeo sometimes locked her in her bedroom when she’d been naughty. Ben would sit outside and sometimes he sneaked her a piece of his bread when he came to bed himself. He never got locked up.
There was a thump of heavy feet coming downstairs again. She saw Maimeo ’s black skirt and the slipper with the hole in the end, where Maimeo ’s poorly toe poked through. Kate slipped off the chair to hide underneath the table where the breakfast cloth still hung a little low on one side, the plates of half-eaten toast curled up and the cold cups of tea sitting as grey and scummy as an Irish beach.
Crouching with her little arms wrapped around her legs and her chin resting on her knees she tried to stop the big fat tears from rolling down her cheeks, wiping the wetness on the sleeve of her jumper. Maimeo would sometimes give Kate a slap and say that now she had something to cry for, but Mamai would kiss her and tell her it was OK. She wanted her mamai so much, and it was her fault Mam had fallen.
Kate shivered again. She could see lots of feet, now: Maimeo ’s slippers and daimió’ s hobnails and Uncail ’s smelly rubber boots, and the big men with strange laced shoes. Where was Mamai? Where was Ben? Kate moved an edge of the cloth, peeping around the leg of the table with reddened eyes: her twin brother was hiding behind the corner of the coal bin, over near the blacklead stove. He smiled at her but he didn’t move until the adults had all left the room, going out of the kitchen stable door and into the yard where the sun still poured out of a bright blue sky.
Ben made a quick dash across the room and the two children