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Past Connection by Sean Lyons 228 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #04-0246; ISBN 1-4120-2418-8; US$21.00, C$24.99, EUR17.50, £12.50 Three generations of love, scandal and innocence lost in small town Ireland.
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About the Book
Malachy is a successful and much traveled professional man. He returns to Ireland in middle age and settles in a good job in a provincial town. At a birthday party for his boss, he meets Nora, the mother-in-law of the boss. In conversation, it transpires that Nora spent an eventful summer in Malachy's home town, Castlecarraig, as a young woman.
During that summer, she met and fell in love with a local man. Unfortunately, he was a Seminarian and she was a Protestant. Their relationship caused a scandal in the small town Ireland of the forties. Malachy too has tales to tell of unrequited love in Castlecarraig.
The morning after the party, Nora convinces Malachy to travel back to Castlecarraig with her to explore their past connections. On the journey, they tell each other their stories and hold up a mirror to the Ireland of the Celtic Tiger.
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About the Author
Sean Lyons was born in County Mayo. He has had a varied career. At different times, he worked as a teacher in Dublin, a librarian in Zambia, a cook in the USA, a civil servant and vacuum cleaner salesman in Australia and a barman in Mayo.
He is a poet and has published several short stories. His work has been featured at Listowel Writer's week, the Bard of Armagh and Strokestown International Poetry Festival. He contributed to the recently published 'From the Heart of Ireland' anthology. An award winning public speaker, he has represented Ireland in debating and travels widely speaking at conferences on issues as diverse as special education and human rights.
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Excerpts
Chapter Three
Nora awakened for the first time to the sounds of the country. She heard birds
singing, cows lowing, the neigh of horses and the clip clop of their hooves on
the street. She heard the braying of donkeys and the shouts of men. Opening the
curtain, she looked down at her new environment. It was another sunny day and,
glancing at the clock on her mantelpiece, she saw it was past ten o 'clock. Dressing
quickly, she went downstairs.
Mrs Browne was standing at the open hall door. She was buying eggs and butter from
an old woman wrapped in a black shawl. Hearing Nora on the stairs, she closed the
door and smiled at her.
'Special treat for you on your first morning, dear, eggs fresh from the farm, freshly
churned butter and I even baked fresh bread.' Sure enough, the odour of baking
wafted from the kitchen and before long Nora was sampling the tastiest breakfast she
had ever had. Mrs Browne sat with her and seemed to enjoy the youth and energy
she brought to the house.
'Tell me about your family,' she said.
'Papa still works in the mill, but his health is not good. I have two brothers older than
I, and they both work in London. They send what they can so Papa may soon be able
to retire. I am of course the youngest and Uncle Thomas was kind enough to offer
me a position in his shop.'
'When did you mother pass away? Thomas told me she died during the war.'
'Yes, poor Mama was killed during a bombing raid in England. She was in fact
visiting her sister in Coventry to arrange for her family to move to Ireland and safety.
The shelter they were all in was hit directly by a German bomb and dozens of people
died.'
'My own dear husband died at Mons. For King and Country. Now the King is dead
and the country he served is gone and here we are. War is men's business and we
won't talk of it again. Freshen up now and I will take you to your uncle in the shop.'
The two women walked side by side from Mrs Browne's house to the shop. On the
way, they were greeted by the townspeople with a mixture of deference and
friendliness. Nora's smart new suit was in stark contrast to the women they met. They
were wearing well washed and worn clothes, a lot of which were patched. Older
women wore shawls. All the men wore hats and nearly all seemed to be smoking
cigarettes or pipes. She was struck by the mixture of smell. Despite the warmth of the
day, turf smoke clung acridly to the air. Horse and donkey dung spotted the road and
the few cars and vans that passed belched petrol and diesel fumes. Several of the shops
had large slabs of fish and bacon hanging outside.
There were few young people. Nora asked her companion why this was.
"Emigration, quite simply. A lot of young men left to fight in the war of course but
DeValera's neutrality was widely heeded here. Usually most young men and women
leave here for England or America. You see, they were so eager to get their
independence that they didn't really think through the consequences. Now, the old
enemy England is their refuge. The men are rebuilding the cities and the women
nursing the sick.
"There are two small factories here, one making shoes and the other producing
bacon. Those are both owned by English people but that doesn't seem to bother our
nationalist brethren. Here we are."
They had stopped outside a large shop. Over the door was the name: 'B Williams and
Co Ltd.'. Under the name was a description of the trade: 'Suppliers of finest meats,
teas, animal feeds, hardware, imported goods etc.'
"The 'B' is for Bill, Thomas's grandfather who started the business," explained Mrs
Brown, as she opened the door to allow Nora to enter the shop.
The interior was dark, lit only by a few electric light bulbs. Dust swirled thickly in
the brightness. Nora was struck by the size. The shop stretched back a long way, on
three different levels, each level reached by a short flight of steps. Counters ran along
each side. Bulging canvas bags were stacked along the counters while behind them,
shelves climbed from floor to ceiling. Nora had never seen such a mix of items under
one roof. One corner was stacked with farm tool, rakes, forks, shovels of all shapes
and sizes. As sales were made, the assistant would place the money and docket into a
small container. This was then attached to a cable stretching across the ceiling. The
assistant pulled a little lever and the container flew across the ceiling by means of the
cable, landing in a small booth. From the window of this, she saw her uncle watching
her. He waved and came to meet her.
"My dear child, how lovely to see you. Thank you Mrs Browne for escorting her. Are
you exhausted, dear Nora?"
"Not at all. My room is so lovely and Mrs Browne gave me the best breakfast I have
ever had so I am ready and willing to start."
"Not today, surely, Thomas," Mrs Browne said. "The poor girl must find her feet and
get to know the place. Everything is so different for her here, away from family and
friends, knowing not a soul."
Just then, Nora saw a familiar figure at the counter.
"Ah, but I do know some people, like both of you and that young man at the food
counter was at the station last night. I must speak to him to express my thanks."
Not noticing the exchange of glances between her companions and the pursed lips of
her landlady, Nora crossed the shop.
"Myles, isn't it, you were on the train last night."
Myles appeared surprised and somewhat flustered by her greeting.
"Of course, Miss..."
"Fortune, but please call me Nora. I am sorry if I was not very polite to you last night
but thank you for your kindness. I was quite distracted by all the activity as it was
my first time ever to set foot in Castlecarraig."
"Well I hope your stay will be a happy one. We don't get many strangers here,
especially young beautiful women like yourself." Myles face reddened and eyes
blinked. "Forgive me, I did not mean to be so rude."
"Where I come from, Myles, it is not considered rude to pay a girl a compliment. I
have a lot to learn about Castlecarraig so thank you for starting my education."
Myles and Nora stood in silence. She saw a darkly handsome face, green eyes that
held understanding and she also saw in herself a stirring of feelings that were new and
strange. Myles too felt sensations that were not only new but to him were sinful.
Thomas watched them both. He noticed their stances and the way they smiled. He
felt jealousy and also resentment for the generation that separated him from the
couple. He crossed the floor and touched Nora's elbow.
"Yes, well, the young man from the station, I know you now. How is your father?
Well, I trust. Nora, if I may, I'd like to show you around the shop. Good day, young
Walsh."
As Nora allowed herself to be escorted away, she smiled at Myles and he bowed
awkwardly.
"Now, Nora," Thomas spoke as he led her through the shop. " First of all, I would
be obliged if you would stop this 'uncle' nonsense. It makes me feel quite the grand
old man. Officially, I am your mother's cousin, by marriage indeed, so we may be on
first name terms. Please call me Thomas. Is that alright?"
"Why, of course, Thomas, I would be far more relaxed and delighted to call you by
whatever you wish. My mother told me so much about you. And your kindness in
taking me when things are not quite going as well as we wish.."
"I am not doing you any charity, I assure you, Nora. I need someone here that I can
trust to look after my books. We have built up a substantial business as you shall see
and you will have your work cut out I can assure you. This is your post, through this
door."
He led her up a flight of four steps to a small cubicle that overlooked the shop floor.
A woman, a little older than Nora, sat at a cramped table, surrounded by piles of
ledgers and account books. Money lay on the desk in coin and paper and the woman
was counting that and recording into the ledgers. Against the far wall stood a large
safe.
Thomas cleared his throat and the woman turned to face them. Nora was surprised
to see that she was in fact only slightly older than herself. In spite of the stooped
shoulders.
"This is Miss Tracey, our present accounts clerk. She will soon be Mrs. so of course
will be leaving our employ. We shall of course miss her but her duties are clear. Miss
Tracey, please meet your replacement, Miss Fortune."
"Very pleased to meet you, Miss Fortune."
Nora was struck by the softness of her voice and gentleness of her accent. She took
her hand in hers.
"My congratulations, Miss Tracey. How exciting for you. When will you be getting
married?"
The clerk glanced at Thomas, as if seeking permission to reply. He frowned but
nodded tightly.
"Our banns have been called and we will be married at month's end."
Nora clapped her hands. "I've never been at a wedding! Surely Thomas we will go to
see Miss Tracey become Mrs*Mrs what will you be?
Again the exchange, except this time the pause was longer and the frown deeper, the
nod tighter.
"Mrs O Murchu, Mrs Seamus O Murchu." the clerk said with a touch of defiance.
She then went back to her work.
"Quite. Now, Nora, you will have one week with Miss Tracey before she leaves. She
will teach you how to keep everything in order. Meanwhile, Mrs Browne will be
wondering where we have got to."
Before Nora could speak again, he ushered her out.
Mrs Browne was studying the labels on packets of tea when they found her.
"Thomas," she said, "you look quite agitated."
"Yes, quite. I wonder if you would care to join us in my office for a cup of tea."
On the way through the shop, Nora looked for Myles but could not see him.
Thomas led them into his office and busied himself making tea. The office was as
neat and tidy as himself. More ledgers lined the shelves and there were rows of order
books, docket books, invoice books and many other books stacked on the floor.
There was a small window which looked into the shop. Thomas drew a curtain over
this then set a tray on his desk. The tea was poured into china cups. As Thomas
stirred his tea, he looked seriously at Nora.
"Nora," he said, "I must speak very seriously to you. Mrs Browne, I am sure will
agree with what I say."
Nora looked from one to the other, completely at a loss.
"Life in the West of Ireland," he continued, "is very different to where you have lived.
I am not just talking about the size of the town or the poverty or indeed the people.
The people we live among are by and large decent God fearing folk. Indeed, many
of them are old and dear friends. We do, however, come from different worlds, even
though we live cheek by jowl as it were. Take Miss Tracey, for instance. A fine
woman, a good and honest worker. However, you will no doubt have noted the
Gaelic name of her intended. While your relations and Mrs Brownes were fighting
Nazis to keep Europe free, her young man was interned in the Curragh for the
duration of the war because he is a rebel. A member of a secret army, as they like to
call it. Several of them were strung up for their treason but if you ask me, a lot more
should have joined them."
Nora's hand shook as she placed her cup and saucer on the table.
"Oh my Lord."
"Oh my Lord, indeed! From all of that, it is of course obvious that she, Miss Tracey,
that is, is a Roman Catholic. One does not attend weddings of the other side, and
that is their choice quite as much as ours. If one of their priests were to find Miss
Tracey in our chapel, I am sure she would be regarded as an outcast."
"I never thought..." Nora stammered.
"One must always think, Nora." This time it was Mrs Browne who spoke. "Take that
young man you were talking to. Young Walsh."
"Is he a member of this army too?"
Thomas and Mrs Browne both laughed softly.
"A rather different army, I am afraid," Mrs Brown replied. "Did you notice how he
was dressed?"
Nora's brow creased in concentration.
"I did notice his clothes were, well, rather worn, but clean. Is that what you mean?"
"What about the colour of his clothes?"
"The colour?" Nora thought some more, "black, I think."
"Black indeed!" Thomas said triumphantly.
"Whatever does that mean?" Nora was puzzled.
"Young Myles is in a seminary my dear." It was Mrs Browne who spoke. "In a few
short years he will be the Reverend Father Walsh, a priest of the Roman Catholic
Church."
Catalogue Information
