Page 59 of Boomerville at Ballymegille

‘The shower’s cold,’ Harry said and looked at Bill, ‘but it will wake you up.’ He rummaged in his case for clean clothes and laid them out on his camp bed.

Finishing his breakfast, Bill put the plate to one side. He realised that other than a pair of faded old Y-fronts, he was naked. Alf and Harry must have removed Bill’s clothes when they put him to bed. Two days ago, that fact would have horrified Bill, but today he felt proud that in his drunken stupor, they’d taken care of him.

Alf was leaning on the windowsill, looking out at the garden. The art class was underway by the lake and he could see Lucinda, dressed in a multi-coloured smock, as bright as the sunshine, cigarette and holder a silhouette, as she walked from easel to easel inspecting her students’ work. Birds were singing in the surrounding trees and Bunty, Ness and Teddy lay on the lawn below, tummies turned to the sky. Audrey and the Babes had settled on a selection of rickety old chairs, eyes closed, enjoying the sunshine.

‘It’s a fine setup Jo’s got here,’ Alf said, straightening his back. ‘There’ll be plenty of jobs to do in a bit, but Willie says he’ll take us and the Babes on a ride out to Kindale, if you lads are up to it?’

‘That sounds grand.’ Harry zipped himself into a pair of camouflage shorts and pulled a creased T-shirt over his head. He smoothed the cotton fabric, where a slogan read, “Free Hugs”.

‘I’ll be ready in five minutes.’ Bill stood up. Slightly dizzy, he rocked as he reached for a towel and soap bag, but steadying himself, he thrust his shoulders back and strode confidently out of the room.

‘Bathroom’s on the left!’ Harry called out. He didn’t enlighten Bill as to the shower arrangements, which consisted of an old rubber hose, attached to two dripping taps, over a rusting iron bath where the water ran as cold as a river.

‘Willie’s ready,’ Alf said as he gazed out, seeing exhaust fumes swirl in the sky on the other side of the manor.

‘I’m coming too,’ Harry said as he flicked a comb through his hair and slipped his feet into a pair of sandals.

They called out to Bill that they would wait for him by the coach. Bill muttered a response through chattering teeth as he shivered under the shower. Alf went into the kitchen, collected the leads, and whistled to the dogs. Outside, Harry told Audrey and the Babes that their passage to paradise awaited them.

‘Splendid,’ Audrey said as she gave Harry a hug and slapped him on the back, sending him teetering through the gate, and with the Babes bringing up the rear, they set off.

* * *

In the music room,Finbar was enjoying himself. Seated at the grand piano, he tinkled the ivories as he waited for his class to arrive. To be sitting on the stool where the great Long Tom had composed many a tune was, in Finbar’s book, to be in the presence of greatness and he felt honoured and inspired.

The acoustics were perfect.

Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes as each note, pure as a mountain stream, felt like a heartbeat, his pulse, his reason to be on this wonderful planet.

Music had always been the biggest part of Finbar’s life and he’d been singing for as long as he could remember. From his mammy’s knee, to the choir at the Catholic church, he’d been in a local folk band as a teen, followed by gigs in working men’s clubs and pubs throughout the country. His granny had taught the young Finbar how to play the piano and, although she couldn’t read a note of music herself, she’d saved up to send him to lessons with the formidable Caitlin O’Connelly, who taught at the Cork School of Music. Caitlin was a demon when it came to getting things right and Finbar still remembered the pain of her cane as it whacked across his young knuckles when he played a wrong note or got the timing wrong. It was useful to play an instrument, despite the fact that his main role was that of vocalist, an entertainer, the man who captivated an audience during the cabaret nights on cruise ships and in the clubs of the Spanish Costas.

Finbar considered himself to be an artist and now, as everyone arrived, he gave them a warm welcome. He ticked off names on a list of attendees and frowned when he saw that one guest was missing.

Melissa Mercer had yet to show.

Finbar couldn’t hold the class up and indicated that as they were ready to begin, everyone should make themselves comfortable on the chairs arranged in a semi-circle around the piano. He turned as the door opened and an elderly woman appeared. She carried a leather satchel and she stepped into the room without a word.

‘Ah, good morning,’ Finbar said, ‘ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to introduce you to Miss O’Connelly, who will be accompanying us on the piano today.’

Miss O’Connelly sat down. Taking sheets of music out of her satchel, she placed them on the piano. Her fingers smoothed her dark woollen dress and she straightened the lace at the neck before patting a long grey plait neatly into place. Finbar noted thick lisle stockings and leather lace-up shoes. Caitlin’s appearance hadn’t changed, despite her ninety years on earth, but her once flawless complexion looked more like an overstored apple and the skin on her wrinkled hands was as transparent as tissue.

Finbar listened to each individual voice then split the group into sections. With only three men in a class of eighteen, he was grateful that the old boys could actually hold a note. They would give depth to the performance that he intended to present on stage, the following day.

‘Now I know that we’ve only just met,’ Finbar said, ‘but we’ve a concert tomorrow, here at the manor, and I thought it would be a grand surprise for Jo, to have the Boomerville, “A Choired Taste” up on stage too.’

There was a ripple of excitement as the singers nodded and nudged each other. Finbar’s idea had met with approval.

‘We need a couple of numbers that will entertain the audience, so we’re going to have to practice like crazy to get this right.’ Finbar searched their faces. ‘Are you with me?’ he asked.

There was a cheer and Miss O’Connelly began to play a selection of melodies that Finbar had chosen earlier.

As he handed out sheets of paper with the words to all the songs and listened to the group as they joined in, Finbar soon had his choice. He looked at his watch. It was going to take a big effort to get this lot tuned up, word perfect and ready to perform the following evening, but Finbar loved a challenge and he’d make it his mission to ensure that the concert was the best event the area had seen in years.

An occasion to store in everyone’s musical memory bank.

24

Jo and Hattie sat on their favourite bench in the garden. The weather was sultry but their position was shaded by the overhanging willow tree. Bunty, Ness and Teddy sat with them. The dogs panted and Bunty idly flicked a fly from her face with a hot and heavy paw, while Teddy snuggled into her belly. A chorus of birdsong chittered from nearby hedgerows as Declan’s mower hummed in the background, adding the finishing touch to the lawns, in readiness for tomorrow.

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