Rose looked across the Sunday dinner table at her husband and nodded. They had agreed that James needed a fatherly talking to and it had been difficult to find the time to do it with both men working six long days a week.
“James, I fancy a walk in the evening air. We can’t hear ourselves think in this noise,” Owen said over the chatter of their families.
“Maybe we should bring the children with us, give the women a bit of peace for a while,” James knew his brother was worried about him but was not in the mood to share his troubles with anyone.
“You have been here more than a month now, and we have hardly said two words to each other. I want to spend some time alone with my youngest brother, is that too much to ask?”
Mary moved the children away from the table and sat them on a bench to hand out some biscuits she had made that day. There was a thin layer of sugar icing on the top, a rare treat, and whoops of joy filled the parlour.
“We can go for a walk and leave you two here to enjoy each other’s company. It would be good to tire out these rascals and get them to bed early for a change,” suggested Rose. “Come on, Mary, take hold of some of these sticky hands.”
Once they were alone in the quiet house together, Owen was at a loss for words. The two brothers made small talk about their work, the weather and local news, avoiding anything personal. Eventually, with nothing left to discuss they fell silent. The ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece seemed to get louder, reminding Owen that their time alone was running out.
“Are you missing Uncle Pat? You never talk about him and if anyone brings his name up, you change the conversation or make an excuse to leave,” said Owen.
“Of course I miss him, and Aunt Annie too. Just because I don’t want to dwell on the past doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about them. Has Mary been complaining about me again? It’s all that woman is capable of these days, you should get Rose to have a word with her. It’s not me who needs the advice.”
“Mary has never spoken against you, at least not to me, James. She may have confided in Rose, but that’s what women do. I’m not blind I can see things for myself, and I don’t need someone else to point out to me there is something very wrong with my brother. Even Peter has remarked on it.”
“Is this about me refusing to go out with ye to the Peacock? Did I not tell you that I have been overly fond of the drink lately and of my need to avoid such places? Sure ye both know I was never much of a drinker,” snapped James.
The irritation in his brother’s voice told Owen that James was once again shutting him out. He glanced at the clock and knew that their wives and children would be home shortly.
“I’m not talking about drink, James. Can you not see the change in yourself? Where has my good natured brother gone? The one who was always even tempered, slow to anger and quick to smile,” asked Owen.
“If you see Uncle Pat in the next life, ask him his opinion of me and my ‘good nature’ and see what he has to say about it.”
“He knew it was not your fault that he drew his last breath in jail. Why do you think he would blame you, James?”
“That is not what he held against me, he knew I was doing my best to have him released. It was the boat. You should have seen his face when I told him I had sold the boat. It was as if I had punched him in the gut. I cannot get that image out of my head, it will stay with me for the rest of my days.”
“You have always looked up to Uncle Pat, haven’t you James?” said Owen.
The young man nodded his head, “That’s what makes it so hard, knowing how much I disappointed him.”
“He wasn’t perfect. Pat had his own regrets about mistakes he made when he was a young man. Big mistakes, much more serious than anything you think you may have done to him.”
“Like what? Tell me then, what did he do that was so bad?” asked James.
Owen struggled with how much he should reveal to his brother about a secret he had kept from the rest of the family for many years.
“It’s the reason why he left Monaghan to go live in Blackrock. Why do you think he never came to visit us?” asked Owen.
“What are you trying to say? Does Peter know? Am I the only one unaware of this terrible thing Uncle Pat is supposed to have done?” asked James.
“I’m the only one besides Da and Uncle Pat who knows what happened. I remember waking up one night and seeing the door open, so I crept over and peeked outside. Pat was crying and telling Da that it was his fault Annie had lost her baby.”
“Annie had a baby, why did she never say? When was this?” James was shocked.
“It was a long time before you were born. I would have been about the age of ten, old enough to know what they were talking about. None of us children knew Annie was with child but maybe our parents did. I don’t think that any of the neighbours were aware of it either, I don’t remember it ever being mentioned outside of that night,” Owen went quiet as Rose and the children burst through the door.
“Mary brought your wee ones home, James. Mary-Anne was getting tired,” said Rose.
“Well then, Owen, let’s be having that walk,” James grabbed his cap and jacket.
The men said goodnight to the children and Owen warned them to be asleep by the time he returned. As they fell into step, he told James about a dispute over a field that Pat had been involved in with a neighbour. The man was later found dead at the bottom of a rocky hill.
“It happened the same night that Annie lost her baby,” said Owen. “Everyone thought the poor man must have tripped and banged his head on the rocks. He had been drinking earlier that evening.”
“Are you speaking of Thomas Gartlan’s father? What makes you think Pat had anything to do with that?” asked James.
“Because that’s what I heard him tell Da. He said he couldn’t keep it to himself any longer. Pat had gone looking for Gartlan and when he found him they got into a fierce row. Unbeknownst to Pat, Annie had followed him when he left the house, on account of the temper he was in. She rushed in between them when they came to blows. Pat said she took them both by surprise and got knocked off her feet. She rolled down the hill and landed hard against a rock, full on her belly, James.”
“And lost the baby.”
“Aye. When Pat helped her up they both noticed Gartlan lying at the foot of the hill, his head in a pool of blood. He died of a cracked skull and there was nothing they could do for him. Annie was having pains and Pat carried her home. They told no one about the fight and next morning the body was discovered.”
“So why did Uncle Pat have to leave? Surely nobody suspected him, or was he seen by someone? Anyway, it was an accident,” said James.
“To my knowledge, there was never a finger pointed at Pat, otherwise people would still be talking about it today. The night he told Da about the accident, he said he’d be leaving with Annie by the end of the week. He knew if he stayed he would never be able to keep it secret from the man’s family. Pat told Da that he would not hold it against him if he decided to turn him in.”
“A man would never do such a thing to his own brother, even if it was to ease his conscience,” said James.
“Pat would have ended up in Van Diemen’s Land for sure. People were already beginning to say how fortunate it was for him that Gartlan had taken a tumble and settled the dispute over the field by doing so. I’m sure it was said in jest but it made it harder for Pat to bear, so the only thing for him to do was leave.”
“Knowing how soft Pat was, I can imagine the guilt he must have carried all those years – and yourself, Owen, sure you were only a child. Did you not think to tell Da you knew of their secret?”
“What? And get the living daylights beaten out of me for spying on them? No, James, it was something I should never have overheard and I was prepared to keep it to myself until my last breath.”
James was deep in thought as he walked in silence alongside his older brother. Owen gave him sideward glances, trying to read his face in the dim light. When they reached Bridge Street, Saint Mary’s church loomed ahead, light spilling out through its open doors.
“Will we go in and say a wee prayer for Pat?” suggested Owen.
When James followed him inside, he saw rows of people kneeling in the pews beside the confession box. It crossed his mind that he should tell the priest about the great guilt he carried around with him, but the thought was quickly dismissed. James lit a candle and knelt in front of it, intending to say a decade of the rosary. Instead of chanting the familiar prayers he had grown up with, he found himself talking quietly to his uncle. James asked if he could be forgiven for selling the boat that had meant so much to both of them.
Watching his brother kneeling in front of the rows of burning candles, Owen reflected on the secret he had just shared. He had said his own quick prayer that James would not hold it against him, either for passing on such a burden, or for the years he kept it to himself.
James finally lifted his head and nodded at his brother, before walking out of the church. As he caught up, Owen saw him wipe a sleeve across his face and remained a few steps behind, until he was sure the young man had regained his composure.
“I was thinking back there about Uncle Pat’s last days in jail,” said James. “I was so incensed with him at how easily he accepted his fate. Now that you have told me his secret, I think I understand why he felt that way. In his mind it must have seemed like he was doing penance for a sin he committed a long time ago.”
“Then you won’t hold it against me for telling you, or for keeping it from the rest of the family till now?” asked Owen.
“Of course not, but I think it’s something that should remain just between the two of us. What good would come of sharing it now? We don’t want anyone thinking badly of Uncle Pat, do we?” James held out a hand to his brother. “Our secret, agreed?”
Owen was more than happy to shake on it.