Page 16 of The Book of Irish Secrets
Good Lord, she thought,here are all the names. I didn’t see them before, they’re so faint.Claire carried the book to the window, and in the light of the setting sun that was streaming in, she could finally read what was scribbled in pencil under each photo in Auntie Rachel’s neat handwriting. There was a photo of a family group standing in front of the manor wearing formal clothes that was described asPossibly Maria Fleury’s sixtieth birthday in 1912 or thereabouts. Claire stared at the photo of the woman who was her great-great-grandmother, now older than in the portrait she had seen today. The black and white photo was a little blurred but Claire could still discern the square jaw and the dark curly hair, now with a few whitish streaks.
She could see Cornelius and Louis but they were not standing together. Maybe the discontent had already started between the brothers? Claire assumed that the rift between them must have happened when they were quite young, so Rachel had probably never met her grandmother. How sad for Louis’ children to have grown up with that kind of background sadness. Claire remembered her own grandparents with great affection and treasured the happy memories of visiting them in their old house just outside Dublin. Sunday lunch with them had been the highlight of the week in those days. Then they had died fairly young and Auntie Rachel had taken their place as a kind of grandmother.
Claire studied the photo, noting that there were three children in the Fleury family: the twins, Cornelius and Louis, and then their younger sister, Iseult, a pretty young woman in a white dress wearing an ornate necklace. Maria Fleury was a handsome woman, standing straight and proud beside her much older-looking husband, John. The other photos were of thenext generation, when Louis had broken with his family, moved to Dublin and married Helen, a young girl from an Anglo-Irish family in nearby Wicklow. There were Rachel’s parents, Louis and Helen, Claire’s great-grandparents, all looking heartbreakingly young in those faded old photos.
The 1920s and 30s had been hard times in Ireland when the fledgling country had struggled to find its feet in an increasingly unsettled world. Claire looked through an array of photos, fascinated by the clothes and other details that told of a family that started off with very little but became eventually prosperous. Louis studied law and worked in pubs and restaurants to pay for his university fees, his children doing the same but now with the help of their parents. But those photos, although touching, held less interest as Claire was more focused on what had caused the feud and Louis’ hasty move to Dublin. She didn’t find anything that gave her a clue. But maybe the answer was not to be found in the book, but right here in Dingle, or even at Magnolia Manor? Claire closed the book, feeling no closer to the solution.
Later that evening, Claire went to the nearby pub to have dinner as she had enjoyed their fish and chips the night before. Tonight she decided to sample their ‘Irish stew just like Mammy made it’, as it was described on the blackboard above the counter.
‘How can I resist it?’ she asked the waiter.
‘You can’t,’ he said. ‘It’s fabulous. And only on Thursdays like tonight. Catch it while you can. It might never be on the menu again.’
‘Of course I will,’ Claire said. ‘And a glass of Guinness to go with it.’
‘Excellent choice,’ the waiter, a tall young man with curly dark hair, said. ‘My name’s Brian, by the way. What’s yours?’
‘I’m Claire and I’m from Dublin. Nice to meet you, Brian.’
‘Hi, Claire from Dublin. I’ll get your Guinness and place your order right away.’ Brian sailed away through the crowd and Claire watched him go with a big smile.
‘Hiya,’ a voice said beside her. ‘Can I sit here? There isn’t anywhere else free.’
Claire looked up and discovered Pierce standing at her table with a pint of beer in his hand. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Sit down. Nice to have company for dinner.’
‘I heard you ordered the stew,’ Pierce said as he sat down opposite Claire. ‘So did I. Karina will be livid if she finds out that I skipped her cod in lemon sauce for a meal in the pub, but Irish stew is one of my favourite dishes and the one they do here is especially good.’
‘I won’t tell her,’ Claire promised, smiling at his confession.
‘I’m actually here for another reason,’ Pierce explained. ‘I’m organising a pub quiz for tomorrow night in aid of the dogs’ and cats’ home here in town. They take in strays and look after them until they can find a good home for them.’
‘That’s a very good cause, then,’ Claire said, looking into his earnest blue eyes behind the glasses. ‘I love dogs and cats.’
‘Do you have a dog yourself?’ Pierce asked.
‘Not at the moment. But I did have a West Highland terrier a few years ago. He died of old age. I still miss him. I wanted to get another one, but my then husband didn’t like dogs so…’
‘I wouldn’t trust a man who doesn’t like dogs,’ Pierce declared. Then he looked awkward. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to…’
‘Oh, please don’t apologise,’ Claire exclaimed. ‘You’re right. There’s something suspicious about people who don’t like dogs. It’s as if there’s something missing, like empathy or humility or the capacity to love or something.’
Pierce nodded. ‘Exactly,’ he said, returning her smile.
They were interrupted by Brian, the waiter, arriving with their plates of stew. ‘Oops, forgot your Guinness, Claire,’ he said as he put the fragrant plates in front of them. ‘I’ll get it straight away. Sorry about that. Won’t be a tick.’
Claire smiled at him. ‘No bother. Not easy to carry plates of stew and a glass at the same time.’
‘Bless you,’ Brian said and disappeared again.
‘It’s very busy here on Irish stew nights,’ Pierce said.
Claire picked up her knife and fork. ‘I can imagine. This looks and smells delicious. Mind if I dig in?’
‘Go ahead,’ Pierce said and grabbed his fork. ‘No need to hang around. And here’s Brian with your Guinness anyway.’
‘There you go,’ Brian said and put the glass in front of Claire. ‘Enjoy your dinner, lads.’
‘Of course we will.’ Pierce winked at Claire and dug into his plate of stew, Claire doing the same. They ate in silence for a while, their eyes meeting until Pierce put down his fork and let out a huge sigh. ‘Oh wow. That was some stew. What do you think?’
