Vacancies
By sirat
- 828 reads
Her conscience eased by the self-imposed daily ritual of cleaning
and
dusting the empty rooms, Millie positioned herself in her
favourite
armchair in the lounge to watch an early evening soap opera. Although
she
watched several TV soaps on a fairly regular basis she never remembered
the
details of the plots or the characters' names, and could barely tell
one
series from another. It was for her a meditative exercise.
Millie's
thoughts drifted as she watched, her pleasure derived simply from
immersion
in a fantasy world where people had friends and visited one another
and
fell in and out of romantic entanglements and occasionally went down to
the
pub or had a screaming row in the middle of the road. The simple
everyday
things that she had wrongly assumed would always be there. One by one
she
had allowed them all to slip out of her life. Often she felt like a
ghost,
observing and feeding off the activities of the living.
The sharp chime of the front door bell invaded Millie's drowsy reverie
and
sent a little ripple of excitement through her body. Alex! Alex is
here!
Standing up too abruptly and feeling a momentary dizziness she hurried
to
the hall. The sight of the tall straight figure through the
frosted
security glass produced the usual flicker of disappointment that it was
not
the return of her youngest son. She opened the door.
"Good evening, Sir."
He was gaunt, grey haired, sharp featured and quite formally
dressed,
somewhat past retirement age like herself, but elegant and well-groomed
and
he carried a small black briefcase. He made her think of doctors
and
professors and senior lawyers. His expression, although polite, was
rather
cold. She felt a very faint flicker of recognition, as though she
might
have seen him somewhere before, or someone rather like him. Probably
her
imagination, she decided. Beyond him she noticed that it had started
to
rain and that he had arrived in a large black car with British
number
plates, parked at the end of the driveway.
"Good evening," he began, enunciating his words very precisely in a
faintly
central European accent, "I saw the sign. I understand that you have
rooms
to rent, Mrs. ...?"
"Sullivan. Millie Sullivan. Indeed I have. It's not often I get people
this
late in the year. Won't you come in out of the rain, Sir, and I'll show
you
the rooms I've got."
Still clutching his briefcase he followed at a respectful distance as
she
made her way to what she still thought of as Kieran's room at the very
top
of the house. As she climbed the stairs she recited a familiar script.
"The
top room is small but it's very warm and there's a great view from
the
dormer window. You can see all the way to Bantry Bay when the weather's
a
bit better. It used to belong to my eldest son Kieran..." She explained
how
Kieran had married a girl from Wicklow and was a sergeant now in the
Garda
in Dublin. It didn't do any harm, she always felt, if you were going to
be
alone in the house with a strange man, no matter how old he was or
how
respectable he looked, to let him know that your eldest son was in
the
police force.
Working down from the top landing, she let him peek into the main
bedroom
where she and Liam had slept during their married years (before he had
gone
crazy with the drink and sloped off with that bitch from Mullingar, but
she
didn't tell him that bit) and finally her middle son Connor's room,
which
was just next to the toilet and quite spacious. She mentioned her
youngest
son Alexander but didn't show him Alex's room because that was no
longer
vacant. Alex, she explained, would be coming back any day now. "In fact
I
thought it might have been Alex at the door when you rang the bell,
Mr.
...?"
"I have a foreign name that is difficult to pronounce. Please call
me
Nicholas, as my friends in England do."
It was the first thing he had said that might be interpreted as
moderately
friendly. "Very well. You must call me Millie." She motioned him into
the
lounge where she got him to sit down and explained to him about the
nightly
rates for the different rooms. Nursing the briefcase on his knee,
Nicholas
seemed vague about how long he wanted to stay but opted for Connor's
room
on the middle landing and paid for two nights in advance without
prompting.
She longed to cross-question her new guest, an urge she could
seldom
resist, but there was something reserved and distant about him that
she
knew she would need to overcome first. She invited him to take his
luggage
upstairs and settle in and come down for some tea when he was
ready.
It was about an hour later that Millie at last got the chance to
attempt
the interrogation of her new guest while he sipped tea from a
diminutive
pink china cup and nibbled on a chocolate biscuit, the little
briefcase
still protectively perched on his knees.
"Are you visiting Cork on business, then?"
"On a family matter, Mrs... er, Millie."
"I didn't think it would be the fishing or the golf, wrong time of
year.
Have you got family in the county then?"
"A certain... connection, yes. Not a blood relative."
"I didn't think your family was from these parts. Somewhere in
Europe,
would it be?"
"My family originated in Russia, Mrs. ..., but we have lived in England
for
many years."
She could see that he was downright uncomfortable about calling her
Millie
and decided not to insist upon it. "Russia. Goodness now. We don't get
many
Russians in these parts. I can remember a Russian sailor once, but that
was
when I was a little girl, not long after the end of the War."
"Millie," he suddenly put down his cup and looked her straight in the
eye,
"you mentioned earlier that you were expecting the return of your
youngest
son. Might I be so impertinent as to ask where he has been?"
Her muscles stiffened slightly. Only a friendly question. What else
could
it be? Nothing to be nervous about. She put down her own cup which
had
begun to rattle a little on its saucer and forced a smile. "Alex? Oh,
Alex
has been away for many years, but he's kept in touch and now he tells
me
he's on the way home. He wasn't the... easiest of children when he
was
little. Not his fault of course... just, circumstances."
"Circumstances?"
Suddenly she seemed to have lost the initiative in the interrogation.
"Yes.
Circumstances. There was a big age gap between him and the other two.
His
father Liam used to have a very good job as an engineer with the
telephone
company and he lost it shortly after Alex was born. Then he started
to
drink too much... oh, I'm sorry, you aren't interested in all
this."
"But I am. Very interested indeed, Millie. If you have no objection
to
telling it to me."
She shrugged. "Well, what is there to tell really? He got a bit
depressed.
Found somebody else's shoulder to cry on. Left me when Alex was
eighteen
months. I've never seen him or heard a word from him since. He let me
have
the house before he went though. Signed it over to my sole ownership.
That
was the only thing he had that was worth anything, so I suppose I
didn't do
any worse than lots of other women. And the two older boys were
nearly
grown up by then. They helped me to bring up Alex. They were fathers to
him
as well as brothers. I couldn't have done it without them. But... I
don't
know. Maybe a boy needs a proper father. Alex didn't... make good the
way
the other two did. He was always a bit of a tearaway. Nobody else in
the
family ever got into trouble with the law, only Alex."
"I see. And then he left home, I take it?"
"Well, they all did. Kieran went into the Guards and married Shona -
they
live in Dublin, Connor went to work as a draughtsman in an
architect's
office in Sligo, and married Ellen up there. Then Alex just... left..."
She
found herself at a loss for words.
"I'm sorry Millie. I should not be asking you about these
things."
"Oh, not at all, Nicholas. Sure I love to have somebody to talk to. It
gets
deadly quiet here in the winter. Not even much good in the summer any
more.
You see this house used to be on the main road to Cork city... then
they
built the new straight one with all that European money. I've lost all
my
passing trade now. I'm on a road... that doesn't go anywhere any
more..."
She frowned at the image and took another sip of tea. "The boys are
always
telling me I should sell up and move nearer to one of them. Dublin
or
Sligo. Wasting my time here, they say. But I don't want to be a burden
to
them. They have their own families now. I can still make a little bit
of
money in the summer. I'm in all the brochures... And it's a base
for
Alex... When he comes home."
"Ah yes. When Alex comes home."
Millie found herself staring into Nicholas' grey unblinking eyes. There
was
something about him, something serious, intense. He knew more about
her
than he was saying, she was sure of it. "Did you find me in one of
the
tourist brochures?" she asked quietly.
"No Millie. I found you in a different way."
The atmosphere had changed. This was no longer a light friendly
conversation. Millie felt uncomfortable. She found that she couldn't
break
eye-contact, like a rabbit caught in the headlight beam of a car.
She
waited for him to say something, but he didn't. "Are you... a
reporter?"
she asked at last.
"No, Millie. But I know about the trial."
Millie's eyes widened. "That was where I saw you, wasn't it? I knew
I'd
seen you somewhere. You were at Alex's trial."
He nodded. "A long time ago, wasn't it, Millie?"
"What do you want?" she whispered hoarsely. "Who are you?"
He paused for quite a long time and broke eye contact before he
answered.
"You were kind enough to tell me quite a lot about your life and
background. Let me tell you a little bit about mine.
"My father fled the pogroms in central Russia shortly before the
First
World War. He should have waited. After the Bolshevik Revolution it
would
have been safe for him but he didn't know that. He started a business
in
the East End of London which became very successful. He employed a
great
many people. He paid them fair wages. He kept his business running
through
the Depression, he did not dismiss a single worker. During the Second
World
War his company manufactured special clothing for the allied forces. He
had
a personal letter from Winston Churchill thanking him for his
contribution
to the war effort. My father's life was one unending struggle
against
bullies and Fascists. He was a great man and a genuine humanitarian.
There
is much more that I could tell you about him but that will
suffice.
Eighteen years ago, when he was more than ninety years old, he
interrupted
someone who was attempting to burgle his house. I think you know the
rest,
Millie."
She brushed a tear from her eye. "Dear God."
"Please Millie, don't be frightened. I have come here to learn and
to
understand, as my father would have done. Nothing more. I want to know
what
led your son to murder my father with a glass ornament. I want to see
and
to understand every step along that path. It is not the act of a
single
moment, it is the terrible final destination of a young man's
journey
through life. If you will not let me know these things then I can
only
hate, as I have hated for eighteen years. Sad and destructive years. I
am
not as good or as strong as my father, I can not stop myself from
hating my
tormentors. Only you, and perhaps your son, can release me from
this
hating."
She looked at him with wide moist eyes. "What is it you want to
know?"
He thought for a moment. "More or less what you've already told me. But
all
of it this time. Tell me about Liam again. Why did he leave you?"
Her voice was softer now and she spoke slowly. "Liam got it into his
head
that Alex wasn't his own child. We almost never... slept together
because
we weren't getting on, and Liam thought it couldn't have been his. But
he
had... assaulted me when he was drunk and he couldn't even remember
it.
That was how Alex was conceived." Nicholas nodded. "Liam hated Alex.
He
wouldn't even use the child's name, he called the baby 'it'. He wanted
me
to get rid of Alex, to have him adopted or send him away to one of
his
aunties or... or..."
"Yes?"
"Once or twice he said he would kill Alex if I wouldn't get rid of him.
I
think he was serious. Liam was a sick man, he was drunk nearly all the
time
and he was losing his grip on reality. I was pleased when he took up
with
the Mullingar woman. It got him out of my life and I was able to keep
the
house. I had my three sons and I thought it was going to be all
right."
"You say you thought it was going to be all right. Wasn't it?"
"No. Kieran and Connor turned on the baby as well. They blamed Alex
for
Liam's going away. They didn't say it, maybe they didn't even know, but
I
saw it. They were rough with him, unloving, full of bottled-up
aggression.
Not even bottled-up sometimes. They blamed him and they punished him
for
things that all children do... crying, wetting the bed, being sick...
Alex
wasn't a very strong child. He was sick a lot. They were almost grown
men
and he was only a baby. It was terrible to watch, and it was subtle,
so
that you couldn't even make them see the way they were treating
him..."
She went to the dresser at the far side of the lounge and came back
with a
tissue for her face. "I tried everything I could think of to get them
out
of the house. Sent them away to college, looked for brides for them.
I
almost ended up hating them like they hated Alex, because I had to
protect
my baby. I got them out of the house in the end, both of them, but I
think
it wasn't soon enough. Alex was a very disturbed boy when he went
to
school. The teachers couldn't control him. All kinds of
educational
psychologists, it didn't make any difference. He was only happy when he
was
bullying somebody or breaking something or stealing or running away. I
lost
count of the number of times he ran away from home. When he was sixteen
he
ran one more time and I didn't follow him." Her voice faded to a
whisper.
"The next thing I heard about him, he was up on a murder charge in
England.
That's the whole story, so help me God."
Nicholas reached out and took her two hands. She looked up at him.
"Thank
you for telling me those things," he said. "But I still have this
feeling,
Millie, that there is more that you have not yet told me. If I am wrong
I
apologise. I believe that it would be the best thing for both of us if
you
were to tell me everything. For you just as much as for me, I
think."
Her eyes widened in fear. "There are things so terrible that...
maybe
nobody should say them..."
"I have heard that said before, Millie. Don't talk about it. It is
wrong to
keep speaking of those things or to let them affect your life. Let us
all
be quiet and pretend that the past did not happen. As a european Jew I
am
very familiar with that argument. I do not agree with it."
She looked him straight in the eye. "You're right of course. I lied to
Liam
and I lied to the boys and just now I lied to you. But the truth is
so
dreadful I don't know if I can even bring myself to say the
words."
"You are trying to admit to some great sin, some pitiful human
weakness. I
know that it is not easy to do that. Perhaps, if I admit to
something
first. I have also lied to you, Millie." He placed his little
black
briefcase on the table beside the cups and the teapot and withdrew from
it
an antique service revolver. "I told you that I had come here only to
learn
and to understand. The truth was that at that moment I had not made up
my
mind why I had come here. I would like you to take this from me. It is
old
and rather ridiculous like myself but it is also loaded and can be
fired.
Please put it somewhere safe for me until I leave."
Wide eyed and shaking she picked up the gun with two fingers, stared at
it
for a moment and put it down again. She had become deathly pale.
"I think it's your turn now, Millie," he said quietly.
She spoke in a monotone now, like someone in a trance. "I want to tell
you
about Kieran, my eldest son. I was very young when I had Kieran,
barely
eighteen. I was pregnant before I got married, and I don't think I have
to
tell you what that was like, in Ireland, back then... Liam did the
proper
thing, he married me as soon as he knew. But I don't know whether we
were
really in love or not. He was the only boy I'd ever kissed, pretty
near. We
weren't really very suitable for one another. But I was so excited
about
having Kieran, so bowled-over with this tiny beautiful perfect baby...
it
was Kieran I was in love with really, not Liam. And of course Connor
came
along not long afterwards and I loved him too... but I don't think it
was
ever really as special with Connor as it was with Kieran. It's hard for
a
mother to say that but it's the truth. Kieran grew up so quickly, and
was
so handsome... and he had such a lovely personality... we were more
like
brother and sister. I used to think he was older than me sometimes,
wiser,
more sensible... everything was a joke with Kieran. We used to muck
about
together, tickle one another, play silly games... We weren't like
mother
and son at all. Liam never said anything, but he didn't approve..." She
bit
her lip and was silent. She had said almost as much as she was
able.
Perhaps as much as was necessary. She knew that Nicholas was a
very
perceptive man.
"And one night, when you were both very drunk perhaps... it went too
far."
She nodded. With the simple gesture a great weight seemed to be lifted
from
her body. "Nothing was ever said of course, by anybody," she whispered.
"I
don't even know if Kieran remembered it happening. But Liam wasn't a
fool.
He knew that... something had happened. Probably because after that,
I
stopped all the silly... messing around with Kieran. Liam started
drinking
then. I think he came close to losing his mind."
Nicholas took her hands gently once again. "Thank you Millie. You are
a
very brave woman. The truth is more frightening than any loaded gun, is
it
not? After this night, we shall both breathe more easily."
They sat at opposite ends of the little table and looked at one
another.
Nicholas' expression softened almost to a smile.
The quiet moment was suddenly shattered by the peal of the doorbell.
In
unison they turned to look.
"Your son, Millie," Nicholas exclaimed enthusiastically, "your
poor
confused, hurt youngest son. Let us welcome him together!" He stood
and
turned to open the door.
But before he could reach it he was startled by the deafening blast of
a
gunshot behind him.
- Log in to post comments