Murder Club - Mark Pearson [10]
Jack laughed out loud. And it was testament to the fact that the memories of his dead wife which his daughter conjured forth didn’t put spikes of guilt and misery in his heart any longer. Siobhan had given a thick, Irish brogue to her words, sounding just like a wild, heathen child of Cork from his own youth. He’d schooled her in it, much to his late wife’s annoyance and mock-scolding.
‘I thought you preferred Kate’s stories nowadays,’ Delaney replied, teasing her.
‘No, I always like yours best. It’s just …’ She trailed off and shrugged.
‘It’s what, darlin’?’
‘It’s Kate’s house we’re living in now. So it’s only fair that if she wants to tell me a story, I should let her.’ She frowned, as if puzzling over a matter of great philosophical debate, and Delaney laughed again. It was a rich laugh, full of life.
‘To be sure,’ he said, echoing her and putting on the oirish. ‘Is it not yourself that has been off to scale the battlements and kissed the Cloch na Blarnan? Should it not be you the one as is telling the tales, I’m thinking!’
‘What is the Cloch na Barnan?’ asked Siobhan, all wide-eyed innocence.
‘Ah now …’ explained Delaney, although he was quite aware that Siobhan knew full well what it was. ‘It’s an ancient story,’ he continued. ‘The Cloch na Blarnan is what the unwashed, heathen devils on this side of the blessed channel call the Blarney Stone.’
‘The Blarney Stone!’ said Siobhan in feigned wonder. ‘Is it magic?’
‘Is it magic?’ said Jack, his own eyebrows raising as if in mutual astonishment and his voice slipping into a softer, lyrical brogue. ‘I like that! Why, is the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow magic? Is the music that the fairies’ fluttering wings make magic? Are the wishes that come true on a falling star magic?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you’d better believe it is magic, Siobhan. Very powerful magic indeed. One of the most important of all the magics.’
‘What is it?’
‘’Tis said that whoever lays his lips on the cool surface of the stone will have bestowed upon them the gift of story, the gift of persuasion …’ He paused dramatically. ‘The gift, as they say, of the gab!’
‘The gift of the gob?’
Delaney laughed again. ‘Don’t let Kate hear you using that expression, sweetheart.’
‘Why not?’
Delaney grimaced. ‘Let’s just say that it’s not one she’s overly fond of.’
‘Tell me more about the gift of the gab then.’
‘Ah now, the magic of the Blarney Stone, you see.’ Delaney pretended to consider the matter. ‘Some say it’s best described as giving you the ability to deceive someone without offending them!’
Siobhan made an O of her mouth. ‘To lie, you mean?’
‘Well now, lie – that might be too strong a word. Bending the facts to one’s advantage maybe.’
‘Tell me more about the Stone. Have you seen it?’
‘No, I haven’t. I don’t need to. We Delaneys don’t need to see or kiss it to have its magic work upon us.’
‘Why not?’
‘Maybe that should be a story for another night.’
‘Tonight, tonight!’ Siobhan wriggled impatiently.
Delaney seemed to consider for a moment, before sighing and relenting. ‘Sure, and you’ll promise to go straight to sleep when the telling of it is done.’
‘Cross my heart and hope to die, if I should ever tell a lie. May my soul lay down to sleep, if a promise I do not keep!’
Siobhan made a cross with her finger over her blanket and smiled as Jack sidled closer to her.
‘It all happened long, long ago. When a man called Cormac Laidir MacCarthy—’
‘The same MacCarthy as MacCarthy’s bar near where you were born, Da?’ interrupted Siobhan. ‘In Castletownbere.’
‘The very same name, the very same family.’
‘Will we go there one day?’
‘Did I not promise it?’
Siobhan clapped her hands. ‘And will we see the magic Stone there?’
‘No,’ Delaney shook his head. ‘The Stone now resides in Blarney Castle in Blarney. Still in Cork, mind, but not where it came from originally.’
‘Where did it come from then?’
Delaney looked at her for a moment before speaking. ‘From Ballydehob!’
Siobhan gasped again, theatrically. ‘The town where you were born!