Troubles - James Gordon Farrell [75]
So why should she write all this? Page after page to someone she scarcely knew. The relentlessly regular handwriting lapped rhythmically on. Only on the last few pages did it begin to waver a little.
I shall not die now.
Brendan, if I die who will look after you when I am gone?
And there were a number of other observations, feebly scratched out, which the Major had not the heart to decipher.
“People are insubstantial,” murmured the doctor, as his bowler-hatted head drooped sleepily on to his chest. “They never last. Of course, it makes no difference in the long run.”
It was signed, without the usual qualification about the “loving fiancée,” quite simply: Angela.
“The old chap’s fallen asleep,” Edward said. “Such a lot of rot he talks...I’m afraid he’s becoming a bit you-know-what.”
Getting to his feet he shouted deafeningly to Murphy to bring more candles because it had become infernally dark. The Major returned the letter to his pocket. Glancing down, he noted with dismay that his own flies were undone. He fumbled with them hastily before Murphy arrived with more candles.
“Can I have some peacock feathers?” demanded Padraig stubbornly. “You promised.”
“Of course, of course,” Edward told him genially. “Look, why don’t you go and ask the twins for some; I’m sure they have lots of that sort of thing. Murphy, show this young man where he can find the girls.”
When Padraig had departed with Murphy the Major asked: “What are the twins doing at home? Shouldn’t they be at school?”
“They were sent home,” replied Edward sombrely. “A spot of bother at school.” He sighed but did not elaborate.
They waited in silence for Padraig to return. Presently they heard the thrashing and rustling of his advent. A few moments later he appeared out of the darkness. The Major stared at him. His face was flushed and indignant and he seemed close to tears. His hair had been ruffled and his shirt was hanging out at the back. In one hand he clutched a bunch of peacock feathers.
Edward looked at him with concern, seemed about to say something but changed his mind. At length he sighed again and said that he thought it was about time to wake the doctor and send him home.
Before leaving, the doctor, who had been restored by his brief nap and now remembered why he had come, said: “For the last time, Edward, will you come to some arrangement with the farmers about the land, for your own good as much as for theirs?”
“So far I have received two threatening letters. Both of them I have given to the District Inspector. There happens to be a law in the land which protects a man’s private property and I have no intention of giving in to threats.”
“Is that your last word?”
“Yes,” Edward replied curtly.
* * *
LENIN AND POLAND
“To be delivered from her Oppressors”
The Paris Matin says: “A wireless message has been transmitted from Moscow announcing in glowing terms that the whole of Russia is rising to fight Poland. On May 6th the majority of the Moscow garrison of 120,000 men left the Soviet capital for the Dnieper front. Lenin and Trotsky addressed the troops. Lenin said: ‘We do not want to fight Poland but we are going to deliver her from her oppressors. Death to the Polish landlords! Long live the Polish Workers’ and Peasants’ Republic!’”
* * *
LAWLESSNESS NEAR KILKENNY
Ladies Terrorized by Armed Men
Late on Monday night considerable excitement was caused in Kilkenny by the news of the “hold up” at Troyswood a mile outside the city, by masked men armed with revolvers, of a number of motor cars and horsed carriages which were taking ladies and gentlemen, in whose number were included Major J.B. Loftus, D.L., J.P., Mount Loftus, and Sir Hercules Langrishe, Bart, Knocktopher Abbey, to a ball at the house of Captain J.E. St. George, R.M., Kilrush House, Freshford, about ten miles from Kilkenny City. A barricade of large stones was placed across the road.
Some of the cars did not pull up immediately when called upon to stop and several shots were discharged, but no one was injured, although some of