Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
They arrived at the quaint little cottage that housed the craft shop twenty minutes later.
There was a striped awning over the door that was painted sage green and the sign over the shop window said, WICKLOW ARTS AND CRAFTS.
Tiny bells tinkled as they opened the door.
Ciara found Liz at the counter with a customer trying to decide which handmade wall hanging she should buy.
Liz smiled at them. ‘Hi there. I’ll be with you in a minute.’
Ciara smiled back and wandered around the little shop while she waited.
There was a display of tie-dyed T-shirts on a counter and she went to examine them while Maureen admired the small watercolours on the walls.
There were also some lovely wooden bowls, hand-printed silk scarves, cotton bucket hats, hand-knitted socks and stacks of rugs in beautiful colours.
‘What a lovely little shop,’ Maureen said when the customer had left with her parcel and Liz was free to talk to them.
‘How much are the T-shirts?’ Ciara asked, holding one with a red-and-blue pattern. ‘I love this one.’
‘They’re fifteen euros,’ Liz replied. ‘But I can make you a special deal if you like.’
‘Oh no, that’s very reasonable,’ Ciara said. ‘I’ll take this one. I love the way the colours blend.’
‘And I’d love this little watercolour,’ Maureen said, pointing at a painting of a ruined house overgrown with jasmine. ‘Did Oisín paint this one?’
‘Yes.’ Liz took the little painting off the hook.
‘It’s the wreck of a house that belonged to our great-uncle.
He was our grandfather’s brother, actually.
The house was quite big but he left it when he was a young man about eighty years ago.
The house fell into disrepair and once the roof blew off, it just kind of crumbled.
Could have been a lovely place to live if it had been looked after. ’
‘That’s so sad,’ Maureen said. ‘Why did he have to leave his house?’
‘Not only his house, he had to leave the country,’ Liz said. ‘I think he went to England. He was involved in some scandal back in his youth.’
‘A black sheep, in other words,’ Maureen suggested. ‘Lots of families have them.’
‘Yes, and he was the blackest of them all, apparently,’ Liz said. ‘Uncle Jarlath became a kind of legend in a bad way. We were all told not to mention his name, which made him even more interesting, really.’
‘Of course,’ Ciara said, smiling. ‘The forbidden is always very exciting.’
Liz nodded. ‘Yes, bad boy Uncle Jarlath was the mystery we all wanted to solve. What did he do that was so bad that he had to leave the country? That’s what we all wanted to know.’
‘Did you find out what it was?’ Maureen asked.
Liz nodded while she folded the T-shirt Ciara wanted to buy. ‘Yes. He stole money and jewellery from an old woman and was found guilty. He managed to escape from custody before he went to jail, then disappeared and was never heard of again.’
‘How awful for his family.’ Maureen studied the watercolour. ‘This house must have been lovely once. Just look at those arched windows with the carved figures above each one. Where is this place?’
‘Just outside Enniskerry,’ Liz replied, holding out her hand. ‘I’ll wrap that up for you. Is it a gift?’
‘No, it’s for me,’ Maureen said and handed Liz the watercolour. ‘Just outside Enniskerry? On what road?’
‘On the road to Dublin.’ Liz wrapped the little picture in tissue paper and put it in a paper carrier bag with the T-shirt. ‘That’ll be eighty euros altogether. Cash or card?’
‘Card,’ Maureen said, digging in her handbag and then produced her credit card. ‘My treat,’ she said to Ciara.
‘Thanks, Ma.’ Ciara smiled at Liz. ‘I’ll put on the T-shirt when I get home.’
‘I know the watercolour is a bit expensive,’ Liz said apologetically as she took the payment. ‘But it’s framed and Oisín decided the price.’
‘I think it’s a bargain for a beautiful little picture,’ Maureen said. ‘He’s a great talent. I hope he’ll do well.’
‘Thank you,’ Liz said, handing Maureen the bag with her purchases. ‘And thanks for coming into the shop. See you soon, I hope.’
‘I’m sure we will,’ Ciara said, smiling. ‘Bye for now.’ She followed her mother out of the shop and they walked together down the street towards the van.
‘Did you notice how Liz was reluctant to tell us where that old house is?’ Maureen asked.
‘Yes, I did,’ Ciara replied. ‘But maybe it was because she didn’t want us to know too much about her great-uncle. Could be that it’s still a sensitive issue with the family.’
‘I’d like to see that old wreck,’ Maureen declared when they reached the van. ‘Could we take a detour up the road to Dublin, just to see if we can find it?’
‘You read my mind,’ Ciara said and got into the van.
They drove slowly through the village and then past the school and church on their way up the road that led to Dublin.
Maureen scanned the side of the road, looking for a gate or even the ruin of that house in the painting.
She suddenly grabbed Ciara’s arm. ‘There. That entrance with the crumbling gateposts. Looks like there’s a house at the end of the lane. I think you can park just beside it.’
Ciara slowed down and looked. ‘Yes,’ she agreed.
‘That looks like the entrance to a property that might have been quite important once.’ She parked the car just inside the gateposts, opened the door and got out just as Maureen did the same on her side.
They looked around, finding themselves in a clearing surrounded by overgrown laurel bushes.
There was a path through what looked like a tunnel under the boughs of trees.
‘It’s so dark,’ Maureen remarked as they made their way forward towards a shape that had to be the remains of a house.
‘I know,’ Ciara said, ducking her head under low-hanging branches. ‘Keep going. I can see light and a granite wall. That has to be the house.’
‘There was a sign near the gatepost that said TíR NA NóG,’ Maureen said.
‘Oh? I didn’t notice that.’
‘It was hard to read and had nearly disappeared under the nettles,’ Maureen explained. ‘It’s a bit of a cliché, really, to call a house Tír na nóg, I think.’
‘I forget what it means,’ Ciara said as she reached the end of the overgrown path and could finally stand up straight.
‘It means the land of eternal youth,’ Maureen said. ‘From Irish mythology.’
‘Sounds lovely,’ Ciara remarked. ‘Oh, look,’ she said as crumbling walls came into view. ‘That’s the house – or what’s left of it.’
Maureen joined Ciara in front of the ruin and looked up at the gaping windows and the rafters of what must have been the roof.
The air was full of the sound of crows cawing as they flew around the top of the house, some of which was overgrown with ivy.
‘I have a feeling Oisín painted it from the back,’ she remarked. ‘The light must be better there.’
‘Yes,’ Ciara agreed. ‘But the whole place feels a bit sinister. Let’s go around the house and take a look and then we’ll go.
’ Her phone pinged as she walked around the side and she saw that it was a text from Ronan.
Once she was around the back of the ruined house, she sat down on what remained of a stone wall and looked at the message.
Call me when you can, I have found out something that might interest you.