Untold Rage

By Ger Conlan

When Lucy Courtney learns a dark secret about her grandmother's past she sets out to find the truth. Crisscrossing County Clare for clues and people who knew her nana, she triggers a chain of events that will unearth buried stories and shed light on present dramas bringing them both together in a cascading and tragic clash.
This dark thriller from author Ger Conlan explores the lingering presence of long past events in unsuspecting lives.
Untold Rage is the first novel of a series to be published and will soon be followed by another story featuring the character of Lucy Courtney, Harvest.

About the author.
Ger Conlan is a Manchester born, Limerick raised Montreal resident and is a student in Sociology.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ger Conlan
• Release date: Oct 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9780991765607

Book preview

Untold Rage

By Ger Conlan

Copyright 2012 Ger Conlan

First Edition

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover art by Ivy Howard

Chapter 1. Dying Words

The hum of the bustling nurses’ station faded into the background as she made her way haltingly along the brightly lit but malodorous corridor. There was something nauseating about the combined smell of disinfectant and boiled food which hung consistently in the air of every hospital she ever had the bad luck to enter. Not that she had entered that many, just one other, in Dublin a few years earlier, but it had had the exact same smell. ‘Must be a building code requirement’ she muttered to herself then imagined busy engineers peering over blueprints while saying the boiled food smell will come through this duct, the disinfectant from the other.

The reluctance she felt in getting to her destination was due not only to the offensive olfactory invasion, but to a complex combination of emotions. The truth be told Lucy Courtney felt very jittery and nervous in this particular environment, but apart from having solidly clenched jaws, managed to hide it well.

She was in a special isolation area of the palliative care unit for patients with infectious diseases, contagious viruses and other bacteria of the super-bug variety. All visitors were unceremoniously greeted with an anti-microbe lei of sorts which was a sterile kit consisting of a disposable gown, gloves, shoe covers and a special face mask that had to be worn at all times. Failure to do so meant having giant cotton buds shoved up one’s nose to remove mucus for analysis after each visit. They called it a nasal swab, but from Lucy’s experience it was more like a nasal stab because a nose bleed always ensued. But that was not the reason for her anxious state. She had now reached stage three of a four stage internal neurotic emotional process that occurred with every visit. It started with a panic attack in the parking lot, the sweats at the nurse’s station and now the dental clamp in the corridor – mild to not-so-mild tremors culminated the final phase on the anxiety roller coaster. But anywhere along the path of these stages, one reaction could be more severe than the other and she’d have to wait in a state of semi-paralysis until the feeling passed.

So far, this morning it hadn’t been too bad, which was nothing short of a miracle considering that the few hours' sleep from the night before were wrought with nightmares about being eternally confined in the corridor. Many people fear spiders, snakes, elevators, or the circus clown, for Lucy it was hospitals, clinics, and most things medical. This resulted in her never having had a gynecological exam, which at twenty years of age was not cause for concern really because she would have plenty of time to have her plumbing inspected, eventually……after giving birth… in forty years' time…or thereabouts.

Like most fears hers had started with a frightening childhood experience. She had been eight years old she had come to this same place with her mother and grandmother during her father's last weeks in his fight against cancer and never recovered from the shock of seeing an emaciated old man with death in his eyes instead of the broad strapping smiling daddy she knew. When he passed away it seemed like ages before anybody laughed again. Lucy didn’t know it then, but her mother had already been diagnosed with colon cancer and within a year her battle ended in the same way as her father’s. And now Hannah Moore, her grandmother and only remaining relative who had raised her since becoming an orphan was experiencing a similar fate. So, it was perfectly logical that Lucy was a bit bonkers when it came to hospitals, more especially this corridor because it represented only one thing: loss.

After seeing her loved ones slowly waste away into a morphine induced death, Lucy promised herself that she would never finish her days as they had, although given the kind of gene pool she was coming from, the chances of that were extremely remote.

Above the protective mask Lucy’s eyes traveled to the decorative hangings on the walls where inspirational quotes about hope, survival and the journey of life were framed onto various images of sunsets, mountain tops and other heavenly similes. They were supposed to help both patients and visitors cope with the inevitability of death, but they were the equivalent to Santa Claus stories: nice to believe in, but a load of crock.

Her grandmother's health had been deteriorating rapidly now, and Lucy knew they were estimating her approaching death in terms of days, not weeks. While some thought that dying at aged ninety was good with the well-she-lived-a-long-life attitude, for Lucy being without her Nana was unimaginable no matter how little time remained. Yes, she was a grown, independent woman but the thought of being completely without family was proving difficult to absorb.

Taking in a deep breath for courage, she went to press down the door handle, but her hand suddenly trembled violently. She recoiled in shock as panic gripped her body. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, her throat felt like sand-paper and her breathing came in short gasps. She pulled down the face mask and quickly reached in under the yellow paper gown, opened the clasp of the satchel slung low across her shoulder and fumbled blindly around the contents until she grabbed the bottle of water. After pushing back the long red hair from her face, she took a several gulps, wiped her mouth, paused for air then drank again far beyond her thirst.

When the moment of terror had passed she tightened the cap on the bottle returned it to the bag and thought coward! Then plucking some tissues from the bag along with a small compact mirror she dabbed her forehead checked her reflection and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. Humph she admonished I’d qualify as the lead role in zombie bride of the night. Her green eyes looked dull from lack of sleep, and her already pale skin appeared a deathly white. She had lost some weight too, which on a five foot seven frame reflected the level of stress she was currently experiencing. Her eating habits of the past few weeks had become deplorable; cheesecake was now the main source of nutrition, which provided nothing from the four main food groups, and everything from the comfort group. No wonder her skin lacked luster, she was probably deficient in every vitamin and mineral out there. Discouraged at what she saw, she snapped the compact closed, put it back into her satchel and took several deep long breaths before replacing the face mask and discreetly entering the sparsely furnished private room.

A distinct odor of sterile rubber and disinfectant filled the room making her already queasy stomach lurch. It was only 6.30 in the morning and she foregone breakfast in the off-chance that any of the four stages would cause vomiting, as had happened once before, right in front of a gorgeous Middle-Eastern doctor. Her sleeping grandmother looked even frailer than yesterday, if that was possible. The cheeks that were once chubby and rosy had now turned a deathly pale and her skin was so thin it seemed to stretch tautly over her high cheek bones. The silk-like silver hair appeared matted and unkempt, and the gaunt face, which was partially covered with an oxygen mask, did not look peaceful at all. Lucy placed a chair by the weak woman’s bedside removed the face mask, which she knew was strictly prohibited, but how could she remain distant and isolated from Hannah in her current state?

Hey Nana she said in an audible whisper while taking a frail hand in hers what have you been up to while I was gone? No reply came, none was expected either. Lucy moved the extra blanket from the bottom of the bed and placed it carefully over Hannah’s feet. Suddenly the old woman’s legs jerked and she moaned loudly. Her brow furrowed deeply and a moment later tears began streaming from her eyes. Perplexed at this sign of distress, Lucy quickly removed the cover then plucked a tissue from the box on the bedside table and gently dabbed Hannah’s face as she spoke soothingly.

Nana, everything’s okay. It’s me, Luce. Not that Hannah recognized her anymore. That had been the single most difficult aspect of the illness to accept. Pain could be medicated, but there was no remedy for whatever was robbing Hannah’s mind of their last few days together. I’m with you Nana, I’m with you. The distressed expression remained.

The doctors had informed Lucy that besides the anti-biotic resistant infection sweeping through the aging woman’s body, her perception of reality had undergone more change. The hospital was now a hotel with great service and for the decent price of 1 shilling and 6 pence a day. This reference to the old monetary system meant she was probably reliving events from a considerable number of years ago, and these lapses back in time could change significantly from one moment to the next. Lucy was told that Hannah could even come back to the present day within the same sentence, but for now, it would seem she remained in a much earlier period of her life.

Lucy very gently massaged the frail arm and continued cheerily you and I are well overdue a trip to Hanny's Tea House for an afternoon of tea and chatting and Nora’s cakes, of course. They're all complaining that business isn't the same since you've been...... it didn’t seem appropriate to say away, maybe that would confuse her more, especially if she was back in her youth.

Well Lucy continued lightly I have brought you something that I think you will really like then removing an old worn book from her bag continued it's called ‘A Room with A View’, and I heard it's very interesting…...and by the way, there could be a few fellas traipsing around starkers in it, so don’t be shocked"

The frown seemed to disappear from her grandmother's face, which was no surprise, as this had been her favorite book; the yellowed pages, along with a disintegrating spine, was testimony to the many times she had read it throughout her life. Lucy began reading aloud and soon entered into Forster’s pre-World War One Italy. Towards the end of the first chapter the attending physician came in to perform a last check-up on the patient before finishing his shift. Lucy, who had quickly returned the mask to her face, waited as he worked silently then signaled a quick goodbye as he left the room.

About an hour later when Hannah appeared less tense Lucy closed the book and rubbed her eyes in an effort to fight the need to sleep. In just a few hours, she was to travel to Templemore in Tipperary to sit a series of exams as part of the selection process for the Garda Siochanna – the Irish police force. With her excellent A Level results from two years ago, her high level of fitness, good physical and mental health – well, apart from the neurotic reaction to the hospital and her recent weight loss from stress - she considered herself a prime candidate. The two years she had spent as a voluntary coast guard had been enjoyable, but Lucy finally decided she preferred the land to the sea and that her true calling was to be a police officer. However, she was also a realist and had to contemplate an alternative route should that not materialize. Hannah had taught her that in life it was always wise to have a solid plan B, just in case. And, true to her upbringing, she had applied and was accepted to Limerick University where she would major in Modern Languages and Psychology. All the European language classes were full, so it was a toss-up between Mandarin and Arabic. Anyway, deep in her heart she could not envisage being anything but a police officer, so resorting to this academic plan was not something that would transpire.

Hannah seemed at peace now and Lucy felt more relaxed. The heat in the room was comforting in a strange way, like a warm blanket enveloping her snuggly, which combined with lack of sleep from the night before, made her feel very drowsy. Soon her eyes started to droop, her head felt heavy, and she thought it would do no harm to doze off for just a moment.

Quickly! Oh God! The voice screamed Move!!!! Move it!!! Come on - move now!

Lucy bolted from her chair with shock. There was a panicked voice, someone was in trouble! She immediately dashed out of the room and into the corridor, but didn't see any commotion, everything was silent.

They're burning them alive!!!! Move!!!!!!!

Lucy spun around in shock realizing that the panicked voice was coming from her grandmother. The oxygen mask had been thrown aside and even though Hannah was gasping for air she still managed to wail Over on the hill.... they’re being burned alive! Move now!! Move, or more will die! Save the children!

Lucy quickly raced to the bedside and replaced the mask over her grandmother's face but it was thrown aside amid more shrieks of they're dead; they're all burned!! Move!!!!

Lucy pressed hard on the red panic button next to the bedside table then leaned over Hannah’s thrashing body.

Nana, Nana she whispered urgently it's okay, nobody's hurt, it's just a bad dream.

She held on tighter to the writhing body as it trashed about in deep distress. Tears rolled down Lucy’s cheeks as she called aloud for help, but nobody came and the thrashing became even more violent. Struggling to restrain Hannah, who had slid halfway down the bed, Lucy held on tight to the emaciated wrist with one hand as she stretched across towards the panic button with the other hand, calling loudly again for help as she did so. Just then her grandmother stopped moving, seized Lucy's hands in a death grip while pulling her close to her face then looked hard into her eyes and said through gasping breaths and gritted teeth I’ll slit his bloody throat.

Lucy stared down at her grandmother hardly believing the expression of hate etched into the old woman's face. This neither looked nor sounded like the loving Hannah she knew. Realizing she had better ease her out of whatever place she was in, Lucy gently cradled the frail body while saying softly Hannah, it’s okay, he’s gone. Don't you worry, everything will be fine now. He’s gone, he’s gone.

The words seemed to help but Hannah kept the death grip she had on Lucy's hand. Just as the medical team burst into the room, Hannah turned her gaze away and slipped into unconsciousness releasing her hold as she went.

What happened? one nurse asked hurriedly while placing a mask on her face and setting up the medication she was about to administer.

What took you so bloody long!!!? Lucy cried in exasperation.

"What happened? The nurse repeated coldly.

I'm...I'm not sure she replied in bewilderment while still staring at her grandmother. She seemed to be having some sort of nightmare, but it was as if she was actually there. It was not like a dream. I don’t know what the hell happened!!!!

The doctor who was speaking a litany of medical jargon ignored Lucy and relayed information of the ailing lady's vital signs to the nurse. Charts were checked and information was exchanged without either of them looking at Lucy.

After what seemed like an eternity Lucy shouted Will someone tell me please what is going on!!!

It was the doctor who spoke this happens frequently you know. They believe they're reliving an event from the past, but you can't know if it's real or not.

Do you think it's real? Lucy asked wide eyed.

Neither one replied. The doctor was busily moving his stethoscope around her heart area, and the nurse checked the patient's chart. Nobody, appeared to have heard her, or perhaps they did not want to. Observing them both, Lucy realized they were attending to was just another patient, just another old lady who had lived a long life, and who was nearing the end now. They didn't know that for Lucy, this old lady was Hannah Moore, the most wonderful, loving person in the world, the only person she could call family; the only person who made the loss of her parents bearable and the only one who stepped in to take care of her. They could not see this Hannah; all they could see was just another plastic identity bracelet.

A monotonous beeping sound resonated the end of her grandmother’s journey.

I’m sorry the doctor said turning to Lucy Hannah has just passed away. A moment passed before Lucy walked slowly over and sat on the side of the bed; she leaned in and hugged her Nana lovingly. Thank you Nana, she whispered as she kissed her cheek gently. "Thank you for being there when I needed you most; I love you and will always, always miss you. Then with that she took her bag and left running as fast as she could.

*

Limerick, the third largest city in the Republic of Ireland, lies on the River Shannon in the southwest region of the country. Steeped in history dating back to well before the time of the Vikings, Limerick was, until the mid-eighteenth century, a fortress enclosed within medieval walls. While the face of the city has slowly altered over time, there still remains a visible medieval core. The older district of English Town is to the north at the junction of the Shannon and Abbey Rivers, the two districts to the south of the Abbey River are Irish Town and Newtown Perry. On the eastern end of Irish town is Lower Gerald Griffin Street, so named for the Limerick poet, playwright and novelist, Gerald Griffin; it was here that Lucy found herself two days later standing beside her grandmother's coffin in Crosse's Funeral home.

The small, but appropriately somber room provided a warm and intimate atmosphere which allowed those who knew and loved Hannah to pay their last respects while offering condolences to Lucy, who stood in muted awe at the amount of people filing through the place. Hannah’s friends and neighbor’s from where she lived on Ahtlunkard Street all came by for a brief farewell. Many of the customers from her Tea House showed up too, along with Nora the corpulent baker extraordinaire. Nobody could resist her cakes and breads, and she was the sole supplier of fixes for Lucy’s addiction to cheesecake. Despite the solemnity of their surroundings, Nora had piled a load of food in neatly wrapped tin-foil packages into Lucy’s arms claiming that she was starving herself to a slow death if she didn’t eat more then left after paying her respects and inviting Lucy to a private ceremony at the Tea House on Saturday she left.

After placing the food on a table by the wall Lucy glanced over at the perfectly embalmed body laying in the silk lined oak box, the peaceful face reflecting nothing of those final tumultuous moments which had forever altered the image of her loving Nana. Was impossible that Hannah had done something so atrocious? Hardly likely! But hypothetically speaking, if she had, what was her motive? And who was the victim? It took Lucy enormous control not to just shout out and ask the crowd can anyone here tell me if Hannah committed a crime of the throat-cutting kind in her youth? But that was no way to go about finding the truth; she would have to find someone who knew Hannah all their lives.

But of the many faces present, she recognized less than half. However she managed to discreetly ask a few unidentified mourners slowly parading by, how they knew her grandmother. Their vague responses only succeeded in further piquing her curiosity. One elderly man had replied that he came from the village where Hannah grew up, but admitted that he didn’t know her very well, he had come to represent the Slattery family who would always be in her debt. Lucy wanted nothing more but to sit the man down and extract every last ounce of information from him, but a wake was not the place to take such action. So instead of pursuing persons unknown through the funeral home, she just stood there politely going through the motions, graciously accepting the many hands proffered, but inside was feeling like the last vestige of a genetically deficient group of atoms being displayed for all to see.

The people offering their sympathies could not see the gargantuan effort it was taking to hold things together. For two days now she had thought of nothing only Hannah's last words and the Garda exam she never took. After getting to Tipperary ninety minutes late she ended up having a special interview with the person responsible for admissions. Lucy explained her situation, but was told that unfortunately all lab technicians and medical personnel assigned to do testing on potential recruits were long packed up and gone home. The candidates currently taking exams were almost finished, so she wouldn’t have time to participate. Sympathies were offered and her candidature was postponed until the next time. The exact date had not been established, but it could be a three or four year wait. So, it looked like plan B would be coming into effect after all. University she thought to herself don't think that's for me; I'm not the type.

She sighed at the thoughts of what lay ahead, but figured she was more fortunate than many other people. After all, she was a financially independent woman, who had the freedom to choose what she wanted to do with her life. Hannah's words of counsel echoed in her head your grandfather made sure you had a good start in life, use that money well. And she had…sort of…..no, really she had.

So sorry about your loss an elderly man was saying to Lucy, but she hadn't heard him at first because she was miles away in thought.

Oh sorry, I was miles away she said observing the small stooped man with a wooden cane and tweed cap in hand. His wispy hair protruded from the sides of an otherwise bald head and he wore a warm impish smile on a small thin weather-beaten face.

I could see that, young lady he said kindly not everyone's cup of tea these places. I prefer cremation to a coffin myself, but then again, to each his own. He went to turn away and Lucy gushed "Did you know Hannah well?

He smiled roguishly I knew Hannah Moore when I worked for her father at their creamery.

Lucy nodded remembering her grandmother talking about the creamery they had owned.

But I was only there for a short while he went on after that my family left the area and I only met Hannah again once or twice by chance. He paused, as if thinking back to that particular time and sadness crossed his face. Then looking at Lucy he forced a smile and said now that's going back a very long time ago, and young people these days don't want to be listening to scéals of the past, especially not the ramblin's of an auld fella like me.

But I would love to have a chance to talk to you again Lucy said whole heartedly. What's your name?

This seemed to please him greatly I'm Pa Doohan from Kilrush he said extending a hand with fingers curbed from arthritis.

They shook hands Pleased to meet you Mr. Doohan.

Just Pa, is grand enough for me he said I have a butchers shop in the town square. My sons manage the place now, but they haven't run me out of it altogether yet. I'm still allowed to go in and help every now and again, so come by and you'll find me there. Then with a slight wave of his hand he turned to walk away but stopped, turned and said you'll recognize me when you get there 'cause I'll be the only one doin' the real work. He laughed heartedly at this and left the room. Lucy noticed him limp heavily as he walked away and knew she couldn't wait to get chatting with Pa again.

*

After the end of a sad day, it was with a heavy heart that Lucy pulled into the compact parking space to the left of the house and turned off the engine. With no lights on and only solitude waiting inside, the place seemed uninviting, eerie even. Although it was still quite empty, it had, despite her original plans, become a temporary home. For two months now she was the proprietor of a small three bedroom, terraced house in Raheen, a once rural community that was growing rapidly to meet the demands of the expanding city of Limerick. Hers was the last of five houses, in a small cul-de-sac called Ridgewood crescent. On the left side of the house was a small garden contoured with a high hedge that officially separated her plot of land from a small fairy fort, or wooded area, which doubled as a useful shortcut to the hospital. To the right of the house was the highly manicured garden and home of a retired couple who enjoyed weekly visits from their children and grandchildren. So far, they were fine as neighbors go, not invasive, just nosey, but they had a wonderful dog that had taken a shine to Lucy and who came by regularly to have his ears rubbed.

But even though her house was nice, she regretted the purchase; it had been her first time using part of the inheritance her grandfather had bequeathed them many years earlier, and the original plan to rent it in order to generate an income never materialized. After Hannah's hospitalization she decided to move in, as it was close to the hospital and allowed her to visit her grandmother anytime day or night. She never bothered to put in any furniture because it could never feel like home, unlike Hannah's house, which was situated on the other side of the city. Hers was a turn of the century, two storey modest cottage on Athlunkard street with a beautiful back garden so big, it could have fit at least three other cottages within its conifer hedged confines. A majestic lilac tree stood tall above the wooden gate; its branches bowing low and providing a heavenly summer scent, almost as a preview to the wonderful floral show about to be seen. With the Clare hills in the distance, the multitude of colors and aromas lifted the heart and the senses.

As the cold sound of her footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, she was brought back to the reality of dreary solitude. Standing in the dark barren kitchen Lucy contemplated returning to Hannah’s, but found, for the moment, that emptiness was easier to handle than a place full of memories. Immediate consolation was needed so she went to the fridge for a therapeutic serving of Nora’s fresh lemon cheese cake. While brewing a strong cup of tea, she had listened to the messages on her phone and a wide smile broke across her face as her best friend Mags, who was in sunny Marseille along with four other of her close friends, talked loudly above a cacophony of voices in the back ground. "Hi Lucy Loo! I suppose you're at the hospital with Hannah. Hope everything is okay. Send her our love. How did your exam go? Knowing you, I’ll bet you’ll get full marks all around. Well, we're all fine – too bad you missed Paris, you would have loved it. Anyway, we arrived in Marseille this morning as planned. - shush Tim, I know. I'll tell her!!! Tim wants me to tell you that this country is a cheese paradise, so you had better get your arse over here quickly! The food is delicious, makes a break from the curry and chips. Ha! Anyway next week we plan to be in Paris again, but for one night only, I'll email you the exact address and phone number, as I don't have the info on me at the mo. Now don't worry if you can't make it to Paris because we can meet up in Brussels. Hope to see you soon. Bye Luce. Take care…..Fiona says the French men are all hunks. So that and the cheese should be incentive enough for you to come over! Ciao! Oh, by the way the two apostles Mark and John are in a café getting drunk, but they asked me to send you their love, so I'm sending it - better have it tested!

Lucy was still smiling when she hung up the phone. Part of her really wanted to be with her friends on the six week Euro-rail trip across the continent. But Lucy’s travel plans changed with the notice to attend the Templemore Police Academy to sit her exams. It was not something that could be postponed, so she decided to simply go as far as London come back and then arrange to meet her friends in Paris a week later. However, she spent all of twenty four hours in London when Nora called to say her grandmother had suddenly taken ill. Lucy left immediately, and despite the general sentiment of disappointment the agreement was to keep in contact in order to set up a possible rendezvous point.

Now though Lucy could not envisage trotting off on holidays, her heart just did not feel up to it no matter how much she longed for sun-filled days touring the wonders of Europe. With a heavy sigh, she put down her cup of tea. The caffeine and sugar cravings had dwindled away quenched by sadness and disappointment. Her eyes burned from abating tears, her inner core screamed from the sense of frustration and injustice at losing Hannah. She had been robbed; death had stolen the last of her treasures. Defeated and at a loss, she let herself sink down onto the kitchen floor and lay there coiled up in the darkness as tears dripped silently onto the tiles. The doorbell rang. She ignored it. Minutes later it rang again.

Go away she whimpered not feeling like talking to another soul!

A couple more rings later Lucy grumpily got up, turned on the lights and made her way down the hall to the door, but when she opened it nobody was there. Feckin brats have nothing better to do. The street was deserted. The wind had picked up and the clouds had cleared, but it felt bitterly cold. She was about to close the door when something caught her eye. On the ground was a small white envelope, delivered in person, not posted; there was no stamp. She found this odd, and checked the street once more, but seeing nobody picked it up and quickly returned to the warmth of her house. She opened the envelope, removed the contents and found a hand written note that said;

Hannah Moore, wife, mother, murderer.

Chapter 2. Past Pains

The West Clare peninsula sits along the wild, rugged Irish coastline where the Shannon River Estuary meets the beautiful, but harsh Atlantic Ocean. Kilometers of high, imposing cliffs stand defiant against the relentless onslaught of powerful crashing waves which slowly sculpt the land at an imperceptible pace. Despite the unforgettable beauty of the seascape - which would make a convert of any land lover - the often turbulent weather, mostly infertile land and geographic isolation rendered the peninsula a sparsely populated one. However, on the river side, which stretches about fifty nautical miles inland, sits the small maritime community of Kilrush. The town was once a significant trading post where the deep water estuary allowed large and small vessels easy access to the port and made the town a primary source of commerce for the entire peninsula and surrounding areas. Now, it had become a popular tourists’ spot, with many coming to admire the natural beauty of its environs.

As she parked her car between two barely visible yellow lines, Lucy had no trouble spotting Doohan’s butchers; it’s red and white striped canvas canapé stood out amongst a sea of blue tarp covered market stalls, as the Town Square bustled with Saturday morning shoppers eager to get their fresh produce for the all-important Sunday Lunch.

The frosty start to the day had dissipated into a much warmer, sunny morning and Lucy regretted wearing her heavy lined jacket. Her blue jeans and white long-sleeved t-shirt would have been enough, but she had dressed like one going on an Artic expedition. Adding to her general feeling of discomfort were the woolen socks she had worn inside her Ecco loafers. She removed the jacket and socks, tossed them on the passenger seat then slipped her shoes back on. After checking that her driver’s license and bank card were tucked well into the back pocket of her jeans, she got out, locked the car, and crossed the street.

The weekly market had been a long standing tradition dating back centuries, and despite many political setbacks managed to survive, and eventually thrive. Over the cacophony of various noises were the voices of vendors, eagerly calling out prices for their various produce. She smiled to herself when one man loudly told an interested client that his eggs were so fresh they were still warm from having just been laid- the hen is knackered Ma'am, they’re so big.

Dominating the entire scene was the Market House, a bold two storey building with a large clock centered above a balustrade balcony. Now the local Town Hall, the Market House was built in 1806 at the private expense of the town’s then wealthy owner, Mr. Vandeleur. A name once synonymous with benevolence, he later came to be associated with a very disturbing chapter in Irish history, when in the aftermath of the famine years, which had a cataclysmic effect on the local population, mass evictions in Kilrush surpassed those of any other town. The destitute were dispossessed of their meager holdings as they were unable to pay exorbitant rent increases of sometimes two hundred percent. The person orchestrating the evictions was the town owner. Only the fortunate were able to buy themselves passage to America and a fresh start in a land where men were free.

Lucy looked around at the quaint picturesque village, with the breathtaking view of the surrounding sea and found it hard to imagine that Kilrush was once a place people fled from. Meandering through the stalls, she came upon a double-sided black board in the form of a large, smiling butcher complete with a full-size apron standing on the narrow pavement outside the butcher’s shop. The day’s specials to be availed of were neatly written in white chalk, and at the bottom they had added come on inside. We’ll be pleased to meet you and have meat to please you. Peering through the large shop front windows she squinted several times but caught no sight of Pa. The place was bustling with customers and the two men behind the counter were busy tending to their work; she decided to go on in and join the crowd.

Two large, portly men, identical twins in their mid- forties, wearing long white aprons and