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Chapter 7

HinderedratherthanhelpedbythelittleClearyboys,Stuartandateamofrouseaboutsmowedandscythedthelawn,weededtheflowerbeds,sprinkleddampsawdustontheverandastocleardustfrombetweentheSpanishtiles,anddrychalkonthereceptionroomfloortomakeitfitfordancing.ClarenceO’Toole’sbandwascomingallthewayfromSydney,alongwithoystersandprawns,crabsandlobsters;severalwomenfromGillywerebeinghiredastemporaryhelpers.ThewholedistrictfromRudnaHunishtoInishmurraytoBugelatoNarrengangwasinaferment.

Asthemarblehallwaysechoedtounaccustomedsoundsofobjectsbeingmovedandpeopleshouting,MaryCarsonshiftedherselffromherwingchairtoherdesk,drewasheetofparchmentforward,dippedherpeninthestandish,andbegantowrite.Therewasnohesitation,notsomuchasapausetoconsiderthepositioningofacomma.Forthelastfiveyearsshehadworkedouteveryintricatephraseinhermind,untilitwasabsolutelywordperfect.Itdidnottakeherlongtofinish;thereweretwosheetsofpaper,thesecondonewithagoodquarterofitblank.Butforamoment,thelastsentencecomplete,shesatoninherchair.Theroll-topdeskstoodalongsideoneofthebigwindows,sothatbysimplyturningherheadshecouldlookoutacrossthelawns.Alaughfromoutsidemadeherdoso,idlyatfirst,theninstiffeningrage.Goddamnhimandhisobsession!