Ernest O’Sullivan’s offices were slightly less impressive once you entered the building. They occupied only the second floor; what must have been a beautiful room had been sub-divided by cheap partitions and the ornate cornices visible in the hallway were covered by a low ceiling of tiles interspersed with strange metallic grids protecting those below from the neon strip lighting. A bored young girl who looked as if she could be heading straight to a nightclub after work showed Elizabeth into the cubicle that housed Mr O’Sullivan himself. She had resolved to refuse any tea or coffee but then realised that she hadn’t actually been offered any.
‘Hello, Miss Keane, very nice to meet you.’ A soft manicured hand was offered but Ernest O’Sullivan didn’t stand. Elizabeth was slightly taken aback by his rudeness but when she leaned in to shake his hand she noticed a black plastic handle at his back. He was in a wheelchair. Ernest was asking her about her journey and telling her what a pleasure her mother had always been to do business with but all Elizabeth could think about was how this man had got behind his desk. There didn’t seem to be room to navigate a wheelchair around it and besides, they were on the second floor. Was there a lift? She doubted it. Could it be he was just using a wheelchair to sit in? This was neither the office nor solicitor she had been expecting.
‘So, I wrote to you because, and I must really apologise, we found a codicil to your mother’s will. It should have been discovered along with everything else but it had slipped out of the file. I hope you understand. These things happen with old papers.’ His eyes blinked behind his thick glasses. The neon light made shiny tracks across his gleaming bald head.
‘Of course. Is it something I should be concerned about? Is there any dispute?’
‘Oh, no. On the contrary, you have had some added good fortune. You’ve been left another house.’
‘Another house?’ Elizabeth repeated, not understanding how this was possible.
‘Yes. It’s all very straightforward. Your mother held it in trust for you but now it is all yours to do with as you wish.’
‘A house? But where is it?’
‘Mmmm, let me just check.’ He riffled through a thick pile of papers on his desk and retrieved a large Manila envelope. ‘Here it is. Muirinish, in West Cork. Castle House, Muirinish, County Cork. I have no idea about the state of the place but congratulations. It must be worth something!’
The Foley farm! Why had her mother said nothing? She knew this day was going to come and what if Elizabeth hadn’t found the letters?
‘Does it come with much land?’
‘No. Looking at this, the title deed is fairly new.’ He studied the papers again. ‘Yes. Just six years ago, so my guess is the house was split from a farm and somebody else got the land. The map here just shows a house, with a farmyard to the rear and a strip of garden at the front.’ Ernest seemed delighted for her. He held out his smooth pink hand again and Elizabeth shook it. She was dumbfounded. Her father, who had never existed, never been spoken of, was in death suddenly very present in her life. She had read his heartfelt thoughts and now she owned his house. She felt like she might cry, so quickly made good her escape with the envelope in her hand.
On the street, she hesitated. What should she do? Where should she go? She stepped beneath a tree to avoid a large group of Japanese tourists following their guide back towards the bus from whence they had come, like spawning salmon dressed in Burberry raincoats. Elizabeth reached for her phone. She had to share this news with someone. Zach? Yes, she would call Zach, but when she opened her phone she saw that she had received a text message. It was from Elliot.
Hi, Liz. Did you mean to call me? Zach isn’t here. No plans to see him this holiday.
Her knees buckled and she steadied herself against the rough grey bark of the tree. A father found, and a son lost.
THEN
Castle House,
Muirinish,
West Cork
11 Feb 1974
Dear Patricia,
I just wanted to say thank you so much for coming down to visit us in Castle House. I hope you got home all right and the journey wasn’t too boring. I know I get very quiet in the car. Sorry. I think it is half my nerves, and half making sure I don’t have a crash with such precious cargo!
It was a real pleasure showing you around the farm and seeing everything through your eyes. Sometimes I forget how lovely it is here with the sea on our doorstep. Mam wanted me to tell you how much she enjoyed meeting you as well. She has talked of little else since your visit. Were your ears burning?