Yours in admiration,
Allegra Bird
I finish my final letter just as the train pulls into Connolly station.
Dear Minister Ruth Brasil
My name is Allegra Bird, I’m twenty-four years old. I’m from Valentia Island. I’m sending this letter to your constituency office, your office in Government Buildings and to your holiday home in Kenmare Bay. I’m also sending this to my aunt, Pauline Moran, who lives in Waterville and owns the Mussel House at Ballymacuddy pier. She tells me that you call in from time to time during the summer when you’re sailing with your husband and that the steamed mussels in white wine and garlic are your favourite.
I’m not from a political family, there’s a by-election on in a few weeks but as I’ve already been home for Easter, I can’t afford to take more holidays. And no offence but travelling home to vote in a by-election doesn’t sound like much of a break. But I’m an admirer of yours. I was delighted when the Taoiseach appointed you the Minister of Justice and Equality. I wanted to join the Gardaí when I left school and would have been proud to have you as my leader, overseeing law and order in Ireland. I like listening to you speaking and find you strong and firm but fair. I also think you’re a compassionate person and must be because of your family law practice that you ran for so many years. I think you’d make a very fair judge.
I recently heard the phrase, you are the average of the five people you spend the most time with. If the phrase is true, and on long contemplation on the people in and on the course of my life, I think it is, then I want my five to be a mash-up of the greatest and most inspiring five that I can think of. I’m not looking for an intimate friendship, that would be weird, but whatever you’d be comfortable with on your terms. I suggest letters, emails, Zoom or Skype, but it’s up to you.
It was recently brought to my attention that I have control of the five people in my life, it’s not just who you’re stuck with. So I can kind of curate the person I want to be. Sure we’ll see how it goes.
I’d love to know who your five are. They must be very special for you to be the way you are.
I hope to hear from you.
Best wishes
Allegra Bird
I fall into bed as soon as I arrive back to the house at ten thirty. The McGoverns are still away on their sun break in Marbella, the house is dark and locked up. It’s eerie to be faced with this great big empty mansion. There are a few night lights left on to make people think they’re home.
I think I see Barley out on the grass sniffing around but then remember he’s been sent to doggy day care and as the creature nears a garden light, its bushy tail reveals itself. An madra rua. The fox. I turn my lights off to get a clearer look. Sensing the change in light, it pauses and looks up my way. I hold my breath. It holds my stare. I don’t want to blink. I don’t want to look away. I’m not scared this time.
I gently move away to the fridge and take out a packet of ham. I go outside to the secret garden, hoping it hasn’t left. It’s still sniffing around the lawn. It’s not a cub, it’s a big one, an expert scavenger, fed itself nice and healthy.
I pull apart the slices of ham and place them down on the grass. The fox watches me from afar, through the entrance of the neatly manicured hedge.
That’s for you, I whisper.
I slowly back away, far enough so that it’s not threatened, but close enough to be able to see in the dark. It watches me, as if assessing me. Sizing me up. Can I be trusted. It decides I can and hurries forward, straight to the ham. Snaps it up and dashes away.
Pleased with myself, I turn around to go into the garage and the house alarm goes off, so sudden and so piercing it gives me such a fright I drop all of the ham and hurry inside.
By the time I get into my room my phone is ringing.
Becky calling.
Hi Allegra.
Hi Becky.
You’re out of breath, where are you, she asks.
In Dublin.
Funny, she says, drily. Where exactly.
I wasn’t being funny, I was home in Valentia for Easter, I reply, confused. I thought you meant … anyway now I’m back. I just got back a few hours ago.
Oh. Right, she says, so as you know the house alarm has gone off. I can hear it in the background. Gosh it’s loud. It’s probably nothing, but the security company just called me about it … they’ve contacted the guards and they’ll be over shortly.
Okay.
Allegra, she says slowly then pauses. You didn’t go inside the house did you.
Why would I, I say, rushing around the room to put a tracksuit on. Guards, she said, guards. Detective Freckles.