Dermot Bolger - The Family on Paradise Pier

Converting to Catholicism like the Countess did after the Easter Rising was never an option. Instead the Christian Scientists had been Eva’s first port of call. While shopgirls gossiped about boys outside her cubicle she had studied the Christian Scientist bible, absorbing their mantra that no life, truth or intelligence existed in matter alone. Next she spent long afternoons in a High Church where women wore blue robes and their elaborate rituals, though beautiful to watch, made her wary. She needed something simpler and more direct. She tried a Jewish synagogue and, after that, sampled every religion in London for pleasure and interest. Yet no matter how comfortable she felt, an intuitive inner voice warned: ‘Move on, don’t mistake this stepping stone for a summit.’ In the end she felt herself to simply be a child of the universe, blown about like a sycamore sepal at the creator’s will. That wind had carried her back to Donegal as the civil war spluttered to a smouldering halt soon after Michael Collins’s death.

Eva glanced up from her sketchpad now, having become so absorbed in drawing that she had been unaware of a presence in her doorway. It was Brendan but Eva felt she had stepped back in time because he wore the comical hat that he used to love. At fourteen-and-a-half, it made his face seem younger. His serious expression recalled the days when he would visit her, upset because his brothers kept excluding him from their schemes.

Eva smiled. ‘Where did you find that hat?’

‘In the attic. Mother must have put it away.’

‘She was always threatening to burn it,’ Eva said. ‘But I like it on you.’

‘I’ll take it with me so.’

‘It would give the boys in school a laugh, but I doubt if you’ll be allowed to wear it.’

‘From now on I wear what I like.’ There was no rebellion in Brendan’s voice, just the quiet resoluteness that was in his character. He was not prone to Art’s passionate oratory or a stickler for logic like Thomas. Indeed, he rarely ventured opinions aloud but once he made up his own mind about something nobody could alter his beliefs.

‘What do you mean?’

Brendan’s tone was apologetic, anxious not to offend. ‘I’m rather tired of all these rows, aren’t you? The fact is I won’t be returning to school. I have decided to make my own way in life. I just announced the fact and, you know, for the first time I saw both Cousin George and Art lost for words. I can’t see why they are so surprised. Plenty of chaps my age have been earning their keep for years. Art and Thomas talk the good fight, but still cling to the privilege of a university education. Well, wild horses wouldn’t drag me back to Marlborough. Not one chap there knows a thing about life or could manage without ten servants. What’s the point in being educated for a world which, as Mr Ffrench rightly says, will soon be swept away?’

‘Does Mother know?’ Eva asked.

‘You understand, don’t you?’ Brendan’s voice faltered, anxious for approval.

‘Does Mother know?’

‘Well, I didn’t rightly know myself until it came to me as I listened to them argue. I want a proper job making something, not pen-pushing in some corner of the Empire. I want to become an engineer. Marlborough doesn’t teach you anything useful like that.’

‘Will you go to Dublin?’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Brendan smiled to show that he meant no offence. ‘In Dublin I’d still be the youngest Verschoyle brother. I want to be known only for myself. I hardly know a soul in London, so that’s where I’ll go. One cannot wait for life to come to you like a gentleman caller. You must go out and confront it.’

They both turned as Thomas entered the doorway.

‘This is entirely Art’s fault,’ he announced.

Brendan shook his head. ‘You’re obsessed by Art, Thomas. Maybe it comes from being next in line. Being the last born means that I can simply be my own man.’

‘You’re the one obsessed by him,’ Thomas retorted. ‘Idolising him since you were a baby and you’re hardly more than a baby now. A pet hamster has more chance of surviving in the wild than you have of finding a job in London at your age.’

‘I’m old enough.’

‘I’ll give you a fortnight before Father has to pull strings to get you re-admitted to your warm school dormitory. Don’t be stupid, Brendan. You don’t need to renounce wealth because you and I won’t inherit anything to give up anyway.’

Thomas went silent as footsteps ascended the rough steps. Father had to duck his head to enter.

‘Is this a meeting of the Verschoyle Party Congress?’ His mild humour disguised his obvious distress.

‘It will break Mother’s heart if Brendan doesn’t return to school,’ Thomas said bitterly. ‘Though, even then, she won’t bring herself to criticise her golden boy Art.’

‘I’ve never heard her criticise any of her children,’ Father replied. ‘No matter how hard you all hurt her. Cousin George is about to leave. He says he won’t stay to be insulted by the names Art has called him.’

‘Art means no harm,’ Eva pleaded.

‘That doesn’t mean he won’t cause it.’ Father looked around. ‘I heard what you said about inheritance, Thomas. I will try to leave you all something. But it cannot be this house which I only hold in trust for Art and which is legally entailed to his son after him.’

‘You know that weeds will grow through broken windows here before Art will accept it,’ Thomas replied sharply.

‘I know he is young. I know that you see life differently at twenty-two and thirty-two.’

‘Art will never change.’

‘Why should he?’ Brendan asked. ‘I don’t want inherited wealth either. I want to establish my own worth.’

‘You will return to Marlborough and stay there until your sixteenth birthday.’ Father’s voice was quiet but firm. ‘After that you’ll be a child no longer. Hopefully you will finish your education and make something of yourself. That will be your decision. All I request is that you obey me for the next eighteen months.’

‘Why should I?’ Brendan’s voice was not aggressive. It contained an innocent openness that Father also possessed.

‘Because you are a gentleman, it will please your mother and because I will never ask anything of you again. I shall never walk away from any of my children, no matter what you do. Should you choose to walk away from me I will not stop you. But take something with you while I’m alive and you still can. Take jewellery or the family silver if you wish before Art gives it away to a beggar.’

‘I won’t steal from my brother,’ Thomas replied.

‘Art doesn’t own this house yet. Steal from me.’

Thomas looked down awkwardly. ‘I’ll see George,’ he said ‘Maybe I can twist his arm and persuade him to stay for Eva’s party.’

He walked out. Brendan fingered the hat he had removed when Father entered. ‘I give you my word to return to Marlborough until my sixteenth birthday,’ he said. ‘I make no promises beyond that, but you know it is not in my character to break my word.’

‘Define character ,’ Father asked.

Brendan pondered. ‘Character is what you are, what you do every day.’ He blushed slightly. ‘I’d better see Cousin George too in case he leaves.’

Father watched his youngest son descend the steps and shook his head in wonder. ‘ Character is what you are, what you do every day. If only dictionaries were as clear and noble. He’s a noble boy, you are all noble, but I worry about whether I’ve prepared any of you for life out there.’

‘We’ll be fine,’ Eva assured him. ‘I just hate seeing you look so frightfully upset.’

‘Do I? Maybe I don’t understand what’s happening any more. I’ve never harmed anybody in my life. I’ve given my services freely to defend neighbours in court and gave them land behind our house to hold a market every Tuesday. I address every man equally – Catholic, Protestant or dissenter – yet my eldest son thinks I should feel guilty for simply existing.’ He looked at Eva. ‘What terrible crime does Art feel I’ve committed? I’ve only ever wanted to mind your mother and for you all to be happy. We were happy once, weren’t we?’