The Herbalist Read online

  ‘Well, make sure you’re more discreet than Birdie, won’t you?’

  ‘Oh, you’ve no worries on that score.’

  Carmel lifted books out of the box. Some were dog-eared already. Tender is the Night, Bird Alone, Hollywood Cemetery, As I Lay Dying.

  ‘Is Lady Chatterley’s Lover in here?’

  ‘Ah, Carmel, how would I know? I wouldn’t lower myself to read that lot.’

  ‘I know you wouldn’t. You’re very good to bring them at all.’

  ‘Make sure you get cash up front. Give no credit.’

  ‘Don’t worry your head about the finances.’

  ‘I’m telling you, Carmel – give no credit.’

  ‘And I’m telling you, Finbar – you’ve no need to worry.’

  ‘Your letters give me cause to.’

  ‘I know, I know, I just worry, that’s all.’

  She felt guilty. She shouldn’t have said anything, imposing her troubles on him. The shop would probably have done better under Finbar. He had a knack for business, an eye for opportunity. Well, it hadn’t been her decision.

  ‘Come into the kitchen. I’ve a nice bit of ham.’

  ‘I’ve eaten,’ he said.

  They stood there, momentarily silent. It felt like he was waiting for something, but she couldn’t think what.

  ‘You know, you look well, Carmel, and happy.’

  ‘I am happy.’

  Finbar laughed. ‘Daniel Holohan won’t be happy, not when he sees these books. Maybe we should run our scheme by the man of the house?’

  How slippery Finbar was – that much hadn’t changed. He knew she wouldn’t tell Dan, knew it would be their secret.

  He closed the box and hoisted it high. His face reddened with the strain.

  ‘Where will we hide the evidence, half-sister dearest?’

  She hated it when he called her that.

  ‘In the extension, through the door behind you – there’s a long white cupboard. I’ll show you.’

  He followed her through the door. She opened the cupboard and cleared the rags and polish from the lowest shelf. Her belly made her awkward and slow. When she was done, Finbar eased the box into place and closed the cupboard.

  ‘You won’t be stuck for reading material now, Carmel!’

  ‘Between the shop and the baby, there won’t be much time for reading.’

  ‘You’ll want to be careful not to get worn out. Remember poor Nancy, how frazzled she got trying to manage everything, what it did to her temper?’

  ‘I’m not my mother.’

  ‘Of course, you’re very different women, Carmel. You, most likely, are well prepared and have help arranged – some local girl?’

  ‘We don’t want everyone in the town knowing our business.’

  Finbar’s face lit up. ‘Do you know, I have just the person. She’s of good character but not local to you – an old pupil of mine.’

  ‘I don’t know, Finbar – girls can be trouble.’

  ‘Sarah’s far from a girl – very pleasant, and very reasonable, if a touch on the plain side.’

  ‘Well, I could probably do with a hand. I’ll talk to Dan.’

  ‘As if Dan ever made a decision in his life.’

  ‘Now, Fin.’

  ‘That’s settled, then. I’ll send her on when the time comes. Just drop me a note.’

  He walked back into the shop. Carmel followed. He went behind the counter and ran his hands across its surface.

  ‘That’ll be in four weeks, Finbar. Imagine, four weeks and I’ll be a mother!’

  Carmel went to grasp her miraculous medal, but it wasn’t there. Could the chain have snapped and fallen into the basin? She’d have to look later.

  Finbar took the stack of ledgers from the shelf behind him. He selected the most recent one and started leafing through it. Without looking up, he waved his hand at her. Carmel took off her glasses and gave them to him.

  She looked at the top of his head as he studied the ledger. It was like he had never left. Why had he come now, after two years of no word? Dan said there was always a motive with Finbar. Carmel didn’t like it when Dan spoke like that, but he was right. She had adored Finbar since she was a child, but she wasn’t blind. She knew how he felt about her.

  Finbar had always drawn attention to his status, refusing to call his stepmother by anything other than her first name. That hadn’t gone down well. Carmel’s mother hated her name, thought it was common. Maybe that was why Nancy took to Dan. He always called her Mrs Kelly and treated her with the upmost respect. And when it came to the end, Dan was the only one who could tolerate her fevered notions. He would sit by her sickbed, letting her ramble on and on long after everyone else had grown tired listening. Such a contrast to Finbar, whose visits felt like assessments to calculate how long she had left and exactly when he could step in and take over.

  During her lifetime Nancy treated both children like her own. After she died, however, it was a different matter. At the reading of the will they discovered that Carmel, not Finbar, had inherited the shop. Finbar went white, and stood up and sat down again several times. His hands shook. When Mr Carr, the solicitor, finished reading, he looked over his glasses at Finbar and said quietly that of course Finbar could challenge the terms of his stepmother’s will, that many would consider it most irregular to leave a business to a daughter when they had a son.

  Carmel was too dazed to respond. Dan rose to his feet and said the only thing that was highly irregular was a solicitor drawing up a will and then encouraging somebody to challenge it. That shut Mr Carr up. Carmel had been proud of her husband at that moment – how quickly he had responded, how calmly he had spoken.

  Finbar went over to her when the solicitor left.

  ‘Thank you, Carmel.’

  He put his hand on her shoulder.

  ‘I didn’t know, I swear.’

  ‘No, I said thanks and I meant it. You’ve saved me from a life-time of weighing ounces of sugar and listening to woman-talk. Your husband is more suited to that kind of thing. My time will be better spent providing the next generation with an education.’

  He left the office, and she hadn’t seen him since.

  Whatever he had said, Carmel knew Finbar had been devastated. He had wanted the shop. From the minute she had married Dan Holohan, Finbar arrived every Saturday afternoon to check the accounts. When Dan told him there was no need, Finbar said, ‘You work for me.’ They were barely seen in the same room after that. Grettie B said it was a common state of affairs: ‘You can’t have two bulls in the one field, Carmel.’ Common or not, it hurt. They were a small family but a family all the same. Finbar and his son, James, were all she had in the way of blood relatives.

  Now here he was, leaning over her counter as if he had never left, checking accounts that were really none of his concern. The poor man, he must really miss the place. She didn’t want to lose touch with him again.

  Finbar slapped the ledger shut and smiled as he handed over her glasses.

  ‘You’re after going very quiet, Carmel – were you away with the fairies or what?’

  ‘Just wondering, will you visit more often now?’

  ‘I’ve every intention of it,’ he said, placing his hand over hers.

  That wasn’t like Finbar; maybe he was softening with age.

  ‘Would you like to see the baby’s bedroom? It won’t take a minute – come on.’

  He followed her up the stairs, stepping on her hem and sighing at how slowly she moved. She opened the door of the bedroom and let him walk in ahead of her.

  ‘Isn’t the room lovely and bright
now? Do you recall how dark it was?’

  ‘Of course I recall how dark it was, isn’t it mine? Or was. Looks the same as ever to me.’

  Carmel bit her lip, didn’t point out the brand-new rocking chair where she would nurse her baby and rock him off to sleep, or the soft quilted pillow she had made in a fit of craftiness. She rubbed the side of her thumb: it was still sore from the needle. Finbar went over to the mantelpiece, picked up the old tin monkey and flicked its cymbals. He kept flicking as he spoke: the sound was tinny, small and horrible. Carmel felt uncomfortably warm. Perhaps she should open the window.

  ‘You’ve unblocked the fireplace,’ said Finbar. ‘Don’t you remember the young blackbirds every June? Flying down the chimney and ruining the walls? How we crouched under the bed with our hands clamped to our ears?’

  He came nearer.

  ‘What monkeys?’ said Carmel.

  ‘What are you blabbing about? I said birds. Blackbirds.’

  Finbar placed a cool palm on her forehead. Suddenly the soapy smell from his skin was sickening.

  ‘You look flushed; you should rest, Carmel.’

  Downstairs, she sat at the kitchen table and Finbar set a glass of water in front of her. He watched as she sipped.

  ‘I may go,’ he said.

  There was sweat on his top lip.

  ‘At least have a drink of something before you leave?’

  ‘I don’t have time. I’m calling to the Sergeant’s for a quick cup of tea before I head home.’

  He made his way through the shop, and Carmel followed.

  ‘She can come as soon as you want,’ he said as he unbolted the door.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Sarah.’

  ‘Oh, that. We’ll see, we’ll see.’

  ‘Goodbye, Carmel, no need to come out.’

  The door slammed shut.

  ‘Goodbye, Finbar,’ she whispered.

  Carmel told herself that her brother’s reappearance was a good thing. Look at all he had brought with him? A stock of books that might bring in a few bob and a woman to help when the baby came. All these things, they were good things, weren’t they? Yet all she wanted to do was lie down. She felt like she could sleep for years.

  3

  Sarah was hiding out in her bedroom, settling herself before she went down to face Mai. She couldn’t stop thinking about that morning, about the risk she and James had taken and how awful it had all turned out. She was tired of seeing him in secret. James said that his father wouldn’t approve. Claimed the well-respected gentleman raised terror under his own roof. God knows what he’d do – he’d flay them. Sarah wasn’t sure about that: Master Kelly was especially nice to her, and a frequent visitor to their home. She wasn’t so sure that he’d object to them walking out together. It was the lying that bothered her most. It didn’t seem to bother James; he almost relished it. It had been his idea to meet up in the town when Sarah mentioned that she was getting a lift to the market with Bernie O’Neill and her uncle Pat.

  The second they arrived, Sarah spotted James leaning against the door of the town hall.

  Bernie elbowed Sarah. ‘I wonder who that fine man is waiting for?’

  ‘Leave the poor girl alone,’ said Pat, as he helped them down from the trap; ‘she’s only mad about him.’

  So much for their secret. Sarah walked towards James, and Bernie followed at her heels. James tipped his cap and told Bernie that Sarah wouldn’t need a lift back, that he would see her home safely. He linked his arm with hers and they strolled off, leaving poor Bernie gawping.

  They sauntered around the market. He looked handsome, manly, and proud to be seen with her. She never knew where she stood: sometimes he would walk past without so much as a hello, other times he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He had tormented Sarah when she was young. Pulled her plaits, threw stones, called her a ‘long string of a thing’. And then he changed, went sulky, silent. And then, later, there were gifts, bars of chocolate, sachets of lavender, ribbons, a comb. And then, on and off, they began to keep company. And now this, walking around together in public, almost daring someone they knew to catch them. Maybe it was a good sign, maybe he was ready to tell Master Kelly the truth.

  Sarah had worn a peacock-blue shawl with a gold fringe. And earrings: a pair of green glass-droplets a grateful mother had given her aunt. All sorts of things were bestowed on Mai; her bedroom was like a magpie’s nest, for few had money to pay, and you couldn’t shove a baby back in, as Mai said herself. Sarah felt very grand indeed as she and James walked past farmers selling pigs, chickens, eggs. Stalls selling clothes, shoes, blankets, bed irons. There was even a Shetland pony on offer. Droves of men in dusty suits smoked and bartered by the walls of the huge town hall. James told her that dances and theatrical shows were held there on a regular basis. He said it in a way that implied they might be going soon, together.

  Under the town hall clock, a dark man was arranging brown glass jars and bottles of medicines, herbal tonics. His cream suit was slightly loose, sagging at the shoulders, as if it had belonged to a bigger man or maybe he himself had been broader once. Sarah uncorked a short bottle and inhaled. What was it? The hawker watched closely: he had thick lashes and narrow eyes; sniffs of grey edged his forelocks. There was something droopy but alert about his expression. His mouth was wide; an old scar scored a pale line through his bottom lip. James nudged her; he wanted to move on, away from the man who was staring so hard. She read the label: fortification tonic. She smelt it again.

  ‘Ah, borage.’

  ‘You know herbs?’ asked the man.

  ‘My aunt knows – she’s a midwife.’

  ‘An old wife, with tales, superstitions and lies?’

  ‘No. Not lies.’

  He stroked his chin and smiled, waved her closer, as if to whisper a secret. His breath held a hint of peppermint and tobacco. There were rings on his fingers. He wanted a favour; it was his first day in the town, everyone was looking but no one was biting. Sarah wasn’t sure; she was no actress. James changed his mind about leaving: she should do it, he said; it would be amusing. He talked like that, amusing. So she did.

  It came so easy, pretending to be someone else. Exactly who she was pretending to be, she couldn’t say. She stood to her full height, straightened her back and squared her shoulders, like Mai was always nagging her to, waited till there were a couple of women at the stall and inquired after the skin cream in a louder voice than she would normally use. She could feel all eyes on her; it was strange but she didn’t feel embarrassed or shy at all. How could she, when she wasn’t herself, or maybe was more herself than she knew? Within seconds they were buying. She tarried a while, complimenting a lady on her child, praising the dark man’s potions to anyone that cared to listen. No one noticed as Sarah dropped the jar into her pocket without paying. She hadn’t a bob, and it would ruin the charade to give it back.

  The women were pushing forward with enough force to topple the table. They were picking up bottles, trying to match the labels with their ailments. Some had forgotten their spectacles; all had forgotten about Sarah or, as the herbalist had called her, the lovely lady. She slipped through the crowd towards James. He was vexed and didn’t hide it.

  ‘Not amusing, then?’ Sarah asked.

  He didn’t answer, just dug his hands into his pockets and started off in the direction of the main road. She had no choice but to follow him. He was fuming. Sarah knew what ailed him: she had been admired by others and he didn’t like it. She humoured him till he smiled at her again. After a few minutes he seemed to have recovered. As they strolled along, side by side, they talked about the road being quiet, wondered when a trap w
ould pass in their direction. She took the face cream from her pocket, twisted the lid. She wanted to try some on the back of her hand. James snatched it, threw it into the nearest ditch and grabbed her head to pull her close for a kiss. Sarah struggled free and ran.

  How dare he? To treat her like that, so roughly and commonly and at the side of the road where anyone could see. Yet she wasn’t good enough to announce to his father. She wasn’t going to speak to him, at least not until he apologized and maybe not even then. And who was James codding that his father didn’t know what he was up to? Mr Kelly knew everything that went on in the parish. James was fooling himself. And he was fooling himself if he thought their first proper kiss would be snatched at the side of the road.

  They walked in silence. It was too early for traps returning from the market. She glanced at the sulky boy behind her and kept wondering how she had mistaken him for a man. Her anger gave her the energy to keep going. It was taking hours. Mai would be worried: Sarah had told her Bernie’s uncle would have them back by two. What would she say to her at all?

  They parted without a sorry or goodbye. James should’ve said something then. He had looked like he wanted to. Sarah wondered how anyone could be so stubborn.

  There wasn’t a sound from the house as Sarah eased open the back door. She stood for a second, and, when there was no familiar call from the kitchen, she crept upstairs to wash her face. That’s when she noticed the blood on her earlobe, and the tear. The earring must’ve caught as she pulled James’s hands from her face. Some beau he was. She unhooked the jewellery and wiped it clean before she put it away. She brushed her hair forward to conceal it. Looked at herself in the mirror and didn’t like what she saw: a cover-up, a liar. Mai would see it too – Sarah knew she would.