Colm Toibin - The Blackwater Lightship

About the Author

Colm Toibin was born in Ireland in 1955. He is the author of the novels The South , The Heather Blazing and The Story of the Night . He has also written the non-fiction books Bad Blood, Homage to Barcelona and The Sign of the Cross . The Blackwater Lightship was shortlisted for the 1999 Booker Prize.

Colm Toibin lives in Dublin.

Also by Colm Toibin

FICTION

The South

The Heather Blazing

The Story of the Night

NON-FICTION

Bad Blood: A Walk Along the Irish Border

Homage to Barcelona

The Sign of the Cross: Travels in Catholic Europe

The Blackwater Lightship

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COLM TOIBIN

CHAPTER ONE

Helen woke in the night to the sound of Manus whimpering. She lay still and listened, hoping that he would quieten and turn on his side and sleep, but when his voice became louder and more insistent and she could vaguely make out words, she got out of bed and moved towards the boys room; she was unsure whether he was dreaming or awake.

She had left the landing light switched on and she was able to see, as soon as she came into the room, that Cathal had his eyes wide open. He looked at her from the bed, an uninvolved spectator in the scene about to be enacted; he then looked over at his brother, who was crying out hoarsely and fending off some unknown terror with his arms. She woke Manus gently and pulled back the blanket which covered him. He was too hot. Only half awake and rubbing his eyes, he began to whimper again. It took him a while to realise that she was there and the dream was over.

I was frightened, he said.

Youre all right now. Maybe youll go back asleep.

I dont want to go back asleep, he said, and began to cry.

Will I carry you into our bed? she asked.

He nodded. He was motionless now, sobbing, waiting to be comforted. She knew that it would be better if she stayed with him and soothed him until he fell asleep again, but she lifted him and let him cling to her. Always, when she held him like this, he became quiet.

Cathal was still watching them.

Helen spoke to him across the room as though he were an adult. Im going to take Manus into our bed so that it will be easier for you to sleep, she said.

He pulled the blanket over himself and closed his eyes. At six, Cathal was clever enough to know that she was not carrying Manus into their bed for his sake, but because she was prepared to treat Manus like a baby. She wondered what Cathal thought about this, if he were hurt or disturbed - but he would be too proud to let her know, too ready to play the part of the grown-up big brother.

The half-light of dawn had broken through the landing window. She moved slowly into the bedroom. Hugh lay curled up sleeping, his arm across her side of the bed. She stood watching him, wondering at how easy it was for him to fall in and out of sleep. Manus stirred in her arms and turned to see why she had remained motionless in the room. He, too, watched his father sleeping and then turned away and huddled against her. Somewhere in the distance she could hear a car moving. She brought Manus over to the bed.

Will you sleep on my side? she whispered to him.

No, I want to be in the middle.

You know what you want, dont you? She smiled at him.

I want to be in the middle, he whispered.

She put him down with his back to Hugh and pulled the sheet over him. Some time in the night Hugh had pushed the duvet off the bed; she left it on the floor, it would be too hot now with the three of them in the bed. She rested her head on the pillow, relieved that Manus was lying quietly between them and trying to reassure herself that Cathal had fallen back asleep in the other room.

They had gone to bed early when there was still vague light in the sky and made love and she was filled now with a tenderness for Hugh and a wish, something which had become a joke between them, that she could be more like him, even-tempered, easy to please - easy to please? he had laughed when she said that with nothing secret, nothing held inside.

As Manus edged towards sleep he began to pull at her, he wanted her full attention. He did not want her to turn her back on him. Come around this way, he whispered.

She looked at the clock. It was only a quarter to five. Suddenly, she was cold. She reached to the floor, found the duvet, pulled it on to the bed and arranged it over them. They would need to be warm for a while.

When Helen woke again, Hugh and Manus were sound asleep. It was just after eight oclock; the room was hot. She slipped out of the bed and, carrying her dressing-gown and slippers, she went downstairs, where she found Cathal, still in his pyjamas, watching television, the zapper in his hand.

Ive finished in the bathroom if you want to have a shower, she said to him. He nodded and stood up.

Are they still asleep? he asked.

They are, she said and smiled.

Id better go before they wake up, he said.

This was their secret language; they mimicked adults, they spoke to one another like a married couple. Cathal hated instructions or orders or being spoken to like a child. If she had told him to go to the bathroom, he would have dawdled and delayed. When Manus is his age, she thought, I will have to carry him to the bathroom.

They were the first to live in this house, and the first in their estate to build an extension a large, square, bright room which served as kitchen and dining-room and playroom. Hugh had wanted the house for the beech tree which, through some miracle, had been left in their back garden, and the park behind the house. She had liked only the newness, the idea that no one had ever lived here before.

She washed up from the night before and noticed from the kitchen window a breeze flit through the leaves of the beech tree and the fir trees at the edge of the park, and then a sudden darkening in the air, a sense of rain. She turned on the radio - Hugh, as usual, had it tuned to Raidio na Gaeltachta and found Radio One just as the pips sounded for the nine oclock news. She would be able to listen to the weather forecast.

As she and Cathal were having breakfast, Cathal engrossed in a comic, the shouting and laughing began upstairs. Manus was squealing at the top of his voice.

Listen to them, she said. Its hard to know which of them is the bigger baby.

Cathal smiled at her and took a slice of toast and went back to his comic. They ate in silence as the noise upstairs continued, Hugh shouting something in Irish at Manus, and then both of them shouting at the same time until one of them she presumed it was Manus landed on the floor with a thud.

Soon, they both appeared, Hugh in his dressing-gown carrying Manus, still wearing his pyjamas.

I fell out of bed, he said.

We know, we heard you, Helen said.

His cheeks were flushed. He began to squeeze Hughs nose.

Stop that. Sit down and have your breakfast.

As soon as Manus was seated, he saw Cathals comic and reached across the table and grabbed it. Cathal tried to hold on to it, but Manus was too quick for him.

Give it back. Helen said to him.

Hes finished with it, Manus said.

Give it back and say youre sorry.

He looked at her, calculating what the chances were of her losing her temper. He laughed. Dont be silly, he said.

Were all waiting here. No one is moving until you hand it back and say youre sorry, she said.

Cathal sat with his hands by his sides, content to be the injured party. Manus looked at Helen and then at Hugh, who spoke gruffly to him in Irish. Manus sighed and handed the comic back to Cathal.

And say Im sorry, Helen said.

Im sorry.

And I wont do it again.

And I wont do it again.

Youre becoming a bit of a monster, she said to him and turned to the sink.