The Warning

Ó Síocháin had a drop taken he knew that, but he knew also what he saw. Sergeant Moyles was taking it all down in a notebook. Ó Síocháin took a sip of the tea Moyles had made him. His hands were shaking.

‘Ok I’ll say back to you what I have here,’ said the sergeant. ‘You were walking home just now from Flaherty’s, and when you were nearing Healy’s old house you saw a woman running towards you-‘

‘That’s right.’

‘And you didn’t recognise her?’

‘No it was too dark, she’d long hair alright, and was wearing a dress I think, but I couldn’t make out her face at all.’

‘Did you try to talk to her?’

‘There wasn’t time really, she was going like the hammers of hell, and I wasn’t expecting to see anyone on that road at that hour, sure there’s only a few of us living up that way now, and I certainly didn’t expect to see a woman out like that.’

The fire gave a crackle, rousing Buttercup, the black labrador who was sleeping in front of it. She repositioned herself under the table. Moyles patted her head before returning to his notes.

‘And then you saw a man?’ Ó Síocháin nodded.

‘He followed her into the house.’

‘Could you make him out?’

‘I couldn’t.’

‘And then you heard-‘

‘Screaming, sergeant, the girl was screaming.’

‘So you came here.’

‘Well no I haven’t been clear with you on that part, I went into the house. You’re going to admonish me perhaps but I’d admonish myself if I didn’t.’

‘Ok, what happened in the house?’

‘Well I took a loose brick off Healy’s wall and went in slowly, God forgive me but she sounded like she was in mortal danger, I’d have hit him with it if I had to.’ Moyles put down his pen and looked at Ó Síocháin.

‘And did you?’

‘Well this is the funny thing sergeant, I followed the screams to a door, and she was roaring sergeant, you could hear the fright, and the man was shouting. I one hand on the door handle and the brick in the other and then it just stopped, there was complete silence. I thought Christ he’s killed her! So I opened the door to see who the culprit was,’ Ó Síocháin leaned forward in his seat, ‘and there was no-one there.’

Ó Síocháin got into the front seat of the squad car. Buttercup rather reluctantly hopped in the back seat. Moyles drove down to the old farmhouse and they had a look around. Just as Ó Síocháin had said there was no-one there, no body, no blood, no signs of a struggle. The brick lay on the ground where Ó Síocháin had left it.

‘I’m sorry to drag you out here sergeant, but it seemed as real as anything, and I had to be sure.’

‘You were right Ó Síocháin to come to me, it’s better to be sure. I’ll give you a lift home.’

‘This is a late hour, even for you,’ said Ó Síochain’s mother, Delma, as he came in the kitchen door. She was sitting by the fire with a cup of tea. His wife, Ellen, was still up as well doing a final sweep of the kitchen counters. He sat down and told them the whole story.

‘You brought the sergeant out to Healy’s old house because you were locked,’ said Ellen, ‘Christ I’m mortified for you.’

‘But what if it was happening and I just walked away? And we all were all hearing about it tomorrow?’

‘It has already happened,’ said Delma. She got the poker and started cajoling the ailing fire back into life.

‘What do you mean?’ said Ellen.

‘Healy had an aunt. A match was made between her and a fella from the mainland. Her parents were delighted. This man, he had land and a few cows and what have you, and a fine sensible lad he was by the sounds of it.’ She put the poker away. ‘But there was another chap, a farm hand working for Healy’s grandfather, and he had his eyes set on the girl. I don’t have a name for him or where he came from, and what she thought of him I don’t know.’ Ellen put the cloth away and sat down. Delma was full of stories, but they’d never heard this one before.

‘Anyway,’ continued the old woman, ‘this other chap got to hear about the match and he wasn’t one bit happy about it, so he confronted the girl. And he killed her.’

‘My God,’ said Ó Síocháin.

‘Terrible,’ said Ellen.

‘They hung the chap, they buried the girl and the wedding was called off, and no-one spoke much about it, I’ve only gathered bits of the story over the years.’

‘And you’re saying that’s what I saw? Their ghosts?’ said Ó Síocháin.

‘I am,’ said Delma.

‘Lord above, no wonder Healy moved to the mainland,’ said Ellen.

‘I’d never heard of the house being haunted mind you,’ said Delma, ‘I’d like to think their souls are at rest, one way or another, and you just saw a kind of echo, a memory. Why you saw it tonight when you’ve been walking that road for years I’ve no idea.’

‘I’m off to bed,’ said Ellen.

Weeks passed and Ó Síocháin thought less and less about the ghosts of Healy’s old house. One night he was walking home from Flaherty’s when he saw a light on in the long abandoned house. He had a drop taken he knew that, but there was no mistaking the dim glow. Slowly he entered the house. He could hear voices, a man and a woman. He followed the sound to the same room where he heard the memory of murder.

He pushed open the door and saw Ellen in the arms of his neighbour, Tim Malley.

‘Ellen?’ said Ó Síocháin, her name almost catching in his throat.

‘Oh God Dan, you weren’t supposed to see this,’ said Ellen.

‘Is that what you have to say about it?’ said Dan. He charged towards Tim.

‘I’m not a violent man but by God Tim-‘

Tim picked up a brick that was lying on the ground.

Moyles sat with Delma Ó Síocháin for a long time. He had come only to tell her that he had Ellen and Tim Malley in custody, but he hadn’t the heart to leave her, not yet.

‘He went to you, sergeant, about the apparitions...’

‘He did.’

‘I told him he saw an echo, and thought no more about it, but it was more than that. It was a warning.’

‘A warning?’

‘I forget sometimes that you’re not from around these parts. There are times when the space between the past, present and future collapses, and it all happens at once, for a moment. People far wiser than I used to take note of such things…’

‘I’m not sure if I understand,’ said Moyles.

‘I’m not sure if I do either, like I said, they were wiser than I.’

Moyles squeezed the old woman’s hand, and stayed with her until her daughters arrived in from the mainland.