The Midnight Bell

Hannah held out her hand. “It’s grand to know you.”

Molly embraced her lightly. “What a lovely Irish girl. Where did you find her, Sean?”

“This is my second cousin, Hannah Flynn, she’s at college in London. Her uncle and I were young boys together in Collyban. Served in the Provos later.”

“My respects to him, my dear. He’s well, I trust?”

“Dead,” Hannah told her. “A UVF hit man finished him off.”

It was amazing how Molly’s face hardened. “May he rot in hell. But never mind—come away in and meet the boys. They’ve known Sean all their lives.”

She led the way, they followed, and Hannah was enraptured. The furniture, the carpeting, the pictures on the walls, it was serious art by any standard. An archway gave way to a conservatory crammed with tropical plants, small palm trees at the back, the two Magee brothers in elegant black suits seated at each end of a glass table, dark hair and tanned faces, with the look of highwaymen from some romantic tale about them.

Molly advanced, smiling, Dillon following. “Cheer up, darlings, for haven’t I got Sean Dillon with his cousin, Hannah Flynn. She’s at college here in London, although I don’t know what’s she studying.”

Hannah, who had held back, now showed them, with a touch of bravado, for there was a Bechstein grand piano beside the archway, the lid open. She remained standing, leaned down, and played one-handed the opening bars of a rather dashing Italian sonatina she was fond of.

Larry Magee pushed himself up in an instant, leaning on his walking stick, then came forward and held out his hand. “I don’t know where Sean’s been keeping you, but that was a wonderful intro.”

“Do you play yourself?”

“I did my poor best to please my mother but never got far and nowhere near your standard.”

“You wouldn’t, and her studying at the Royal College of Music,” Dillon told him.

“Well, I’m pleased to hear it and hope to see a lot of you. I’m Larry Magee and the facsimile at the other end of the table is my twin brother, Tad, a fearsome creature with a bad reputation.” Magee smiled and gave her his hand.

“I’d tell you where to go, brother, but there’s a lady in the room,” Tad said. “Please join us, Hannah. I see you’re walking wounded, like Larry. With Sean involved, that smells like the Troubles to me.”

“Car bomb,” she said. “Took my parents and left me with the stick.”

“Are you from County Down, like Sean here and my own family?”

“No, I have a horse farm at Drumgoole in the Republic. Inherited, of course, and my aunt Meg is running it while I’m at college.”

“And what will you do when the concert halls start calling?” Dillon inquired.

“I don’t think that’s likely.”

“Well, as a man who has played good barroom piano all my life, I’d say it’s pretty certain.”

Molly, who had slipped out, returned now with coffee, which she poured out for everyone. “Is there anything else, Tad?”

“I don’t think so. Get yourself ready. We’re due at the church in an hour and a half.”

She retired, and Dillon said, “Kilburn?”

Tad nodded. “Mary and Joseph in Flood Street. It was her church for all those years, good and bad, so it seemed fitting. The present priest is a nice boy, but I’ve got old Father Sharkey to agree to take the service. Eighty-five, but he’s up for it. The organist’s in hospital and there’s no choir available, which is unfortunate.”

“I can manage the organ,” Hannah said. “I’ve been playing the one in my parish church in Drumgoole since I was fourteen. I can’t help with the choir. Was there any special piece of music your mother liked to hear?”

It was Larry who answered. “‘Danny Boy.’ She used to sing it around the house when we were boys.”

“I remember it well,” Dillon said.

“Then ‘Danny Boy’ is what you get.” Hannah turned to Dillon. “We’d better be off. We need to change into something suitable.”

“We’ll go to my place,” Dillon said. “There’s a boutique around the corner that can find something for you.”

Tad moved out ahead and went upstairs; Larry escorted them to the front door and opened it. “Our lawyers have made it clear to us that my father will be charged with only the minimal offense of drunk driving. That means he walks free.”

Dillon said, “It stinks, but there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“I could have him taken care of.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Hannah grabbed him by the lapels and shook him. “I imagine Special Branch at Scotland Yard will already be waiting to see if anything happens to him. Your mother wouldn’t like it, but they’d love catching a Magee at last.”

Dillon said, “Finbar’s not worth putting yourself in harm’s way over, Larry.”

“I know, but he’s never been able to get his head around the mystery of what happened to the Maria Blanco. Convinced you had something to do with it.”

“So how could I be in two places at once?” Dillon asked. “But never mind that. We’ve got a funeral to go to.”

He took Hannah down to the Mini, and they scrambled in. She said, “What was that all about?”

“It’s between me and my God, cousin,” Dillon said, and drove away.

THE RAIN HAD STARTED at the house just as Tad, Larry, and Molly were about to be picked up by their limousine. A quick check indicated that there were sufficient umbrellas and waterproofs on board, so they moved on.

“You’d think the Almighty could do better than this,” Tad grumbled. “The grave could flood.”

“Your mother would have said don’t be blasphemous,” Molly told him.

“I can’t help it, Tad. Let’s get inside and do right by her,” Larry said, and they got out quickly, pushing into the shelter of handheld umbrellas, making for the church door held open for them and moving in to find Dillon waiting. There was a good turnout, older people from another time who had known Eileen Magee well and remembered her kindly.

It was incredibly peaceful. Mary and the Christ Child in the chapel just inside the door, and as Hannah moved into that great hymn, “Abide with Me,” the undertakers started up the aisle to present the coffin to Starkey, Molly and the brothers keeping to the left, the bearded man who was Finbar Magee pacing them on the right.

Everyone sat as Starkey started the service. There was a hush as he extolled Eileen’s virtues and gave the blessing and the prayers for the dead, and then a wonderful thing happened. The organ started up, playing “Danny Boy,” and Hannah’s voice rose with it, and not one person moved until her music died away.

Molly was crying and so were others as people made their way out. It was still raining, and the undertaker whispered to Tad, “A bit of water in the grave, sir. We’ll take care of your mother tonight back at the Chapel of Rest and see what tomorrow brings.”

Hannah had closed up the organ and came across. “Best I could do.”

“And bloody marvelous,” Larry said. “Wasn’t she, Tad?”

“You really are quite a girl, Hannah.” Tad put an arm around her and kissed her cheek. “We’re very grateful, and please tell Molly to stop crying.”

A voice echoed from the right, and they turned to see Finbar standing by the confessional boxes. “And what about me, your father? I came to face the shame of it, didn’t I, or doesn’t that count?”