Fanore

SETTING - Deirdre Ryan’s private rooms inside the McNamara’s Quality Lodge & Eatery.

SOUND - The sound of rural Ireland. A cup meeting a saucer or something being poured into a glass, or both.

LIGHT - The small light is on and Aisling has come to meet her mother to discuss what has turned out to be an extremely weird day.

ACTION - A daughter’s hand on a mother’s shoulder

“Mark my words dear, they won’t find anyone up there.” Says Deirdre.

“But what about the beautiful dark lady that made such an impression on you Mom?” Asks Aisling, close to tears and the half empty bottle of Shiraz Cabernet Sauvignon wasn’t helping.

“I only saw Ethan and Mona once before today and that was quite brief, but I do remember that they made quite an impression on everyone, and especially your grandmother. Today, after the police left and when and I got time to really think about it, I don’t think it’s any way possible that he could be exactly the same and still real. So I’m thinking Mona couldn’t have been real either. I mean … they just disappeared and they both re-appear forty years later. Him as himself, down to the flared jeans and her as the Munster Queen, who is definitely her spitting image, given Mona’s hair and mouth.”

“That was a ghost?” Aisling took another sip.

“Something like that I suspect.”

“… and Sioga?” another sip.

“It’s no secret in our family that your grandmother could be as bad as any Christian Brother when it came to teaching. It is also true that the hours were as long as what she paid was short, for relatives working in her old Bed and Breakfast. She practically sat on me while I studied Gaelic, Celtic Tradition and Ogham and all that, and I knew her better than anyone ever could, including my father, whoever he was.” Said Deirdre, getting lost in her thoughts and never in need of a Shiraz pentathol substitute.

“You see Aisling Dear, Sioga would translate into English as a young girl spirit, but did you not notice her eyes?” Asks the mother.

The smallest sound of a sip of Shiraz was the only reply.

“Did they remind you of anyone?” Prompted the mother.

A slower sip of Shiraz.

“They looked very like Granny’s.” She said with her own opening wide.

Deirdre Ryan nodded slowly. “Take it from me Aisling Dear, your dear old Granny was a bit of a bitch most times and there’s no reason to think that she isn’t one now, wherever that might be. I only left her name on this place so she’d have no reason to come back and trouble us.”