Excerpt: The Old Bat Chonicles

Lisa rang.
“Cian’s buying small presents for everyone from him.” She reported proudly. “isn’t he brilliant? He has a budget of five euro per person. If he gets you all crap you have to promise to ooh and aah over it, okay?

“I will. God he’s come on an awful lot hasn’t he?”
“Who would have thought it. The boy who set fire to hotel curtains. That great aunt of yours is a tremendous influence on him.” She paused. “Oh that reminds me. I – um I have some money to give you, to give Declan. Could you?”
“Money?”
“yes. Towards the curtains. It’s only a couple of hundred but it’s a start.”
Lisa had come on a lot herself. “I don’t think he wants it,” I said. “He seems happy enough to write it off but I’ll ask.”
“Oh please, take it. Tell him to give it to charity if he prefers. But it means a lot to me, to pay it back. Even a bit. Jesus I still shiver when I think about it – he could have called the police, he could have sued. Imagine if Peter had got to hear about it? He could have used it against me, gone after custody of Cian…” I could almost see her shuddering. “Anyway, Declan was incredibly decent so…please. Pass it on to him and tell him thanks.”
“OK I will, I promise. But you’ll see him yourself soon enough. With a bit of luck he’ll be over on Christmas Day.”
“Good, Good. I’d like to meet him. “She added shyly, “And by the way, happy Yule. It is yule isn’t it? Catherine says you celebrate it…”
Gods almighty. Where was the insensitive cow I’ve known since puberty?
“I do. Thanks a million, Lisa. That means a lot to me.”
She rang off in great form.
Catherine was next.
“Did Lisa ring you?”
“She did.”
“She offered money to pay for the curtains?” Catherine always found out everything about people, I shouldn’t have been surprised.
“She did.”
“Isn’t that great?” she sighed contentedly. “Can you imagine her doing that before her husband left?”
“Are you mad? She’d have tried to sue the hotel for stifling Cian’s artistic urges.”
“Hah! Well, she’s not at all bad now. I quite like her. I could hardly believe it was the same Lisa you used to talk about. I said to her, Jaysus you’re much better than I thought you’d be.”
I nearly choked. “For fucks sake you didn’t tell her what I said about her did you?”
Catherine snoted. “Do you think I’m stupid? I’m hurt you think I am that stupid. No. I told her I’d just heard she was dreadful. Like, around, you know.”
I wailed. “Catherine! Either she will know it was form me, or she’ll think the whole country was discussing what a wagon she was back then.”
“Nah. She was grand about it. She knows she was appalling.”
I made a mental note to talk to Lisa on Christmas day. Maybe something along the lines of “Catherine, isn’t she great, pity about the mental illness.”

“Anyway,” Catherine continued cheerfully. “How about this – I just got a call from Tony’s sister. He and Amanda are an item now. She’s fuming. She hates Amanda almost as much as I do. She cried on the phone. Already he’s invited her over for dinner next Sunday to meet the parents. She says her mother refused point blank to let her come, and if he insists on bringing her she’s going to go out. His father said he’s going to tell Amanda straight out that her presence has driven his wife, Tony’s mother, from her own home. Ciara says Tony actually cried they were so mean to him.”
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer chap. I take it you’re okay with all this?”
“Oh yes. I figured he would crawl back to her, half the reason why I stayed with him….put a spoke in her wheels.” She chuckled. “She looks like shit as well, she’s put on a stone at least. Remember how well groomed she used to be? She’s looking very frayed around the edges.” She added, “I keep an eye on her every now and then just to keep the upper hand. Oh, and Tony’s father asked Ciara to say that she’ll never fit in with them and that they are gutted at losing me.” If a cat could eat a tub of cream and then ring you up to tell you about it, it couldn’t sound any more smug.
“I told Ciara to say I’ll keep in touch with them all. I will too. They’re all lovely, sure I’ll miss them more than Tony.”
“And if it drives Amanda mad to have Tony’s entire family chumming up with you that’s an added bonus?” I suggested.
“Hah! Damn right. Anyway, happy Yule, happy Christmas and happy annual turkey massacre. Have a great one, I’ll give you a ring on St Stephen’s day and we can arrange a few drinks.”
I would hate to fall out with Catherine. Life would be much duller. Besides she probably was hex proof and I doubted I would survive whatever revenge she took.

##

Declan was so sweet that morning, braving the freezing cold to stand on the balcony with me and look at a grey and overcast day, pretending we could actually see a solstice. We overlooked Grand Canal Square, the water grey and choppy in the breeze, the apartments surrounding us mainly dark and blank looking, punctuated here and there with the gleam of lights in bedrooms and bathrooms as the city began to stir. The city skyline was a blend of new blocks, cranes and the roofs and terraces of real houses, real communities - the backbone of Dublin.

It was lovely in its own way. I shivered in the cold but it felt good to have made the effort. Declan hugged me and stared out across the city; we could hear the early morning traffic rumbling along the quays and somewhere a dog was barking. The wind howled a little as it found its way between buildings; but all in all for the city it was startlingly quiet.

Right. My cheeks were red and my hands were blue – definitely enough with the spiritual reverie. I closed my eyes and gave a quick prayer of thanks to Aonghus óg – the Irish god of love and I had never been on the best of terms prior to meeting Declan but I was feeling very grateful to him now. The beauty of Polytheism is the variety of gods, but only a few ever cross your path – I had a healthy respect for them and unlike most of my pagan friends never felt the need to feel chosen by any of them. I deeply suspected that being chosen by a real god would entail a very difficult and unpleasant time all round; whereas most wiccans seem to view even the really Big Gods like An Morrigiu as some kind of kindly grandmother figure, an elder who dotes on them. None of them had encountered Margaret or they would have had a much more realistic idea of a traditional elder never mind a fearsome Goddess of sovereignty and war.

No, I respect my gods. I don’t believe they created me, I don’t believe they are locked in a battle for my immortal soul, I don’t believe they take a huge interest in every petty thought and passing fancy of my mind. They care – but they care in a bigger, more impersonal way. They expect things of me – like, being of use, helping my family, improving the lot of my Tuatha, my people. They expect me to live up to my potential. And when you don’t they kick ass.

So I promised the gods who play a role in my life, Manannán and An Morrigiu and Aine and Brigid, and the gods of the places I love like Tara, that I would grow the hell up finally, and start making something of my life. Starting by making sure I didn’t screw up whatever it was Declan and I had! I had never felt as comfortable with anyone, as welcomed into someone’s life. Look at him now, freezing his ass off for me.

He never twitched even as I left little offering (mainly alcoholic in nature, my gods love it) and he cooked a big fry up for us without even a protest. It was great fun. In return I had toyed with the idea of making him dinner that night, but really, it was supposed to be a treat so in fairness it was a better idea to go out. I texted him when I managed to book a decent restaurant – somewhere nicely chic but not too affected. He replied with a little too much relief to be polite, I thought, but then he was a good chef and I was a liability in the kitchen so I could hardly complain.

Declan arrived to my apartment with a car and driver. “It’s a small extravagance.” He beamed at me. “I want us to enjoy tonight. It’s kind of our own private festive evening.” Now, I have been a pagan for long enough and it is not as if I needed someone else to share it with but it was bloody nice I can tell you. Declan was not religious, and he was not about to sign up as a card carrying Irish polytheist (not that there’s a club or anything, but you know what I mean.) But he was so open and accepting, and as we sat and ate and talked and compared world views, celebrating the solstice, and Winter became for the first time, more than just a casual acknowledgement of the season. I felt something I hadn’t really felt in a long time. Optimism about the future.

Chapter Twelve

“Cian Ferguson, Daniel Murphy!” my mother roared, red in the face and clutching a plate. “If the pair of you don’t stop running around the place I will box your ears for you”

Lisa was also red in the face but for different reasons. “What can I say?” she shrugged helplessly. “It went from “oh we need to be at the Collins’ by five sharp” to “Was I really sure I wanted to come to them for dinner, it would be an awful rush for me?” In the end I just said we would leave it and call out tomorrow.”

“Lisa, you’re fine.” I pulled her out of the chaos in the hall – Cian had bonded effortlessly with Bridy’s lot and a small posse of boys were running riot through the house – and into the relative calm of the sitting room. “Now, listen to me. Don’t worry about being early, don’t worry about crashing dinner. You’re more than welcome. There’s plenty of food,, there’s loads of room, and everyone is delighted you came to us. Don’t worry about being early, don’t worry about crashing dinner. Everything is fine.”
She nodded, smiled a wobbly smile and then to my horror started to cry. “You’re so kind to me.” she wailed. “You shouldn’t be so kind to me. I was such a bitch to you.”
It took a while to calm her down but I could hardly blame her. She had gone from spending Christmas in her lovely house in her perfect world, to being bounced from her own parents for the mouldy old Collins’s. “Cian is delighted anyway,” I said.
She managed to laugh at that. “Oh he was ecstatic when I told him. All the way over he’s been clutching his bag of presents – oh god some of them are woeful, I warn you – and double checking that he’s one for everyone in your family. And your aunty Margaret! Well, he did nothing but talk about her for days, he thinks coming here on Christmas day is the best thing ever.”
“Well, there you go.” Inspiration struck. “Sure seeing as you’re here now, and you’ll be staying the night lets open a bottle. I find my family much easier to deal with on a bottle of good wine.”
She looked a bit startled. “It’s only early yet, maybe we should wait a bit..”
“Maybe. Ah feck it, a glass?”
Alcohol is blamed for many things but there is nothing to compare to it when a woman is spending her first major holiday separated from her husband in a house full of near strangers. It wasn’t as if she did more than sip the glass of wine over the course of an hour but it was a prop; she wandered around talking to Bridy and Mam and various cousins and aunts as they came and went, and then Peg emerged from the kitchen, spotted a lone female who wasn’t engaged in cooking and who wasn’t me, and nabbed her.

I found myself a quiet corner and sat back, content to watch the madness for a while. It had been quite a year. The lowest points – the ones I thought I would never recover from – actually seemed quite insignificant now. The high points – well they’d all happened just recently so there was a lot to get used to. And in the same space of time – only a couple of months – Lisa had gone from being someone I dreaded the sight of to a good and loyal mate. Cian was a darling; I could confess now to being awfully fond of him. And Margaret…

When I thought how much of my life I had spent resenting my great aunt, being defensive around her, being afraid of ending up like her I could kick myself. Being a witch is no easy path; being good at it requires such dedication and commitment – no wonder she was not easy to know, or manipulate. And as a teenager I had manipulated. Not that Peg or Claire were pushovers but they didn’t have the rod of iron needed to beat some discipline into me back then. And I had been good. Naturally talented. Like Cian but without Cian’s absolute sense of wonder and enjoyment of it all.

I thought of it as my birthright, not something to be guarded and honed. I worked at it, but only in so far as it suited me. I could see very clearly now, I could see through the eyes of a ten year old for whom magic and ability was a gift to be treasured.
I wouldn’t dedicate myself to it body and soul like Margaret, it wasn’t my fate in life and I knew it. But I could be a lot better; I could do a lot more. I could be someone that in future years would be able to teach someone like Cian.

“You did a good job with Cian,” Margaret appeared beside me. She smiled maliciously as I jumped in fright. “What? Cian?” how the hell did she manage to do that? It was so irritating. It was like having your mind read by a nosy little bird.
“Yes Cian.”
“I did well with him?”
“Oh yes. He was telling me all about his spell. I believe it was a great success.”
I regarded her soberly.. “It should have an affect yes. But on Peter..well, he’s lazy and thoughtless and quite offhand to Cian to start with. It will help but I wouldn’t expect an overnight reformation. But the kid did well.”
“You did well.” She cut off my protestations with a regal wave of her bony old hand. “You let him make his own spell. You didn’t criticise his choices. You helped him while letting him do it himself.” She paused. “All things it took me years to do. I am not a natural teacher.”
I risked a quick glance out the window to check for airborne bacon. This was beyond a first – this was a moment of true history. There was a rumour that Margaret had had a moment of humility in 1959 but it had turned out to be an urban myth.

“I’m sorry?” Ah go on. I couldn’t resist hearing it again.
“You heard me.” she settled herself on the seat beside me. “I am not patient enough to teach. Or at least I wasn’t. I find as I get older the urge to pass on what I’ve learned has become strong enough to make me more tolerant. But you seem to have a knack for it.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose I have never tried. It’s nice that you think so though.” I glanced at her, at her sharp profile – still handsome despite her age. “The problem is I suspect I still have an awful lot to learn myself.”
Was it my imagination or did a muscle twitch, just at the side of her mouth?

“Well, you are never too old to learn. I myself have learned a few things recently.”
“If only I could find a good teacher…” I murmured innocently.
“Don’t be smart. You’ve a smart mouth on you girl, you always did have.”
“Sorry.”
“You remind me of myself at your age.” She added smugly. “Of course I was extremely talented so it was justified on my part. You might want to consider that.”
Good old Margaret. It would worry me if I ever won an exchange with her.
“Well, I was thinking I might call round in the New Year, have a chat about stuff.”
She nodded regally. “Do that. Now, tell me, what’s happening with that young man of yours?”
To my acute annoyance I could feel myself blushing.
“It’s going well.” I looked around me in case the rest of the aunts were hiding behind the curtain eavesdropping. “It’s going extremely well.”
“And is he serious about you?” She asked, adding for good measure “Young men should be the ones doing the running, I hope you realize that.” She punctuated her point by jabbing a long bony talon into my arm.
“Yes, thanks! I do realize that. I mean, the man saved me from the clutches of my insane ex fiancé didn’t he? How much more running do you want?”
“Hmm. I suppose there is that. And Paul? What is happening with him?”
I paused for a moment. “Well he’s been charged. Initially they kept him in and refused bail but it got sorted. He’s out and staying with his father.”
Margaret raised an eyebrow. “I expect that will prove to be fun for both.” She shot me a sharp glance. “I trust you are not indulging in some misplaced guilt on the subject?”
“About Paul?” I shook my head emphatically. “Of course not. I did briefly feel bad about having punched him. I really did. But he pushed me so far – he destroyed my life at the time. He took my closest friend, he made me feel so stupid and he nearly drove me mad. Then he turned up looking so smug and so sure of himself – my reaction was childish and it was hardly intelligent but it wasn’t malicious or premeditated. What he did to me, cheating and lying and making a fool of me, he did for weeks and months – the pair of them, laughing at me behind their hands.” I drew a deep breath. “and hexing him – that had no affect on what he did to me. He choose how he behaved, just like everyone else. Every time he suffered, it was of his own making. I know how to cast my hexes. He didn’t suffer because I was jealous or bitter. Things went wrong for him because he tried to affect me, hurt me, took pleasure in my pain. Same with that cow. She only gets what she deserves, no more and no less.”
I looked Margaret full the eyes, meeting her piercing, searching gaze evenly. “Nothing I could have done could have made Paul behave that way unless that was who he was. Just like I could never make Declan behave like that, it simply is not part of him. Any more than Poor Cian can make his father a decent, reliable man. We can’t change them. Besides –“ I might as well be honest “Hexing that pair gave me immense personal satisfaction.”

Margaret gave a short bark of laughter. “I should hope so.” She grinned wickedly. “I could tell you some stories, that I could. Oh, yes, there are few things more satisfying than knowing that a complete bastard has got their comeuppance.”
She stood slowly and stretched. “Oh dear, I am getting old. Well, back to the kitchen for me. Be sure and bring Declan to meet me when he comes.”
I opened my mouth to say that he wasn’t coming, he was at his parents – but clamped it shut again. Who the hell knew with Margaret. For once I would not be caught out. Plus – it would be fabulous if he came….

##

I don’t know about other families but mine manage to turn Christmas day into a three ringed circus with very little effort. At first I worried about Lisa, it was a far cry from a perfect, orderly, mannered Christmas – her parents had always gone for very stylish Christmases and I knew Lisa had prided herself on designer trees and hosting stylish little dinners. But she seemed to be coping well; my brother Jonathon was taking a suspiciously warm interest in her well being, standing at her side attentively and plying her with goodies. When dinner rolled around he managed to shift Cian around to me and took his place beside her. Cian shot him a look that made my mother catch her breath and wave an admonishing finger. “Don’t you dare.” She mouthed. Cian grinned but relaxed. I doubted that anything would come of Lisa and Jon but I felt I had gained a startling insight into the fate awaiting any would be suitor.
Bridy had caught it too; she leant forward and whispered, “We must encourage Lisa to get out there and date!” and then fell around laughing.
My brother David sat on the other side of me. He had spent the morning hovering over me anxiously; there were still faint bruises on my face and a small red scar, despite the liberal application of makeup and I had to be careful using my left arm (useful for getting out of cooking and table setting duties.) Poor David took a lot of convincing that I was basically fine, then he moved onto a detailed examination of “that Declan Walsh fella” and what was he doing in my apartment block that night?
I ma not sure he fully approved yet of Declan – he was torn between scorn (“Sure, wasn’t
he an awful wet, gobdaw when we knew him?”) and dark warnings about these men of the world, millionaire, jet setting hoteliers (“Half them are one step up from speculators you know.”) But David had been like this with everyone I had ever dated. He had loathed Paul. Lisa listened fascinated as he recounted in extreme detail every failing Paul had ever displayed and how glad he was that he was out of my life.
“And I am sorry it took such a terrible experience to finally convince you Laney, but at least now you know what a prick her is. Thank god for that.”
“And Declan did rescue me,” I pointed out.
“Hmm. Well, yes. I suppose.”
Lisa tapped him on the arm. “David, you have two little girls don’t you?”
David beamed. “Yes, that’s my pair down there.” He pointed to the twins, a picture of loveliness beside their mother Marguerite (fabulous looking, tall, elegant, slim, and charming – you’d hate her if she wasn’t actually so damn nice!)
“Why do you ask?”
Lisa shook her head, her eyes dancing with suppressed glee. “No reason. Just thinking how pretty they are. They’ll be fighting the boys off with sticks.”
“They are pretty aren’t they,” David said enthusiastically then frowned as the rest of her comment caught up with his brain. He got a strange look that boded ill for the chances of any future boyfriend of the twins. “Boys. Hmmmm. Well, they’ll put studying before boys let me tell you.”
Looking at Cian now, and his reaction to Jon, I sniggered. Lisa wouldn’t find it so bleeding funny when she found out her ten year old son was twice as strict as David. I looked around my happily. All in all it was a good day; I missed Declan but I knew he was thinking of me. My family were all around me, and in a real way, magic was in the air. Anything could happen here tonight. We were gathered round a table, breaking bread together, renewing old links, forging new ones. Everyone would leave eventually, but they would take with them a piece of the love and joy and magic, something to warm them through the cold month, a promise for the future and most of all, the knowledge that there was a refuge waiting for them should things go hard with them during the year.

And that right there was the heart of it all. Only a handful could tune into magical energy and create a spell. Only a very few could make reality change, alter perceptions, cast glamours and be witches. But there was magic in every life, if you only knew how to see it. There was a magic in every gathering of friends and family, in old jokes and in tradition. Magic made your mother’s mashed potatoes taste better than Gordon Ramsey’s and the decorations on their tree glittered brighter, their fairy lights cast a better glow. It was the reason old friends were welcome, even at a moments notice. It was the extra place at the table on any given day, it was the spare bottle of wine that you kept in case someone called. Magic lived in the urge that made people pick up phones every now and then to call someone, just to see how they were. It wasn’t confined to Christmas or holidays or birthdays; it transcended religion and geography. This kind of magic was for everyone.

And in a family like mine, it fed off the other kind of magic and bounced manically around the room. We were by no means perfect. But we were damn fine in our own way – even, I thought fondly, the mad old bats. Peg and Claire and Margaret (and my mother though she would deny it) had their won charm; they may interfere shamelessly but they picked you up when you fell. You could go further and do worse than that.

“It’s a pity,” Claire said, as if she could read my mind, “Declan isn’t here. Is he with his own family Laney?”
Every eye at the table swivelled in my direction like iron to magnet. For crying out loud – just as I was feeling charitable. I rolled my eyes. “Yes, he is with his own family. No, he can’t make it. Yes he is lovely. Thank you all for your interest.”
Mam rolled her eyes. “She’s very touchy about him, “ she informed the room. “They’re fierce serious about each other.”
“Mam!”
“What? Oh I’m just saying. I think it’s very sweet. He’s a lovely boy, isn’t he Dad? And so bright. Do you know he runs his own hotel chain? He’s Mr Hibernian Celt, that’s Declan Walsh. And his family are lovely.”
“Is that Caroline Walsh’s boy” my cousin Bridy has a mean streak. “Or Anne and Barry Walsh’s young fellow?”
Mam beamed down the table at this unexpected encouragement. “Anne and Barry, love, Anne and Barry.”
“Oh he’s lovely!” chorused Bridy and her boys took up the baton “lovely, he’s lovely,”

“Oh shuttup.” I grumbled. “Anyway he’s not here and he won’t be here so you’re not going to get to torture the poor man.”
The doorbell rang. I hung my head and groaned. A full scale chorus of catcalls and whistles Mexican waved its way around the table. “That’ll be him,” Margaret said with very obvious glee. Peg and Claire sniggered into their hands. I realised I had underestimated their determination to have a good old look at poor Declan for themselves.
I rose with dignity and stalked to the door of the dining room, nodding graciously at the hoard of snorting hyenas. “Ye’re all very funny, aren’t ye. Very fecking funny.”
I exited with nonchalance then legged it to the end of the hall and wrenched open the door. Declan stood there, clutching a wrapped bottle and smiling happily.
“Laney!” He hugged me and kissed me. “Is it okay to call in?”
By way of response I pulled him into the hall slammed the door behind him and snogged him properly. “I thought you were all out in Wicklow at your sister’s house?”
“I was. But the weirdest thing – my dad’s old mate from the army called round unexpectedly. He lives abroad but he came home for Christmas and called in to see them. He needed a lift back into the city and Dad volunteered me ‘cos I was on the dry.To be honest I was hoping to maybe get back in this evening anyway to see you so I didn’t drink. So I have a free pass for an hour if you don’t mind me gate crashing!”
I kissed him again just to reassure him on that score – and also to hide the idiotic grin on my face. Okay so they are interfering nosey and have no boundaries, but I owed the old bats one for this.
“So,” Declan caught my face between his hands and looked at me, his eyes serious. “Am I allowed in to meet the family.”
I laughed. “Come on in.”
And that too, was magic.