Time Present and Time Past by Deirdre Madden Read Free Book Online Page A

Fintan has seen many other photographs from that period of anxious women standing bolt upright and clutching at the backs of chairs, ill at ease and frumpy. But this woman is completely relaxed and is smiling at the camera in a way that is both beguiling and slightly unnerving. She is clearly fully conscious of her own extraordinary beauty and the power that gives her. But what gives Fintan pause is that she looks exactly like Martina, so much so that one might almost persuade oneself that it actually is Martina, tricked out in the clothes and accoutrements of another era. There is the same full mouth, the same huge eyes and abundant hair, the same strange smile in which there is a kind of knowledge and complexity, a sort of power. Even Martina herself, when Fintan hands the photograph back to her, admits that the resemblance they bear to each other is quite uncanny.
    â€˜And yet the sad thing is, I don’t think we have any idea who she is,’ Martina says as she turns the photograph over and glances at the back of it, hoping for some information there. ‘Any idea?’ She passes it to Beth, who narrows her eyes and peers at the image.
    â€˜Well it’s my side of the family, that’s for sure,’ she says, ‘not your daddy’s, because I remember seeing this photograph in the house when I was young. It might be a sister of one of your grandparents.’
    â€˜So what would that make her to us?’ Martina asks, frowning and taking the photograph back again. ‘A great-aunt?’
    â€˜I suppose so.’
    â€˜Your great-grandfather’, Beth goes on, ‘was a greengrocer in Rathmines.’
    â€˜Was he, indeed?’ Fintan says, surprised. ‘I never knew that.’
    â€˜Strange that Mummy never told us,’ Martina says, ‘given how proud she is of my commercial ventures.’
    â€˜Ah now Martina,’ Beth pleads gently, ‘you know she doesn’t mean the half of it.’
    Martina doesn’t reply, but throws her brother a knowing look which he understands only too well, then she looks back at her other self, her beautiful ancestor. ‘I hope you gave them all a good run for their money, girl.’ She places the photograph on the sofa beside Fintan, and sifts again through the heap of pictures on the floor, then gives a little whoop of laughter as she pulls another one out and shows it to him.
    â€˜Do you remember this?’
    It is a black-and-white photograph but Fintan doesn’t laugh when he sees it, for he is too moved, and for a moment is capable of neither speech nor laughter. It is a picture of such charm as to appeal to anyone, even someone unacquainted with any of the people in the photograph. It shows a farmyard with stables. The top of one of the half-doors is open, and a horse is looking out. There is a group of people gathered around: an elderly woman, and three small children, a girl and two boys. The girl is Martina and one of the boys is Fintan. Everyone in the picture is laughing, laughing wholeheartedly. Even the horse, with its upper lip drawn back, appears to snicker.
    â€˜Granny Buckley, my God!’ Fintan says eventually. ‘And Edward, he was everything to me, he was my hero when I was a kid. And me, look at the state of me!’ Fintan in the photograph is a little fat buck-toothed boy with droopy socks and clumpy black shoes, bare knees and a shapeless jumper. Martina’s hair spouts from the side of her head in two uneven bunches, each tied with abundant ribbons and she is wearing a pale dress.
    â€˜I remember that frock, I remember arguing with Joan when she bought it, it was white with blue flowers and she wanted me to get the one with pink flowers. It was one of the rare times when I was a child when I got my own way with her.’
    This surprises Fintan. His memory tells him that Martina got the better of Joan in pretty well all of their many disagreements. He has a clear memory of Martina as an