When, however, they had reached the edge of the town…the woman began to feel desperate. Because it was plain now that everything must come to an end. “Ah Fritz”, she cried, and the desperate sounds of a bird with the knife at its throat came out of her mouth. So Amy Parker hung there crying for the lost world. Now that the structure of her life was shaken, full misery smote her.
–Patrick White: The Tree of Man.
With shaking hands, Cathy clutched the bunch of flowers she had thoughtfully selected and picked that morning, a farewell gift for someone she would never see again after that day. Gazing out her window at the empty road winding through her village, she started to hear voices and the clatter of horseshoes on the cobblestones coming from down the road. She realized it would still be a few minutes before the group passed by her home. In that brief interval, she reflected on all that had come about over the past few months.
Mrs. Shaughnessy had passed away, and Charles Shaughnessy, the school teacher, seemed to have come to terms with his wife’s death. He continued to teach, read his books, take his strolls along the beach, pick up wildflowers, and replant them in the schoolhouse yard, where he lived, as if nothing had changed. To the village tavern, he would never go. A boring life, one could say, but he seemed happy with it.
Cathy, on the other hand, saw things differently. She was convinced he was extremely lonely, which prompted her to go out of her way to bring some comfort to his (in her view) sad existence. “Mr. Shaughnessy, may I tidy up your desk?” “Mr. Shaughnessy, may I wash the dirty dishes in the sink?” “Mr. Shaughnessy, may I help you clean the classroom?” “Mr. Shaughnessy, I picked these rare wildflowers for you, at the top of the cliff, by the ancient watchtower”. Mr. Shaughnessy would smile and acquiesce, troubled by the way Cathy looked at him. Her intense, unwavering blue eyes seemed to be searching for something unknown to her, something she might never find. Her flushed cheeks and her innocent, yet stern face, displayed a determination to discover it at any cost. But, what future awaited that little girl in such a bleak village? It was likely she would stay in her small world, marry a rough, dull, drunken, older man, have a lot of children, and die young. There was also the chance that she might end up like Rosy.
Whether her feelings towards Mr. Shaughnessy went beyond mere human compassion, she did not know; at thirteen she couldn’t fully understand her own emotions. Nevertheless, she had an inkling of what those feelings might be when Rosy Ryan started frequenting the school and offering Mr. Shaughnessy the services that were, at least in Cathy’s mind, her prerogative. Rosy, the nineteen-year-old daughter of Thomas Ryan, the tavern owner, was already past school age. A violent sensation convulsed Cathy’s soul, a fierce jealousy that she, of course, could not name by that word, because she simply did not know it. In spite of that, she quickly labeled her animosity toward Rosy Ryan as “hatred,” a term she did grasp. Filled with fear and desperation, Cathy intensified her efforts to win her teacher’s approval, as if that could somehow alter the inevitable outcome.
A few months later, much to Cathy’s dismay, Charles Shaughnessy married Rosy Ryan. Since the teacher resided at the schoolhouse, Rosy moved in there as well, a situation that deeply mortified Cathy, as she now had to see Rosy every day.
As the months passed and the monotony of marital life settled in, Rosy began to feel increasingly bored with her routine of cooking, cleaning, knitting, and assisting her husband—a quiet man who had little interest in physical intimacy—in the classroom. Consequently, she began taking morning walks along the beach and atop the cliff. This made Cathy quite happy, as it meant less time spent with Rosy, and she suspected it could signal the beginning of the end for the Shaughnessys’ marriage. Being so young, she didn’t fully grasp that in Catholic Ireland, marriage was meant to last until death do you part.
Rumours began to spread that Rosy had been spotted strolling along the beach and atop the cliff in the company of Major Doryan, the commander of the English garrison. This was scandalous and appalling gossip, as everyone in the village, including the young women, despised the English soldiers. Furthermore, Father Collins maintained strict order in the community, ensuring that there were only two types of women: married and virgins.
Major Randolph Doryan had been reassigned from the Western Front to County Kerry, bringing with him a Victoria Cross, an amputated leg due to a land mine, and a mutilated soul due to shell shock. For the amputated leg he wore a prosthetic limb, but there is not an artificial replacement for a broken spirit.
Whether the rumours were true or not might have remained a mystery if not for Michael, whom many in the village looked down upon as the town’s fool. His deformed body marked by a small lump on his back, his limping gait, his perpetually open mouth filled with decayed teeth, his tattered clothes, and his lost gaze easily gave the impression that he was not mentally sound. However, that perception was misleading. He often roamed the beach, collecting items like shells or driftwood. One day he came across Rosy and Randolph hiding behind the rocks in a secluded cove, embracing and kissing each other. He was startled by the sight, fully understanding its significance. Despite being unable to articulate a single word, he managed to explain to Father Collins what he had witnessed.
Father Collins confronted Rosy, initially scolding her for her reckless choice to take walks with Major Doryan. He then pressed her to confirm whether the rumours and Michael’s story were true. She denied all allegations.
One day, while Mr. Shaughnessy was taking the children on a trip to the beach, he discovered footprints in the sand that looked like his wife’s small feet; farther ahead they were joined by boot prints. Following this trail led him to a cave, and doubts began to creep in that Doryan and Rosy might be involved in an affair. Feeling disheartened, he eventually confronted her.“Rosy, you would never be unfaithful to me, would you?” “Of course not,” Rosy replied, visibly upset and troubled by the realization that Charles already seemed to know. Unsure of how to handle the tense situation, she simply went up to him and hugged him. “Forgive me, Rosy,” continued Charles. “What a rotten question for a man to ask his wife.”
Meanwhile, Michael returned to the cave and found a button from Doryan's uniform, which he pinned on his lapel, and proudly strolled through the village. One day, as Rosy was riding up the village road, Michael, flaunting the button on his lapel, made a curtsy to Rosy while everybody watched in amazement. Although the villagers did not exactly understand the significance of his gesture, they began to suspect it suggested a connection between Rosy and Major Doryan. It did not take long before they concluded that the rumours were indeed true, and soon word spread that Mrs. Shaughnessy was involved with Major Doryan. As a result, the townspeople stopped talking to her, including the school children, and the shopkeeper refused to sell her anything. In the eyes of the locals, there were three levels of contemptible women: loose women, whores, and whores of English soldiers, with the latter being the worst kind. Rosy, they believed, fell into that last category.
Not long after, events took place that briefly shifted the villagers’ focus away from Rosy. One stormy night in January 1917, the fugitive rebel Tim O'Leary, a leader of the Irish Republican Brotherhood who had previously killed a police constable, resurfaced in the village accompanied by four other men. He reached out to Thomas Ryan, informing him that the next night, a German ship would be offshore delivering firearms, dynamite, and grenades. O’Leary requested at least twelve men to help him retrieve the weapons and launch an assault on the English garrison. Perhaps this time the outcome would be different from the Easter Rebellion of the year before.
The following night, as the storm continued to rage, the packages dropped by the Germans were being tossed in and out by the waves, scattered all around. Tim and his men, stationed on the shore, feared they would be unable to collect them all. To their surprise and joy, they saw a group of villagers making their way down the path to the beach. The entire community had come out to support the rebels, including Michael, Thomas Ryan, and Father Collins. This priest was not only concerned with saving the souls of his parishioners from eternal damnation but also with defending their land from the English invaders. O'Leary was deeply moved by this display of solidarity. Everyone joined in the effort, wading into the rough waves time and again to retrieve boxes of weapons and explosives and load them onto the lorry waiting on the beach. Due to the heavy cargo, the lorry got stuck in the sand, and they eagerly helped in getting it free. However, as they were on their way to attack the garrison, around the first bend up the hill, they encountered Major Doryan and his troops, who were waiting for them with rifles and machine guns. Tim O’Leary and his men were taken prisoners, and all their weapons were seized. Someone had betrayed them. It was certain that they would face execution.
The whole village believed that Rosy was the only potential traitor since she was sleeping with the enemy. They stormed the schoolhouse, beat up Mr. Shaughnessy, and dragged Rosy out into the yard, where, amidst the laughter and screams of the villagers, she was beaten, stripped naked, had her hair cut, and her head shaved. Mr. Ryan, who was there, couldn’t bear to witness the brutality and fled the scene in horror, unable to confront the situation or protect his daughter, leaving her to face the consequences of his own act of treason. Thomas, who had openly supported the recently suppressed Easter Rising, was secretly serving the English as an informant, as a shrewd publican. He had alerted the garrison about Tim O’Leary’s plans.
The following day, Mr. Shaughnessy candidly discussed their situation with Rosy. He explained that he had no option but to part ways with her but suggested that they first leave the village and move to Dublin in order to escape the pressure from the villagers. Within just a few days, everything was decided, planned, and carried out. Father Collins and Michael helped them load their belongings onto a horse-driven cart and accompanied them along the road through the village to the bus stop. The village was deserted; everybody was hiding inside their homes, peering out from their windows. Now, the procession was approaching Cathy’s house.
Cathy stood behind the window, feeling a mix of anger, anguish, and determination as she fixed her gaze on the road. No one seemed to realize that for her, it felt like the end of the world—her world, at least. School and the teacher she admired were the most significant aspects of her life, and now he was leaving for good. She would never see him again. “Cathy, don’t open the door!” her mother shouted from inside. But when she saw the cart and the group passing by her door, she couldn’t resist; she opened it and stepped outside. Then her father yelled, “Cathy, get back inside, or I will use my belt on you.” Despite their commands, she stood her ground, and with a steadfast resolve, holding the bouquet of flowers tightly in her trembling hands, she approached the group. Clenching her teeth to avoid crying, but with tears in her eyes nevertheless, she offered the flowers to Mr. Shaughnessy. With a voice choked with emotion, she managed to say: “Goodbye, Mr. Shaughnessy.” Charles accepted the flowers and knelt down to meet her gaze. “Goodbye, Cathy, and thank you,” he responded. Then he embraced her, sensing and hearing her quiet sobs.
As Charles stood up and looked at Cathy one last time, she noticed something that took her by surprise. Mr. Shaughnessy, a man known for his stoicism, who never revealed his emotions—never smiled, never displayed anger, always found good in everyone and everything, who remained composed even after the death of his wife, and who didn’t express fury upon discovering Rosy’s infidelity—was in tears. He was, after all, capable of experiencing profound feelings and pain. Cathy watched them leave, filled with concern, not about her own fate, but rather about what would become of Mr. Shaughnessy next.
© William Almonte Jiménez, 2020
© This story was inspired by and is based on the film “Ryan’s Daughter”. Writer: Robert Bolt. Cinematographer: Frederick Young. Director: David Lean. 1970.
