For those who came in late:
Blue Gill a computer programmer from Wisconsin, is looking after a castle in Ireland for her former lover Brendan McPherson. She is fascinated by a painting she sees of ancient Irish King and warrior Cuchulainen. She is feeling rather lonely all by herself in the castle when suddenly there is a knock at the door. It is a rather decrepit Aussie who has just had an accident on his motor bike.
“You’d better go in and wash up. There’s a bathroom up stairs.”
“Thanks ....you’re a real mate. Can I put what’s left of my bike somewhere? It’s a bit of a mess....”
He pointed just along the driveway, and Blue could just perceive a dark shape that looked like a motor bike.
“Just bring it up here and put it in the porch. Not many thieves around here I should think”
“They’d have a hard job driving this away anyhow....” The front wheel of the bike was so badly buckled that it had to be dragged bodily up the drive, gouging tracks in the gravel as it did so.
“Jesus, it is a mess.”
The guy grinned ruefully. “Oh well it could have been a lot worse. Real lucky to have found this place.. Thanks. Oh name’s Morrice by the way. But me mates call me Comp. Muck around a bit with computers when I’m at home which isn’t often.”
“Well I’m Marybeth. My friends call me Blue. Maurice eh? I was thinking about a Frenchman.”
No it’s not really a Froggy name. It’s spelt the English way with an “orice”. Named after me uncle. He’s got a farm out at Shepparton.”
Morrice saw the frown. “It’s a town in Victoria.”
He paused again. “Australia.”
“Yeah I got the accent Comp.”
“Been to Oz have ya Blue?”
“Not yet.”
“Just thought with a name like that.. and your reddish hair and all...”
“No I’m Blue cause that’s the colour of me Irish eyes” Blue put on a theatrical Irish accent and grinned.
“But you’re from US though. Not an Irish accent....(though I agree about those smiling Irish eyes.)” and his smile of genuine admiration looked pretty good on him thought Blue.
“Uh huh. Wisconsin. What do you mean anyway about reddish hair..?
“No in Aus. all redheads are called Blue. Not many redheads in Australia. Pity cause I’m sort of partial to red-headed shielas.”- and again the ambiguous grin that vacillated between shy and confident.
“Go on upstairs and clean up. Have a COLD shower while you’re about it.” But blue was secretly pleased at the effect she was having on this stranger. Morrice made his way up the stairs still smirking.
Blue went back to the dining room and sat down. She was quite hungry, not having eaten since early lunch and now it was almost 8:00 PM. But she didn’t start to eat yet.
The meal had been laid out on the large wooden sideboard at the head of the table. It seemed to have been prepared by someone who thought that one lady could eat the daily rations of a whole army. There were both slices of chicken and ham, a copious bowl of green salad and of course the ubiquitous potato salad. Downstairs on the AGA Blue had notice an urn of boiling water....but there didn’t seem to be any real coffee anywhere in the house. Oh Well couldn’t have everything.
She looked at the food and decided that she would invite Morrice to join her. In fact she’d probably have to put him up for the night. She could hardly send him packing with his bike unable to be driven. A slight tinge of anticipation crept through her at the thought. “Watch it Marybeth,” she told herself, “Your glands are directing your brain again....”
By herself in the large room she noticed how quiet everything was. She could hear the faint breath of the wind as it sloughed around the castle’s turrets and the eternal thumping of the Atlantic waves on the rocks below....But there was no traffic noise, no radio, no television....She closed her eyes and drank in the peace.
Then from another room somewhere deep in the castle came the sound of a piano.
“Holy shit! Ghosts.” and Blue sat petrified for a moment in the big dining chair she had chosen. Then her logic took control. She would get to the bottom of this. She moved out into the hallway and down the passage towards where the sound was coming.
It was romantic music...passionate as if whoever had written it was trying to express a desire so deep that it was far beyond words. Blue had never taken much interest in classical music, but this really got to her. The notes reverberated up and down the passageway expressing untold desire, and torment.
It was coming from a room she had not previously seen. Slowly she opened the door and there was Morrice seated at the piano, his hands flying backwards and forwards his eyes closed as if possessed by some magic demon. She could do nothing but watch him. She did not feel it was right to interrupt. This man was so intense, so passionately involved in what he was doing that she could only look and be drawn as if by magic into a world where nothing mattered but the emotions expressed by the swirling notes.
The music awoke emotions she had not felt for a long time. It seemed to express the intense longing of sexual frustrated passion. She had been too busy recently to notice that it had been a long time since someone had held her in his arms.
She watched entranced until the music finished.
“That was beautiful,” She said though aware that the word didn’t capture the passion or the pain.
“Yeah. Not bad the old Beethoven.”
“What was it?”
“It’s actually the first movement of his Sonata Number 26. Dull name. It’s better known as ‘Les Adieux’ - the goodbye.”
“It sounded so angry...so well frustrated somehow.”
