Moon Hook I - 7
Part I, Chapter 7 of an ongoing fiction series by Maura McHugh, published every Thursday, for subscribers of Splinister.
Read the first chapter in the series here.
Part I
Chapter 7
‘Emerald Heart’
For a while Daria successfully steered the conversation towards neutral topics, learning that Muireann was in her second year of a Marine Science degree in University of Galway, and was an avid surfer. She’d competed on the junior tour for a number of years before she lost the urge to showcase her skill. As she finished her second cup of black tea, Muireann noted, ‘When I’m in the ocean, I feel most alive, and I don’t need a medal to prove that.’
A conversation void opened, so Daria contributed, ‘When I’m close to the shore I feel a deep pull to enter the waves, but also, a panicky fear.’
Muireann locked her eyes with Daria’s. ‘It’s always ourselves we find in the sea.’ She paused, ‘what could be scarier?’
‘Is that a quote?’
Muireann glanced over at the glass doors as a hose of rain sluiced the surface, smearing the darkening skies. ‘My Mam used to say it all the time, but it’s from a poem by E.E. Cummings.’
‘Are you close with your mother?’
Muireann dropped her gaze to the well of her teacup. ‘Are you?’
Daria tried to keep her tone light and factual. ‘No. My mother’s mad.’
Startled at this admission, Muireann offered: ‘My mother’s missing.’
Daria restrained the impulse to place her hand upon Muireann’s, afraid it would break the fragile confidence, ‘I’m so sorry. Is she...?’
‘She vanished. Almost two years ago.’
Daria watched the young woman twirl her teacup and waited.
‘There was no message, nothing. One morning she was frying eggs in the kitchen, and that evening she was gone with no trace.’
‘That must have been awful.’
Muireann stood, gathering plates and knives and walked over to the sink with them. She started washing with practised ease. ‘Niamh doesn’t have a dishwasher. She says it ruins everything.’
Daria turned to observe Muireann’s tense shoulders as she cleaned. ‘An easy opinion if you don’t have kids.’
She noticed Muireann half-turn to defend her idol, but Daria raised her hands, ‘Hey, that’s what my friends tell me. But if you’ve ever lived with a group of people, you’d be happy to argue over who empties the dishwasher rather than fight about who used the last clean mug.’
Muireann relaxed a bit. ‘Yeah, my flatmates are useless. My parents insisted on a clean kitchen at home and at the café. But, we also had dishwashers!’ She laughed, ‘I’d love to never scrub a pot again in my life!’
Daria stood and grabbed a tea towel embroidered with crabs and seahorses. ‘I’ll dry.’
They stood side by side, and Daria glimpsed the deeper meaning of Niamh’s prohibition against dishwashers. A few minutes of shared labour established camaraderie. She recalled the times she was conscripted into washing or drying after the communal meals at the political camps her mother joined when she was a child. It was presented as a shared game, usually combined with laughter, banter and plans for the next action. Daria felt involved, even when she didn’t understand what the women discussed. She was praised for helping, patted by many hands, and given treats.
It was a powerful, early lesson: being helpful brought attention, approval and affection. Much later, she’d realise that drive could be manipulated by canny people.
Muireann finished her task and leaned against the counter. ‘Moon Hook is tiny. Everyone has an opinion about what happened. They still nudge each other whenever I pass and speculate.’ Her face settled into bitter lines, ageing her suddenly. ‘Most of them think she killed herself. And then they invent reasons why. At least I can get away, Dad… he’s stuck. And it’s not even his café.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘He came here for her. And then she left us.’
A dozen obvious questions crowded Daria’s mind, but no doubt Muireann had been asked them all a hundred times by police, friends, and curious neighbours. Instead, Daria put away the crockery and hung up the tea towel, allowing Muireann to steady or unburden herself further.
Muireann brushed away a tear from her eye and inhaled sharply. ‘That’s why I’m interested in Emerald Heart.’
Daria had hoped she could avoid this part. ‘I don’t see the connection. That was a long time ago.’
Muireann rolled her eyes dramatically. ‘Come on!’
‘Did you go through my files?’
Muireann balled up a fist, as if prepared for a fight. ‘I only saw the top page. That famous The Irish Times article and photo. I wasn’t being nosy on purpose. We had to clean the folder, and I wanted to check that nothing had been damaged. Dad stopped me once he saw that photocopy. Islanders never talk about it.’
‘But now everyone on Moon Hook knows I have it.’
Muireann’s hand chopped a denial. ‘No! Dad won’t have said anything, but I’m sure he’s fended off dozens of questions about you already. I’m not going to talk, but you need to be careful. Bíonn cluasa ar na claíocha.’
At Daria’s frown, Muireann added, ‘The ditches have ears. Sure, people have streaming TV and video games for entertainment, but the oldest pleasure on Moon Hook is gossip. They’ll be watching where you go and who you talk to, and they’ll figure out plenty from that.’
Daria suspected where Muireann was going with this.
‘If you want to dig into Emerald Heart, you’ll need a native. My family has always lived here.’ Muireann nodded in a northerly direction. ‘The tower house, the one that Doris lives in now, my ancestors used to own it hundreds of years ago.’
‘Doris Vallens?’
Muireann stopped mid-stratagem. ‘What else would I call her? She’s a distant cousin.’
‘You’ve met her?’
Muireann shrugged, ‘I’ve visited, and we’ve talked at social events.’
‘You’re related to one of the wealthiest and most reclusive women on the planet?’
‘On Moon Hook she’s Doris Conroy, granddaughter of the last of the great chiefs of the O'Conaire clan, the Gaelic lords that used to rule this area. She wasn’t raised on the island, but she returned her family’s lands to good order. At great expense.’
‘So, she’s related to half of the residents, and the other half is obligated to her.’
Muireann nodded. ‘But you know Irish people, we’ll be damned before we admit we’re impressed by anyone. Her family used to pick periwinkles on the beach like half the island, once upon a time. And her father, well… some people still curse his name.’
‘Right, that was Rory Conroy.’
Daria fell quiet, pondering what she had been given and what she’d been asked to investigate.
Muireann broke the silence. ‘He’s the one who ran off to America, and let his lands go to shite. He gave Rónán Yemm the right to establish his Emerald Heart hippy colony in the ruins. God, Rory must have hated his father.’
Daria observed the young woman carefully. ‘What’s your interest in all this old history?’
‘I should be asking that question!’
Daria sighed, seeing the value of an insider’s knowledge. She knew much of this story already, but there were nuances and gaps she needed to fill.
‘I’m researching Emerald Heart for a project. I’m not sure how I’m going to tackle it yet, but probably as a multi-episode podcast. Maybe as a documentary. If you’re going to work with me as a researcher, we’ll need a contract, and rates.’
Muireann’s mouth dropped open comically in surprise.
Daria took advantage of the astonishment. ‘This is to protect both of us. I need confidentiality and you need boundaries.’
Muireann didn’t hesitate, ‘I’m in!’
‘Let’s see if you’re so keen after you read the NDA. But before we get to that point, you need to explain your interest in Emerald Heart.’
Muireann’s secret-loving smile returned. ‘My grandparents were original members of Emerald Heart. My mother was born in their commune.’
Daria opted for Devil’s advocate. ‘So were other people on this island. There are ex-members scattered around the world.’
Muireann leaned forward, and a fanatic light gleamed in her eyes. ‘My mother disappeared on the anniversary of The Night of the Long Journey.’
December 22, 1981
Extract from The Irish Times article ‘Emerald Heart of Darkness: 33 Missing After Cult Launches Boats into Atlantic Storm.’
A desperate search and rescue mission by the Irish Coast Guard is taking place at Moon Hook island off the coast of Galway after the leader of the Emerald Heart cult, Rónán Yemm, urged his followers to launch four currach rowing boats into a raging Atlantic storm.
Thirty-three men, women and children are reported missing.
Cormac and Nóirín O’Connor, the only two active members who survived the event — which was code-named by the group ‘The Night of the Long Journey’ — were in the organisation’s Galway office at the time. Due to downed telephone lines they missed the order to return to their commune for the exodus.
The couple and their infant are in the custody of An Garda Síochána and are helping them with their inquiries.
The Emerald Heart group had been investigated several times after complaints emerged that they employed brain washing and coercive techniques to keep their members under control. Its remote location and its charismatic leader often thwarted the ability of the authorities to question members in private. None of the claims could be corroborated, and every Emerald Heart member insisted they wished to remain on the island. Despite their simple diet, the followers were deemed to be in good health, even the babies which had been born at the commune.
In the past, a number of high-profile backers publicly supported Yemm’s aim to ‘live in harmony with earth and sea’ and to ‘return to traditional relationships with our ancient powers.’
One ex-member, speaking on condition of anonymity, stated, ‘Rónán possessed an extraordinary mesmeric ability. I saw him charm seasoned critics and persuade sceptics of his good intentions. He was convinced he would be able to open a path to a mythical island — the Emerald Heart — when he received the right omens. I doubt any of those poor souls could resist his supreme confidence in his spiritual vision.’
Read all published chapters here.
A cult! This just gets better and better 😁