Author Andrew Hughes on his enviable tenancy in the Archway Flat 0f Tullynally Castle, Co Westmeath . . .
‘How would you like to do something manly in the morning?’
So said my new landlady Eliza moments after I’d signed a tenancy agreement for the Archway Flat in Tullynally Castle, Co Westmeath. We were sitting in her charming kitchen along with her father Thomas, a renowned historian and arborist, and the 8th Earl of Longford (though he has never used the title). My first reaction was that perhaps I should have paid closer attention to the fine print, but her request was entirely innocent, if a little unusual. The wonderful gardens of Tullynally boasted a llama paddock whose most recent inhabitants were Isabella and Ferdinand. Unfortunately, Ferdinand had died the previous winter and so Isabella was left forlorn. She was to be re-homed in an alpaca sanctuary in Donegal – at least that’s what I was told and it’s what I choose to believe – but loading the wily Isabella into a horse box had proven more difficult than expected. The day before I arrived she had evaded her handlers and leapt the fence, running loose in the gardens for several hours. Now a posse of llama wranglers was being assembled, of which I was the latest, unwitting member.
I had first come to Tullynally two years previously when I was asked by the Westmeath county archivist to survey the Pakenham Papers, which are housed in a ‘muniment room’ within the castle. I was on site for a month during the hot summer of 2022, and the Pakenhams kindly allowed me to stay in one of the six converted flats dotted about the inner and outer courtyards. Eliza’s mother Valerie, who sadly passed away in 2023, was particularly welcoming. Each day I had to pass her kitchen on the way to the archives room, and she would always call out, ‘Would you like some cake?’ She would make sure to invite me to evening suppers, or drinks in the garden, and I got to know some of the family and nearby neighbours.
The month elapsed and I returned to my apartment in Dublin. I had a great place in Glasnevin, rent controlled and close to the Botanic Gardens, but it was sold in 2023 and I was pitched out into the rental market at the worst possible time. I would queue with dozens of others to view bedsits going for €1,500 plus. Even if I did find a place that seemed inhabitable and vaguely affordable, whenever an estate agent would ask, ‘And what do you do for a living?’ my answer of, ‘Writer,’ would prompt a sympathetic smile that said, ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’ Luckily, Eliza got in touch to say that a flat in Tullynally was available. I jumped at the chance, boxed up my books and headed for the midlands.
Now I live in the archway over the main entrance to the outer courtyard. The flat takes up three levels: kitchen on the ground floor, bedroom and bathroom above that, and a fine sitting room over the archway itself, with large gothic windows looking east and west, a wood burning stove, and high wooden ceilings. I have my own battlements and turret, though the former can only be reached by clambering through a trapdoor over a gaping void, and the latter is only useful as a fire escape. Still, they look the part.
For a crime writer the situation is ideal – if anything there’s a bit too much inspiration. Tullynally is steeped in literary tradition. It’s easier to count the members of the Pakenham family who aren’t writers, and the castle has played host to everyone from Maria Edgeworth to Evelyn Waugh. I can wander through the gardens as much as I want, and in the off season it feels as if I have the whole twelve acres of woodland and lakes to myself. Then there was the dinner party in which I was sitting next to a baroness, the game of charades in a candlelit library, the music nights in the great hall . . . if I can’t conjure up a murder mystery out of all that then I need a new profession.
Nothing quite tops the first morning in the llama paddock. I set my alarm and traipsed over to meet my fellow volunteers – gardeners and estate managers, and Eliza in her Wellies cheerfully coordinating. Isabella eyed us suspiciously from over the fence. I remember Kevin the farm manager saying, ‘Remember, she’s not a cow. If she feels threatened she’ll go for you,’ and not for the first time I wondered how I managed to end up in this situation. We entered the enclosure and fanned out, planning to sweep Isabella towards a shed in the corner, but she was stubborn and more than once broke through the rank. Eventually we got her turned towards the shed where she gladly sought refuge. Kevin backed up the horse box, coaxed her out with a few treats, and she was ready for her long journey to a new life.
All the wranglers gathered for a group photo, and I felt as though I’d had my first taste of castle life. Since then I’ve settled into a nice routine. The buzz of tourist season has faded, nights have drawn in and the evenings are cold. Thankfully there’s no shortage of firewood, and I’ve become quite handy with a hatchet. I’ll hunker down for the winter and work on my next book. It involves a close-knit group of art restoration students in Trinity College, one of whom happens to come from a big country house in Westmeath. Who knows, there might even be a llama.
(c) Andrew Hughes
Author photograph (c) Fennell Photography ii
About Emma Disappeared:
Everyone is talking about the disappearance of Emma Harte.
A high-achieving university graduate and young entrepreneur, she was last seen in the early hours of the morning on grainy CCTV footage in Dublin’s city centre before vanishing into thin air. While a national debate about women’s safety rages, eyes turn to Emma’s boyfriend, Tom – who is nowhere to be found.
Meanwhile, archivist James Lyster is following the story with undue interest. When a comment he makes about Emma goes viral on social media, he finds himself drawn into the world of a group of idealistic university students involved in the search – and attracting the attention of the police detective in charge of Emma’s case.
Then a body is discovered in scrubland near James’ flat …
As the police get closer to finding out what happened to Emma Harte, James’ life begins to unravel. Is he a victim or murderer? Feminist ally or callous liar?
For it turns out that James isn’t the only one with secrets …
Emma Disappeared by Andrew Hughes is published by Hachette Books Ireland . Order your copy online here.
Read more from Andrew Hughes on Writing.ie here.
