Chapter Thirteen

 

When Aileen woke in a strange room, it was dark. She switched on the bedside lamp and looked at her watch. Eight o’clock. Was that morning or evening? She had been tired, but surely she hadn’t slept for ten hours during the day? A cup of cold tea and a biscuit sat on the table.

She got out of bed and slipped into her shoes. Unlatching her case, she took out her wash bag and went along the corridor to the bathroom. Back in her room, she put on fresh clothes and brushed her blond hair loose. Her stomach rumbled, and she ate the digestive before making her way downstairs.

Mary was in her sitting room, knitting with the door open. When she saw Aileen, she rolled her knitting around the pins and stuck them into a ball of blue wool. ‘Had a good sleep, love?’ she asked, coming into the hall.

‘I did, thanks. And I’m sorry about earlier. I felt dead on my feet.’

‘It’s all right, sure. I understand. Come on down to the kitchen. I’ll make yea something to eat.’

Aileen hadn’t taken much notice of the kitchen earlier; it was small and narrow in comparison to the size of the house. A grey worktop flanked both sides of the cooker, with matching overhead cupboards filling one side of the kitchen, and a square table and four chairs against the other wall. She pulled out a chair and sat down.

‘Do yea like eggs?’

‘Right now, I could eat anything.’ Aileen laughed.

‘You’re not the first guest I’ve had from over the sea. Several hours, isn’t it, the ferry? Then you’ve had the two train journeys. Oh, I remember it well.’ She broke eggs into a bowl and beat them together with milk and a knob of butter. ‘Twenty years ago now that I came here, and I slept for nearly two days. So there, ten hours is respectable.’ She poured the mixture into a big, black frying pan and stood over it. ‘Your Aunt Bead was just the same when she was over last. She was at sixes and sevens for days.’

Aileen smiled. Mary’s accent was as broad as if she’d just walked out of Ireland. ‘Can I do anything?’

‘Just eat up,’ she said, placing a cheese omelette down in front of her.

‘This looks lovely, Mary.’

‘Well, you don’t want anything heavy on your stomach if you want to sleep again tonight.’

Aileen ate as Mary sat opposite her and took a small notebook and pencil from her apron pocket. ‘Now, as you’re family, shall we say two pounds ten shillings a week, including a cooked breakfast when yea find work?' How does that suit you?’

‘That sounds very reasonable, Mary, thanks.’

‘I wouldn’t be doing it for everyone, mind.’

Aileen reached for her bag and took the money from her purse.

‘Put that away. You needn’t pay me until you find work, and believe me, you’ll be spoilt for choice around here.’

‘Really? That’s kind of you, Mary.’

The door clicked, and Aileen heard someone come into the hall. ‘That’ll be Miss Brady.’ Mary told her. ‘She’s a teacher and she works at the college. Staff meeting tonight!’ Mary raised her eyebrows.

‘How many boarders do you have?’

‘Just two others. The teacher is on the first floor and a young girl. She’s a bit younger than you; her name’s Bella Smith. She’s a worry, that one. She comes in at all hours o’ the night.’ Mary sighed. ‘You might get to meet her in the morning if she gets up on time.’

‘That will be nice.’ Aileen was pleased to know there was another young girl in the house.

‘Not if you follow her example, it won’t.’ Mary stood up and lifted a pile of newspapers from a chair. ‘The Birmingham Post is here somewhere.’ She looked at the date and passed it to Aileen. ‘Tek it inside and have a read. I’ll tidy up here and then I’ll join yea.’ There was something about Mary that reminded Aileen of her ma.

The front room had a settee and one enormous armchair with balding armrests; a wireless muttered on top of a sideboard, and a copper-potted fern sat on the windowsill. A frameless mirror hung over the fireplace, and a two bar electric fire was fitted into the empty grate. Aileen curled up in the huge armchair and glanced through the newspaper. Mary was right; it was full of vacancies for various jobs, but Aileen had no idea where any of them were.

When Mary joined her, she picked up her knitting and began to knit with three pins instead of the usual two. Aileen gave her a quizzical look.

‘What are you knitting Mary?’

‘Bed socks for me sister. She’s always complaining of cold feet, so she is. And blue’s her favourite colour.’

‘It must be nice having a sister.’ Aileen thought about the brother she might never get to meet.

‘Aye. Mavis has been living in England longer than me. She was here when I came over. Whereas she talks proper English now, she tells me I’ll never lose the brogue.’

‘Did she ever marry?’

‘Ah, sure she did, but their only child was stillborn and Ed, her better half, he died soon after that. So she’s had it tough. Then I lost Ken, but sure, we have each other.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘That’s life.’ Mary paused to count stitches.

Aileen sat forward in the armchair and fidgeted with her hands. ‘Mary, can I ask you something?’

‘Ask away. I won’t charge yea.’

‘Did you know my ma very well?’

‘Well, sure, course I did. Jessie and me, we were good pals. She married Jonny, and not long after you were born, I came over here.’

‘You say… I mean… did she ever tell you anything private like?’

Mary’s knitting pins stopped abruptly, and she placed them in her lap. ‘Oh, umm, in what way, love?’

‘You said you were friends. I just wondered if she ever, like, told you anything personal.’

Mary looked pensive, and Aileen hoped she knew something. ‘I’m not sure I know what yea mean.’ She crossed her arms. ‘We went dancing together and we kept in touch for a while until I married Ken. Well, you know, life takes over, and we lost touch.’ She sighed. ‘I was sorry she died, love, and I would have come over if…’

Aileen nodded. ‘I was hoping she might have told you a secret?’

‘A secret! What kind of secret are yea talking about?’ Mary unfolded her arms and linked her fingers. ‘What’s troubling yea?’

Aileen swallowed. ‘It’s a bit, well…’ She felt a little awkward talking about her ma to someone she had only just met. So she just came out with it. ‘Did my ma have any other children, apart from me?’

Mary was on her feet. ‘Glory be to God! What gave yea that notion?’

‘Ma left me a note asking me to find my brother, and ask him to forgive her.’

Mary scratched her head. ‘What? I mean, how? Why would she say that? Have you asked your father about this?’

‘Da says she was rambling. I don’t believe him.’

Mary went over and placed her arm around Aileen's shoulder. ‘Look, love, there’s probably no truth in it.’

Aileen sighed. ‘Aunt Bead and Uncle Paddy don’t believe it either. But I do. Ma wouldn’t lie to me, especially as she was anxious to confess to a priest.’

Mary’s eyes widened. ‘She did what?’ Mary looked uneasy as she gathered up her knitting. ‘She could have been confessing anything, love. People can say strange things when they’re close to death. Try and put it from your mind.’