Thirty-Four

Michael deserves to be remembered right to his son. He wanted that. Please go to the bother of reading his letter: Act One, Hamlet, top shelf in the library. R.

Ella walked straight to the row of books in the library and took down Hamlet, shaking it until the letter plopped out. How dare her husband write to somebody other than her? What right did Michael Hannigan have to be remembered kindly? She stuffed the letter in her front patch pocket to be read later.

She slipped a note onto Roberta’s library chair.

What is in the past can stay there. Michael Hannigan has no rights now: he is dead. I will not have you spoil the one moment of happiness I have left in the world. E.

In the café, she fingered Michael Hannigan’s letter. If she got time later on, she might throw her eyes over it, though she would not let on to her sister.

‘I have never seen one linger so long over a cup of tea,’ Ella muttered.

Ella took the stranger in. Hunched, her elbows on the table, she was looking intently out the window. A paisley scarf slipped down her front, but she hardly noticed.

‘She might just be taking time out,’ Fergus whispered as he wandered off to clear a few of the far tables.

Muriel Hearty and a small group of women in the centre tables spoke quietly together, before Muriel beckoned to Ella to join them.

‘Have you heard from Debbie?’

‘I talked to her on the phone last night. She is being well looked after; I can’t say more than that. It is just a waiting game now.’

‘She should have stayed; we would all have pitched in.’

‘She has her aunt and uncle and friends.’

‘But we went through something together; we would not have minded looking after her.’

The other women murmured in agreement.

‘That’s silly talk and well you know it. She is getting the best specialist care in that hospice. Good intentions can never match that.’

Muriel pulled Ella closer. ‘Who’s your wan at the window?’

‘No idea.’

‘Well, she won’t boost the café profits,’ Muriel tootled, and the other women giggled. They all got up at the same time, noisily scraping their chairs along the wooden floors. ‘There is bingo in the hall tonight, Ella. You should come along. Bring Fergus too.’

Ella did not answer but got a tray and began to clear the table. She already had one tray full and was working on the second when the woman at the window rose from her seat and went to the till to pay.

‘I will be with you in a minute,’ Ella said, grumbling to herself that she should choose this moment to pay for her cup of tea. ‘Was everything all right for you?’ she asked, putting her hand out for the money.

‘Why wouldn’t it? Sure, you can’t go wrong with a cup of tea.’

Ella laughed. ‘I guess you are right.’

‘Are you Miss O’Callaghan, the owner?’

‘Yes, Ella: Ella O’Callaghan.’

‘You won’t remember me. I am Fran Murtagh.’

‘Fran Murtagh?’

‘Mary Murtagh’s sister. We used to live beside the bridge in Rathsorney, at one time. I am Frances Rees now.’

Ella looked at the tall, well-dressed woman in front of her. She noted she was wearing an expensive raincoat and that her handbag was leather. Ella undid her apron and walked with the woman back to the table by the window. ‘We didn’t know any of the Murtaghs were still in the country, or have you travelled from afar?’

‘I have lived in Malahide, Dublin, all my life. That is where my family moved after Rathsorney.’

‘I see.’

‘I was hoping you had a forwarding number or address for Deborah Kading.’

‘You know the situation?’

‘Yes, that is why I am here. I wrote to the convent seeking help; they did not bother to reply. Unfortunately it appears I am now too late; Deborah has already left the country.’

‘And Mary?’

‘My sister died of a broken heart in a mental institution, because nobody would believe her insistence that her child had been stolen from her. She was told the baby died, but she never believed it. I think it is only a matter of weeks before she is proved right, but …’

‘It will be too late for Debbie.’

‘Exactly.’

‘How is Deborah?’

‘Very weak; some days are better than others. She is in a lot of pain, doped up to the eyeballs, so I have to talk to her aunt Nancy mostly.’

Frances shifted in her chair, to move closer to Ella. ‘I thought I should tell her she was welcome to our family, that her mother had always wanted her. Was she happy with the Kadings?’

‘As far as I know, though she lost her mother when she was very young.’ Ella looked away, not wishing to say anything further.

Fran Rees let a tear slip down her cheek and she shook her head, like a horse hoping to dislodge a fly. ‘Those nuns have a lot to answer for. I wrote to the convent after I heard Deborah on the radio and got no reply. Any time I rang, I was told nobody could help. It was only when I knocked on the convent door and insisted I would go to the press that Assumpta met me.’

‘What did she say?’

Fran looked out the window. The sea far away was glistening like a starry night. A bluster of a breeze was agitating the trees in the far wood and the rhododendron was swaying, throwing its old flowers away. A group of girls were messing as they walked up the driveway, pushing each other into the rhododendron bushes.

‘She told me Deborah had gone and everything else was in the hands of the inquiry and gardaí and she could not possibly comment.’

‘Sounds like marbles-in-the-mouth Mother Assumpta, all right.’

‘Deborah was told Mary Murtagh was her mother?’

‘Yes, she was.’

‘I can fly out. Bring photographs of Mary.’

Ella felt the tears rise up. ‘You would do that?’

Fran Rees twiddled with the cup and saucer Fergus had quietly slipped in beside her. ‘I owe it to my sister, Miss O’Callaghan. I was a few years older than her. When she spoke of keeping her baby, I never let on that I knew my father would not in a million years let it happen. I let Mary plan, knitting matinee coats in several colours and crocheting little bootees. I suppose I was too caught up in my own life; I was planning to marry Richard then. When she had the baby, she was told it had died; I did not say anything.’

She stopped to gulp a mouthful of tea.

‘I was brought up to believe my parents knew best. When they put her in the mental hospital, I never thought she would be there so long. Every time I visited her, which to my shame was only at Christmas and Easter, she begged me to find her child. Even though I had my suspicions my father probably had the child adopted and it was more than likely alive, I never said that to Mary. I wronged her, don’t you see? I am now trying to right that wrong.’

Ella reached over and patted Fran’s hand. ‘You were young. Looking back and regretting is always the easy part.’

‘Do you think it would mean something to her now?’

Ella squeezed Fran’s hand. ‘I know it will mean everything. Book the flight straight away.’ She reached into her pocket, pulled out a notebook and jotted down Debbie’s address and phone number. ‘Take it, and let me know how you get on.’

The other woman could not muster any words but smiled her appreciation as Ella, hearing the young girls come up the stairs, quickly disappeared behind the counter.