The curtain is closed so I flick the light on. Bags, cases, boxes, all lined up against the far wall where the kids’ toys used to be. It seems Kenny isn’t in a rush to unpack. I don’t know what I’m looking for. Evidence of what?
In the corner a small cardboard box filled with comic books and schoolbooks sits on the floor. Bending down, I rummage through the contents. All pretty normal stuff. Leaning my hands on the ground, about to push myself into a standing position, I notice something hidden under the bed. It’s pushed right into the corner. Scurrying across the floor I reach in and pull it out. My hand brushes across the carving on top of the wooden box. It’s old, a strange thing for a young boy to have, unless of course it’s his mother’s, something to remember her by. Pulling on the lip I attempt to open it but the box is locked. Now I’m really interested.
‘What are you doing?’ Tom is standing in the room by the door.
‘I want to know what’s in this box.’
‘For fuck sake, you can’t do that.’
‘I can and I will.’
‘But…’
‘But nothing, this box was hidden under the bed, our bed, in our house, I want to know what’s in it.’
Tom pauses, shaking his head before walking over to where I’m sitting with the box at my side on the bed.
‘Here, give it to me.’ He wants to know too.
‘I can’t open it, it’s locked.’ I hand Tom the box which he inspects from every angle.
‘If we break it open he’s going to know, he’ll never trust us.’ For a moment I let Tom’s concern linger in my thoughts.
‘Don’t you think we should know what’s in our house, especially when it’s in a locked box, hidden under a bed? Remember, Tom, we know fuck all about this kid. What if it’s drugs? We have to protect our own kids.’
He relents, takes the screwdriver from his back pocket that he’s been using in Amber’s room and holds it to the lock.
‘I don’t know if this will work, I might have to—’
Ouch, he broke the lid, it’s cracked right down the middle. There’s no going back now. After a bit more tugging and twisting the box is open.
‘Got it.’ Tom pulls on the lid. Both of us stand back from the bed like a bomb is about to explode. Well, it’s not drugs. It’s letters. Cards and letters from people I don’t even know. The song swirls around in my brain. ‘What the…’
Tom is the first to put his hand in, lifting out a pile of envelopes and cards. They’re addressed to Kenny McCarthy. Birthday cards. Christmas cards. Letters. Tom opens a letter to Kenny, it’s from her. Joyce… Mammy.
Sitting on the bed I read her words.
Dear Kenny,
You don’t know me, but I know you. I held you in my womb for nine months before they robbed me of you. I’ve been trying to get Claire to tell you the truth but she won’t answer my letters or calls. I am your mother, Kenny. I did not abandon you or choose to leave you in the hands of my vicious mother and weak sister. They sent me away, told me you had died. I hope you get to read this, that Claire doesn’t keep it from you like I presume she did all the other ones. I’ll keep trying to contact you. Soon we will be together.
Your loving Mom, Joyce.
And there’s more, lots of letters, lots of cards. According to the dates they were all sent over a two-year period which ties in with how long Amber said the woman knew about her son. If he is her son. She could be just mad. Or devious.
Lifting a second pile out of the box, I notice the writing is different and the date stamps go way back, back to… I pull out the card. Happy 1st birthday, Grandson. Then another. Happy 2nd birthday, Grandson. Are these from Joyce’s mother, the woman who sent her away to America, the woman who told her the baby was dead?
Opening the card, I hold it over the bed in case money falls out. It’s a hard habit to break. Years of expecting nothing else on my birthday has me this way. When I was young, Mam used to buy me toys but when the job of getting my birthday present fell into my father’s lap, money fell into mine.
I read the inscription.
LOVE, ELLEN.
The card falls from my hand and lands on the floor at my feet. I try to say Tom’s name but nothing will come out of my mouth. Tom… Tom… no, nothing. He notices my distress, walks over and picks up the card, reads it.
He reads it again, this time turning it upside down and around and up and it’s like he can’t believe it’s real. I can’t believe it’s real.
‘Tom?’ Eventually I hear my own voice.
‘Sal… I…’ He lifts a second card and opens it. ‘I can’t believe this, what is this? Does this mean what I think it means?’
A cold imaginary blanket wraps itself around me. Ghosts circling me.
Tom is still staring at the name ELLEN. ‘She knew… but how?’
‘Did you know, Tom?’ He’s shaking his head slowly from side to side still holding a card in his hand. His face has turned green, his eyes locked open in shock. Tom didn’t know.
He makes the call immediately.