Now and Then

by Mary O'Sullivan

  “We’re canvassing for Evelyn Thurley for President,” she said. “Can we count on your vote next Tuesday?”

  “Sorry. We haven’t registered yet so we can’t vote. Thank you for calling though.”

  “That’s a pity. You know, I suppose, voting in Paircmoor takes place in the National School, so your little boy won’t have any school on Tuesday.”

  I hadn’t known that. Rob would be furious. He had missed enough time now.

  “How is your husband?” she asked.

  “Well, thank you,” I answered, wondering just how much she knew.

  “I’d better move on,” she said. “Don’t forget to register your vote here. Looks like we could be in for a General Election very soon.”

  I waved to her and watched the car drive away, before following Hugh and the children. I knew I would find them in the area the children call the playground. Shortly after we had moved in here, Ben had begun to clear the back garden. The part overlooked by the kitchen window. That way we, or mostly he, could keep an eye on the children while working in the kitchen. He had started the project full of enthusiasm, hacking away overgrown shrubs, felling two trees that were blocking light, putting in a swing and slide, making three little seats and a picnic table from the sawn-off trunks, and painting them in vivid colours. There was a small flower bed, a bit dreary and neglected this time of year, and an area where Ben had dug drills so that the children could grow vegetables. In pride of place was the Christmas tree, soon to be lighting Santa’s way to Cowslip Cottage. I felt a knot of sadness in my throat, remembering how happy Ben had been planning this play area, what fun we all had there. When had he stopped being happy? And, shamefully, why had I not seen happiness and fun slip away?

  Hugh was crouched down on one of the little seats. Just as well it was a solid ring of timber. I laughed when I saw him.

  “Just following orders,” he said. “What Anna says, goes. I don’t like the way you’re enjoying my discomfort. I think you should sit too.”

  Anna, from the swing, shouted at me.

  “Sit down, Mom! Watch me go high!”

  It was Hugh’s turn to laugh as I gingerly lowered myself onto the red stool with the white spots.

  “Looking at this,” Hugh said, “it’s easy to see how creative Ben is. Not having the opportunity to use his talents must be so frustrating for him.”

  “Absolutely. He has great plans for renovating this cottage but, unfortunately, the cost is prohibitive at the moment. Anyway, I think he has lost interest.”

  I watched Rob and Josh poking the earth with sticks. They were fascinated by snails and I knew they were searching for them. They loved them as much as Anna dreaded them. There would be the usual furore if they found one and chased her with it.

  “We need to talk, Leah. There are decisions to be made.”

  I took a deep breath. I was shocked. Was he about to make an issue of last night? I was horrified by the possibility that my moment of weakness could become public knowledge. More specifically being brought to the attention of Ben or Piper. I had really thought Hugh and I were at ease with each other this morning. How wrong was that?

  “Decisions about what?” I asked, none too politely.

  “About George Roache. Della. The whole mess I uncovered in Wexford. How do you want to handle it? Do you want to tell Ben yourself or do you want me to tell him?”

  I sighed with relief. Della’s secret history I could cope with, one way or the other. The timber of the little stool was cutting into my bottom, even through my coat. I squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position. More uncomfortable than the stool was the fact that, after a morning where there had been magic and laughter, I now had to face reality again. Of course Ben would have to be told about Della’s secret brother.

  “I’m not sure what to do, Hugh,” I said. “It’s your family history. Parrish business. But then, Ben is my husband, and the fact that there may be a genetic factor in his depression is surely my business too.”

  “Exactly. Like it or not, you’re part of this family.”

  “That’s a first. I’ve never before felt myself accepted as a full family member.”

  He reached over and caught my hand.

  “I know that now. I’m sorry I didn’t realise. As far as I can figure out, the only way we can all work through this situation is to do it together.”

  “Are you including your mother too?”

  “I’m just making a suggestion. Do you have a better one?”

  I took my hand away from his. I felt anger begin to churn in my gut. Against Della, her family secrets, her pride, her selfishness and her snobbery. Yes, I would like to sit down and confront her, face to face. To point out to her how damaging her behaviour had been. To Ben. And to Hugh also. I would like her to realise how totally wrong and irresponsible she had been. How deceitful. But, even as the angry words formed in my mind, I knew they would not help Ben. And with that thought came the admission that I was, yet again, being judgemental. Della, without doubt, had been damaged by her overly strict upbringing. It was unfair to blame her or to think she would ever deliberately do anything to harm either of her sons. A shiver ran down my spine as I wondered if my children would, at some stage, look back on their childhoods and think that I had failed them.

  A yell from Anna brought me back to reality. She had jumped down from the swing and was being chased by the boys. They had not found any snails but they were each holding a wriggling worm in their hands, trying to dangle them near Anna.

  I went to stand up but I was cold and stiff from sitting on the low stool and I couldn’t.

  Hugh looked at me and laughed.

  “I think we’re stuck,” he said. “We’re way too old for such low places!”

  He held his hand out to me. I took it in mine and wondered at how I had, for so long, found him annoying. I had a brief flash of how close I had come to kissing him last night. I knew, in my heart, it had happened because we had both been upset and needed comforting. But here, in the cold light of day, with my children around me, I realised we were playing with fire. I loved Ben. Hugh loved Piper. And that was that.

  “We’ll make a gallant effort to stand,” Hugh said. “On my count of three, go. One! Two! Three! Go!”

  We managed to get to our feet by leaning on each other. We rose, laughing, still holding hands.

  “You see,” he said. “Together is the best way. Don’t you agree?”

  I nodded. Yes, together as friends. As brother-in-law and sister-in-law. As family. The Parrish family.

  No doubt the George Roache and Della situation was so deep-rooted and complex that it would take a combined effort to find a way ahead for all of us. We would have to put bitterness and recriminations aside and talk it all through together. I smiled at Hugh, wishing that the togetherness didn’t involve Della.

  “Together it is, then. All of us. Don’t know how we’ll organise that though.”

  “Leave it to me,” Hugh said.

  “I will.” I turned and called to the children. “Who wants hot chocolate!”

  The boys dropped the worms and Anna stopped yelling.

  We all trooped back into the house.

  We had just finished our hot chocolate when the doorbell rang.

  Anna scurried into the hall and made her trademark shriek.

  Hugh rose from his seat, ready to run after her. “Is she alright, Leah?”

  “She’s fine. That’s just the way she announces her grandmother’s arrival. I’d better let Della in.”

  I went to the hall door. Della stood there, a pale and frail-looking Ben by her side. I could not believe that Ben had not let me know he was coming home. There was a glint of satisfaction in Della’s eyes. Her mouth pursed as if to hold back a laugh. My anger welled up again, and my promise of consorting with the enemy for the common good wavered. Could either of these two men, my husband or my brother-in-law, not see that Della was manipulative, bad, selfish, evil? I ran out of adjectives at about
the same time my anger ran out.

  Walking past Della, I threw my arms around Ben and hugged him tight, not even letting go when the children clung on to his legs.

  Ben was back home with us, his family. That was all that really mattered.

  The children could not bear to let their father out of their sight for the rest of the day. When he needed a rest in the afternoon, Hugh and Della took the children out to the woods. I was glad of the chance to have Ben to myself for a little while. He looked very tired as he threw himself down on our bed. I pulled the duvet up and tucked it in around him.

  “Well, how does it feel to be home?” I asked him.

  He smiled at me, that lazy smile I loved.

  “I missed you, Leah. I’ve been missing you for a long time now. And I’m sorry. So sorry. We have a lot to talk about. To sort out.”

  I stroked his hair back from his forehead. His eyelids drooped.

  “We have forever to talk, Ben. You just rest now. I love you.”

  His eyes closed. I sat beside him, stroking his hair until I knew he was in a deep sleep.

  I tiptoed out of our bedroom and into the kitchen wondering what I would cook for dinner. I assumed Hugh and Della would be eating with us. It would have to be something quick to prepare. I thought of one of Ben’s favourites – sausage casserole. Maybe not the healthiest but definitely tasty. I checked in the fridge. I had sausages, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, onions, stock cube and I could snip a sprig of thyme from the pot of herbs growing outside. I smiled as I anticipated Della’s reaction to bangers and mash. If she didn’t like it, she could go to her hotel.

  As I chopped and peeled, I let my mind drift into the past, to when my mother used to make this dish. How she used to hum as she cooked. How happy she would be to see her grandchildren relish it, as I used to when I was young.

  And then, completely out of the blue, just as I was popping my largest casserole dish into the oven, it hit me. That thought, that worry, that unanswered question I had managed to bury for so many years.

  I sat down at the table, oven gloves still in my hand, and trembled as all the doubt and uncertainty rushed back at me out of the past.

  “Who’s my daddy?” I had asked.

  Again and again, I asked. And again and again Mam had not answered. She used to distract me with a question of her own, a treat, a story. That worked while I was little.

  “Who’s my father?” I asked as I got older.

  “You don’t need to know,” she would say.

  I eventually stopped asking. But I did need to know. I do. Was he a rapist? Was he a relation? Did he even know I existed? Mam, like me, was an only child. Her parents were dead now. I had no one to ask. Was my father someone in authority? A teacher, a cleric? Was he dead or alive? Who was he? And who the hell am I?

  Shaking, I stood up to put on the kettle. Coffee. My solution for life’s crises. The need was so urgent I spilled some on the counter as I spooned it from the jar into my mug. I knew, of course, what had triggered this regression. It was Della, and the revelations of her secret past. It was a shock to realise that Mam, my loving, loyal, wonderful mother, had been as cruel and selfish as I considered Della to be. Where was the difference? Their silence had damaged us both, Ben and me.

  I forgot to put milk in my coffee and burned my tongue. The pain brought me back to the here and now, and to the knowledge that burying the question of my parentage again would not be a healthy option. I could imagine my children at some date in the future, wondering who their maternal grandfather had been and why they had not been told about him. Tongue stinging, I made two big decisions. One, I would use all the resources available to me to research my background and discover who my father was. Two, I would be less judgemental of Della. Condemning her would mean condemning Mam. That I would never do.

  As the oven was on for the casserole anyway, I decided to use the extra oven space to make bread and butter pudding for dessert. When that was in the oven, I peeled a mountain of potatoes, all the time humming so that I could not hear my inner child crying and asking who my daddy was.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Della dithered a bit about staying for dinner, even before she knew we would be having sausages. Hugh persuaded her to stay. I suspected that he had decided to have the big family powwow, sooner rather than later. Seeing how much brighter and stronger Ben seemed after his rest, I thought it was probably a good idea as long as the children were in bed first. They insisted on having Ben read their bedtime story. I looked in on them, the twins on Ben’s knees and Rob sitting on the bed beside him as he read to them. Yes, yes, yes, there were problems to be faced, but the love I saw in that tableau of a father and his three children, had the power to overcome any difficulties. It was obvious how happy and secure the children were with him. How protective and loving he was with them. I was filled with hope that he would welcome baby number four with the same generosity. All I had to do now was find the right moment to tell him.

  Back in the kitchen Hugh was again trying to persuade Della to stay. She was standing behind her chair, her coat draped over her arm.

  “You know I don’t like driving late at night, Hugh. I’d prefer to go now.”

  “You’re comfortable with night driving when it suits you, Mum.”

  “Stay here if you like,” I offered. “You can sleep in Rob’s room if Hugh doesn’t mind taking the couch.”

  “Or I can drive you to your hotel if you want,” Hugh said. “The important thing, Mum, is that you stay for a while. I’ve booked to go home tomorrow. I’ll be flying out from Dublin in the afternoon.”

  I was taken aback. Hugh had not mentioned that he would be leaving so soon. To be fair, he had responsibilities in San Francisco. His job. His wife. He would be glad to escape. He must be weary from the Paircmoor Parrishes and all their dramas.

  “We have some very important things we need to discuss before I go,” he said to Della. “I would appreciate you waiting until Ben has put the children to sleep. Is that alright with you, Mum?”

  Della looked suspicious. Even a little afraid. Her glance flicked towards me and then away again. She turned and went back into the hall. I heard the closet door open and a hanger rattle as she hung up her coat. I knew it must be imagination, but somehow she seemed smaller and frailer as she came back into the kitchen and sat down at the table.

  I brewed coffee. By the time it was ready, Ben was back in the kitchen and sitting at the table opposite his mother.

  “Seems ridiculous,” Ben said. “But I could swear the children have grown in the week I’ve been away. They’ll be up and gone before we know where we are.”

  I noticed a frown on Hugh’s forehead. A trace of sadness, and I wondered if he wanted children of his own. He would be a wonderful dad judging by the way he was with our kids. I saw his expression change to concern as he focussed on Ben.

  I made sure everyone had coffee before sitting myself down beside Ben. Hugh and Della sat across from us at the long kitchen table.

  “Are we right now?” Hugh asked.

  It was obvious he had appointed himself chairperson of the meeting. When we all nodded, he leaned forward, looking Ben in the eye.

  “Ben, I’ve asked Mum to stay here for a while. I’ve something very important I want to tell you both. It’s not going to be easy, so I think the best bet is to tell you where I was yesterday and what I discovered on my trip.”

  “She said you were meeting an old friend,” Della said, nodding in my direction

  Hugh’s frown deepened. “She is Leah, Mum. We’re not starting this discussion with animosity. Believe me, we’re going to need all the co-operation we can muster to sort through things.”

  Ben made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a derisive jeer.

  “What have I been missing while I was in hospital?”

  “It’s what we’ve all been missing,” Hugh said as he turned to face Della. “I went to Wexford, Mum. I spoke to Maria Cosgrave and to her father
James. They gave me this.”

  He reached into his shirt pocket and placed an old photo on the table in front of Della. She sat staring at it. Head bowed. Not moving. Barely breathing. Colour draining from her face.

  I sat on the edge of my chair, worried that Hugh’s direct method of confronting the past might be too much for Della to cope with. Ben looked puzzled. He reached across to turn the photo towards himself. Hugh put a hand on the picture, preventing Ben from seeing it.

  “Before you see it, Ben, there’s something you should know about Mum’s family in Wexford. About our grandparents.”

  I could see Ben’s mood changing. I caught the spark of anger in his eyes.

  “What’s all this cloak and dagger, Hugh? Can’t you see you’re upsetting Mum?”

  Della lifted her head and reached for the photograph of herself aged four, her friend and her brother. She held it in front of her, the picture shaking as her hands trembled.

  “Where did you get this?” she asked Hugh.

  “Maria Cosgrave.”

  “She was always the same,” Della said. “Couldn’t mind her own business.”

  “She was a good friend to you, Mum. She still would be if you let her.”

  I watched a red flush spread up Ben’s neck. He was getting upset. I wished that Hugh would get the story told. Even though I was sitting here with the Parrishes, I still felt I did not have a right to voice an opinion without being invited. I would, though, if I saw Ben getting any more agitated. Or Della. Tears filled her eyes as she stared from the photo to Ben.

  “For fuck’s sake!” Ben said. “Will somebody tell me what’s going on?”