by Mark Seaman
As I sat there pondering whether I had truly discovered some great truth about life and death or was simply entertaining a series of whimsical ramblings as I had done on so many occasions in the past I heard the door open behind me. I moved to drink my now cold tea thinking it to be Sister Rosemary come back to check I was alright. I didn’t want to appear ungrateful for the kindness she had shown towards me.
“Lovely tea, thank you, Sister,” I said without turning.
“Good, I’m pleased it helped.” I recognised the voice immediately as Sister Claire’s. I moved to stand.
“Stay where you are, Ruth.” I felt her hand push me gently down into my seat again as she walked past me and around the desk to sit opposite in her large leather chair. Now dressed in her traditional nun’s habit and looking more like the tough and uncompromising woman I was used to dealing with I sat waiting for her to unleash a tirade of verbal invective towards me with regards to my earlier display in waking the rest of the house when discovering Susan’s body. However on this occasion I was proved wrong and I sensed, for the moment at least, a gentler tone in her attitude towards me. We exchanged a brief and polite smile before her face took on a more serious expression.
“The police are on their way and I will need to speak to them when they arrive.”
I moved to stand again. “Of course, I’ll leave you alone, Sister.”
She waved her hand at me and smiled again. “You’ll wear that seat out if you’re not careful with all your standing and sitting. I’ve told you: stay where you are, child. I kept Father Ignatius waiting for a full half hour once so I am certainly not worried about leaving a few police officers outside for a short while. Anyway, they are not here yet so we’ve a little time to talk.”
I felt as though I should smile back in recognition of her remark about Father Ignatius and in demonstrating this lighter side to her character. In any other circumstances I might have done, especially as I had never seen or heard her be anything other than short or derisory in her approach towards me during my time at the home to date.
She placed her hands together under her chin. “You and I haven’t always seen eye to eye have we, Ruth?”
I looked down towards my cup suddenly feeling ashamed. “No, Sister.”
“I’m not going to pretend I like you particularly, because I’m not sure I do, but I am aware that you cared greatly for Susan and I respect that. Although I should add that sometimes, in fact most of the times when I had reason to encounter the two of you I…” her voice trailed away for a moment as if to regain her composure.
“Well, let us just say I was not overly impressed by either of you, nor that other girl you took up with during her time here, Diane I believe it was?” She moved forward in her chair placing her elbows on her desk but keeping her hands under her chin as if supporting it. “You girls come here to the Holy Order because you have committed a great sin and in so doing found yourselves pregnant.” My eyes moved to meet her own but I knew this wasn’t the time to protest or defend myself along with the many others who lived under the accusatory finger of persecution that was so eagerly pointed in our direction each day by Sister Claire and her supporters. “Oh I know all about the excuses, that it wasn’t your fault or that a man forced you, but God gave you a tongue didn’t he, you can say no can’t you?
Despite my best efforts to remain silent I heard myself speak out. “It’s not that easy, Sister.”
She sat upright in her chair, any earlier softness and understanding in her voice now replaced by a firmer tone. “Avoiding sin never is, my dear. But we become stronger when we stand against Satan and deny him the room for victory in our lives. And we do that by abstaining from the temptations of the flesh that he so often lays before us.”
I wanted to stand and scream at her, but knew this was a battle I could never win, not with her mind so closed to hearing the truth about how real life was lived out beyond the sanitised walls of the home. I was also reeling from the death of my friend and didn’t feel that an argument with Sister Claire at this point would be honouring to Susan’s memory, although I knew deep down that she would have been the first to enter the fray and protest our innocence if she had been there with me.
I forced a weak smile. “I really don’t want to talk about this at the moment if that’s alright with you, Sister. I’m too upset about Susan to discuss anything at all if you don’t mind?”
Her voice softened again as if in some form of recognition at my emotional struggle, or rather perhaps because she felt she had won this particular verbal joust and that I had simply conceded the battle to her. I knew the truth and that my time would come again. This wouldn’t be the last such encounter I would have with Sister Claire but for now was happy to allow her this falsely assumed sense of victory.
“Of course, I understand, although I think the police may want to speak to you briefly when they arrive as you were one of the first to discover Susan’s body.”
We sat in silence for a moment our conversation clearly at an end and I certainly had no intention of attempting to make small talk with someone I struggled even to respect let alone like.
“May I go now, Sister.” Taking her hands from under chin she nodded in mute response to my question. I rose to my feet and walked to the door turning only briefly to acknowledge her. “Thank you, Sister.”
“Think on what I have said, Ruth. In the meantime we will all pray for Susan’s soul, both throughout the day and during our services.”
I closed the door behind me and with tears running freely down my cheeks walked slowly along the long corridor, my feet producing an echo each time they met with the highly polished wooden floor. The sound reminded me of the day I first arrived at the Sisters of Mercy and had made that initial journey of hope to Sister Claire’s office. How different the reality of my optimism had turned out to be. How crushed I felt now, so unlike the young girl, who just a few months ago had entered this austere building for the first time, trusting and daring to believe for something better. The world appeared as bleak and depressing to me at that moment as the dark stained oak panelling which lined the walls of this gloomy passageway. I hadn’t felt this miserable or despairing about life since my time in the death camp.
As I made my way slowly along that dimly lit and imposing hallway my baby moved inside me. It felt as though God was reminding me that although one life had ended that day a new one was about to begin. I placed my hand on my stomach and stroked it in an attempt to comfort and reassure the life within me that all would be well. If only I could have believed that for myself.
Twenty-Three
I was encouraging Jenny to finish her breakfast when Carol entered the kitchen waving an official looking brown envelope in front of her. “I think it’s here.” I recognised the crest on the envelope as being from the agency who had been mediating between Ruth and I about our proposed meeting and as to where it might take place. I pointed towards the work surface by the toaster.
“Just leave it there; I’ll look at it later.”
“Mary! It’s the letter you’ve been waiting for, at least open it and see what it says.”
“Yes go on, I want to know when you are going to meet your other mummy as well,” Jenny interjected through a mouthful of cereal. She had been aware of the various communications between Ruth and myself over the past few months as we edged towards agreeing an actual date to get together. Mum and Dad had long got over any feelings of jealousy or concerns that they might be side lined in some way by my meeting with Ruth. In fact, I think, following the discovery she actually existed and then the three of us operating together to bring about this planned reunion with her had actually worked to cement the relationship between us as a family even further. Although it is fair to say we had each experienced the odd wobble of uncertainty in the early stages of the process. Jenny and I knew without doubt how much the two of them loved and cared for us and that
, no matter how my renewed contact with Ruth developed, nothing would ever alter the fact that James and Carol were, and always would be, my real mum and dad and Jenny’s grandparents. There might be rules and regulations and various legal documents held by the courts to contest this but the heart makes its own bonds and ours couldn’t be more established and committed whatever the law might choose to say about it.
I turned to Jenny who was now pushing the last of her cereal around the bowl instead of eating it. “I’ll look at it later thank you. Now come on, young lady, hurry up and finish that cereal or you’ll be late for school.”
Mum smiled as she leant the envelope against the toaster. “Coward.”
I knew she was right and that I was avoiding the inevitable. I was feeling the same sense of panic grip me as had done when the first letter arrived from the agency so many months before informing me they had managed to find Ruth. Again it was a letter I had looked forward to receiving and feared in equal measure. Now here I was with the next, and potentially, life changing part of my future sitting just a few tantalising inches away and yet once again I felt unable to reach across that short divide and seize it.
“I will look at it, Mum, I promise, just not now okay? I don’t want to rush it and right now I need to get Jenny to school. Anyway, we’ve waited all this time so another half an hour isn’t going to make any difference is it?”
She sensed my nerves and as always said the right thing in response. “I’ll put the kettle on for when you get back and we’ll read it together if you like?”
I gave her a hug. “Thanks.”
“What about me? I want to know what it says as well,” Jenny protested.
“And you will do, just not now alright? Now off with you and clean your teeth or you really will be late. And don’t forget to put your shoes on while you’re up there as well.” Jenny stomped out of the room in protest, complaining as she went that she was a part of this family as well and had a right to know what was going on.
I looked at Carol. “Can’t think where she gets that from.”
She laughed. “Well at least I can honestly say it’s not from my side of the family. Nor your dad’s for that matter, we are only the adoptive parents remember?”
“Maybe to me, but clearly I’ve allowed you both far too much influence in Jenny’s upbringing.” I felt reassured we could talk so easily about my being adopted and yet still remain secure in our relationship at a far deeper level.
“I’ll see you when I get back.”
We looked at each for a moment, exchanging that unspoken connection we both instantly recognised and embraced. I kissed her firmly on the cheek as I moved towards the kitchen door. “Love you, Mum.”
“Love you too sweetheart, see you soon.”
Jenny chuntered away, mainly to herself, all the way to school about how unfair adults were and how they had forgotten what it was like to be young. As we pulled up behind a row of others cars with parents dropping off their children Jenny leant behind her and, grabbing her bag from the back seat, opened the door. “Bye.”
I felt she was punishing me for not being more open with her but also recognised that as the central character in this whole affair I was the one who needed to be settled in my own mind before sharing details I wasn’t yet entirely comfortable with or sure of myself. “I love you, Jen.”
“Love you too, I suppose.” With that passing shot she clambered out of the car and closed the door a little more firmly than necessary.
I watched my beautiful daughter walk to the school gates and felt a great wave of pride and love for her wash over me. I tooted the horn as I made to drive away. She turned and waved, smiling now as she chatted excitedly to her friends and, having apparently forgotten the shared awkward difference between us during the fifteen minutes we had just spent together in the car. I waved back thankful that normal service in our relationship had been resumed.
True to her word Mum was getting the mugs out from the kitchen cupboard as I arrived home. “Perfect timing, the kettle’s on; tea or coffee?”
“Coffee please, and make it a strong one,” I said, laughing, as I picked up the envelope.
She reached for the coffee jar. “Jenny alright after her little outburst earlier?”
“She was by the time I dropped her off.” I sat staring at the envelope allowing my mind to ruminate on the various possible scenarios of its content.
“Be a lot easier if you just opened it. Biscuit?”
“No thanks.” I picked up the envelope from the table and began to tear it open. “Here goes.”
Mum placed the steaming mugs of coffee on the table and sat opposite me watching for any reaction as I read the letter.
“Well come on,” she said, having sat as patiently as she could for a few minutes. “It can’t be that bad. I thought this was just meant to be the simple where and when? We’ve already spent all that time on the shall we shan’t we discussions, surely there can’t be anything else?
I folded the letter in my hand and placed it on the table. “Monday week at her house, eleven o’clock.”
We looked at each other with tears welling up in our eyes for similar but also very different reasons. Eventually Mum broke the silence.
“Well that’s good, isn’t it? It’s what you’ve been hoping for. You said you wanted the chance to see where she lived and what her life was like but also have the freedom to walk away if it got too much, so that’s perfect, yeah?”
“I suppose so but, well, suddenly it’s all real you know.” I took a deep breath and felt a tear run down my cheek. “I am actually going to meet the woman who gave birth to me nearly twenty nine years ago. I’m finally getting the chance to ask her why she gave me away and I’m terrified.” I took a sip from my mug. “She just better have a bloody good reason for doing so.” I attempted to laugh but could feel the tears flowing freely down my face as my body shivered in response to a sudden wave of nerves and shock.
“I’ll drink to that.” Mum raised her own mug to her lips, also fighting to control her emotions. “I’m grateful she did let you go though, otherwise your dad and I would never have known you and Jenny, or have had you both become the most precious and important part of our lives.”
We both sat for a moment wiping our tears and grinning inanely at each other as we acknowledged the very real love between us but also the enormity of the moment.
“This won’t make any difference to our relationship, you know that, don’t you?”
“Mary, you don’t have to keep saying that, we have talked about this so many times. We love you and Jenny and you love us, and nothing will ever change that okay, end of story.”
“I know, I just wanted to make sure you knew we felt the same way.” Mum picked up the tea towel and playfully flicked it towards me.
“You daft thing, of course we do. So where is it exactly she lives? Near Kent somewhere wasn’t it, around two hours away you said?”
“Bromley.”
“That’s right, but now they’ve sent the full address, yes?”
“Yes. 35 Primrose Gardens. Primrose Gardens, that sounds nice.”
She laughed again. “Don’t be fooled by that. You’ll probably find it’s at the top of a block of flats. That’s why they give those sorts of places flowery names so that it eases the blow when you actually get there and find you’ve got ten flights of stairs to walk up.”
“That’s not very kind. I bet some of those flats are really lovely. Anyway, why would you call a block of flats Primrose Gardens, that doesn’t make sense?”
Mum took another drink from her cup. “I know, bad joke. I’m sure it’s a really nice road with lots of pretty houses in.”
“Do you think Dad will help me look it up later and work out a route?”
“Of course, and I’ll take Jenny to school that day so you can make an early start. You don’t w
ant the panic of getting away late and then running into heavy traffic and the like.”
“Thanks Mum, I appreciate that.” I smiled. “Although no doubt Jen will ask again why she can’t come as well and meet her new granny?”
“We’ve been through that one with her already and agreed it wouldn’t be a good idea, at least not for this first meeting anyway.”
“I know, but you know what she’s like.”
We sat drinking our coffee and chatting together for the next half an hour and I found myself wondering if my time with Ruth would be as intimate and relaxed.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to talk to her about yet? I know you’ve written a few ideas down and you want to ask why she allowed you to be adopted but, you can’t really start a conversation like that can you?”