by Mark Seaman
I was seething inside with both rage and humiliation. How dare she speak to me like this? Wasn’t she meant to be the ordained custodian of God’s charity and grace towards the poor and unfortunates of this world? And yet here she was acting the very opposite, almost as the very mouthpiece for Beelzebub himself.
“Don’t worry, Sister, I won’t ever come back here, not if I were to become pregnant every year from now on.” I stood up clenching my hands tight into a fist. “You set down your list of rules for us to follow: hard work, repentance from sin, a sin almost none of us committed willingly, penance for the wrongdoings of others and attendance of goodness knows how many praise and worship services a day to a God who in your view would rather punish us than care for us. And you in particular are more than happy to administer that punishment, either through the denial of food and basic sustenance or in the handing out of undeserved beatings and any other form of physical abuse and degradation you can dream up in an effort to inflict even greater pain and misery on us girls than we have already endured outside of the home. And you dare to proclaim that you carry out all of this in the name of a supposedly loving creator God.” I felt my passions rise as I took a step forward; any thought of compromise now a distant blur. “That’s another thing, if he really is a God of love then how come that word is never mentioned in any of your conversations with us or in the actions you display towards us when addressing or meeting our needs?” I knew I had crossed the line of any and all acceptable standards of behaviour but reasoned that if I was going to be expelled by this despot in nuns clothing I might as well go out in a final blaze of glory.
“You’re just a frustrated, evil woman who doesn’t even know what the word love means. I might be angry at the moment, Sister, but I’ll get over that and when I do I will only feel sorrow for you, whereas you will carry the bitterness you feel towards me and others like me who have dared to stand up to you for the rest of your sad and miserable life. I’d rather face God as the sinner I am when my time comes than as the self sanctified empty shell of a human being that you are any day of the week.” I wasn’t sure where the words were coming from but knew I wouldn’t get another chance to speak my mind in this way and was determined to finish.
“Like I say I feel sorry for you, I really do, only at the moment I’m too pissed off with you to show it.”
There was a long and awkward silence between us as I stood fixed to the spot not really believing I had actually said all of those things. I suddenly experienced a pang of guilt in my having been so outspoken and wished I had been able to keep my temper under better control. Had I, in being so rude and discourteous, allowed myself to become the very same bitter and twisted individual I had accused her of being? It was too late to apologise now and I wasn’t sure in all honesty that I wanted to. Perhaps I could have spoken with less invective in my tone but the basis of what I had said, for me at least, held true.
I watched as she continued to stare out of the window, seemingly unmoved by my verbal assault. A few moments later she turned slowly towards me, a self satisfied grin spreading across her face as she spoke, her voice calm and resolute in its delivery.
“I hope you feel better for your little outburst, Ruth? I’m afraid it will be the last opportunity you have to speak to me in that way during your time here, or indeed ever again.” She paused as if to savour the moment. “I will leave it to Sister Margaret to oversee your departure over the next few days now that your child has been handed over to its new family.” I watched as she turned towards the window again and waved. My mind raced. New family, what new family? I didn’t understand. I ran to her side and looked down at the gravel entrance below as a scene of absolute horror played out before me. I could only watch as a baby in a pale yellow shawl that I instantly recognised as Rebecca’s was handed to a smartly dressed couple standing by a dark blue car.
My heart sank. I knew without doubt it was my little girl. I turned to Sister Claire. “You bitch.”
“Sticks and stones, Ruth dear, sticks and stones.” She smiled, embracing her apparent moment of victory.
I turned and ran to the door flinging it wide, giving no thought to closing it behind me. I raced down the corridor towards the long flight of wooden stairs leading to the front door. My shoes crashed loudly against the grey flagstones as I sprinted towards the exit. Not stopping for breath I pulled open the huge front door demonstrating scant regard for its both weight and size in my effort and determination to get to Rebecca.
As I reached the bottom of the steps and my feet hit the gravel of the driveway I looked up to see the car and its occupants pull away, a hand held high out of the driver’s window waving in thanks and goodbye to the nun who had carried my baby to them.
I screamed at the top of my voice, “Rebecca,” but that only appeared to encourage the car to accelerate in its effort to take my baby away from me.
“It’s too late, child, she’s gone. Sister Claire said you might react like this and so we, she, decided this would be the better way of doing things.” She turned and walked away, briefly stroking my arm as she left. “I’m sorry, Ruth, but it’s the best thing for the little one in the long run, you’ll see.”
I leant forward breathless, placing my hands on my knees as my body shook and I sucked air into my lungs. I watched as the car turned out of the driveway and onto the road taking my baby away for ever. Dropping to my knees I wept openly as I had done just a few days previously with Sister Rosemary; the difference now being the frightening prospect I had earlier envisaged of Rebecca being taken from me had, in an instant, become the horrific reality I had so feared. After what seemed like an age I pulled myself to my feet and trudged forlornly back towards the home, my heart broken and with any last vestige of optimism for a life with Rebecca seemingly gone forever in the back of that dark blue car. I glanced briefly at the building before me which on my arrival just a few months earlier had purported to offer both sanctuary and support for my baby and I. In reality it had provided little more than the existence I had experienced in the death camp, the only discernible difference being in Birkenau we battled each day against physical persecution and torture whilst at the Sisters of Mercy the fight was against mental anguish, torment and suffering. It appeared to me that both systems had been designed to crush all expectancy of our deserving any more from life than we were considered to be worth by those who wielded power over us. This was also true for many others who lived outside this fractured community and viewed us girls as little more than social rejects to be taken from the streets and dealt with as was felt appropriate by the authorities of the day. It mattered not whether we were Jews in the concentration camp or young unmarried mothers at the Holy Order, both institutions appeared to offer little or nothing by way of hope or comfort to its inmates, rather they were designed to salve and satisfy the brutal consciences of those who brought them into being and ran them.
I glanced up towards Sister Claire’s study and saw her looking down at me, that self-satisfied grin still spread broad across her face. I knew in that moment my time at the home had come to an end and worse, the same was true for any future relationship I might have hoped for with my beautiful Rebecca.
Twenty-Five
I sat pushing a half eaten piece of toast around my plate as Carol came into the kitchen and nodded towards the table.
“You should eat that; you’ll need all the energy you can muster for today. And get that down you as well,” she said, pointing towards my almost cold cup of coffee.
“Don’t start on at me, Mum, I’m just working a few things out okay?”
“It’s a bit late to be changing your mind.”
“I’m not changing my mind; I just need to get everything straight in my head about what I want to say that’s all.”
“Come on love, we’ve already agreed that until you actually meet her and start talking, neither of you know how things will turn out. There’s not much point in
planning a speech that you’ll probably never deliver anyway. Now eat your toast and drink your coffee or I’ll set your daughter on you.”
Just then Jenny entered the kitchen. “What have I done?”
“You haven’t done anything, sweetheart, I was just telling your mum to finish her breakfast like she’s always telling you to do.”
Enjoying the moment she teased me with a “told you so” look on her face. “Gran’s right, Mum, finish your toast or you won’t be able to play later.”
“Don’t you start; you’re as bad as each other.” I laughed and forced another piece of cold toast into my mouth wishing I had chosen Corn Flakes instead as I chewed on the now almost rubbery and tasteless substance. At least cereal would have had the milk to help wash it down whereas the toast just went round and round becoming ever harder to swallow. I took a swill from my cup and shuddered as the cold coffee combined with the toast to deliver an even worse combination of tastes.
“Say good luck to your Mum, Jen, it’s her big day remember?”
“Yeah, good luck, Mum, and remember, whatever this woman’s like she won’t be a patch on you and Granny okay, you’re the best. Well, Granny is anyway.”
I gave her a hug as she sidled into me planting a quick kiss on my forehead.
“Thanks, Jen, that means a lot, I think.”
She smiled broadly at me. “So can I have some more pocket money then this week and get the new Bay City Rollers single?”
“No you can’t, you mercenary little horror. Anyway what’s wrong with Donny Osmond, I thought you liked him?
“Yeah I did, but that was years ago when I was little. Anyway he’s not as good looking as Woody, he’s the one for me.” She swooned exaggeratedly as she spoke.
“When you were little! Just remind me again how old are you now exactly?”
“Oh, Mum, you know what I mean. Anyway, what about you and David Essex? Yuk or what.” She put her fingers in her mouth as if to demonstrate being sick.
“Thank you very much, there’s nothing wrong with young David that a few evenings out with me wouldn’t cure. Now off you go or you’ll be late for school.” I stood up and looked at my watch. “I need to get away as well. Thanks again for taking Jen, Mum.”
“You’re welcome and good luck. Call me as soon you can when leave her house. I’m not sure I can wait until you get home to hear how it all went.” She turned to Jenny. “Now come on young lady or we really will be late.”
I watched them leave and reminded myself again how lucky I was and that whatever happened today I still had a beautiful daughter and a family who loved me to come home to.
I heard the front door open. “Bye Mum.” I smiled to myself as I put the dishes in the sink and heard the door slam shut behind them. As I stood watching the hot water mix with the washing up liquid to create a mountain of bubbles the phone rang.
“Oh hello, Chris, I was just about to leave.” The line wasn’t very good but it was still nice to hear his voice.
“I won’t keep you, just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you and will be all day. Let me know how it goes yeah?”
I laughed. “Of course. Mind, you’ll have to go to the bottom of the list behind Mum for that. I think she’ll throttle me if I don’t phone her first, she’s already had a go at me.”
“No problem, just call when you can. I know you’ll be tired this evening, especially after you’ve talked things through with Jenny and your parents so maybe the two of us can get together tomorrow for a drink and you can fill me in properly then? That’s presuming your dad and mum won’t mind looking after Jenny of course?”
“I should think they’ll be delighted after having had me bend their ears about everything for the previous twenty four hours.” I looked at my watch again. “Chris, I really need to get moving. I’ll call you later on, and yes to tomorrow night, okay?”
“Love you.”
“You too, bye.”
As I finished drying the dishes I reminded myself that not only did I have a wonderful family and daughter who loved me, but also a man in my life who cared for me deeply as well. I felt bolstered by these truths and in knowing that no matter what Ruth said to me today nothing could change the way I felt about those four special people or in how they felt about me.
I made regular stops as I drove towards Bromley, checking the address and my route each time, determined not to take a wrong turning or worse arrive late through getting lost. I was never a good map reader at the best of times, but now with the added pressure of meeting Ruth occupying my thoughts my confidence in following even the simplest of directions hit an all time low. I decided when I was about half an hour away to stop somewhere and have a drink to settle any remaining nerves. I pulled up at a small tea room just outside of a town called Lewisham and noticing their display of delicious looking cakes decided that a sugar rush alongside a quick cup of tea might help boost my energy levels. I also made sure I used their loo as I couldn’t think of anything worse than my opening words to Ruth being a request to use her toilet.
The rest of the journey was event free and I turned into Primrose Gardens ten minutes early. I parked at the end of the road and looked down the tree-lined street wondering which of the red brick semi-detached houses might be hers. Being a few minutes early also allowed me time to settle myself and focus my thoughts. I wiped my hands anxiously down my trousers, the perspiration on them making me feel even more nervous than I already was.
I had decided to wear my blue trouser suit because it meant I wouldn’t have to worry about showing too much of my legs if I crossed them while we were talking. I had also put on the bright red blouse Mum had treated me to but was now worried that in might stain and go darker under my arms if I continued to perspire.
“I’ll just have to keep my jacket on,” I muttered to myself, glancing in the rear view mirror. “Now you’re talking to yourself, you silly cow!” I shook my head and felt any earlier confidence drain from me. I knew if I sat there prevaricating much longer I would end up turning the car around and heading home before I had even had the chance to meet with her. I opened the window and took a deep breath. “Pull yourself together, you’ve waited twenty-eight years for this moment, don’t blow it now.” I started the engine and looked in the mirror again. “Here we go, girl.”
I drove slowly along the road counting the numbers on the doors as I headed towards my destination. Suddenly there it was in front of me, a smart-looking house with a white painted gate and matching fence running along the front of what appeared to be a small rose garden. There were a number of well tended bushes filling the space offering an abundance of colour with their red and yellow blooms dancing happily in the breeze. “Well there’s something we can talk about,” I thought. “She’s a keen gardener, the same as Carol, so that’s another thing they have in common as well as being mum to me.”
I shook my head. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. I brought the car to a halt and looked at myself in the rear mirror once more. “Come on then, Mary, this is it.” My mind froze and appeared to go into melt down as the question formed in my head, “Do you really want to do this? I took another deep breath and eased myself tentatively out of the car. “Too late for second thoughts now,” I reasoned. “And remember, whatever happens here today you still have Jenny, Chris, Mum and Dad waiting for you at home.”
I locked the car door and turned to face the house. As I did so I became aware of someone standing on the other side of the front room window, it was her. Our eyes met and I felt my body shudder in both shock and surprise. I hadn’t known what to expect but now here she was, my mother, looking straight at me. My first impression was that she looked taller and thinner than I had imagined although I had no reason to think that other than it was just a picture I had painted in my mind over the years whenever I had thought about her. She had a head full of dark and slightly greying hair which was swept
up in a bun exposing her face and she appeared to be wearing very little make up which made her natural features all the more striking. Her eyes displayed a look of surprised amazement at seeing me and she put her hand to her mouth, presumably in recognition of the same feelings of disbelief and inner panic that I was experiencing. Could it really be true that after more than twenty-eight years apart we were actually about to meet again, and what impact would that have on our lives? I noticed she was also wearing red, her choice appearing slightly more adventurous than mine, it being a full and flowing Kaftan style dress with a bright blue collar. As she took her hand from her mouth we smiled at each other. It felt as though we were exchanging some form of facial peace offering in the shared hope that this might be, for both of us perhaps, a time of healing.
I moved away from the car and opened the gate, the short pathway to her front door suddenly appearing to be as long as any road I had ever travelled. As I pondered the wisdom of my taking the next few steps the door opened.
“Rebecca?” Her voice faltered. “I’m sorry, it’s Mary isn’t it? It’s just that I’ve waited so long to…”
I looked up as she smiled, her face wrought with emotion and tears already filling her eyes.
In that moment all my doubts and fears fell away.
I walked forward and into her arms. “Hello Mum.”
About the Author
Mark Seaman spent thirty years as a successful radio and television broadcaster and actor before becoming a full-time playwright and author. He also managed radio stations for both the BBC and in the Commercial Radio sector including Premier Radio in London, where he acted as Programme Director and Presenter for the first year of the station’s life.