Forgotten Child

by Kitty Neale

  She’d had a broken night’s sleep, waking early, and now her mind was foggy as she tried to make sense of it all. Surely after all these years it wasn’t because of her mother? She had been pregnant and unmarried, something that had no doubt been frowned upon, but that didn’t explain this level of animosity.

  ‘Can I help you, my child?’

  ‘I…I’m looking for my mother’s grave. Her name was Mary Ann Murphy.’

  ‘It isn’t a name I’m familiar with,’ the priest said, ‘but I have a little time before the next service. Come inside and I’ll look at the church records.’

  ‘Th…thank you, Father.’

  ‘Was she born in Dray?’

  ‘I think so, but when I’ve asked about a family called Murphy it…it seems to upset people.’

  The priest chuckled. ‘That isn’t surprising. In these parts any questions from an English outsider would be met with suspicion.’

  The penny finally dropped and Jenny gasped.

  ‘Now don’t be thinking we’re all rebels,’ he said, leading her into a small room and removing a large, bound book from a shelf. ‘Do you know when she was born?’

  ‘Not exactly, but I’m eighteen and I know she died when I was born.’

  He began to turn page after page, finding nothing, then took down another book and looked through that. ‘No, I can’t find any reference to Mary Ann Murphy. Are you sure she came from these parts?’

  ‘It…it’s what my father told me, and…and that her parents died when their house burned down.’

  ‘Let’s see if we can find Sean. He’s one of Dray’s oldest residents and still takes care of the church grounds.’

  Jenny shivered as they went outside again and she followed the priest until he found an old man tending to the grass on the far side of the graveyard.

  ‘Sean, did you know a family that hailed from here some years ago? The Murphys–their house burned down.’

  The old man did not look up, simply shaking his head.

  ‘Are you sure? This young lady is looking for the grave of her mother, Mary Ann Murphy, and perhaps the rest of her family who died in the fire.’

  ‘Never heard of any Murphy’s house burning down. Doubt they came from here.’

  The priest turned to Jenny. ‘It seems you may have come to the wrong place.’

  ‘But my father was related to them, came here to visit them when he was a child.’

  ‘I’ve lived in Dray for over seventy years and I’m telling you, they didn’t live around here,’ the old man insisted.

  ‘I…I must have misheard the name. Is there somewhere similar?’

  ‘Not in this county,’ he said, going back to his work now.

  ‘Thank you for your help,’ Jenny said, ‘and thank you, Father.’

  ‘Good luck, my child. I hope you find what you’re looking for.’

  With a small wave Jenny walked away. Despite what she’d said, she knew she hadn’t misheard her father. He had definitely said Dray, but how could he have been so mistaken? She wanted to talk to him, ask him. As it was a Monday he’d be at his office and she’d be able to avoid having to talk to Delia if she rang him there.

  ‘Jenny, thank God. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m in Ireland, in Dray, but it’s been a waste of time. There aren’t any records here of a family called Murphy.’

  ‘Darling, it was so many years ago and I was only a child when I travelled there with my parents. I…I have so little memory of it…I must have got it wrong.’

  ‘Dad, please try to remember.’

  There was a moment’s silence on the line, but then Edward said, ‘I’m sorry, I thought it was Dray and I can’t think of anywhere else. Jenny, listen, I felt you had gone to Ireland and was going to come after you, but your mother convinced me to stay here. She’s gone now, left me, and we’re getting a divorce.’

  ‘What! But why?’

  ‘Things haven’t been right between your mother and me for years, Jenny, but it won’t make any difference to us. I’m selling the house, had an offer first thing this morning, and once it all goes through, you and I can move away from here.’

  ‘I…I’ll think about it, but, Dad, you said my real mother was put in a home, gave birth to me there. You must know where it was.’

  There was a short silence, but then he said, ‘Er…yes. It was in, er…Limerick.’

  ‘Can you remember the name of the home?’

  ‘Not really, I was just glad to get away from there, to take you away from there. It was a grim place, run by nuns, called something like the Saint someone-or-other’s home for fallen women.’

  Jenny’s thoughts raced. ‘Dad, on the adoption certificate you gave me, there’s nothing on it about my place of birth, or my real mother’s name. There must be records somewhere that I can get hold of.’

  ‘I’m afraid not. As your adoptive parents, our names are shown on your certificate and not that of your mother. I’m afraid you aren’t allowed access to your original certificate.’

  ‘Why not? Surely I have the right to see it.’

  The sigh down the line was audible. ‘It just isn’t possible and it’s done I think to protect unmarried mothers. They may have kept the birth and adoption a secret, gone on to make a new life for themselves, married, had more children.’

  Jenny didn’t understand. ‘Dad, my mother died and so what harm could it do to just find her grave?’

  ‘I know, but it’s the law, darling.’

  ‘It doesn’t seem right, but at least I know she died in Limerick. I’ll go there, see if I can find the home and where she was buried.’

  ‘But why, Jenny? What good will it do?’

  ‘I…I want to put some flowers on her grave.’

  ‘Jenny, please, I’m worried about you and want you to come home.’

  ‘Not yet, Dad. I need to do this, have to do this.’

  ‘At least keep in touch, ring me, and don’t stay away for too long.’

  ‘Goodbye, Dad,’ Jenny said, replacing the receiver. She’d go back to the pub where she was staying; it had been the only place she’d found open that could offer her a room. She would leave Dray, go to Limerick, she decided and now nervous of bumping into anyone, she almost scuttled up to her room.

  With legs stretched out in front of her on the bed, Jenny studied the map, her eyes travelling past Dublin, up along the coastline. She yawned, still tired after a broken night’s sleep, and before finding Limerick her eyes were starting to droop and she hardly realised it as she drifted off.

  The dream came, the beautiful place, and Jenny was lost in it when the sound of voices intruded, along with the smell of food, woke her. The aroma teased her nostrils again and her stomach growled. She’d missed breakfast and would need to eat something before setting off, and of course she had yet to pay her bill.

  Jenny would be glad to leave Dray, but first she had to brave the bar, and she walked in to find the landlord and landlady, along with a few customers, smiling at her.

  ‘Sure, there you are,’ Mrs Quinn said from behind the bar. ‘Are you after some lunch?’

  ‘Yes…yes please.’

  ‘I’ve a nice stew. How does that sound?’

  ‘Lovely.’

  ‘I’ll fetch it,’ she said, smiling warmly before bustling away.

  ‘So, you’re trying to trace your mammy’s grave?’ Mr Quinn said, vigorously polishing a glass.

  ‘Yes, that’s right, but I didn’t have any luck.’

  ‘’Tis sorry I am we couldn’t help you.’

  ‘Can I buy you a drink, darlin’?’ a customer asked as he came to the bar.

  ‘Thank you, but I’m only having a cup of tea.’

  ‘You should try the Guinness.’

  ‘Michael, if she’d wanted Guinness she’d have asked for it,’ Mr Quinn told him.

  ‘Maybe some other time,’ Jenny said.

  ‘There’ll be music tonight,’ Michael said. ‘Patrick over there on his fiddle. You’ll
enjoy the craic.’

  ‘I’m afraid I’m leaving shortly.’

  ‘Now that’s a shame. Are you going back to England?’

  ‘No, but if you’ll excuse me I need to get my map,’ Jenny said, hurrying back upstairs to fetch it. It seemed odd, as though she’d gone to sleep in one place and woken up in another. Everyone was so nice now, warm, friendly, and for the first time since arriving she was beginning to like Ireland.

  When she went back inside, Mrs Quinn was putting a steaming bowl of stew on a table.

  ‘Lamb,’ she said, ‘but be careful, ’tis hot.’

  Jenny thanked her and, so hungry that she couldn’t wait, she blew on each spoonful, finding the stew delicious. Once she’d finished, she spread out her map.

  ‘Can I help you, me darlin’?’ Michael asked, sitting down next to her.

  ‘I’m looking for a place called Limerick.’

  ‘Are ye thinking your mammy’s from there?’

  ‘I…I’m not sure,’ Jenny said.

  ‘’Tis there,’ Patrick said as he came to stand by the table, pointing at the map. ‘Over towards the west coast.’

  She looked up at Patrick, smiling. ‘Thank you.’

  He smiled back at her, nodded, and then went back to his own table. Michael gently patted her shoulder, and before going back to the bar he said softly, ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for there.’

  Jenny asked for the final bill, paid it, and with good wishes ringing in her ears, she dashed upstairs to pack her things.

  As she left the pub Jenny found herself thinking that somehow Dray looked different now. A weak sun was shining through broken clouds, and she could just imagine it packed with holiday-makers in the summer.

  She, however, was going to Limerick.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Jenny was still driving across Ireland when Edward came home from work to walk into a silent house. It didn’t bother him and he threw off his coat before going through to the kitchen. It was a mess, would probably have caused Delia to have a fit, but so what? She wasn’t here any more and that suited him just fine. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Jenny and Robin he’d have left her years ago.

  He heard a sound, the front door opening and went into the hall to see Delia standing just inside, her eyes like ice as she glared at him.

  ‘How dare you!’ she spat. ‘How dare you lie to my son!’

  ‘Lie about what?’

  ‘You know what! You’ve gone too far now, persuaded Robin that it’s all in my head, that I’m losing my mind.’

  ‘What do you expect, Delia? You’ve always been prone to unreasonable behaviour, hysterics, and Robin knows that. After all, he’s seen enough of it over the years.’

  ‘You…you,’ she ground out, ‘you won’t get away with this. Admit it! Go on, admit it!’

  ‘No, Delia, I’ll admit nothing. Now I suggest you leave.’

  She lost it then, picking up a glass vase from the hall table to throw at him. Edward moved quickly to one side and it smashed into the wall. Shards of glass flew everywhere, but Edward just smiled sardonically. ‘As I said, Delia, unreasonable behaviour.’

  ‘That’s enough, Dad,’ Robin said, suddenly rounding the door and stepping inside.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Edward asked, shocked but recovering quickly. ‘Why aren’t you at university?’

  ‘Mummy’s still upset and I was worried about her. I told them it was an urgent family matter, drove down, and I’m glad I did.’

  ‘I am too. You’ve seen her state of mind for yourself now.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve seen it, but understand it too. We’ve had a good long talk and I can see now that, despite your denials, everything she’s accused you of makes sense. I always wondered why Mummy couldn’t take to Jenny, why she acted as she did, and just telling me years ago that she didn’t want to adopt her didn’t really cover it.’

  ‘Robin, your mother may think it, accuse me of it, but it was, and still is, all in her mind. I’m not going to admit to something I didn’t do, some mad idea she got into her head from the beginning. What about the role she played, the one that could break Jenny’s heart if she found out?’

  ‘I’m not happy about it, but it was a lot to ask of Mummy and in a way I can sympathise.’

  Delia nodded. ‘No doubt, you thought Robin would turn on me when I told him the truth, all of the truth, but he didn’t. He’s on my side.’

  ‘Is this true, Robin?’ asked Edward.

  ‘Dad, I don’t want to take sides. I just want you and Mummy to sort this out and get back together.’

  ‘No, Robin,’ said Delia. ‘Our marriage is over now and I’m seeing a solicitor in the morning to file for divorce.’

  ‘Do that, Delia. I’m sick of these accusations and I’m not putting up with it any more. A divorce suits me too.’

  ‘You think you’re clever, don’t you, that I can’t win, but you won’t feel so clever when I take half of everything you’ve got.’

  ‘It’ll be worth it to see the back of you.’

  ‘You…you…’ she ground out again, but as words seemed to fail her, Delia spun round to march out of the house.

  ‘I’ll have to go after her,’ Robin said.

  ‘I understand, son. We’ll talk again, but in the meantime, look after your mother.’

  With a quick nod and a wave, Robin was gone, just about managing to get into Delia’s car before she sped off. Edward closed the door, puffed his cheeks, and returned to the kitchen.

  Delia had been devious, hoping that while Robin had been out of sight, he’d admit the truth. Thank the lord he hadn’t, instead managing to turn it all onto her. Robin wouldn’t tell Jenny any of it–the last thing he’d want to do would be to hurt his sister. Now all Edward had to do was to keep Jenny and Delia apart.

  Jenny had worked out her route and was now nearing Portlaoise. She didn’t like driving in the dark, preferring to see the wonderful views and she had stopped several times. Now though, a soft, misty rain was falling.

  When she reached the town, Jenny decided to stop overnight. She parked the car, grabbed her overnight bag and stepped out. She looked around, and needing to stretch her legs, light rain or not, she walked for a while. The street she took eventually led her to a square with a grassy island in the centre. There was a pub on the corner, its lights shining in welcome and she headed towards it. Perhaps they’d have a room.

  They did, and after being shown it she was invited warmly to come downstairs again for a drink. Jenny agreed and found a bar of smiling people, including a group who soon drew her into their conversation.

  ‘So, you’re on your way to Limerick?’ one pretty dark-haired girl said when told her destination. ‘What’s taking you there?’

  ‘Family,’ Jenny said, leaving it at that.

  ‘I thought I could see a trace of Irish in you,’ a young man said, smiling warmly.

  Jenny sipped her Guinness, trying not to show that she didn’t really like the bitter taste, and the conversation turned from her to other things. After an hour, the smoke from cigarettes became too much, her tired eyes stinging. She made her excuses, said goodnight to the group, glad to go up to her room. They had been so nice though and she was starting to feel strangely at home in Ireland as she climbed into bed.

  With no memory of falling asleep, Jenny woke the next morning, feeling disorientated as she sat up in bed. Her mind cleared and she smiled sleepily, ready for the next stage or her journey. Would she reach Limerick that day? She hoped so.

  After a hearty breakfast Jenny set off, pleased to see as she walked back to her car that it had stopped raining. She placed the map beside her on the passenger seat, but as she drove away she felt a sudden wave of loneliness. It would have been wonderful to have someone with her, someone to share this journey, to pass the time having a good old craic–as the Irish would say.

  A long drive stretched ahead, and the roads narrower than those in England, but after leaving Portlaoise,
traffic became light. Time passed and she drove by villages–Mountrath, Castletown–and she stopped in Moneygall for a bite to eat before pushing on.

  She covered many miles, but there were a lot more still to go, and so Jenny carried on though the light was fading, until, at last, exhausted, she saw the lights of Limerick. Unable to face driving another mile, Jenny pulled up at a tall house on the main road offering bed and breakfast.

  Barely taking in her surroundings, Jenny was given a room on the first floor and climbed the stairs, her shoulders slumped with disappointment. With so little information, how was she supposed to find any trace of her mother here? From what she had seen, Limerick was a large city, its illuminations stretching for miles…and once again, it was nothing like the place Jenny had seen in her dreams.

  In London, Tina was planning her wedding. She’d made friends with a lot of stall holders and all of them would be invited. ‘How about pie and mash, along with jellied eels, for the reception,’ she asked Paul, hiding a smile.

  ‘Leave it out. I can’t see that going down well with my mates in CID, let alone their wives.’

  ‘I was only kidding, though it’s cheap grub and would save us a good few bob. Jenny went off to Gretna Green to get married. It must have cost peanuts, but I don’t fancy that either.’

  ‘Can’t you just forget about her? She’s out of your life now and I don’t want her coming back into it.’

  ‘Paul, I hardly think about her at all these days,’ Tina protested, and it was true. Jenny was well and truly in the past now and she had no intention of ever seeing her again. They had once been good friends, and for a while they had needed each other, but Tina had moved on, found a new life and didn’t want to be reminded of the past.