“So,” Joseph said, “I’m going to leave it for now. I’m going to see if I can get time off work to go home for a few days, and see if we can sort all this out,” He gave a wry laugh. “With both my mothers.” He thought for a moment. “It could take a few weeks before I can arrange the time off, but I suppose it doesn’t matter, it’s not going to change things that much. It will give me time to work out what I’m going to say to my mother. She’s the one I’m concerned about.”
“I’ll be home the week after next,” Angela told him. “In the meantime, I’m in London for the next couple of days, and then I’m back to Cheshire for a week before going back to Ireland.” Then, she gave him the number of Thornley Manor in case he needed to speak to her at any time.
She rang the major’s room to say she had spoken to Joseph, and that she would be ready shortly to go to the museum. He came down the corridor to tap on her door minutes later.
“Are you all right?” he asked, when she let him in.
“I think so,” she said. “Nothing is going to happen before I return to Ireland. Joseph is going to take some time off in a few weeks and come back home and try to sort things out.”
She went over to stand by the table, while he stood just inside the door, as though uncertain of invading her privacy.
“Not easy,” he said. “Families can be the best of things and the worst of things. And of course, they’re all riddled with secrets.” He thought for a moment. “You know Jeremy, whom you met?”
“Yes,” she said. As if, she thought, she could ever forget him.
“His younger brother, Philip – the chap in Scotland. It emerged a few years ago that they have different fathers. Apparently his mother went off abroad for a few months – Switzerland, if I remember correctly. Supposedly, he was the result of a summer dalliance with a relative of the exiled Italian royal family.” He shrugged. “It was an open secret in our family for years, but it didn’t appear to cause more than a minor hiccup. Philip is a lovely chap, and I’m glad to say that his father has always treated both boys exactly the same. In fact, Philip would lead a similar quiet lifestyle to his father, as opposed to Jeremy’s more artistic bent.”
He gave one of his quiet chuckles, which warmed Angela further to him, and lifted her spirits. She thought his open attitude – free from judgement – was so much better than the one she would eventually have to face, when all the secrets came out in Tullamore. But that, she decided, would wait. In the meantime, she would enjoy the rest of her trip to London, and the last week back in Thornley Manor.
“I’ll get ready now,” she said. “And I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes.”
“I’ll have a taxi waiting for us at the front of the hotel.” He went towards the door, then he turned back. “I think I might change into a casual shirt and dispense with the tie, since we’re having a day as tourists.”
She smiled at him. “I think that’s a good idea,” she said. “I might do the same.” She put her hand to her mouth laughing. “Obviously I don’t mean I was planning to wear shirt and tie!”
“I’m sure you’d look very nice in it, Angela,” he said. “You always look nice.” He halted. “If I could give you a little fashion advice?”
She looked at him quizzically.
“Wear the calliper. We’ll have a bit of walking around the museum, and you’ll enjoy it so much more if your leg is supported.”
She came downstairs a short while later wearing one of her new pairs of trousers and one of the daisy-printed tunics she had bought the day she went shopping with her friends. She carried a yellow, swing-style raincoat over her arm. She had also pinned her hair up in the looser style that Maureen had shown her.
The small foyer of the hotel was busy with a queue of a half a dozen guests with bags and cases waiting to check out, and a similar, parallel one waiting to check in. People were dotted about at tables, some in groups and some in couples or on their own. A group of Japanese tourists were having a loud discussion in their own language, and jabbing fingers at maps of the city.
The major was standing over by the window, away from the tables, watching for the taxi, unaware she was there. He was wearing a black-and-grey Paisley-patterned long-sleeved shirt, with a button-down collar, and black soft moleskin trousers. He had a dark trench coat over his arm. She was pleased he looked so nice, and surprisingly modern in a classy, subtle way. It was certainly not in the louche way that Jeremy’s dressed, she thought, but he was dressed with a style that suited both him and her.
As she walked towards him, she gave a little cough.
“Ah, Angela...” he said. Then he stopped and looked at her. “May I say how particularly lovely you look?”
“Thank you,” she said. “And I have to return the compliment. Your shirt is very nice – very nice indeed.”
They stood smiling at each other.
“This feels like a day off school,” he said, a slight self-consciousness about him. “Playing truant. I haven’t done anything like this for a long time. I’ve never had the right company, someone who would get the same enjoyment from it.” Then, he caught himself. “At least, I hope you will find it enjoyable. I know you haven’t been there before, but I’m basing it on the things I know about you already.”
Angela felt her heart quicken. She didn’t know if she was reading things correctly or not, but she was going to take a chance on it. He would, she knew, be kind if she had read the situation wrongly.
She moved towards him. “I don’t think it feels like having a day off school, Edward,” she said, sliding her arm through his. “I think it feels more like a date.”
“A date?” He repeated, a bemused smile on his face. “You surely don’t mean you and me?”
“Would that be so terrible?” she asked.
His eyes widened in disbelief. He looked around the room, checking to see if anyone was observing them. But it seemed as if the foyer had just emptied itself of most of the people. The noisy Japanese group had gone, most of the queues had gone, leaving only a few people at the desk and one or two tables quietly occupied over in the far corner, well away from them.
“Angela,” he said in a low voice, “I’m not sure if you know what you’re saying...but do you realise that I am almost fifty-one years old?”
Her confidence faltered. She nodded, momentarily unable to find any further words. Eventually, she said, “I presumed you were around that age, maybe even older...”
They stood looking at each other.
“Have I made a mistake in speaking out?” she asked, her arm starting to slip away from his.
“Not at all.” He caught it with his hand, and gently eased it back in place. “I never let myself imagine that this could happen. Never for a moment. And it’s not just because of the age difference. It would not have mattered if you were much older than me. It’s the fact that someone so lovely – such a clever, capable woman would consider such a...well, such a socially clumsy and...well, the generally inept person that I am.”
“Edward Harrington,” she said, her voice almost stern, “you are not in any way as you have just described yourself. You are the kindest, most interesting man I have ever met.”
His hand came to his mouth. “I’m struggling to understand this unbelievable change of circumstance,” he said. “The best I had hoped for was to have your company, to share a meal with you, to talk about the project with someone who understands and appreciates it. Anything more, I wouldn’t let myself even imagine.”
“Well, you have all that,” she said, “and you also have a good friend who you can always trust.” She moved her hand now, to trace her fingers along the back of his hand. “But you also have someone who admires you, who cares deeply about you, and who could perhaps even grow to love you.”
She looked up at him now and saw him smiling at her. Yes, she thought, he was older than her – but not as old as she had thought. People, she knew, would stare at them and wonder – perhaps even think he was her father.
None of it mattered. She did not care – she had been stared at for most of her life. And although he was by no means handsome in the conventional way, neither was he unattractive. And as his deep brown eyes held hers, she felt the same little shift deep inside her, which she now recognised as a physical longing to be closer to him.
“I am overwhelmed,” he said. “And since you have been so brave and honest, I am going to be equally so with you.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “All the things I have thought about you – the many fine qualities that I have admired since the first day we met in the Gresham Hotel in Dublin – have all suddenly culminated into one single fact. I, Angela, am already very much in love with you.”
The shrieking sound of a car horn suddenly startled them apart. Then, without saying another word, they moved together, his hand tightly gripping hers, out of the hotel and into the depths of the London taxi cab.
Chapter 41
Bridget came out of the main building with a group of three other girls – dressed in tennis skirts, sports shirts and carrying racquets – and stepped into the warm sunshine and the damp scent of the newly watered wallflowers, Sweet William and roses. There was a relaxed, almost lazy feel about the early summer evening as everything was heading towards the end of the school year in just a few days’ time.
The exam results had come out, and while she could have done better in certain areas such as Maths and Geography, Bridget was happy enough with the overall pass in all her subjects.
In a few days’ time she would go back home for the summer to work in the shop with her mother and Fiona. Most years she had looked forward to having the time back in Tullamore, but things had somehow changed this year and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about going home. She still felt the loss of her father very deeply, and missed his cheery, comforting presence in the house, and she knew everyone in the family felt the same.
She was always happy to see Fiona, and Angela, and she now felt fine about seeing her mother. She had not been so keen to go home whilst her mother was ill. It made her feel uncomfortable to see her so sleepy and lethargic and rambling in her conversations. She knew from the recent letters she had received from her that there was a big improvement in her mother’s health and her general demeanour, and Fiona and Angela had confirmed when they wrote that she was much better too. While she was thankful about the news, she still had a certain reluctance to return to Tullamore.
She had given the situation some thought, and talked about it with Sister Bernadette, and she had come to the conclusion that she had become so used to the routine of the convent school that this now felt like her home. The Masses, the prayers, religious books, the comfortable silences, the predictable routines – the whole ethos. She realised she was reluctant to give it all up for two months. Entering back into the hustle and bustle of normality at home and in the shop and in the streets of the town, no longer felt like her real life.
But Sister Bernadette had said it was important for the girls to go back to their families at the end of every term. It would be some years until they made their final vows, and they had to be one hundred per cent sure that their vocation was for life – that this cloistered world was one they could not just tolerate, but flourish in.
Bridget said she understood all that, but she had no doubts whatsoever that she wanted to become a nun. She was happy with the religious life. It was as simple as that.
Sister Bernadette had given examples of other girls who had started at the school with Bridget’s class – girls who had decided not to return after previous summers. “And,” she said, with a grave look on her face, “I have a feeling that certain girls in your class this year may not return.”
Bridget had looked up at her with surprised eyes, but the nun had just shaken her head.
“I can’t say anything more about it.”
After the chat with Sister Bernadette was over, Bridget stood up and went towards the door, and then she halted for a few moments, thinking.
“Did Mother Superior ever ask you anything about...the thing I overheard my father saying?”
There was a small silence then Sister Bernadette smiled at her. “No,” she said. “I wasn’t asked to report back on any family issues.”
Bridget had felt a wave of gratitude. “Thank you,” she said. “I felt much better about that after I told you, and I haven’t dreamt about it since.”
“I’m glad,” Sister Bernadette had replied. “Families all have difficulties, and there are times when it’s best not to dwell on them. Any time you feel anxious, pray to Our Lady and she will help you to let go of it.”
The four girls stopped at the side of the tennis court now, and then split into twos for a doubles’ game. Some of the other girls from their class sat on the benches at the side to watch them, while others went to the netball area.
As they played, Bridget wondered which of her classmates Sister Bernadette had been referring to when she mentioned about girls not coming back after the summer. A few weeks ago she would have thought the obvious ones were Veronica and Carmel, but recently the girls had gone much quieter and didn’t seem quite so friendly with each other. Maybe, she thought, the recent trouble they had got themselves into had taught them a lesson, and made them think in a more mature way.
The girl playing diagonally from her on the tennis court, Maria O’Toole, hit a particularly high serve and the ball came flying towards Bridget. She quickly moved backwards to get a better swipe at it, but even though she jumped as high as she could with the racquet fully stretched, the ball flew a few feet above her head and off into the high hedges by the wall.
Bridget straightened up to get her balance and then she stood, hands on hips, laughing.
“That was a good one!” Maria called. “It’s just a pity I’m not another two feet tall!”
The other girls came to a halt at the middle of the court, all laughing now.
“I’ll just get the ball,” Bridget said.
She went strolling over to the hedges while the others stood chatting. She took a minute or two to locate the white ball, and then she spotted it in the side of one of the hedges, up quite a height. She stood on her tip-toes swishing her racquet backwards and forwards in the branches, to dislodge it. The ball fell down about six inches and got stuck again.
As Bridget stopped to catch her breath, she noticed four nuns she didn’t recognise coming out of the side door of the main building and walking towards cars parked just outside the door. Then she saw Mother Superior walking behind them with the priest who said Mass in the convent. The car with the nuns drove off and, as Bridget went to turn back to the ball, she noticed Mother Superior shaking her head at the priest and then moving her hands up to press both sides of her head. It struck her that it was a gesture her mother had often used when she wasn’t feeling well, or was overwhelmed if anyone suggested she should do something she didn’t want to do. It didn’t make sense to her that the head of the convent would feel like that.
“Bridget!” Maria yelled. “What about the ball?”
“Coming!” she called back. She threw the racquet up into the hedge and after the third attempt, the tennis ball came bouncing down onto the path.
After breakfast on the day before they broke up for the summer, the girls in Bridget’s class were told to leave their cleaning duties and go straight down to one of the classrooms. When they went in, Mother Superior was already there with several of the other nuns, including Sister Bernadette.
Silently, the girls all slid into seats and waited to hear why they had been summoned.
Mother Superior came to stand before them, her hands clasped together in front of her. “Girls,” she said, “I know you’re all preparing to return home to your families, but I have to advise you of a difficult situation that we are trying to settle before the end of term. You are all aware that we had a problem with certain behaviour amongst this particular class over the last number of weeks and maybe even months.”
Br
idget felt her stomach clench. She gave a carefully guarded glance around the room and noticed that Veronica and Carmel were not there.
“More investigations have been carried out,” Mother Superior said, “and it seems the situation is much more serious than we thought. We have had to advise the parents of those involved about what has taken place.” She paused. “I’m not at liberty to give anyone any details – it’s strictly private and only the related families’ business, and must remain that way. What I have to tell you now is that both the behaviour and the covering up of serious incidents by certain other girls in this year has left us facing a situation we have never had to deal with before. And it has left the order feeling that all the good work we have done with this class over the year has been somehow tainted. That all the secrets and lies that we have had to drag out of some of you, has left us very concerned about the class as a whole.”
Bridget’s heart was pounding as she listened. She was quite sure that the two girls had now been expelled. She had a mixture of feelings about this. There was a kind of relief that the girls were going as they had never seemed the right sort to become nuns, but there was also a sense of guilt about having helped the nuns arrive at their decision by telling about the letter that had been hidden.
“We have been in serious discussions with the hierarchy in our order,” Mother Superior said, “and later today, a major decision will be made about situation.”
She then asked everyone to join their hands and led the girls in a prayer, and then she told the girls they could go and do the last fifteen minutes of their cleaning duties.
Chapter 42
Fiona looked up as her mother came into the kitchen. She was just finishing off her breakfast and then she would get ready to head down to the shop.
“Two airmail letters from America for you,” Nance said, handing them over to her. “And a typed brown letter for me.” She went to sit in the armchair by the fire. Her dark hair was neatly pinned up, and she was wearing a new brown trouser suit.
A Letter From America Page 36