“Oh, God...” Her mother just sat for a few minutes then she looked up at her. “I always knew there was something not right between us, but as you got older I thought – I hoped – it was a normal change as you were growing up – a difference in our personalities. I thought things were a bit strained between us. I had no idea you felt like a stranger amongst your own family – a stranger to your parents. I thought you were happy enough in Dublin, that you were coping. I convinced myself that you were just a very independent child, stronger than the other girls – stronger than me. How absolutely stupid – ignorant of me!”
“Daddy did his best,” Angela said. “He tried.”
“I thought I tried too, Angela...I really did.” She put her head in her hands. “I’ve made more and bigger mistakes than I ever realised. The mess I made of the handling everything with Joseph...and now finding out how much I’ve hurt you over all these years. It’s as bad if not worse. You will never, ever know how sorry I am that I’ve done this to you.” Her voice broke into a sob. “I’ve been an absolute failure as a mother. My whole life feels like a failure...”
As Angela listened to her mother and saw how utterly wretched she was, the realisation dawned that she was, in fact, telling the truth. Her mother really seemed to have been wholly ignorant of how bad things were between them. Somewhere in the midst of all the anger and the hurt and resentment, a small flicker of compassion started to grow. She even found herself wishing she could say things were not really as bad as they sounded, but she knew that would be rewriting the past and pretending – and she could not do it.
She knew that if there was any hope for their relationship as a mother and daughter that the past had to be examined and acknowledged. And most importantly – things had to be learned from it, in order to move forward with a new understanding. How long that would take Angela did not know.
But there was one thing she instinctively did know – that new ground rules and boundaries for their relationship would have to be set. And they would be set by Angela. Her mother would have to understand that any role she would have in her life from now on would be at Angela’s say-so.
Angela lifted her mug and took a sip. She looked over at her mother. “Are you having another drop of tea?”
Her mother looked confused at the sudden change in conversation. She looked over at the teapot on top of the range. “Yes,” she said, getting up now. “I think I will. I meant to have one earlier but I never got around to it.” She took a mug down from the shelf and started to pour. She turned to Angela. “Will I top yours up?”
“Yes, please,” Angela said, holding the mug out.
They sat in silence for a few minutes while Angela ate her bread and marmalade, and her mother sipped at her tea.
Then, Angela said, “I know it’s not the best time to tell you, but there’s no point in leaving it any longer – I have some important news.”
Her mother put her mug down on the table, and clasped her hands, her fingers knitted tightly together. “What is it?”
“I got engaged after I came back from England, and I’m getting married in July.”
Her mother stared at her as though she hadn’t heard it clearly.
“It’s Edward – Major Harrington. And before you waste your time saying anything, your opinion won’t change my mind. It’s all arranged and it’s going ahead.”
Her mother slowly nodded her head.
“I know you haven’t even met him yet, and I know that he’s much older than me, and we haven’t known each other long. But it’s long enough for us both to know we’re doing the right thing. He’s not a Catholic, but he has offered to marry me in the church, so it doesn’t affect my own religious beliefs.”
Her mother looked over at her. “And do you truly love him, Angela?”
“I do,” Angela said. “I actually love him very much.”
“And is he kind to you?”
“He is the kindest, most caring person I have ever met.”
Nance closed her eyes, and when she opened them a few minutes later, tears started streaming down her face. “Then I’m happy for you, Angela. I’m happy you have found someone who loves you and is so good. After all you’ve been through, you deserve it.”
Angela looked back at her mother, her eyes filling up now. “I would have married him whether you liked it or not – but it makes me feel better to know that you are not against it.”
“I know I have no right to ask you anything...but can I ask you to think about letting me pay for the wedding breakfast?” She took a deep breath. “I know you might not even want me there, but that doesn’t matter. I would like to pay for it anyway, because it’s what your father would have wanted to do, if he was still with us.”
“Edward was going to pay for everything,” Angela told her. “But I’ll talk to him about it, and we will let you know.”
Chapter 46
Bridget came rushing down the hallway, holding up the hem of her long mauve dress so she didn’t trip up. “That’s the coach just gone down to the pub.”
Fiona came to the door of her bedroom, wearing an identical bridesmaid dress to her sister. “We’re grand,” she said. “It’s not due to leave for another half an hour, and they won’t expect us to be first on.” She stood back to get a better look. “That colour is beautiful on you. It suits your blonde hair. Are you sure it’s okay on me?”
“You look gorgeous.” Bridget started to laugh and then went over and took her hands, and guided her into a waltz around the floor. “We both look gorgeous!”
Fiona went back into her bedroom to check again in front of the full-length mirror on her wardrobe. She studied the flowing mauve short-sleeved dress, with the tiny rosebuds in the same colour sewn in under the bustline. It was flattering, she thought. Angela had a good eye and picked dresses that suited both her and Bridget. She turned now to check her hair. It was caught up at the back, with the same little roses which Maggie O’Connell had pinned into the chignon earlier in the morning. Bridget’s hair was too short to wear up, so Angela had got a satin hairband made for her decorated with the same rosebuds.
Fiona was delighted that Angela had eventually agreed to a traditional white wedding. Initially, she had argued, saying she wanted no fuss. She had planned to get married in a dress and matching coat – until Fiona and Bridget sat her down and told her that most brides would kill for her tiny little figure and gorgeous dark looks, and what a waste it was to hide it all away. She hadn’t been convinced until Fiona told her that Edward’s heart would just burst with pride when he saw her walking up the aisle.
Angela said she would give it some thought.
A week or so later, when Maureen and Jeanette came out to Moorhill House to be introduced to Edward – and to see where their old housemate was now living – both girls emphatically agreed with her sisters.
“Angela,” Maureen said, “what have we told you about being more daring?”
“Do you not think Edward is a bit too old for the whole white wedding thing?” Angela said.
“So what if he’s older than you?” Jeanette said. “Don’t forget there’s been many a good tune been played on an oul’ fiddle.”
Angela’s eyes widened, and then she sighed in mock exasperation. “I don’t believe you’ve just said that!”
Then all three girls started to giggle.
“No, seriously, Angela,” Maureen said, “do you not think he deserves to see his gorgeous bride wafting down the aisle the same as a younger man?” She waved her hand about the room. “Look at what he’s giving you, Angela – this mansion of a place. The man is besotted with you – and I think he would just love to see you in a traditional white dress.”
Angela wondered what they would say if she told them about Thornley Manor, but she thought there was no point in emphasising the difference in the lifestyle she had shared with the girls in Leeson Street, and new one she was going to have with Edward. She would remain friends with them, whatever her circumstances.
Mr
s Mooney arrived at the house dressed up in a wine-coloured costume and pink hat to see the bridesmaids’ dresses and Nance’s outfit.
“Beautiful, beautiful altogether,” she told the girls, as they all congregated in the sitting-room. She studied the little rosebuds on the dresses. “They must have been the devil to sew on. I’d say it took as long to hand-stitch them on as it did to make the rest of the dress.”
Nance’s blue satin coat and matching dress with the pillbox hat drew the most praise. “No doubt about it,” the housekeeper said, “you’re the double of Jaqueline Kennedy.”
Nance smiled and thanked her, but pointed out that Jackie Kennedy was a good bit younger than her.
Fiona smiled. “I hate to remind you both, but she’s been Jackie Onassis for a good while now.”
“Don’t talk to me about it.” Mary Ellen gave a great sigh. “Imagine marrying that oul’ Greek fella after being married to such a fine-looking man as President Kennedy. Sure, he must be more than double her age.”
Bridget’s eyebrows shot up, and she tried not to laugh. “Mary Ellen, you better not mention age at the wedding – don’t forget that Edward is a good bit older than Angela.”
The housekeeper looked at her. “That’s different altogether. And as I said to Angela myself, better to be an oul’ man’s darling than a young man’s slave.”
They all started to laugh.
“Where do you get the sayings?” Nance smiled at her.
“It’s a true one – Angela will be well looked after. When I met them last week, you could see he worships the ground she walks on.” She looked thoughtful for a few moments. “You would wonder all the same about Jackie Kennedy, when she could have had the pick of all the men in America and she goes for oul’ Onassis.” She shrugged. “And it can’t be about the money, because they say she had plenty of her own.”
“Well, maybe he’s a nice man,” Bridget said, shrugging. “Maybe they just get on well together.”
“Maybe,” Mrs Mooney said, “but it would make you wonder all the same.”
The doorbell went and Nance went down the hallway, past the table where the bridesmaids’ bouquets were standing in a basket.
When she opened the door, Michael O’Sullivan was there on the step.
“Good morning,” he said, giving her a small salute.
“Good morning. Come in, Michael,” she said. “We’re all more or less ready.” She paused before closing the door. “Thank God it’s a lovely morning. Let’s hope it keeps dry.”
“You’re looking very lovely,” he said.
Nance touched the back of her hat and then her hair, checking everything was in place. “Thank you,” she said. “This will be your first Irish wedding, won’t it?”
He confirmed this with a nod
“It’s not a typical one though, since Angela wanted it small, but it will be nice. The Shelbourne Hotel is lovely.”
“I’m sure it will be – it’s getting busy down at the bar,” he told her. “A number of people are already on the coach, and apparently a few of your neighbours have arrived to view the bridesmaids’ dresses.”
“That’s the custom around here,” Nance said. “They’ll be disappointed not to see Angela, but she doesn’t like the limelight.” She shrugged and smiled. “It’s her big day, and she’s happy going from Dublin, so that’s all that matters.”
“So, where are these lovely bridesmaids?” Michael said, clapping his hands together.
She led him into the sitting room and he went around Bridget and Mrs Mooney and Fiona, kissing their cheeks and saying how beautiful everybody looked.
“Fiona tells me that the cottage is coming on great,” Nance said, smiling across at her daughter.
“Yes,” he said, “it’s almost finished now. I just have to buy some basic furniture and get someone to do some work on the garden, and then it should all be ready for my mom arriving in a few weeks.”
“I’m going down to Galway next week to help him pick some things out,” Fiona said. “I can’t wait to see it all finished.”
Bridget went over to look out of the window. “Maggie O’Connell has just come out, and looks as though she’s heading down for the coach. She has the loveliest pale green dress and jacket on.”
“Isn’t it gas about her and Patrick?” Mrs Mooney said. “They’re a great match, aren’t they?”
“They are,” Nance said. “I think she’s bringing him out of his shell a bit.”
“And I think you officially making him the bar manager has given him more confidence.”
“I should have thought of it earlier, but I suppose I wasn’t thinking of anything straight.”
She looked at the clock now. “We better go, the coach leaves in ten minutes.”
The sky was still blue when the coach pulled up in Grafton Street in Dublin. The group of around forty guests – a mixture of neighbours, family and friends – walked the short distance to St Teresa’s Church in Clarendon Street.
Fiona took Michael’s arm as they walked along, leaving the other hand free to carry her bouquet.
“I am so glad the timing worked out so you could come over for the wedding,” Fiona told him.
He squeezed her arm. “And so am I.”
She indicated her mother who was in front with Bridget. “I can’t believe the change in Mam since you were last here. She’s a different woman altogether. If you had met her before and then saw her now, you would think it was a totally different person. If it hadn’t been for Angela catching her that night, and getting her into hospital, she might not be here today.”
“It’s surprising what drugs can do to people,” he said quietly. “Prescribed or illegal.” He squeezed her arm. “It’s all worked out in your mom’s case. Have you said anything to her yet about your plans to come out to New York at the end of the year?”
Fiona shook her head. “I haven’t said anything definite to her. I thought I would let the wedding come and go and then I’ll bring it up. She’s getting stronger every day, and with Bridget helping in the shop things are much easier all round.”
Over the weeks since finishing school, Bridget had given her vocation a great deal of thought. She had prayed about it and spent time talking to both the local priests. Father Fahy had been particularly helpful, and he had asked her to be involved with the organisation of retreats in the parish and to help set up a new prayer group in the evenings. He had also told Bridget and her mother, in the strictest confidence, that he had heard through the religious grapevine that one of the girls involved in the school incident had been in some kind of relationship with a married man. Apparently, she had enlisted some of the other girls and a farmworker to send letters to him and to cover up for her. There had also been incidents when she was supposed to be collected by a relative to attend the dentist, when it was actually the married man who had collected her outside the school.
Bridget’s throat had run dry as she took in the information. It had been more serious and more sordid than she had imagined. She had somehow thought Veronica had been involved with the farmhand or one of his friends. An older, married man sounded very frightening to her.
“What happened to her and the man after all this came out?” Nance had asked.
Father Fahy had held his hands up. “I heard something about her being sent to live with an aunt in England for the coming months. That’s all I know.”
Nance had shaken her head. “The poor girl. Her life will never be the same again...”
When the shock of being dismissed from school had started to fade, Bridget did a lot of thinking and a lot of praying. She had come to the conclusion that her desire to be a nun was still as strong as ever and, after checking out various orders, had decided to apply to join the Benedictine Nuns in Kylemore Abbey as a postulant nun. She would do her best to explain the situation that had happened in her old convent, and hope they would understand she had done nothing wrong. If it didn’t work out, she would find somewhere else. But whatever happe
ned, she wouldn’t give up.
When they arrived at the door of the church, the majority of the guests from the coach went straight inside to take their seats. There were groups of people already seated, mainly from Dublin – friends of Angela from work and from the house in Leeson Street, and there was a girl and a man in wheelchairs, friends from her time in hospital. The staff from Moorhill House, Mrs Girvin and Eileen and Jim, and other friends and a few army colleagues of Edward’s were also inside waiting.
Aunt Catherine, looking elegant in a peach outfit, was sitting in a pew on her own near the front. Mrs Mooney went down the aisle with Patrick and Maggie. She guided them towards Catherine’s pew, to ensure she was in a prime position to view the service. After a while, Michael left Fiona and went inside to join them.
Nance stood at the back, waiting with Fiona and Bridget. “Are you okay?” she asked the girls. “You’re not too nervous about walking up the aisle?” She looked from one to the other. “Just take it slow and easy, and remind Angela to do the same.”
“Somehow,” Fiona said, “I don’t think Angela needs any advice from us. She has organised everything down to the last ‘t’.”
“Of course, of course,” her mother said. “I was only saying.”
Edward arrived at church with his best man, Jeremy – both dressed in formal morning suits and wearing white roses in their lapels. Edward, Fiona thought, was slightly jittery and was talking a little louder and quicker than normal, as Angela had said he would be. The rakish-looking Jeremy, she noticed, was the opposite. He had kissed both her hand and Bridget’s and told them they were visions of beauty, and had been equally effusive when introduced to their mother, insisting that she looked like their sister.
Fiona checked her watch then looked at her future brother-in-law. “Angela will be here any minute, so I think it might be a good idea if you are inside and waiting for her.”
Edward straightened up like a soldier who was heading for the frontline, and then he and Jeremy went down the aisle together.
A Letter From America Page 40