‘Your mother dragged you around Latin America while you were a kid?’ He sounded horrified.
‘It was fun,’ said Abbey. ‘I had a blast.’
‘Perhaps, but … some of those countries – and as a baby!’
‘Babies are born in Latin America all the time,’ Abbey reminded him with a smile. ‘Just because some places get a bad press doesn’t mean they’re not good places with good people. My mother liked the rhythm of life there but she could never stay anywhere for very long, no matter how much she liked it … She was a kind of free spirit, I guess. She believed – she still believes – in following the road, and in peace and love and getting on with your fellow man.’
‘Right. So what did she do when she got back?’
‘While we were in Latin America all her work was with … well, needy people, I guess. But back in the States she got a job in a private clinic. That was where she met Pete Caruso. He’d been through a bad time, lost his only brother to cancer. A younger brother. It made Pete feel guilty but also turned him into something of a hypochondriac for a time. Mom helped him get over it and the two of them … well, they were good with each other. We all lived together. But then my grandfather – her adoptive father …’ She stopped in sudden confusion. ‘That’s so weird. I always thought they looked alike, but of course they couldn’t have, could they? Anyway, he had a stroke and my grandmother couldn’t cope because she was elderly herself. So Mom and I went to Boston.’ Abbey made a face. ‘I’m not a Boston person. Neither is Mom. But she stayed with them until my grandfather died. After that, my grandmother wanted to go into a home. She was in her eighties then. Mom didn’t want her in a home, she wanted her to come back to California with us, but my grandmother insisted. She was a very strong-willed woman. So my mom agreed, but shortly after Gramma went into the home, she died.’
‘I see.’
‘After that, Mom decided she wanted to … to follow her own path,’ said Abbey. ‘I’m wondering now if Gramma told her something. If that’s why …’
Ryan watched her intently as myriad expressions crossed her face.
‘Anyway,’ said Abbey eventually. ‘She left San Francisco again and started a new life for herself.’
‘As a free spirit? She’s not living with Indians on a reservation, is she?’
Abbey burst into laughter.
‘Obviously not,’ Ryan said.
‘Anyway, that’s the story you can tell your client. My mother’s father. My grandfather. Can you tell me more about him?’
‘Let’s both hold something back,’ said Ryan. ‘Let me talk to him first.’
‘Tell him Mom will definitely forgive him,’ Abbey said. ‘She doesn’t hold grudges, my mom.’
‘You’re saying a lot on behalf of your mother,’ said Ryan.
‘Because I know her,’ said Abbey.
‘Maybe this is something she needs to think about for herself.’
‘Maybe.’ Abbey finished her drink. ‘Does he have any other children?’
‘Ellen’s father? Yes,’ replied Ryan. ‘That’s another part of things, Abbey. Your mam has half-brothers and sisters she doesn’t even know exist.’
But given that I exist and she’s perfectly happy to be cut off from me, I don’t think the lure of more people will mean much, thought Abbey. In fact, knowing that they’re there will probably have the opposite effect to the one Ryan Gilligan so desperately wants.
Because Abbey had drunk the whiskey, she couldn’t ride the bike back to the house. Ryan offered to take her home and she agreed, although she checked the pocket of her jacket and curled her fingers around the canister of Mace again, to be on the safe side.
‘Nice place Mr Caruso’s got,’ remarked Ryan as she opened the door.
In the kitchen, Battle barked enthusiastically.
‘He works hard, he’s entitled to it,’ she said.
‘Of course.’
‘I suppose you checked on him too.’
‘He was easy to check up on. Where is he now?’
Abbey wasn’t going to tell a stranger, even one who appeared as genuine as Ryan Gilligan, that she was spending the night alone in Pete’s hillside mansion, so she didn’t reply.
‘D’you want me to wait with you until he comes home?’ asked Ryan.
‘No,’ she said.
‘I don’t suppose you need me. You have the dog to protect you.’ He glanced towards the kitchen, where Battle had stopped barking. ‘Will you give me your mobile – I mean, cell number, so that I can contact you after I talk to Ellen’s father?’
Abbey supposed that would be OK. She called out her number and Ryan entered it into his iPhone.
‘Sure you’re going to be all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ She straightened up. ‘It was only two whiskeys, after all. I can cope with that, really I can.’
‘You had a bit of a shock, though. Apologies again about that.’
‘Oh, I can cope with shocks, too.’
‘In that case, I’ll leave you to it. Good night, Abbey.’
‘Good night.’
She watched until the lights of his car had disappeared. Then she put the security lock on the door, checked all the windows and set the alarm. After that, she went into the kitchen, rubbed Battle’s ears and made herself a cup of hot chocolate. As she sipped the hot chocolate, the dog sitting on her feet, she took out her phone and dialled her mother’s cell. The voice of the operator told her that the number was no longer in service. But Abbey had known that already. There was never any point in ringing Ellen’s cell phone. She wasn’t sure why she still did it. But every so often, she did.
What was the best thing to do? she wondered as she listened to Battle snoring contentedly. She couldn’t send a bald email saying what Ryan Gilligan had told her. Even if Ellen already knew about her adoption, it wasn’t something they could discuss by email. She’d have to make an arrangement to meet. But it normally took a few weeks between deciding she wanted to see her mother and actually coming face to face with her. Abbey reached for her iPad and opened a website. She clicked on one of the menus and frowned. Even if she sent an email tonight, it would be at least two weeks before Ellen would be able to reply. She finished her hot chocolate and put the cup on the side table. Best to wait until Ryan Gilligan spoke to his client. Ellen’s father. Abbey’s grandfather.
She slid her feet from beneath the dog and let him into the garden for his late-night run. When he’d finished, she shut him in the kitchen again and went upstairs to her bedroom. Although she was utterly exhausted, she wasn’t expecting to fall asleep. There was too much for her to think about. Too much information to process.
However, she dropped off almost at once. In her dreams she was a child again, packing her rucksack, getting ready to move on, trusting that Ellen knew where they were going, but sad that they were leaving the friends that they’d made. Ellen never seemed to mind starting over, but Abbey found it hard.
‘People are the same no matter where you are,’ Ellen would say. ‘You’ll make new friends.’
And she always had. But she’d always had to leave them too. Perhaps that was the real reason she didn’t travel any more.
Chapter 11
When she woke the following morning, Abbey’s tongue was a little furry from the whiskey but her head was thankfully clear.
She went into the kitchen and poured herself a cranberry juice, which, like the previous morning, she took out on to the deck. She was very grateful that today was her day off, because she knew that she was still keyed up after her conversation with Ryan Gilligan and even the slightest tremor in her hand would mess up her nail art. She finished the juice and decided not to bother with coffee. Instead she walked down to the waterfront and retrieved Pete’s bike.
She wondered how soon it would be before she heard from Ryan Gilligan again. He seemed very clear that it was her mother he wanted to talk to, not her, but it would be unreasonable for him not to tell her more about her unknown family.
He couldn’t simply waltz into her life, announce that the two people she’d always thought of as her grandparents weren’t her grandparents at all and leave it at that. Besides, she was still his only route to Ellen.
He probably thinks we’re nutters, she thought as she placed her helmet on the garage worktop. He probably lives a well-ordered life, knowing everything there is to know about everyone in his family. Although, she reminded herself, weren’t PIs supposed to be maverick loners struggling with some kind of addiction? In all the TV programmes she watched, they generally lived and worked by themselves and tried to overcome their problems with alcohol or gambling or whatever demon the writers had given them. Perhaps Ryan Gilligan had his own worries after all.
She’d left the garage and was making the coffee she hadn’t bothered with earlier when her phone rang.
‘It’s me,’ said Ryan. ‘Hope you’re feeling all right.’
‘Of course I’m all right,’ she said.
‘I’ve spoken to my client. I told him I’d met you and what you’d said. He’s extremely disappointed.’
‘That’s understandable.’
‘Indeed. Especially as he’s spent a lot of money looking for Ellen.’
Abbey hadn’t thought of that before. Sending a PI across the Atlantic to find someone must be incredibly expensive. Did that mean that Ellen’s dad was rich? The thought startled her. Ellen wasn’t a materialistic person. Pete had confided in Abbey that he thought it was one of the reasons she’d refused to talk about marrying him. She’d known that he wanted to do well in his career, and had known, too, that success brought material rewards.
‘I can see why that might be a bit annoying for him,’ said Abbey.
‘So he’s asked me to talk to you some more instead.’
‘I’m happy to talk to you but I’m not sure what more I can tell you.’
‘Let’s meet anyway,’ said Ryan. ‘Um – at that bar again?’
‘Where are you staying?’ asked Abbey.
‘The Holiday Inn.’
‘Columbus or Beach?’
‘Beach,’ he said.
The hotel was only a few blocks from one of the Mariposa salons.
‘I’ll meet you at Pier 39,’ she told him. ‘There are plenty of places there for coffee and a snack. About an hour?’
‘Perfect,’ said Ryan Gilligan. ‘I look forward to seeing you.’
He was standing at the entrance to the concourse when she arrived. Today he was dressed in a Gap T-shirt and shorts, with Aviator sunglasses on his face and deck shoes on his feet. This time he looked like a Hollywood star playing an American tourist.
She went up to him and said hello and he gave her his bright smile and said it was good of her to come. She steered him through the crowds of tourists to a small coffee and doughnut place beside the restaurant where Cobey’s friend Mike worked. The restaurant hadn’t opened yet and there was no sign of Mike. She wondered if he was in touch with Cobey. If he’d told him that she’d come looking for him. And if Cobey had cared. She clenched and unclenched her fist and then realised that a waitress was standing by their table and that Ryan was looking at her expectantly.
‘Breakfast,’ she said as she ordered a ring doughnut and a black coffee.
Ryan asked for a black coffee too, but passed on the doughnut. ‘I had breakfast earlier,’ he said.
‘I need the sugar more than I don’t need the calories,’ she told him as she bit into the doughnut. ‘Sugar’s good for shock, isn’t it?’
‘I think so. Although shouldn’t it be in tea? Hot sweet tea with milk?’
Abbey made a face. ‘I so don’t drink tea like that.’
‘Neither do I,’ said Ryan. ‘But that’s how my mam makes it.’
She liked the way he pronounced it. Mam. Not mom. Kind of cute, she thought.
‘So,’ he said. ‘Down to business?’
‘I’m all ears.’
‘Mr Fitzpatrick is a retired businessman with a grown-up family. Your mother was born before he married.’
‘Fitzpatrick,’ said Abbey slowly. ‘My mom’s real name is Fitzpatrick.’
‘You mam’s name is Connolly,’ Ryan corrected her. ‘After James and Ellen Connolly adopted her—’
‘My grandmother was known as Mamie,’ Abbey interrupted him.
‘Oh. OK. Well, James and Mamie adopted Ellen when she was a few weeks old, and that made her a Connolly.’
‘What about her mother?’ asked Abbey. ‘Her birth mother, who died?’
‘Her name was Ita Dillon. My client knew her as Dilly. Ita was only sixteen when she got pregnant with your mother.’
‘Oh, wow. That must have been a shock.’
‘In Ireland, in the nineteen fifties, it was more than a shock. It was a disaster.’ Ryan’s voice was grim. ‘Unmarried mothers were – well, it was not a good situation to be in. Ita was sent away.’
‘Sent away?’ Abbey looked at him in astonishment.
‘It was a massive shame on the family to have a pregnant, unmarried daughter,’ explained Ryan. ‘I don’t know how it was looked on here either; I’m guessing America was more liberal, but even so, I’m sure being an unmarried mother wasn’t a great lifestyle choice.’
‘No,’ agreed Abbey.
‘But, like I said, in Ireland it was a complete disaster. Have you ever heard of the Magdalene laundries?’
Abbey shook her head.
‘Not a good chapter in our history,’ said Ryan. ‘Pregnant girls were sent to these institutions, which were run by religious orders. The nuns pretty much considered the girls to be fallen women, sinners who needed to be punished.’
Abbey looked startled. ‘Nuns thought that? They were judgemental?’
‘Back then, the Catholic Church had a very firm grip on Irish society. And its views on sexual matters were pretty … well, like you said, judgemental. A girl who got pregnant outside marriage was a fallen woman who deserved punishment.’
‘I understand how society might feel that way, but nuns? Nuns are supposed to be caring and charitable.’
‘And I’m sure most of them are,’ said Ryan. ‘But there are always exceptions. Many of the nuns in these institutions believed that the girls had to be punished for their sins. They treated them badly. Ita Dillon tried to run away.’
‘Poor thing.’
‘She was caught and beaten. She went into labour, and died soon after the baby was born.’
‘Oh my God.’ Abbey looked at Ryan in horror.
‘Her baby was given up for adoption. The couple who adopted her, James and Ellen, sorry, Mamie Connolly, were in their forties. Which back then was very old as far as having a child was concerned. After the adoption, they emigrated to the States.’
‘It was a big move at that time of their life too,’ observed Abbey.
‘James was an engineer. He had skills that were in demand.’
Abbey nodded. She knew that her grandfather had worked for an engineering company.
‘James and Mamie thought it would be a good move. They didn’t have family in Ireland. They thought that it would be better to bring their daughter up in America, where there was hope and opportunity.’
‘I understand. Did my mom’s actual father … Mr Fitzpatrick, you said, meet them before they went?’
‘Not at all.’ Ryan sounded apologetic. ‘Back then, the father’s rights were pretty negligible. Besides, Fred Fitzpatrick was equally horrified by Ita’s pregnancy and was relieved when she was sent away.’
‘No!’
‘It was another time,’ Ryan said patiently. ‘You’ve got to understand that. I know it seems callous, and it was, but people’s attitudes were very different back then. Fred put it all behind him.’
‘Did he even know that Ita had died?’ demanded Abbey.
‘Yes, but – well, there was nothing he could do at that point, even if he’d wanted to. Obviously Ita’s parents wanted nothing to do with him. Mind you, they hadn’t wanted anything to do with her either, e
ven though she was their only child. Anyway, Fred got on with his life. Married Ros. Had three children. Built up his business. Didn’t think any more about it until he saw a documentary on TV about the Magdalene laundries. A lot of information has emerged over the last few years. People are appalled at how the girls were treated. Fred feels guilty about what happened to Ita. He blames himself for not doing more to help her. He wants to meet her daughter – his daughter – and apologise.’
‘Like I said, my mom will forgive him.’
‘He wants to apologise in person.’
‘I appreciate that,’ said Abbey. ‘But it’s not possible.’
‘That’s what I told him,’ said Ryan. ‘And he’s decided that he’d like to meet you instead. He thinks that if you hear what he has to say, you’ll understand that he’s a genuine person and will put us in touch with your mother, his daughter, and persuade her to come to Ireland.’
‘So is he going to come here to see me?’ asked Abbey.
‘No,’ Ryan said. ‘He wants you to visit him.’
‘But …’ Abbey was dumbfounded.
‘He doesn’t want to travel to the States,’ said Ryan. ‘He doesn’t want his family to know about Ita yet.’
‘They’re going to find out, surely, if I turn up on the doorstep.’
‘Of course. But that can be managed at a time and in a way of Fred’s own choosing,’ said Ryan.
‘I can’t leave everything here to go to Ireland,’ Abbey protested. ‘I don’t travel much any more. I like staying put. Besides, I have a job. I have commitments …’
‘Mr Fitzpatrick will pay all your travel and other expenses,’ said Ryan.
‘It’s not about the money,’ said Abbey.
‘Look, Abbey. Mr Fitzpatrick is an old man. He wants to meet your mam, of course, but at least if he meets you he’ll feel as though he’s made some progress. It’s the least you can do.’
Abbey didn’t know what to say.
Things We Never Say Page 11