by Mary Wood
‘No, but me friend Mrs Bartram will help me out with money.’
‘Weren’t you for telling us you used to work for her? Well, that is kindness itself. Will you live with her?’
‘I can’t, cos of the man as married me mammy. He lives near her and he is a bad man. Violent and—’
‘Listen, Bridget, you are for being just off turning sixteen. You are not for having a home, and I know it is as you can’t go back to the man who should be your guardian. I have been looking into it all, and you haven’t a job or any prospects of one. So, my wee one, ’tis not possible for you to take on the care of your child, nor the young brother I have heard you talking of.’
‘I have to . . .’
‘Yes, one day in the future, when ’tis as your life is sorted out. In the meantime, ’tis as I will take care of your child, as I will of Lucy’s . . .’
‘What? How? But Lucy has a family!’
‘Her parents are not for having anything to do with the babby. They say as they are old and the responsibility is too much for them, and I am for thinking they have guessed what their sister was up to. They asked to see you, because they are wanting to know if their daughter told you anything. Maybe it is as the aunt even wrote to them to say she was pregnant – I don’t know – but ’tis clear they have suspicions, as they have a lot of questions as to how their daughter came to be here.’
‘I don’t want to see them. I can’t, Sister. It’s like none of them care about Lucy, and when I talked to her she seemed so lonely, and had no one.’
‘No, ’tis as I am thinking you shouldn’t. It will be too upsetting for you. I’ll be for telling them you’re not well, and I’ll deal with everything. I am for thinking they are seeing their daughter as a sinner, and their main concern is to prevent any scandal. That is for sticking in my throat, now I know the truth of it, and I believe they are after seeking assurance of your silence.’
‘You can tell them they’ll have that, as I don’t know anyone as would want to know it all. But the aunt – I know she did a bad thing, but couldn’t she care for Lucy’s babby?’
‘It seems not. I am not for knowing why, but there is a lot of bitterness in Lucy’s mother, and they are saying the child is not to be recognized by any of the family.’
‘It don’t seem right. Her own grandparents. There’s a lot of wickedness in the world, Sister, and in me young life I seem to have met most of it.’
‘You have, but ’tis a measure of the strength of you how you have been for coming through it all and are still a lovely, caring girl. That is why I am wanting to set you free from the shackles of trying to bring up your child when you haven’t yet the circumstances in which you can.’
‘But how can you take care of them? I mean, they don’t have babbies here.’
‘Because of what I know – I will be using that against the Reverend Mother. I will force her to let me go to the orphanage across the other side of Leeds. ’Tis as I cannot stay here under the direction of such a woman. I have thought about it all night. If it is as I go to St Benedict’s orphanage, I can also be insisting I take Hattie and your child with me, and I can look out for them until a time when you can come for your little one. And I will do all in my power for them, so I will.’
‘Hattie?’
‘Yes, wasn’t that for being my grandmother’s name? And wasn’t she a resilient old thing – a survivor, so she was – so I have given Lucy’s child her name. We baptized her this morning. Now, what are you thinking about my plan?’
‘I can’t think on giving up me babby . . .’
‘Bridget, my wee child, don’t you know, ’tis as you will have no choice . . . Oh, wee one, don’t cry. ’Tis sorry I am to tell you, but ’tis the way of it. The babies are taken away as soon as they are born from the girls who have nowhere to go.’
Bridget’s heart wept inside of her, splitting her very being. The child was part of that being, and to take it from her would tear her world in two. Sister Bernadette let her cry for a while, but then beseeched her to stop.
‘Sure you will do yourself and your baby harm, wee one. Are you not for seeing what a solution I offer you? You will have peace in your heart, knowing your child is with me, and knowing I will have the say as to what happens if there is to be an adoption.’
‘No, Sister, please don’t let me child be adopted. Please keep me babby at the convent until I can come to collect it.’
Sister Bernadette didn’t answer for a moment; she just wrapped her arms around Bridget and held her. Some of the wetness caused by tears didn’t come from her, for Sister Bernadette was crying too. ‘’Tis as I will be doing my best. Now, it is as you will have to agree to what I propose, because if they see your determination, they will be for taking the child from you to a secret destination and none of us will be having a say in it.’
A pain shooting through her caused Bridget to break away from the comforting hug. She grasped her stomach.
‘What is it? Oh dear Lord, is that you going into labour?’
Bridget smiled at this. She knew it was the Irish way to ask questions in that form, as her mammy had often done so. The Irish seemed oblivious to how it sounded, and a picture of the astonished look on Jesus’s face on being asked if He was going into labour tickled her sense of humour. ‘Sister, how can the Dear Lord, as you call Him, go into labour?’
Aghast, Sister Bernadette looked at her, then her lovely giggle came from her and they both laughed together before she said, ‘You are knowing my meaning, little one. Have you had another pain?’
‘No, I think it was because I was bent ov— Ooooh!’ ‘Oh, me wee Bridget, ’tis as your baby is coming, I’m sure of that. Don’t worry, ’tis early it is, but if Lucy’s Hattie can make it then so can your wee one. Come on, let us be after getting you into the delivery wing. I’ll not leave you. Once I have me nurse’s apron on, I’ll be right with you. We’ll be for seeing this child into the world together, so we will.’
Issy sat up in bed, her heart bursting with pride and joy. Her little girl – her own little girl. She had a mind to call her Cecelia – a bit posh, but she’d loved it ever since a little girl with that name had come to stay at Tarrington House many years ago. Besides, everyone would call her Cissy, so she wouldn’t get ragged for having a top-drawer name.
She looked up into Tom’s eyes as he asked, ‘Bridget?’
‘No, there was only one Bridget. We don’t want her to be a copy; we want her to have her own identity. We’ll tell her of Bridget one day, though.’
‘I often think of her, you know.’
‘Aye, I do too. I’d love to know how they are, the pair of them. Do you think they’re all right, Tom? It was a worry to me, them going back to where – well, thou knows, where Bridie had a different life.’
‘We’ll never know, love. I thought of asking you if you wanted to contact her once the Dochertys were gone, but I left it for you to say.’
‘I know, and perhaps I will. I still have the address of that Beth, as Bridie put so much store by. Happen as she came good for them and took them in.’
‘Well, it’s a bit late to worry about it all now. Let’s just leave it as it is, shall we? You never know what you open up, do yer? Now, can I hold me very own little daughter, or are you going to keep her to yourself?’
‘Here you are, love. Meet Cecelia. Cissy to everyone else – well, and to us, I reckon, if other young ’uns are not going to laugh at her.’
‘Oh, you settled her name then. Don’t I get a say?’
‘Aye, you can add some names of your own, but I’m set on that one, thou knows.’
‘Eeh, Issy, she’s beautiful. I wonder what life has in store for her?’
‘Just happiness, if we have anything to do with it, eh, Tom?’
‘Aye, love. If she is as happy as she is beautiful, she’ll be reet, so she will.’
The crying wrenched Bridget’s heart. A little girl – a beautiful baby girl, with curls that showed a hint of red on
them, even though they were matted to her head. Her brief glimpse of her babby had planted her firmly into the very soul of her, and that’s where she would stay. They could take her away, but they couldn’t separate them. They would always be joined together, and one day she would find her. One day.
‘There, aren’t you the clever girl? Have you a name you are wanting to call her?’
‘Yes. I want to call her Megan. It is one of my names – me pappy and granna gave it to me, as it was the name of me great-grandmother. From what I was told of her, she lived a happy life with very few troubles, and surrounded by her loving family. That’s what I want for my Megan, too.’
‘Well, ’tis a lovely name, so it is. And I will be adding Anne, as she needs a saint to take care of her. Now, is it that you want to hold her, now we have her all cleaned up? But only for a moment as we have to take great care of her. She is little, but isn’t she showing a fighting spirit in her yells? She is going to be fine, so she is.’
Bridget froze. She’d thought they wouldn’t let her hold her child, and now she wasn’t sure she could. Letting go of her, after only a stolen look at her, shredded her to pieces. Oh, Mammy, Mammy, help me!
But she knew the answer – if she held her babby to her, it would destroy her. She refused. She couldn’t do it. It seemed like an icy coldness had wrapped itself around her heart, protecting it from hurt. Somehow she could deal with the things she needed to do, and she could cope with not being able to do what she wanted to do. Her mammy was surely helping her.
‘Sister?’
‘What is it, wee one?’
‘Will you give this to Megan – keep it with her at all times? It is a locket belonging to me mammy. There’s a picture of me mammy and pappy inside – their names were Bridie and Will. And tell her about me, and about her having an uncle. His name is Bert. He’s five now. And . . . and tell her I’ll come for her. If it takes me the rest of me days, I’ll come.’
‘Lie back and give yourself time to rest, wee one. Sure ’tis a hard task you have just come through. Won’t you take comfort from knowing I am with her? Because I am on my way now to the Reverend Mother.’
‘Come back and let me know. Please, Sister?’
‘To be sure I will.’
The crying of her babby stopped, but for Bridget it was just beginning. She couldn’t imagine a time when her life would not contain tears. But then, what kind of life would she have? Where would she go? Would Ethel have her back? If not, she might find herself in the correctional convent, and dear God, she didn’t want that.
‘Bridget . . . is that me wee Bridget, with her sleepy head on?’
The sun streamed through the window opposite her bed. Her eyes cringed against it, and could barely make out Sister Bernadette standing over her.
‘Sure it is a lovely day. Crisp and cold, but God in His goodness has chosen to welcome the new century by flooding His world with sunlight, so He has. And I am bursting with news and ideas for you.’
Sitting up, Bridget managed to shield herself from the glare. She looked into Sister Bernadette’s excited face as she lowered her voice and said, ‘Isn’t it as I have found out things that could lead to a future for you? Now listen: this is just for you to know. I have been after speaking to the Reverend Mother. She has money belonging to you – it isn’t for being much, but it seems your Mrs Bartram is sending it on a regular basis. Now, I have been for watching you, and I am thinking you will make a wonderful nurse. Reverend Mother agrees, and she says you can be staying here and can train under Sister Marie-Louise. There never was for being a more patient and kind person than Marie-Louise – she’s a saint, so she is, and an expert in medicine. She thinks it a wonderful idea. Sure you will get your full board and will work in the infirmary where the poor are treated. Isn’t that a wonderful solution for you?’
A trickle of hope entered Bridget. She rubbed her eyes, unsure if she was really awake or still in the land of dreaming.
‘Now, ’tis as you have to sit an exam. If that is satisfactory, then there are enough funds to pay for one year’s training; but if Mrs Bartram isn’t for carrying on with the payments, I have it on a promise that the rest of your course will come out of what Lucy’s aunt paid. This is for being a wonderful opportunity, so it is, as girls coming for training are usually funded by their families. So, what is it you are for thinking about it all?’
‘I think it’s a wonderful idea. Once I have me qualifications, I can look for paid work. I’ll write to you then, Sister Bernadette. I’ll write just as soon as that day comes, and make arrangements to pick up Megan.’
‘Oh, ’tis glad I am! You are for having your whole life ahead of you, and who knows where it will lead you? ’Tis as you are the future, and I will pray for you every day I am living.’
Right now, Bridget needed all the prayers she could get. She looked heavenwards and asked her mammy and pappy to pray for her, too. Though her mammy hadn’t taken care of her very well, she knew it wasn’t because she hadn’t loved her. Love had been in her mammy’s make-up, but her love just hadn’t had the strength of willpower behind it. Well, that wouldn’t happen to her Megan, because nothing would stop her taking care of her own child. And Bert – she would keep her promise to go and get him, too. She just had to accept that it would happen in the future, and hope and pray life wasn’t too bad for Bert in the meantime. At least she knew that Megan and Hattie would have the best care Sister Bernadette could give them. And she entrusted them to her. Oh, her little Megan . . .
As Sister Bernadette stood at the door and looked back at the young girl she had come to love, her heart filled with joy, for didn’t Bridget’s future look brighter than would ever have been possible before? And though Bridget wouldn’t thank her now for what she intended to do – keep her away from her child forever – surely it would be that she would do so in the years to come? Because as Bridget made her way in the world, wouldn’t she come to dread the sin of her past coming to light?
Well, she would see that it didn’t, and in doing so would know the beauty of it all, for Hattie and this babby now belonged to her: a woman judged at birth as having no right to marriage, simply because a vital part of her – her most private part – hadn’t formed in the way it should have.
Now, at last, she had her reward. And wasn’t it justice that it should be so? For hadn’t she for so many years endured the same longing for a child that other women had, without having it satisfied? And hadn’t she tried to find release from that longing through the power of prayer?
What was happening to her this day was all meant to happen, she knew that. Besides, it couldn’t be right, could it, that such a wonderful gift would be taken from her, only to spoil the life of wee Bridget?
Turning away, she thought: Isn’t it that they say as the good Lord is for working in mysterious ways? Well, to be sure, He has been for proving this to me this very day, so He has.
Acknowledgements
To Louise Buckley, my editor at Pan Macmillan. Louise, you have helped and guided me every step of the way. Your insightful editing of my work brings clarity where I may have muddied the waters. Thank you, Louise. Every author should have an editor like you.
To all the Pan Macmillan editorial team, especially Laura Carr for her help with the line edit and timeline of To Catch a Dream – we got there in the end, Laura. And to the publicity and sales teams, the cover artists and models, and everyone who has worked on my book – thank you.
A special thank you goes to my agent, Judith Murdoch, who is always there for me. Having known of you and your work for many years, I still have to pinch myself to think that you actually represent me! Together with Louise, you have made my journey and first year in traditional publishing much smoother, as well as one of the most exciting in my life. Thank you.
My grateful thanks go to Julie Hitchin, Stan Livingstone, Rebecca Keys, Patrick Fox, Pam Howes and my colleagues at Blackpool, Lancaster and Fleetwood probation offices; many of you read and reread earl
y versions of this novel – the list is too long to mention you all, but you know who you are and how grateful I am to you for the help and encouragement you have given me along my journey. In my self-publishing days you were my editorial team, my cover artists and my mentors, and still are, above all, my most valued friends.
Thank you, too, to my readers. I value you all. Many of you have become my friends through my Facebook page and the interaction I have with you is a source of great support to me. Your love and loyalty means the world to me and I give mine to you.
As always, my heartfelt and most important thanks and love to my wonderful family: my lovely supportive husband, Roy; my amazing children, Christine, Julie, Rachel and James – with a special thank you to James for all the help you gave me with the proof of this novel. To my adorable grandchildren and great-grandchildren. To my Olley and Wood family. All of you are there for me when I need you and all of you are my joy and inspiration.
To Catch a Dream
Born the thirteenth child of fifteen to a middle-class mother and an East End barrow boy, Mary Wood’s childhood was a mixture of love and poverty. This encouraged her to develop a natural empathy with the less fortunate and a fascination with social history. Throughout her life Mary has held various posts in catering and office roles, and in the probation service, while bringing up her four children. Mary now has numerous grandchildren, step-grandchildren and great-grandchildren. An avid reader, she first put pen to paper in 1989 whilst nursing her mother through her last months, but didn’t become successful until she began self-publishing her novels in the late 2000s.
BY MARY WOOD
The Breckton novels
To Catch a Dream
An Unbreakable Bond
Tomorrow Brings Sorrow
Time Passes Time
Proud of You
The Cotton Mill saga
Judge Me Not
First published 2013 by Books By Mary Wood