by Ber Carroll
‘The sister who’s responsible now was so lovely to me. She recommended that I have some counselling before proceeding with the trace and I took her advice. That’s why I stayed on a few extra days . . .’
‘What kind of things did they counsel you on?’ Katie asked.
‘My legal rights, Ellen’s legal rights; who to tell and when – family and friends, even though they mean well, can apply pressure to what’s already a difficult situation; how I might feel if Ellen isn’t alive or has problems . . .’
Katie hadn’t thought of the possibility of Ellen having problems. She had assumed that they would find a nice normal forty-three year old woman. The thought of her not being so was frightening.
‘So what happens now?’
‘Now, I wait,’ said Rose in a resigned way. After all, she had been waiting for over forty years: what was another few days or weeks? ‘The sister needs to check the baptismal register to see if she can find an entry for the adoption or, if we’re very lucky, a marriage. If the last known address was in a rural area, they’ll make enquiries at the local post office to see if the family still lives in the area.’
‘Maybe Ellen emigrated,’ said Katie.
‘Maybe,’ fresh tears welled in Rose’s eyes, ‘or maybe she doesn’t want anything to do with me. My only defence is that I truly believed I had no right to march into her life and turn it upside down. But your accident, and talking to Liz, changed my perspective. Now I just want to see her – to tell her I never ever forgot her and that I’m so sorry for leaving her behind . . .’
Chapter 31
Katie burst into the bedroom.
‘Mum, I can’t find the sticky-tape.’
‘I thought you were playing next door,’ said Rose, looking startled.
‘I am. I need that wide roll of sticky-tape – Annie just has the narrow stuff.’
‘Try the second drawer in the kitchen.’
‘I already did.’
‘Look harder,’ Rose told her.
It was only then that Katie noticed one of her mother’s hands hiding behind her back.
‘What have you got there?’
‘Nothing.’
The reflection in the mirror on the dresser revealed otherwise.
‘It’s not nothing,’ said Katie in a stern adult-like voice. ‘I can see it in the mirror. You shouldn’t lie, Mum.’
Rose sighed. ‘No, I shouldn’t lie. I’m sorry.’
‘Can I see it?’
Rose was on the back foot after being caught out lying. ‘You can have a quick look.’
She took her hand from behind her back for a moment.
‘It’s such a lovely pink,’ said Katie in admiration. ‘Can I keep it?’
‘What would you want with it, Katie?’
‘Mindy needs a hat.’
Mindy was her dolly.
‘It’s not a hat – it’s just an old rag.’
‘It is a hat. I saw it.’
The doorbell rang in the middle of their debate. They both went to answer it. Annie stood outside.
‘My mum said to tell you that she has the kettle on,’ she announced.
‘Well, I’d better go right there,’ smiled Rose. ‘Come on, Katie.’
‘I have to get the sticky-tape,’ Katie replied. ‘I’ll follow you.’
She found it in the second drawer, just as Rose had said. She stole back into her parents’ room and picked up the soft pink cotton from the bed. There was no question but that it was a baby’s bonnet. Katie’s eight-year-old mind couldn’t fathom why her mother had lied.
Chapter 32
Seeing Stephen seemed to manifest everything that had changed. He was no longer the eldest and Katie was no longer the only girl. They were three, not two.
‘It’s weird, isn’t it?’ he said.
‘Yes.’
His big face set in a frown. ‘I hope that Ellen isn’t hostile towards Mum. That’s assuming they find her, of course.’
‘I know.’ Katie had the same worry. ‘It would be awful if she rejected her.’
Stephen drummed his callused fingers on his jeans. He wasn’t usually one for fidgeting. ‘Tamsin says that there’s still a lot of stigma attached to being a single mother, even now.’
Katie nodded. ‘We can only imagine what it was like back in the sixties . . .’
The conversation ebbed away as the stark images of the home took over. Neither had been there to experience it for themselves, but Rose’s description had made her misery and despair vivid.
‘Not everyone was sent off to a home to have their baby,’ said Katie after a while. ‘Things were starting to change in Ireland, and Mum said that some girls, the ones with supportive families, kept their babies. But her parents didn’t care about the changes in society – having a baby out of wedlock was the worst sin imaginable to them; it was irrelevant that Mum and Dad were planning to get married.’
‘It’s so stupid.’ Stephen’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet. ‘Ellen was lost for no reason other than the pig-headedness of our grandparents.’
There was another brief silence before Katie confessed, ‘I can’t get her out of my head. What’s her life like now? What was it like when she was a kid? Did she stay in the orphanage or did someone adopt her? What does she do as her job? Does she have a husband, partner, children? Does she look like me?’
There was a spark of Stephen’s usual humour as he remarked, ‘She’d be as ugly as sin if she’s anything like you.’
‘Thanks a bunch.’
They shared a grin, then he quickly became serious again.
‘I won’t see Ellen, Katie. Well, at least not as soon as the rest of you. I’m flying home on Friday.’
‘Oh.’
Of course she knew that he would have to go home at some stage. He couldn’t stay here for months on end. He had a life, and a girlfriend, to get back to.
‘Dad is staying on here with Mum,’ he explained, ‘which means I have to go back to keep the business running –’
‘Yeah, someone around here has to work.’
Despite her light-hearted tones, she was going to miss him. Terribly. ‘Steve, can you do me a favour before you go?’
He raised a sandy eyebrow. ‘You want me to smuggle in your cigarettes?’
She hadn’t smoked since the accident.
‘No,’ she smiled, ‘it seems that going cold turkey has cured me of that particular vice. I haven’t even had cravings . . .’
‘Maybe you had them while you were unconscious,’ Stephen suggested, suddenly looking intrigued. ‘I might look that up . . .’
‘No,’ she raised her hand, ‘let’s just take it at face value. It’s my laptop I want, Steve.’
‘Where is it?’
‘In my apartment – on the counter.’
‘Consider it done.’
He came with the laptop the next day.
‘It’s a good machine, this,’ he said as he carefully extracted it from its black case.
She shook her head in mock despair. ‘Please don’t tell me that you’ve taken it apart.’
‘I just cleared up some space on your disk drive,’ he defended himself, ‘and I downloaded some software upgrades.’
He clicked the modem into the portal on the wall and pushed the ON button. The laptop whirred to life and he watched it load up with critical eyes.
‘It’s much faster now,’ he said with satisfaction.
He placed it on her lap.
‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I’ll check my messages later on.’
‘I want to make sure your dial-up is working before I go,’ he insisted.
With Stephen looking intently over her shoulder, she clicked on the dial-up icon and typed in her password. The modem sounded as it dialled the phone number.
Connected to MFJ server flashed up on the screen.
‘There,’ she said, ‘I’m in – it’s working.’
He looked pleased with himself. ‘Was the connection faster t
han usual?’
She really couldn’t tell but said yes anyway.
‘Is there anything else you need before I go?’ he asked.
There was no rush for him to leave, only that neither of them liked prolonged goodbyes.
‘No, Stephen. Thanks for everything.’
‘Take care of yourself, kiddo.’ He gave her an awkward hug. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
‘Safe home,’ she choked and pulled him back for another clumsy hug.
The door closed behind him and she stared blankly at it until the heat emitting from the bottom of the laptop reminded her that it was there.
She opened her inbox and the screen filled up with the bold text of unread messages. She read only the ones from Jim, starting at the oldest and working her way up.
12/9 Our first fight. Wish I was there to make up.
14/9 Still mad at me?
15/9 Katie, please switch on your phone so we can sort this out.
17/9 You’ve made your point. Now, can you please turn on your phone?
Katie’s heart was thumping painfully when she got to the last message.
20/9 These kinds of games do nothing for me, Katie. We obviously don’t have as much in common as I thought. Maybe we should call it off.
Jim didn’t know about the accident. Neil hadn’t passed on the message. Katie was euphoric that there was such a simple, logical explanation for why he hadn’t been in touch. However, there was no denying that the relevance of her explanation had diminished significantly with the passage of time. It was three weeks since their argument, two weeks since Jim’s last angry email suggesting they call it off. It would be bizarre to ring him now, when he thought it was over between them, to say, ‘Guess what? I’ve been in a major accident – that’s why you haven’t heard from me.’
As Katie reread Jim’s last message, Maura came in with her usual hustle and bustle.
‘Computers aren’t allowed,’ she stated, frowning at the laptop. ‘They can interfere with the electricity supply and medical equipment around here.’
‘Sorry. I didn’t know.’
‘I’ll turn a blind eye this time. Now, how’s the patient today?’
‘I’m okay,’ Katie answered distractedly as Maura felt for a pulse on her foot.
‘How does the leg feel?’
‘Fine.’
‘That’s good.’ She nodded and scribbled on the chart. ‘Before you know it you’ll be dancing a jig for us.’ She hooked the chart back onto the end of the bed. ‘Remember, don’t leave that laptop running for too long,’ she instructed on her way out.
Katie knew she needed to phone Jim. She should have done it at the start, when she’d come out of the coma. Her excuse? Her head had been foggy and she didn’t contemplate the possibility that the message wouldn’t get back to Jim and her colleagues; between the constant visitors, the ins and outs of the nurses and the time difference, there’d been few opportunities to pick up the phone and conduct a private conversation; then there was the evolving family saga with Rose and Ellen, which was distracting to say the least. Was it too late now? How would Jim react? Would it change how he felt? Or would he just say ‘Sorry to hear that’ as he might to any other ex-girlfriend?
‘You seem rather down today,’ said Rose when she came in later on in the afternoon.
‘I’m missing Stephen already,’ Katie replied, but that was only one of the reasons why she felt so low.
‘He’s not flying out until the morning,’ said Rose. ‘I could ask him to come around now, if you’d like.’
Katie was firm. ‘No, we’ve already said goodbye.’
She let the conversation fall into a lull. She would have preferred to be on her own, but she didn’t have the heart to ask Rose to go away.
‘I expect that Stephen’s keen to get back to Tamsin,’ Rose commented after a while.
‘Yes,’ Katie gave a wry smile, ‘he seems to be rather smitten.’
‘Now, if I could get you settled, I’d be completely happy,’ said Rose.
On any other day Katie could have laughed it off. But not today. Tears welled in her eyes.
Rose was taken aback. ‘What it is, darling? Is it your leg? Is it hurting?’
Katie shook her head, her hand rough as it wiped the tears away before they had the chance to fall.
‘Is it something I said? I didn’t mean to be insensitive.’
Rose looked so distraught that Katie had to tell her. She wanted to keep it simple and just talk about Jim, but she inevitably got tangled up in Laura, Mags, Carole and Neil, and their pivotal roles in the whole sorry saga.
‘It was never meant to be,’ she said wearily at the end. ‘It’s too complicated.’
‘It’s only as complicated as you want it to be,’ replied Rose authoritatively. ‘Your defences are down, Katie, and everything looks bleak and impossible to you right now. I felt the same when I was trapped in the home. Don’t make the same mistake as me – nothing is impossible.’
Rose said goodbye soon after and left Katie to mull over her words of wisdom.
Eventually, when Katie calculated it to be early morning in Auckland, she picked up the phone and called Jim’s number. It rang and rang. She was about to hang up when it was answered.
‘Hello . . . Hello . . . Who is it?’
She recognised Carole’s voice, heavy and tired, as if she’d just woken up. The old Katie, the one with the high-flying job and energetic lifestyle, would have brazened it out and demanded to speak to Jim. The new Katie, the one who lay day in day out on a hospital bed, wasn’t as self-confident and could only imagine one reason why Carole would be answering Jim’s phone so early in the morning: he had moved on.
Katie quietly returned the receiver to its handset.
That night she cried herself to sleep. Again.
A few days later Maura turned Katie’s bed so it was facing the window.
‘This might cheer you up. Give you a new perspective on things. I’ve noticed you’ve been pretty low these past few days.’
Katie gave a small smile.
‘It can’t stay like this permanently,’ she warned. ‘I’ll have to turn it back at dinnertime.’
‘At least it’s a change from staring at the wall,’ Katie tried to joke.
The view was of a narrow pavement along a terrace of redbrick houses. Katie watched people walk along the pavement and go in and out of the houses as if she was watching a reality TV show. But the camera was stuck on that one view. And the natural light had a greyish tinge that couldn’t be adjusted because someone had pressed fast forward and it was now autumn.
Katie didn’t notice when the door opened quietly behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice say ‘Hello.’
It was Amy and she was carrying a bunch of flowers that would have made a sizeable dent in her meagre income.
‘I’m sorry I frightened you. It’s a habit I have – Barry kills me for “sneaking around”.’
‘The flowers are beautiful,’ said Katie. ‘Can I smell them?’
Amy brought them closer and Katie inhaled their fragrance. It was such a pleasure to smell something other than hospital-grade detergent.
‘Do you have a vase?’ asked Amy.
‘There should be one in the bathroom.’
Amy opened the door of the bathroom with the same trepidation as one might open the door of a furnace. Even when she turned on the tap, Katie heard the sound of a soft trickle rather than the usual gush. Everything about Amy was gentle, and it was frustratingly easy for Barry to treat her like a doormat.
The vase filled with water, Amy started to arrange the flowers. She looked awkward as she adjusted the angle of the stems. It was obvious that flower arranging wasn’t something she did very often.
‘Has the Labour Court set a date?’ asked Katie.
‘Yes. The middle of next month – Mags said that she will be attending in your place.’
‘Barry will meet his match with Mags,’ Katie as
sured her.
Amy gave the flowers one last critical look before sitting down.
‘Actually, I didn’t come here to talk about the Labour Court. I came with a message from my dad.’
Katie frowned with confusion. What had Amy’s father to do with anything?
‘Jerry,’ said Amy. ‘Jerry is my dad.’
Katie was knocked sideways. It had never entered her head that Amy’s alcoholic father was Jerry, the man who had shouted abuse at her in the clinic, the man who had terrified her to the point where she had lost her balance on the kerb, the man who had pulled her out from under the vehicle and held her hand until the ambulance came.
‘It’s a small world,’ was all she managed to say.
‘Not as small as you think,’ replied Amy. ‘It was Dad who told me about the clinic. He said you girls knew what you were doing and would tell me straight if I had a case or not.’
While Katie took in the unexpected connection, Amy undid the clasp of her PVC handbag and took out a folded sheet of paper.
‘He wrote you a message. He asked me to bring it to you, they’d never let his sort inside the doors here.’
Katie unfolded the sheet with its rough perforated edge. The spidery handwriting spilt over the pale blue lines.
‘I hope you can read it,’ said Amy. ‘He has terrible shakes in his hands after so many years on the turps.’
I’m deeply sorry about your accident. I’d been following you for weeks but I couldn’t get you alone, you were always with someone. All I wanted to do was say sorry for shouting at you that day in the clinic and to thank you for helping Amy. Of course you wouldn’t have known that I meant you no harm – the look of me is enough to scare anyone. The drink has made me into a filthy foul-mouthed shell, but inside I’m just like any other man who loves his daughter beyond anything else.
My sincerest apologies,
Jerry
Katie clutched the piece of paper long after she had finished reading it. She was incredibly sad: sad for Jerry and his unquenchable thirst; sad for Amy and her rotten childhood; sad that had she the tiniest ounce of faith in the homeless man, her accident would have been avoidable.