Maria sat in stunned silence, unable to imagine her lovely, quiet mother being involved in all of this secrecy and scandal.
Eileen Donovan looked over at her husband and then she came over to stand by the side of his chair, and put her hand on his shoulder. “Your mother and Casey denied it all,” she said now in a quiet, thin voice, “and naturally enough we took her side . . .”
“It was her age and the fact she was a quiet girl,” Patrick said. “She had never given us a minute’s trouble before she met him.”
Eileen gave a great sigh now. “We said we would find a new piano teacher. Then, a couple of weeks later, we woke up one morning to find that Anna was gone and a note on her bed to say she was in love with him and they had run away to England.”
There was a silence and then Patrick said. “Tell her it all. Tell her the rest of the story . . .”
Maria glanced up at her grandmother and was shocked when she saw how white her face was. “We found out from her friend at school,” Eileen said, “that she was expecting a baby. We were devastated and worried sick about her but, when his wife got to hear of it, she almost went mad. She went down to the canal and threw herself in, and if it hadn’t been for her two brothers who went looking for her and dragged her out, there would have been five children left without a mother or a father.” She stopped now, just staring down at the floor.
“And it didn’t finish there . . .” Patrick said.
Maria got to her feet now and went over to stand by the window. She didn’t want to listen now; she didn’t want to hear any more. She had heard enough to understand why her mother could never come back to Tullamore to live again. She had heard enough to understand now why her grandmother was the way she was.
Her grandfather shook his head and gave a strange sort of laugh. “The following night, after they’d had a few drinks, her two brothers came up to the house here looking for an address of where they had gone. Of course, we were no wiser than them, but they wouldn’t believe it. They thought we were covering up for Anna and Casey.” He lifted his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “Anyway, one word borrowed another – they were volatile fellows, like that son you met tonight – and the next thing the pair of them set about me and Eileen had to run inside and phone for the Guards. A half an hour later we were all sitting in the station in Tullamore.”
“If it hadn’t been for our solicitor speaking up for us,” Eileen said, “we would all have landed up in the court and no doubt the newspapers and everything.”
Maria suddenly thought. She turned around now towards them again. “What happened about the baby?” she asked. “Did he get divorced and did they try to get married or anything?”
Her grandmother looked at her, then she smoothed her hands over her greying hair, as though trying to gather herself together. “No – no. We heard nothing from her for two years. We didn’t know where they were or anything. And then we got a letter from Anna to say that she was getting married to your father. It seems she lost the baby after she arrived in England. She got some kind of job playing the piano in a hotel and then, a few months later, Casey disappeared again and left her on her own. It seems the people who owned the hotel were good to her and gave her a room and all that, and then she met your father.”
“You know the rest of it,” her grandfather said. “Anna knew she could never come back here and she didn’t want your father to find out the truth, so she told him and you that we didn’t approve of her marrying an Italian.” He held his hands up. “There’s no point in us going over it all again … it’s not going to change anything now.”
“She was a young, silly girl,” Eileen Donovan said, “but she was never a bad girl. She was more naïve and easily led at that time. She didn’t know what she had got herself into with John Casey, and then she never managed to find a way out.” She halted. “And then of course Ambrose was born and was very ill, and we all had a lot more on our minds. We knew she was okay and we just thought it was better to let her live her own life over in England since that’s what she wanted.”
There was a silence in the room and then suddenly there was the sound of shouting and feet running down the hall. Everyone looked startled and, for a moment, Maria thought she was imagining things, as though listening to the accounts of the dramatic events had made her relive them in her head.
And then, the door was flung open and Jude stood there looking at them all.
“It’s Ambrose!” he shouted. “What the feck are you all doing down here, leaving him on his own? He’s collapsed up in the kitchen. He can’t get a breath!” He swung back towards the hallway. “We need to get him into the car and straight into the hospital. If we wait for the ambulance we’re going to lose him . . .”
Chapter 45
The snowflakes fell heavier and thicker as Maria and Sister Theresa followed the Donovans’ car slowly, through the slippery, winding roads all the way to Tullamore Hospital. Theresa had phoned to warn the casualty department that they were on their way while Jude and Patrick were carrying Ambrose, swaddled in his blankets, out to the car. By the time they arrived at Casualty, there were two doctors and two nurses waiting for them.
Theresa and Maria abandoned the green Morris Minor and ran over to the other car to check how he was.
“He’s not great,” Patrick said, as the nurses settled Ambrose onto a trolley and covered him with more blankets. “We gave him his inhaler and all the usual things, but he’s not great . . .”
And then, when they got inside the doors, the family were asked to stay in the waiting room and Ambrose was wheeled off down a corridor. There were a few other groups of people in the waiting room, but no one any of them knew. They went over to sit at a Formica-topped table in the corner.
When they were settled down, Jude asked, “When did Ambrose’s chest start up again?”
“This morning,” his mother said. “It was only a bit of a wheeze to start with, but it worsened as the day went on . . . I’ve never seen it go as quickly as this before. Hopefully when they get the machines on his chest and clear it, he’ll come around.”
“What was so important,” Jude asked, in the same brittle tone he had used back at the house, “that you had to leave him on his own?”
Maria felt her chest tighten and closed her eyes hard to stop herself from crying.
“It was my fault . . .” she started in a quivery voice. “They had to explain something to me that we didn’t want Ambrose to hear.”
Her grandfather put his arm around her. “Now, you can forget fault and blame,” he said, his manner gentle. “If we’re going to talk like that, then we have to take the blame for leaving it so long to talk to you.” He looked over at Jude. “She had a bit of trouble in Tullamore this afternoon with one of the Casey lads . . . that’s what started it all off. Seemingly, he’d had a few drinks and it must have loosened his tongue.”
“I thought they were all in Athlone,” Jude said. “The family moved years ago.”
“One of them works in Salts Factory in Tullamore,” Eileen said, her voice flat and emotionless.
Jude’s eyes darted from his father to Maria. “And was he very awkward?”
“Very,” Sister Theresa said. “But Maria stood her ground and he eventually went.”
“So,” Jude said, slumping back in his chair, “you all had the big talk when you came back?”
“We did,” his father said. “It’s all out now. There’s nothing else to say about it.”
There was another silence and then Maria looked around at the other four faces. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry it happened when Ambrose wasn’t well . . . I’d no idea how sick he was.”
“None of us did,” Patrick said. “Sometimes it comes on that quickly it catches you unawares.”
“Oh God,” Eileen said, her hands coming up to cover her face, “I hope he’s all right, I hate to think of the poor soul down there with the doctors on his own. I hope he’s not frightened . . .”
Sist
er Theresa went over to take her hand. “He’s a brave boy, Eileen,” she said. “He’s braver than any one of us.”
“I wonder at times does he understand the seriousness of it all,” Patrick said quietly.
“Ah, he does . . . and he doesn’t,” Jude said. “But Sister Theresa’s right, he’s a brave lad.”
There was a lull and then Maria said in a low voice. “It all seems so pointless now. All this stuff about my mother . . . when I think of poor Ambrose, it just seems stupid to have been so upset. It was years ago . . . what does it matter now? The only thing that matters is that Ambrose gets well.”
“You’re so right,” Sister Theresa said, smiling over at her. “Those are wise words. Let the poor souls that are gone rest in peace, and let the rest of us get on with the business of helping one another.”
A young blonde nurse came down the corridor, and when she turned in to the waiting room and came towards them Maria was surprised to see it was Cathy, the girl she had met in the cinema. The girl that Jude had said his mother wasn’t keen on.
“Mrs and Mrs Donovan?” she said. “The doctors would like a word with you now.” She turned her gaze to Maria and said hello to her, and then she looked at Jude. “I’m sorry about Ambrose . . .”
Jude nodded a brief greeting to her, then he said, “Is it all right if I go with them? I’d like to see him too.”
She thought for a moment, and then she said, “Yes, I think it will be okay. If it’s not, you can wait outside.”
They all went down the corridor then, Cathy walking alongside Ambrose’s parents and Jude walking behind them on his own.
Sister Theresa reached across the Formica table now and took Maria’s hand. “It’s been a hard night,” she said to her, “but you’ve done well. You’ve learned a lot since you arrived, in more ways than one.”
A while later the three Donovans came walking back down the corridor with grave faces.
“Ambrose is very bad,” Patrick told Maria and Sister Theresa. “But they’re doing all they can for him. They have him on ventilators and oxygen and machines to clear his chest.”
“How is he in himself?” Sister Theresa asked.
“He can’t talk or anything,” Jude said. He gave a weak smile. “And that’s always a bad sign with Ambrose.”
“We just have to wait,” Patrick said. “Wait and pray.”
Maria sat still saying nothing. She had been through all this before just a few months ago. If she closed her eyes she could still picture herself sitting in the hospital in Stockport along with Diana. And the worst thing was, she felt almost as sad now with Ambrose as she did with her own father. She didn’t know how she would manage if anything happened to him. She just couldn’t imagine life in the Donovans’ house without his cheery presence. She couldn’t imagine life without him at all.
In a few short months, she now realised, she had come to know and love her young uncle very much.
Chapter 46
It was almost midnight when the doctors came to tell them all that Ambrose had turned a corner. A small corner – but there was significant improvement in his condition nonetheless. His chest and lungs had started to clear of the thick mucus that was obstructing his breathing.
“He’s not out of the woods yet,” the doctor said, “but Ambrose is a fighter. We’ve seen him this way before and he’s pulled through.” He looked at the weary five. “I’d advise you all to go home and go to bed now. We’ve given Ambrose something to help him sleep, so he should be settled overnight.”
“You’ll ring us if anything changes for the worse?” Eileen Donovan brought her hanky to her mouth.
“The very minute anything changes we’ll ring,” the doctor said.
Cathy came over to them now. “I’ll be with him all the time and I’ll make sure you’re kept up to date.”
“Thank you,” Eileen said. “I’ll feel easier knowing that.”
They made the same slippery journey back home, although a frost had settled down over the snow making it more compacted and slightly easier to drive on. Theresa dropped Maria off at the house and said she would call up first thing in the morning.
They were all exhausted when they finally got into the house and, after a slice of tea and toast, they began to prepare to go to bed. Maria was touched when her grandmother, in the midst of everything, took the time to fill her hot-water bottle for her.
“You’ll need this tonight,” Eileen said. “Apart from the cold, you need to get a good night’s sleep.”
She paused and looked at Maria. “You were supposed to come here to be minded after your poor father died, and look at what’s happened to you now . . . You’ll be wishing to God you’d never laid eyes on any of us.”
Maria felt tears welling up. She shook her head. “No, it’s quite the opposite . . . Tonight has shown me that I’ve found what my father wanted for me. Tonight when I saw Ambrose on the trolley I realised how much I love him. It’s only been a few months, but knowing him has changed everything. It might sound the sort of dramatic thing a teenager might just say for attention, but I really mean it.”
“We know you do,” her grandmother said. “You only have to look in your eyes to see you mean it.” She then moved and, for the first time, held her granddaughter tightly in her arms. “You’re a good girl, Maria. And God bless your father for having the good sense to send you to us.”
“I think we all agree with that,” Patrick said. “And nobody more than Ambrose!”
After a while, when they moved apart, brushing tears away, Maria went over to her grandfather and Jude and took both their hands. “Whether we all wanted it or not in the beginning, I’m part of this family now, and whatever happens, I’ll be here to help look after Ambrose.”
Maria woke several times in the night, and each time she vividly remembered the dream she had just come out of. The worst one had been one where she and Stella were walking at the edge of a canal and then, without warning, Stella had just jumped in to the dark, muddy water. Maria had run up and down the bank trying to find her, but eventually had to give up when two tall policemen in uniforms came and took her away. As they drove her away in the car, there was a line of people all waving to her, and when she looked back at them, she could see her father and mother and Ambrose and Franco all laughing and chatting together.
When she woke up after that particular dream, she knew that she had dreamt about Stella because she had crossed her mind a number of times recently, since all the things had come to light about her own mother. The comparisons were frighteningly obvious. She knew without doubt that her friend had been so besotted by Tony that, if he had encouraged her, Stella would have run away with him too. And, like her mother, she too had got herself into a situation where she might easily have been pregnant.
As she lay in the dark working it all out, she realised that while she liked Paul Spencer very much, she was not besotted to the extent she would get into the trouble either her mother or Stella had.
She did not know if this meant she didn’t care enough about Paul, or whether she was more old-fashioned and sensible. Time, she knew, would let her know where her feelings lay. For the present, she was more than happy to look forward to seeing him and her other friends in Manchester at Christmas and catching up on all his news.
She had fallen asleep again and it was light when she woke from another dream about her grandmother playing “Morning” on the piano. It was a strange dream, but not so frightening as the one about the canal. She had just turned over when the phone ringing down in the hallway sounded throughout the house. Her heart started to pound and, as she ran across the room to get her dressing-gown and slippers, she was mumbling ‘The Memorare’ prayer to herself, asking Our Lady to look after Ambrose and not to let him die.
She had just got down to the bottom of the stairs when Jude came towards her.
“It’s for you,” he said, smiling and pointing down the hallway to where the receiver lay on its side on the table. “It’s yo
ur friend, Franco, from Manchester.”
She didn’t know whether to be relieved it wasn’t about Ambrose or pleased it was a call from home. “I won’t be a minute,” she said. “Just in case the hospital might be trying to phone . . .”
Jude winked at her. “As far as I’m concerned, no news from them is good news.”
“Hello, Marietta!” Franco said, sounding like his cheery old self. “How are you over there in Ireland? I was talking to your nice uncle and he said you’re settled in well.”
“I am, thanks, Franco,” she told him. “But I’m afraid my other uncle is very, very sick and in hospital, so I can’t talk long in case they are trying to phone us.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” he said, “and I will be very quick. I have good news for you, Maria. The house has a buyer, and at a good price. The other news is that the solicitor found a big insurance policy which will give you much more money than we expected, and your father had cleared a lot of his debts this year, so the bills are not as bad as we thought. The accounts show that the restaurant was making a good weekly profit as long as every-thing . . . as long as everything was properly documented.”
Music from Home Page 38