Irish Secrets

by Paula Martin

  "Why not?"

  "Because—" She giggled. "For one thing, how would I ever manage to take part in another Living History play here if we – if all I can think about is – oh, you know what I mean. Besides, I thought you wanted to take me to a posh hotel in Dublin?"

  He pressed his hand on the bed. "You're right, and this mattress is as hard as a stone slab anyway." He leant forward to kiss her again. "When can we go to Dublin?"

  "Next weekend?"

  His eyebrows shot up. "Is that right? You're not working?"

  "No, I checked with Charley this evening while you were talking to Guy. There's a Mixed Media Landscape workshop all day Saturday, so I won't be needed, and Charley said they can manage without me on Sunday."

  "So will I book a hotel for Friday and Saturday nights?"

  She gave him a seductive smile under her lashes that caused his chest to constrict. "Yes, please."

  He hugged her to him and ignored the echo of Enya's voice about no distractions. "I shall count the days – no, the hours, until next Friday evening, a ghrá."

  "A ghrá? What does that mean?"

  "My love, or, if you prefer, a ghrá mo chroí, which means love of my heart."

  She smiled and reached up to kiss his cheek. "I like both of those."

  * * * * * *

  Maeve was waiting in the hallway the next morning after Kara finished the drama session in the lounge with a tour group from Galway.

  "Kara, do you have a minute to spare?"

  "Yes, of course." She glanced around at the people who were drifting into the hallway, and took Maeve into the small parlour.

  "I called a couple of my friends this morning," Maeve said, "and I asked them about Margaret Kelly."

  Kara held her breath. "Did they remember anything about her?"

  "Well, I'll start by saying no one knows where she is now, but one of them said she had a Galway accent, which I'd forgotten."

  Her heart sank at Maeve's first comment, but any information was better than none. "Does that mean she came from County Galway or the city?"

  "Now I'm not sure about that. Growing up in Clifden, I used to be able to hear differences in accents and words, even from places only ten or fifteen miles apart, but I think those differences have lessened now people travel around more. Anyhow, it seems Margaret came from somewhere here in the west of Ireland."

  "That's a start," Kara said with a smile, "because we had no idea where she might have been born."

  "And, o' course, it would explain why she ended up in the Ballykane home instead of one of the Dublin homes."

  "You mean the girls had a choice of which home they went to?"

  "No, no, it was usually the family who took the girl to the home, or even the parish priest. Anyhow, my friend Annie thinks Margaret started her training at another hospital, and transferred to Our Lady's in 1960."

  "Does she know how long she was there?"

  "Annie says Margaret left when she got married. She thinks it might have been in '64 or '65, but she couldn't remember the husband's name. It was a long time ago, o' course, but she said she'll ask another friend she's still in contact with from that time."

  "I really appreciate your help, Maeve."

  "I'm sorry I've not been able to find out more for you, but I wish you success with your search. I'm sure your mother will be so thrilled if you manage to trace her birth mother."

  Kara gave her a weak smile. "I'm less sure about that. My mom's not interested."

  Maeve raised her eyebrows. "Is that right? She thinks her mother abandoned her, does she? I've heard the nuns often told the adoptive parents the child was willingly given away. Maybe that's what your mother was told."

  * * * * *

  Ryan's phone buzzed while he crouched in the bushes on Sunday evening, waiting to see if someone would turn up at the cottage to collect whatever Paddy would take to Roscommon the next morning. Not that there seemed to be anything to collect. He'd emptied every box earlier, as Enya instructed, and found nothing.

  Seeing Kara's name on the screen, he risked clicking his phone to answer. He could always disconnect if anyone arrived.

  "Hi, how are ye?"

  "I'm okay, but Maeve's not been able to find out much more about Margaret Kelly. It's possible she came from somewhere in or near Galway, and she got married in 1964 or '65, but the friends Maeve called can't remember anything else."

  "Another brick wall, is it? I wonder if the hospital records would tell us anything more?"

  "Do you think they still exist?"

  "I'll ask Declan. Meantime, I've booked us a room at the Sheldon for two nights."

  Her voice softened. "I'm looking forward to that so much"

  His gut tightened. "Me, too."

  "Where are you now?"

  "Oh, just hanging around waiting." At least that wasn't a lie. "The busy time starts when people leave the pubs and want a taxi back to their hotels."

  "When do you finish tonight?"

  "Midnight, unless I get a fare out to Skelleen or Roundstone at the last minute."

  Kara laughed. "I bet you're keeping everything crossed that no one wants a taxi at five minutes to midnight."

  "I am, because I have to be up early in the morning."

  "You mean they make you work an early shift the day after doing the late shift?"

  Too late he realised he'd said the wrong thing. "No, I'm not working until two o'clock tomorrow, but I have a couple of other jobs to do before that."

  He couldn't tell her about the rental car he'd parked earlier in the street near the taxi office, ready to follow Tom Wild to Roscommon again. Always assuming Paddy was doing his regular trip there, of course.

  The sound of a car engine alerted him to someone coming down the lane from the main road.

  "Gotta go," he said quickly. "I'll call you tomorrow."

  Seconds after he clicked off his phone, the car turned into the Mist Na Mara car park, and he heaved a sigh. The waiting was the hardest part of this job, and it occurred to him more than once that a window seat in the Victorian bedroom would be far more comfortable. From that vantage point, he would have a clear view of anyone approaching or leaving the cottage, but it was impossible, of course.

  Five hours later, he stretched his cramped limbs. He doubted anyone would drive a car or van to the cottage in the middle of the night, for fear of attracting attention, so it now remained to be seen whether Paddy Walsh would turn up with his box at the taxi office tomorrow morning. If he did, it meant they had found somewhere else to hide the goods. If he didn't, then God knew what it meant, but he had a strong suspicion the Waterside Hall loot had already been taken out of the area and was on its way to Belfast, or further afield.

  * * * * *

  Kara's phone rang at twenty minutes after seven on Monday evening, while supper was being served in the staff dining room. They had a rule to mute their phones during meal times, but she'd forgotten. She retrieved it from her pocket and glanced at the screen. Seeing Sister Gabriel's name, she stood up. "I do apologise, but I need to take this call."

  As she closed the door behind her, she pressed the icon. "Hi, Sister, how are you?"

  "I'm very well, thank you, and I think I may have some good news for you, my dear. I asked Sister Augusta about Margaret Kelly, and she found about twenty letters that a Margaret Kelly has sent over several years, asking for information about her daughter."

  Kara's pulse started to race. "And you think it's the same Margaret?"

  "I have the most recent letter here, dated June 6th this year, just over a month ago. Let me read it to you: My name was Margaret Kelly and I was sent to the Ballykane Mother and Baby Home in January, 1959, where I was known by the name of Honora. I gave birth to my daughter Aileen on June 6th, 1959. As I had been training as a children's nurse, I worked in the nursery at Ballykane until April, 1960, when my daughter was taken away. No one ever told me where she went or who adopted her, and my husband and I have spent over fifty years searching fo
r her, but with no success. Now I am in my seventies, I would dearly love to be reunited with my daughter or, at the very least, to know what happened to her. If you have any information about her, I beg you to tell me. Yours sincerely, Margaret Mary Sheridan."

  Kara struggled to breathe. "This has to be the right person, Sister. Does Margaret's letter show her address?"

  "It does, and a telephone number, too."

  "Oh!" Panic-stricken, Kara glanced up and down the corridor. "Please would you wait a minute? I don't have a pen or paper with me." She had no alternative but to go back into the dining room, and she put her hand over the mouthpiece as she opened the door. "Excuse me, but I need someone to write down an address for me."

  Guy was the first to respond. He pulled out his phone, swiped the screen, and said, "Go ahead."

  Kara repeated the address and phone number Sister Gabriel told her, and Guy typed it on his phone. She mouthed, "Thank you" to him, and returned to the corridor.

  A bubble of excitement tickled her stomach. "Sister, I can't thank you enough. This is amazing."

  "Kara, before you build up your hopes, let me remind you of one thing. There's no absolute proof that this Margaret Kelly is your grandmother."

  The bubble refused to be deflated. "But I met someone at the weekend who worked with Margaret in the 1960s at a children's hospital in Dublin, and she said I looked like her."

  "Well, now, that's interesting, to be sure, but fifty years is a long time to remember someone's appearance. After all, I was at Ballykane at the same time as Margaret, but I only have a vague recollection of her."

  Kara nodded. "Yes, I understand what you're saying, Sister, but – well, do you think it would be okay for me to call Margaret, or should I write to her?"

  She sensed the nun's hesitation before she spoke again. "I would usually suggest writing, as I did when you found Theresa's address, but in this case, a telephone call might be acceptable, since Margaret's letter says that she and her husband have been searching for her daughter."

  Her heart lifted. "Which means she hasn't hidden her secret from her husband, doesn't it?"

  "It would appear so, but I would still advise caution, my dear. I've already warned you against raising your hopes, and you should take care not to raise Margaret's hopes too much, either. In case this proves to be a false trail, you understand."

  "Yes, you're right. I'll think carefully before I call her. But thank you again, Sister."

  "And you will let me know what you discover, won't you?"

  "Of course I will."

  After ending the call, Kara leant against the wall. Too many thoughts whizzed around in her mind to catch hold of any of them. She turned when Guy came out of the dining room.

  "Is everything okay, Kara?"

  "Yes, I think so."

  He indicated his phone. "I've texted the address to you. Is this anything to do with your search for your mom's birth mother?"

  "It might be her address."

  "Might? Aren't you sure?"

  She sighed. "I wish I was, but although everything points to her being the right person, the evidence is circumstantial. I don't have any conclusive proof."

  Guy grinned. "You're a forensic scientist, Kara. How would you obtain that kind of proof?"

  "I guess maternal mitochondrial DNA testing is the only sure proof, because it's passed down from the mother to all her children, but I don't think my mom would ever agree to that."

  "Wouldn't your mom pass it down to you?"

  Kara gave a low laugh. "Now I know I'm not thinking straight at the moment. Yes, of course she would. But first I need to contact Margaret Kelly, and that makes me nervous."

  "Why?"

  "Because I've had a lot of disappointments in this search, and this could be another, despite what every instinct is telling me."

  "Take your time, and think about it. There's no rush, is there?"

  "No, except the address Sister Gabriel gave me is in Dublin, and I'm going there next weekend with Ryan."

  Guy raised his eyebrows. "So you and Ryan—?"

  She gave him an embarrassed smile. "Stop jumping to conclusions. Yes, I like him, and he likes me, but it's early days, and I still don't know a lot about him, except—"

  "Except what?"

  Except the more she saw of Ryan, the more she wondered why such an intelligent man seemed content to drift from one casual job to another.

  "Oh, nothing really." She retrieved Guy's text message and stared down at it. "Now I have to decide whether to contact Margaret Sheridan."

  Chapter 19

  "Go on, call her," Ryan said two days later, when they sat on the terrace of a restaurant overlooking Clifden harbour. "You've nothing to lose, but perhaps a lot to gain, if it is the right person."

  Kara gave him a shaky smile. "I keep going over in my mind what to say to her, and wondering how she'll react. Maybe I should have asked Sister Gabriel to contact her first, or even someone from the Adoption Agency."

  "But you know she's been searching for her daughter, so it's different from Theresa, isn't it? And her husband knows, too."

  "Yes." Kara studied her phone for a few moments and took a deep breath. "Okay, here goes."

  Her hand trembled as she pressed the numbers, and she shot an anxious glance at Ryan when the ring tone sounded. He slipped his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder.

  After four rings, a man's voice answered. "Hallo?"

  "Hi. May I speak to Mrs. Sheridan, please?"

  "Who's calling?"

  "Well, she doesn't know me, but my name's Kara Stewart. I'm American, and living at Clifden in County Galway at present. I've been researching my – my Irish ancestry, and I think I may have a link with Mrs. Sheridan's family."

  "Just a minute."

  She heard him call, "Margaret!" but whatever else he said was inaudible.

  Nothing happened for what seemed an eternity until a woman's voice said, "Hello? This is Margaret Sheridan. My husband says you're researching your ancestry. I'm not sure how I can help, but I'll do my best."

  She sounded nervous, and Kara remembered Sister Gabriel's advice about not raising her hopes. "Hello, Mrs. Sheridan. I realise this may come as a bit of a surprise to you, but my mother was born in 1959 at Ballykane. She was adopted by an American couple, and I'm trying to find her birth mother."

  During the pause that followed, Kara wondered if Margaret's heart was beating as fast as her own.

  "I see," Margaret said eventually. "Do you know her date of birth?"

  "I thought I did, but I've discovered it was entered wrongly on her adoption certificate. All I know is that her adoption was dated April 21st, 1960."

  "April 21st? Oh." Another pause. "You – you don't happen to know her name, do you? Her original name, I mean, before she was adopted."

  Kara floundered. "No, I'm sorry, I don't. That's one of the problems we've been up against, but the thing is, I met someone who used to work with you at the children's hospital in Dublin in the 1960s, and she said I reminded her of you, and everyone says how like my mother I am, and I – well, I thought—"

  She groaned inwardly. Her rehearsed speech dissolved into incoherency, and she struggled to reassemble her thoughts.

  "And everyone used to tell me how much I looked like my own mother," Margaret said quietly.

  Kara's breath caught in her throat. "Mrs. Sheridan, I know we shouldn't jump to wild conclusions, but Sister Gabriel told me you've written to the convent several times asking for information about your daughter."

  "Sister Gabriel?"

  "I think you knew her as Bernadette O'Brien."

  "You've met Bernie? And she's now a nun?"

  "Yes, and that's quite a long story, but—"

  "Miss – er – Stewart, is it?"

  "Kara Stewart."

  "May I call you Kara? You said this was a surprise, Kara, and you're right about us not jumping to conclusions, but my heart is thumping like a drum right now. Jon and I have searched for year
s to find out what happened to Aileen, and I hardly dare start to hope, but is there any possibility of meeting with you? We'll come across to Clifden if—"

  "I'll be in Dublin next weekend, Mrs. Sheridan." She glanced at Ryan who nodded. "Sister Gabriel gave me your address, and I'm coming to Dublin by car with a friend, so we could come to your house. If that's okay with you, of course."

  "It is indeed. Oh my goodness, after all these years. And there are so many questions I want to ask you, I don't know where to start, but I'll write them all down. Oh, I am so anxious to meet you, and Jon will be, too, when I tell him what you've said. Will two o'clock on Saturday be convenient for you?"

  "Yes, of course. I'll look forward to meeting you."

  After clicking off her phone, Kara tried to control her shaking limbs. She turned to Ryan. "I'm sure it's the right person. She even said she looked like her own mother. That can't be a coincidence, can it?"

  He grasped her hand. "I hope it isn't, for her sake, and for yours, too. You will remember to take your photos, won't you?"

  "Yes, of course, and I'll take my tablet, because I have loads more photos of my mom and dad, and of Matthew and me, too."

  Ryan grinned. "Are those the ones you wouldn't let me see? One of you with pigtails?"