Her Revolution

by Gemma Jackson

“Are you alright, Mum?” Ronan bent across the coffee table and offered his hand.

  Finn allowed herself to be helped from her seat. Ronan put his arm around her shoulders and led her into the dining room. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table and practically pushed Finn into the seat. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Well, bro, it looks like you’ve put the cat among the pigeons,” Oisín said when Ronan appeared in the kitchen. “It seems there really is some big dark secret in our family.”

  “Oisín, I think our mother is going into shock,” Ronan plugged the electric kettle into the socket almost absentmindedly. He watched Oisín take the apple-pie from the oven. “How on earth can you think of food at a time like this?”

  “Look, bro, it’s obvious we’re about to discover a whole world of family history. It seems to me that we would all be better sitting around the table with something to shove down our gobs.” Oisín shrugged his shoulders. “That’s all.”

  “Trust you to think that having food will make everything better.” Ronan rinsed the teapot with boiling water.

  “Just you wait and see.” Oisín began to slice the apple-pie. “Everything is more civilised when you’re sitting around a table with food to eat. I’m telling you, bro, it makes a world of difference.”

  Ronan put the teapot on the hob. His mother wouldn’t drink tepid tea.

  Finn sat and watched as Oisín and Ronan carried in the desert and coffee after they had set the table with dishes and cups taken from the sideboard.

  Then Emmet walked into the room, carrying a dust-covered box. He put the box on the sideboard and hurried to the downstairs toilet to wash his hands.

  “Any of that tea going?” Emmet asked when he returned to the dining room. “I drink coffee when I’m away from home but as soon as I set foot in Ireland I want a good strong cup of tea.”

  Everyone waited while tea and coffee was poured.

  “Right, is everyone sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin,” Emmet then said, parodying an old-time radio announcer.

  “Emmet, you are not helping matters!” Rolf objected.

  “Just trying to introduce a little levity into the situation.”

  “Get on with it, please,” Rolf ordered.

  “You two know I’m gay?” Emmet waited for Ronan and Oisín to nod.

  Ronan was glad he had the pie to shove into his mouth, giving him an excuse not to respond verbally. He would have to thank Oisín for his brilliant idea.

  “I know it’s become fashionable nowadays to declare you’re gay but believe me in our time,” Emmet gave a nod across the table towards Rolf, “we could have been imprisoned or battered to death. Being Irish, I’m sure you know what happened to Oscar Wilde –”

  “Don’t start,” Rolf ordered.

  “Sorry, mustn’t get side-tracked.” Emmet shrugged. “Anyway, Rolf and I met at college where I was majoring in parties and Brainbox over there was studying like mad. Mathematics of all things – Rolf was a computer nerd, you know, long before such a thing was even heard of.”

  “I knew it was a mistake to give you the floor.” Rolf glared at Emmet. “They don’t want our life stories, you old fool!”

  “But it pertains –”

  “You never got your law degree so quit talking like a lawyer and explain everything to these people, our family,” Rolf insisted.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been waiting for this day for a very long time.” Emmet sipped his tea. “The truth of the matter is that Rolf and I have been partners for more than fifty years. We began to travel together because it was safer than staying in one place.” Emmet tried not to think of the years he had spent feeling like a hunted animal, terrified of making a mistake and risking arrest. “Rolf and I had been together for years travelling like gypsies, afraid to stay anywhere for any length of time, when we received a letter from Rolf’s youngest sister Ingrid.”

  “We were in France when the letter caught up with us. It had taken time to reach us as we were of ‘no fixed abode’,” Rolf said.

  “Ingrid wrote that her husband Pieter died in a farm accident. She had been left with two young sons to rear,” Emmet continued. “We had no idea how we could help but even then we were all right for money. Rolf has always had a knack for keeping us in funds. To cut a long story short, we travelled to Dresden to see Ingrid. The woman had a proposition to put to us that fairly knocked me off my feet.” Emmet looked around the table. “She knew how much Rolf longed for a child – the lack of a family of his own was breaking his heart.”

  “Ingrid was one of the very few people I could talk to about my life with Emmet,” said Rolf. “She was and is my good friend and sister.”

  “Ingrid suggested that she should have a child with me,” said Emmet. “The baby would be my natural child and Rolf’s niece or nephew. The baby would be born with pieces of both of us in its little body. That baby was you, Finn.” He had to stop to blow his nose.

  “You never told me.” Finn stared at her father and Rolf. “Not once, all the times I said Uncle Rolf was not really my uncle but a friend of the family. How could you allow me to hurt him like that?”

  “You didn’t want to know, Finn. You never wanted to know.”

  “Right, you did it – that’s why I look so much like Rolf.” Ronan sighed. “He is my great-uncle by blood.”

  Emmet wanted to put his head on the table and bawl like a baby. So much pain and soul-searching reduced to a few simple words. He remembered the sick terror he’d felt at Ingrid’s suggestion – the world of desperate longing in Rolf’s eyes.

  “Could I have some more tea?” he asked. “My throat feels like a desert.” This was hard. He never spoke of that time. He refused to ever return to visit Ingrid or her farm from hell.

  Emmet took the ‘memory’ box from the sideboard and set it in the middle of the table.

  “Right,” he said when everyone was in place. He pulled out a fistful of old photographs. “This is Ingrid.” He was proud of himself for not adding a nasty comment about the woman. “Pass the pictures along.”

  Ronan stared at the image of the woman who was, in a very real sense, his grandmother.

  “She looks a great deal like Rolf.” Oisín looked at the photograph. “That must have helped.”

  “It did.” Emmet wanted to get to know this grandson of his better. “Truer words were never spoken.”

  “Why have I never seen any of these before?” Finn stared at the woman who had given birth to her.

  “Rolf and I put this ‘memory box’ together years ago, planning for the day you would ask us about your heritage. To our amazement you never bothered to ask.”

  “I had a da and Uncle Rolf was always a great mother.” Finn touched Rolf’s hand. “Perhaps if I had gone to school with other children instead of being home-schooled by you two it might have been different. Life with you two was all I knew.”

  “Then you ran away and married that twit while you were still wet behind the ears!” Emmet declared.

  “Emmet, you are speaking of the boys’ father.” Rolf needed to stop Emmet expressing his slanderous opinion of Patrick Brennan.

  “We’re getting a bit off track here,” said Oisín.

  “You are correct, Oisín.” Rolf agreed. “Tell them everything.” he ordered Emmet.

  “We stayed on the farm with Ingrid and her boys for eighteen months.” Emmet had to do hard physical labour. Work he hated and had no skill or talent for. Then the nights – oh Lord – the nights. Emmet had almost fallen to his knees when Ingrid reported after two months of torture that they had been successful. He had gone to the bathroom and vomited what felt like his intestines away in a rush of incredible relief.

  “We left that farm a showplace.” Emmet smiled at Rolf. “His nibs over there worked like a dog while running around waiting on his sister hand and foot. I don’t think there has been a pregnant woman in the world spoiled as Rolf spoiled his sister during her pregnancy.” The entire experience had felt like a pri
son sentence to Emmet.

  “In all the ways that counted Ingrid was carrying my baby.” Rolf beat his fist against his chest. Ingrid gave him a gift beyond price. The child of the man he loved.

  Emmet had been biting his tongue for years. They never mentioned the small fortune they had paid Ingrid for the use of her womb. He tried very hard not to even think about it because he was afraid his rash temper would get the better of him someday and he would say the unforgivable.

  “If you think you look like Rolf, kid,” Emmet said, “check out these two.”

  “Who are they?” Ronan stared wide-eyed at the photograph.

  “Ingrid’s two sons, Pieter and Dieter. They were in their twenties, your age, when that photograph was taken.”

  “Wow, bro,” Oisín said. “Quite the family resemblance going on here – although they appear a lot shorter than you – unless that’s the fault of the photo?”

  “No, they get their height from their mother.” Rolf passed the photograph to Finn. “You two take your height from Emmet and your father.”

  Finn stared at the two young men in the photograph.

  Emmet continued to pass photographs.

  “Why did you stay eighteen months in Dresden?” Oisín glanced at each photograph. After the first few the resemblance to his brother was less of a shock.

  “I wanted Ingrid to breastfeed the baby for six months.” Rolf shrugged. “I read this would give the infant the best start. I needed instruction in the care of a baby. Ingrid taught me a lot that was very useful when I had full responsibility for the little one.”

  “You were a wonderful parent.” Emmet had wanted to run away from that farm and the woman who reigned over it as soon as the umbilical cord was cut.

  “That’s true. You were always the best of mothers.” Finn stood slightly and kissed Rolf on his blushing cheek. “I never lacked for anything in my life with you two.”

  “So, we have uncles and I suppose cousins, in Dresden.” Ronan continued to study the photographs. “Do they know about our mother?”

  “Of course they do,” Rolf said. “My sister didn’t hide her pregnancy from them. Dieter was six years old at the time and Pieter was five. They understood slightly. Ingrid has never been one to hide her head in the sand. She explained everything to them.”

  “A woman of vision unlike the girl she gave birth to,” Emmet murmured.

  “So that explains the resemblance, bro. Are you happy now, content?” Oisín demanded of his brother.

  “Do you have any up-to-date photographs?” Ronan was fascinated.

  “Photographs!” Emmet exclaimed. “Are you serious? Please, the man has complete movies on his computer.”

  “I’d really like to see them,” Ronan said.

  “I would be delighted to share these things with you,” Rolf said with a smile.

  “Will we get to meet this branch of our family?” Ronan asked.

  In his delight Rolf went into rhapsodies in German. He was delighted that Finn’s children should be open to meeting his family.

  Emmet sat back and listened to Rolf rave about his family. He wondered if he should start to translate or if the sheer joy on Rolf’s face was explanation enough.

  “You need to take a deep breath, Uncle Rolf,” Oisín said in fluent German which had the effect of stopping Rolf in mid-sentence.

  “You speak my language!” Rolf shouted.

  “Our mother insisted. We spoke German at home on Wednesday and Saturday. French was the language we spoke on Monday and Tuesday. Gaelic on Sunday at our father’s demand and English whenever we could.” Ronan explained in his crisp, precise German.

  “That’s what we did with you.” Emmet stared at Finn.

  “It worked.”

  Chapter 22

  “Prepare yourselves?” Finn said as her menfolk followed her into the first of the Bray houses.

  This morning, after several days spent playing tourist in the Rathmines area, Emmet had insisted on loading everyone into his camper van and making the journey out to Bray.

  Emmet stared in dismay after they entered the house. “Mother of God, daughter, you have your work cut out.” The place was a tip. He would pull everything down.

  “These old fireplaces are fabulous, Mum.” Ronan was caressing one of the Victorian mantelpieces. “It looks as if this mantelpiece is original. Is it, do you know?”

  Finn could only nod her head.

  “It would be kind of cool to have a fire burning in every room,” Oisín said.

  “Only if you have servants to clean and light every one of them before you put your foot out of bed,” Emmet quipped.

  “This is wonderbar, Emmet!” Rolf was almost dancing on his heels. “I want to record all of this.” He clapped his hands in delight. “It is our duty to record the history of these houses before we change them forever. I will go get my camera. Do not move from this spot.” Rolf hurried from the house.

  “You’ve done it now, daughter. That man won’t let you move a muscle until he has recorded everything in these houses for posterity.” Emmet sighed, knowing Rolf would not move from here until he had enough film to smother a mountain. Thank God for digital cameras and computers.

  Emmet had been so grateful when the first digital camera had come on the market that he’d bought shares in the company. After years of searching for ‘dark rooms’ that Rolf could use to develop his film the digital camera had seemed a gift from the gods.

  “It’s a good idea, Da. These old houses are amazing.” Finn had grown up with Rolf’s camera following her every movement. She’d reason to be grateful for Rolf’s obsession with recording everything. She had continued the habit. Thanks to Rolf, she had a picture history of her married life to back up her claims for the law court should it become necessary.

  “Don’t you start – I have to listen to that kind of bullshit from Rolf. I’m not taking it from my own flesh and blood.”

  “I am back. I am here.” Rolf hurried inside. He had a camera bag around his neck and was fiddling with his expensive digital recorder. “Finn, lead the way, show me everything!”

  “The houses are stuck in a time warp.” Finn was able to ignore Rolf and his muttering as she led the men from room to room.

  “This old range belongs in a museum.” Emmet ran his hands along the cold blackened stove in the bare kitchen. “I remember my grandmother on her knees once a week polishing one of these monsters. It was a matter of pride to have the blackest one. A woman was judged by how black her range and how red her front doorstep was.” Unlike his father, his mother had not come from money.

  “We should bulldoze the whole place down. Start fresh.” Emmet loved to put the cat among the pigeons. He waited for the cries of outrage.

  “Emmet, you are without heart – how could you think of such a thing?” Rolf hit Emmet with his camera bag.

  Emmet laughed while fighting off Rolf’s attack.

  Ronan and Oisín watched two men they considered ancient act like children. They were waiting for their mum to say she’d bang their heads together – then they would know they’d fallen down the rabbit hole.

  “The outdoor loo is down this path.” Finn led the way out the back door, not checking to see if anyone followed her. There was a great deal to show them and decisions needed to be made.

  “Everyone in these places must have been constipated. Imagine having to haul your arse down here in the freezing cold every time you wanted to shit?”

  “Emmet, there are young people present!” Rolf barked.

  “Good to know where you get your loose tongue from, bro.” Ronan nudged Oisín.

  “I suppose they had their po in the house.” Emmet stared into the cold loo.

  “What’s a po?” Oisín asked.

  “One of those porcelain things that everyone kept under the bed for use at night.” Emmet shuddered. “I still have nightmares about those things.”

  “That’s gross.” Oisín was enjoying being part of this strange group.<
br />
  “I’m surprised that they are not still using newspaper cut into squares and tied on a piece of string,” said Emmet.

  “What?” said Oisín and Ronan.

  “Didn’t you know?” Emmet shrugged, still checking out the outhouses. “That’s what people used before commercial toilet paper. Old newspapers.” He laughed at the look of complete horror that came over his grandsons’ faces. He was discovering it was a lot of fun having these boys to tease.

  Finn ignored the conversation. “I don’t know if I have to seek the permission of the railroad before removing the dividing wall. The dividing walls between these houses hardly support that monster.” She threw her hand in the direction of the wall towering over them. “It’s something that needs to be checked out.”

  “There is a lot more to this work than I thought.” Ronan bent his head as far back as he could. He could hear a train but he couldn’t see it.

  Pulling the door of the first house she’d shown them closed behind her group, Finn stepped out onto Railway Parade. She turned her head at Rolf’s command, hardly noticing the camera. All through her childhood Rolf had always had a camera in hand.

  “The biggest drawback with these houses is the lack of natural light,” she said.

  “We noticed,” the others agreed.

  “I’ve been in touch with a firm in Germany about the problem.” She walked towards the second house.

  “Yoo-hoo, missus!”

  They all swung around.

  A woman was beckoning to them. “You might want to join us. We’re having elevenses and a meeting!” she called out. “We’re going to talk about the Parade!”

  Finn and others stared in surprise.

  A crowd of women were seated around a table placed in the middle of the Parade. A few men stood off to the side, holding mugs of tea in their hands and watching the action.

  Nellie McGinn had organised her neighbours into a team. The men had pulled the heavy table and loads of chairs out. The women had supplied sandwiches, pies and cakes. A teapot the size of a child held pride of place. A veritable feast had been laid on.