Forget-Me-Not Child

by Anne Bennett

  ‘I’m not looking that far ahead,’ Mary said. ‘I’ll worry about it if it happens. As for Kate Bishop, she seems not to be able to conceive one so easy, so I doubt they’ll ever be that many eventually.’

  ‘Don’t be too sure,’ Norah said. ‘I’ve seen it before. They have trouble catching for one and then as if the body knows what to do, they pop another out every year or so.’

  ‘Proper Job’s comforter you are,’ Mary said and added with a smile, ‘Are you going to put the kettle on or what? A body could die of thirst in this place.’

  There was no change in the McClusky household over the next couple of years. Sean, now halfway through his apprenticeship, got a rise, but it was nothing much, and Matt too was earning more so the purse strings eased, but only slightly. Towards the end of that year, Norah told Mary she was sure Kate Bishop was pregnant. There was a definite little bump that hadn’t been there before. By the turn of the year Stan was nearly shouting it from the rooftops and though he was like a dog with two tails, Kate was having a difficult pregnancy and was sick a lot and not just for the first three months, like the morning sickness many women suffered from.

  Many women gave her advice of things they had tried themselves, or some old wives’ tale they had heard about, for all the women agreed with Mary that Kate Bishop couldn’t afford to lose weight for she had none to lose. She was due at Easter and she hardly looked pregnant as the time grew near. ‘God!’ Mary said to Norah. ‘I was like a stranded whale with all of mine. I do hope that girl is all right. I saw her the other day and couldn’t believe it, her wrists and arms are very skinny and her skin looks sort of thin.’

  ‘She’s still singing every Sunday morning though,’ Norah said. ‘And she practises through the day, does her scales and everything.’

  ‘I suppose it helps keep her mind off things.’

  ‘Maybe. Can’t be long now though.’

  On the fifteenth of April Kate Bishop’s pains began in the early hours and though Stan had engaged a nurse, it was soon apparent that the services of a doctor were needed and he booked an ambulance, and while he was waiting for it to come Kate had a massive haemorrhage and died.

  Stan was distraught at losing his beloved wife and he couldn’t cope with his new-born son. Both Mary and Norah were often in the house with Stan, mainly caring for the baby and making meals for Stan he had no appetite to eat. Sometimes he seemed almost unaware of their presence and both Mary and Norah felt quite helpless that they could do nothing to ease Stan’s pain and were glad when Kate’s older sister Betty arrived.

  She was married to Roger Swanage and though they lived in a nice house that Roger had inherited from his widowed mother, still they had no children though Betty had been trying for years to conceive. She took charge of Stan’s son and Roger took it upon himself to organize the funeral for Kate because Stan seemed incapable, though he did insist on choosing the hymns because Kate had favourites and he chose those.

  Betty seemed surprised at the numbers who turned out for the funeral but Kate had been popular and very young to lose her life in that tragic way, so the church was packed, including many men, as the foundry was closed that day as a mark of respect. Even those not going to the Mass stood at their doorways in silence as the cart carrying the coffin passed, some making the sign of the cross, and any men on the road removed their hats and stood with bowed heads.

  The Requiem Mass seemed interminable and Mary heard many sniffs in the congregation as Father Brannigan spoke of the grievous loss of the young woman leaving a child to grow up without a mother’s love, and the loss would be felt through the whole community, but particularly by her grieving husband and her family, and the choir where she had been a stalwart member. Eventually it was over and the congregation moved off to Key Hill Cemetery in Hockley, as St Catherine’s didn’t have its own cemetery.

  The wind had increased during the Mass and it buffeted them from side to side, billowing all around them, and when they stood by the open grave the wind-driven rain attacked them, stabbing at their faces like little needles – a truly dismal day. As the priest intoned further prayers for the dear departed and they began lowering the coffin with ropes, Stan gasped and staggered and would have fallen, but Matt reached out and put a hand upon his shoulder. ‘Steady man. Nearly over.’ The clods of earth fell with dull thuds on to the lid and they all turned thankfully away and walked back through the gusty, rain-sodden day to the back room of The Swan where a sumptuous feast was laid out, made by the landlord’s wife and her two daughters.

  Everyone seemed to think that it was right and proper that Kate’s childless sister should rear the motherless child. Even Father Brannigan saw it as an ideal solution when he called to see them a week after the funeral to discuss the child’s future and baptism.

  ‘And you are fully prepared to take on the care of the child?’ he asked Betty, though his gaze took in Roger too.

  It was Betty who answered, ‘Oh yes, Father,’ she said. ‘Kate was my own younger sister and I’m sure she would wish me to do this, and how can I not love her child as if he were my own?’

  ‘And have you children of your own?’

  ‘Sadly no,’ Betty said. ‘The Lord hasn’t seen fit to grant me any and we have a fine house waiting for a child to fill it.’

  ‘Well I think that eminently suitable,’ the priest said. ‘What of you, Stan? Are you in agreement with this?’

  Stan turned vacant eyes on the priest. He wondered how he could explain to the priest, without shocking him to the core, that he cared little for the tiny mite held in Betty’s arms so tenderly, the mite his wife had died giving birth to. And he contented himself giving a shrug of his shoulders.

  Father Brannigan saw the intense sorrow in his deep eyes and knew for Stan the pain of his loss was too raw to discuss things to do with the child, and so he thought it a good thing his sister-in-law was there. He turned again to Betty. ‘And have you chosen names?’

  ‘Yes,’ Betty said decidedly. ‘I want him called Daniel.’

  Stan’s head shot up at that and the priest was pretty certain he hadn’t known of Betty’s plan. And he hadn’t, and though he and Kate had discussed names, Daniel hadn’t been mentioned, yet Betty said Kate would approve of Daniel. ‘It was the name of our late father,’ she said to Stan.

  Stan hadn’t the energy to protest and felt anyway he had no right. Betty was going to raise the child, therefore she should have the right to name that child too. And Betty could be quite right – since it was the name of Kate’s father she might have called him Daniel in the end. ‘I don’t mind what the child is called,’ he said, ‘but I want Matt and Mary McClusky as godparents.’

  Mary was delighted to be asked but she noted the jealous way Betty held on to the child. While she was willing for Mary to take him from her and hold his head over the font so that the priest could dribble water over it, she took him back afterwards and would let no one else, not even his own father, hold him and Mary felt the first stirrings of unease. Stan on the other hand was pleased initially to leave everything to Betty and for Daniel to be taken back to their fine house in Sutton Coldfield after the christening.

  ‘Where is Sutton Coldfield?’ Mary asked Matt a few weeks later

  ‘I’m not sure myself,’ Matt said. ‘I know it’s a fair distance and a posh place, so Stan was telling me. He said Betty and Roger live in a big house built of red brick with a blue slate roof. And although it’s not on the doorstep it’s easy enough to get to because a little steam train runs from New Street Station and then the station in Sutton is just yards from their house.’

  ‘He’s going to see him soon isn’t he?’

  Matt nodded. ‘This Saturday afternoon,’ he said. ‘He’ll have been with them nearly three weeks then and he wants to see how he has settled down and everything.’

  Later Stan talked to Matt about how it had gone. ‘Tell you, Matt, when I saw him, I had the urge to grab him and bring him home where he belongs. But how could
I care for him and work? Betty, on the other hand, already has the nursery fitted out for him, which is far more salubrious than any attic bedroom I could provide. There’s also a garden back and front and I could see much better surroundings unfolding for Daniel if I left him there with his aunt and uncle, though I know he will probably call them mammy and daddy and will grow up thinking of them as his parents.’

  ‘Like Angela did?’

  ‘Ah but, the difference was she was told from the start who her real parents were and that they had both died, which was the truth, but Daniel has a father, though he will hardly be aware of that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because Betty said it would confuse the boy if I kept popping up every now and then, and it wasn’t as if I could offer him anything. She told me that if I cared for the boy I should stay out of his life and let them bring him up. The point is I know I can offer the child nothing, but I still wanted to see him, take him out weekends, you know, get to know him a bit, but Betty said if I intended doing that I would have to make alternative arrangements. She would only look after Daniel as long as I stayed away.’

  Mary sighed when Matt told her that night what had transpired when Stan had gone to see his son. She wasn’t totally surprised. She had thought Betty was the type of person who wouldn’t want to share her dead sister’s child. In a way in her mind she was probably trying to forget he had parents and make believe that he was her own child she had given birth to.

  In Mary’s opinion secrets like this were not healthy and they had a way of wriggling to the fore eventually, spreading unhappiness and distrust. ‘That’s very harsh,’ she said. ‘I mean at the moment it’s hard on Stan, but the longer Betty and her husband leave telling Daniel of his father, the greater the shock for the child. Stan might not be able to care for him and work, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be part of his life. I think he’s a lovely man and I’m sure the child as he grows would benefit from knowing him.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Matt said. ‘He said Betty was adamant. I think I might call her bluff in time. If she loves Daniel like he says she’d not want to give him up so easy, but Stan probably won’t want to risk it.’

  ‘Does he miss him?’

  ‘I asked him that myself,’ Matt said. ‘I suppose that what you never had you can’t miss but Stan said he always feels like something is missing and he copes because he knows Daniel will be happy and well loved, for Betty dotes on him and her husband does too, only slightly less anxiously. He said he would never have to worry that they would ever be unkind to him and he will want for nothing – no going barefoot with an empty belly for him. As long as the boy is happy that’s all that matters to Stan.’

  ‘That’s what most parents want,’ Mary said. ‘Their children’s happiness, and he is a decent man for putting the needs of his son before his own.’

  Angela was unaware of what had happened to Stan’s baby. She knew about the death of his wife giving birth to the child, that couldn’t be hidden from the children, but the baby had just seemed to disappear. Even Maggie living only doors away from Stan Bishop knew no more. It was no good asking questions because things like that were not discussed in front of children so the girls concluded the baby must have died too. ‘Shame though, isn’t it, for Stan to lose his wife and baby.’

  ‘Mm,’ Maggie said. ‘Though I don’t think men are that good at looking after babies.’

  ‘No, maybe not,’ Angela agreed. ‘I just feel sorry for him being left with nothing. Doesn’t seem fair somehow.’

  ‘My mammy says none of life is fair and those that think it is are going to be disappointed over and over,’ Maggie said and Angela thought that a very grim way of looking at things.

  FOUR

  Stan seemed to get over the loss of his wife in the end as everyone must, but for ages a pall of sadness hung over him. Barry started on the apprenticeship scheme in 1907, the same year his brother Sean finished, and Stan’s sadness wasn’t helped by the news he had to impart to Mary. ‘He was heartbroken when he came to tell me that the boys would have no job at the end of their apprenticeships,’ Mary told Norah. ‘Sean is out of work now like his older brothers and I suppose Gerry will be the same in two years’ time. Stan said he could do nothing about it because it was the company’s policy. It was a bit of a blow but not a total shock because that sort of thing is happening everywhere.’

  ‘I know but it isn’t as if they can get a job somewhere else using the skills they have learnt because there are no jobs.’

  ‘Aye that’s the rub,’ Mary said. ‘And now there’ll be another mouth to feed on the pittance they will be able to earn. I mean you can only tighten a belt so far. And when Gerry is finished too in two years’ time God knows what we are going to do.’

  ‘I’m the same,’ Norah said, ‘and this has decided me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘My eldest Frankie is just eighteen so half-way through his apprenticeship and my brother Aiden was after writing to me, offering to find him a job in the place he works. They’re taking a lot of young lads on.’

  ‘But Aiden is in the States?’

  ‘I know, New York.’

  ‘But … But surely to God you don’t want your son going so far away?’

  ‘Course I don’t,’ Nora said. ‘What I want is for him to get a job somewhere local and meet a nice Catholic girl to marry and give me grandchildren to take joy from. But it’s not going to happen, not here. I know when we bid farewell that will be it and I’ll never see my son again but I can’t deny him this chance of a future. I see your lads day after day worn down by the fact they can get no job. Unemployment is like a living death and how can I put Frankie through that when Aiden is holding out the hand of opportunity to him?’

  She couldn’t, Mary recognized that, but she knew Norah’s heart would break when her eldest son went away from her. And though her own heart ached for her sons she couldn’t help feeling glad that they had no sponsor in America.

  Unbeknownst to her, though, Finbarr and Colm were very interested in Frankie Docherty’s uncle’s proposal. ‘He seems very certain he will have a job for you,’ Finbarr said.

  ‘Yes he is.’

  ‘What line of work is it?’

  ‘Making motor cars.’

  Finbarr stared at him. There were a few petrol-driven lorries and vans and commercial vehicles but personal motor cars were only for the very wealthy, they had taken the place of carriages, and Finbarr didn’t think even in a country the size of America they would need that many. Frankie’s career might be short lived when he got to the States.

  Frankie caught sight of Finbarr’s sceptical face and he said, ‘My Uncle Aiden says that America is not like here and that everyone who is someone wants a motor car. They can’t keep up with the demand. And they want to train mechanics too so that they can fix the cars when they go wrong.’

  ‘Right,’ Finbarr said. ‘You excited?’

  Frankie nodded eagerly. ‘You bet I am,’ he said, and added, ‘I have to hide it from Mammy though.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Finbarr said with a smile. ‘Well I wish you all the very best and I only wish Colm and I were going along with you.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you mind going so far away?’

  ‘Won’t you?’

  ‘Of course,’ Frankie said. ‘I expect to miss my family but that’s the choice you have to make, isn’t it. And you’ve got to deal with homesickness otherwise you will waste the chance you’ve been given.’

  ‘That’s pretty sound reasoning, Frankie,’ Colm said. ‘I imagine I would feel much the same.’

  ‘And me,’ said Finbarr.

  ‘Maybe I can get my uncle to speak for you too,’ Frankie said. ‘He’ll know your family for they were neighbours in Donegal and then Mammy helped when you first came over and my mother and yours are as thick as thieves now.’

  ‘We would appreciate it,’ Finbarr said. ‘See how the land lies when you get over there.’

  ‘Y
es,’ Frankie said. ‘I won’t forget. It will be nice for me to see a familiar face anyway. I’ll write.’

  So Frankie left a few days later. His mother cried copious tears and his siblings sniffled audibly. Even Mick’s voice was husky and even Frankie was struggling with his emotions, and he hugged his family and shook hands with all the well-wishers gathered to wish him God speed.

  ‘It will break my heart if Mammy is as upset as Norah was when we go,’ Colm said.

  ‘She will be,’ Finbarr said. ‘Worse maybe for there are two of us. But however sad she is, remember we are not just thinking about this for ourselves alone but also for Mammy and the others. All she has coming in now is what Daddy brings in and a pittance from Gerry and Barry’s apprenticeship money, and Gerry will be out on his ear before long too.’

  ‘Yeah I suppose.’

  ‘We need to leave, Colm, and go as far as America if things are as good as Frankie’s uncle says. The life we have now is no life at all, and even worse, we have no future to look forward to.’

  It was sometime later Frankie wrote the promised letter and told them things were just fine and dandy for him in America and he was looking forward to them joining him. The even better news was that knowing the family personally from when they all lived in Donegal, their uncle was not only willing to sponsor them but loan them the £10 each needed for the assisted passage tickets, which would be easy to pay back from the good wages they’d be earning over there. Finbarr let his breath out in a sigh of utter relief, for he hadn’t known how they were going to raise the money for the fare, and this generous man was coming to their aid. All they had to do now was tell their parents and he thought that was better done sooner rather than later and give them time, particularly their mother, to come to terms with it.

  If Finbarr and Colm thought Norah Docherty was upset when Frankie left, that was before they had seen their mother’s distress, for she was almost hysterical with grief. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought her sons would do what Frankie Docherty did and leave everything behind and travel to another continent entirely. She thought if nothing else, financial constraints would prevent them, for they would never raise the £10 needed to avail themselves of the assisted passage scheme. Aiden had paid for his nephew and it appeared he was prepared to loan her two sons the money needed and sponsor them too.