Walking Back to Happiness

by Anne Bennett

  There was at any rate no time to give the matter more thought, for suddenly Angela, her flashing eyes furious and resentful, turned to her companion and almost spat out, ‘Matthew, this is my mother!’

  Matthew turned his gaze on the woman. The atmosphere between them was charged. He couldn’t understand why she was looking at him with an almost frightened look. The child in the pushchair began to grizzle and the little boy, who’d heard what Angela had said, cried, ‘She’s not your mother.’

  Hannah barely heard the children, though she automatically jiggled the pushchair, and in the silence Matthew burst out incredulously, ‘Your mother? I thought your mother was …’

  ‘Dead? She is,’ Angela spat out. ‘Or at least she might as well be.’

  Matthew had been sure Angela had no mother. He’d discussed it with his own. ‘But is she dead?’ Marian had persisted.

  ‘I suppose so. She never talks about her.’

  ‘Well, it must be sorted out by the wedding,’ Marian said. ‘Ask her.’

  But Matthew hadn’t. He’d wanted to, but always his courage failed him. He had no desire to upset Angela. But this woman beside him now was no ghost, no figment of the imagination. Angela had a mother and one that looked just like her and it was more than obvious Angela had little time for her.

  Hannah was trying to find a response to Angela – some way of reaching out to the child she’d left behind and knew she’d hurt badly, when Frances, cold and frightened by something she could barely understand, set up a wail. Adam, on the other hand, wasn’t frightened, he was angry. He didn’t see the resemblance between his mother and Angela, he only heard Angela’s words. And he sprang forward. ‘Don’t you say that!’ he yelled. ‘She’s not your mother, she’s mine and Frances’s.’

  ‘Only for a while,’ Angela told the confused little boy. ‘Make the most of it, I should. One day she’ll just take off.’

  ‘No she won’t,’ Adam said and he aimed a kick at Angela’s leg, but Hannah jerked him back before it connected. She saw Adam’s face was crimson with bewilderment and temper and Frances was fretful and shivering, despite the blanket covering her, and she said, ‘Angela, we need to talk.’

  ‘There’s years I’ve needed to talk to you. Where were you?’

  ‘Please, not here. Let me try and explain at least?’ Hannah pleaded.

  ‘Huh. Explain? Explain why you just walked off?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ Hannah said. ‘Please come home with me for a little while? It’s too cold to stand here.’

  Matthew watched the exchange between the young woman and the older one and saw the yearning in Hannah’s eyes. Surely they could discuss whatever it was that had happened in the past? ‘Angela,’ he said. ‘I think you should talk to your mother.’

  ‘Why the hell should I?’

  ‘Because you might regret it if you don’t,’ Matthew said, but gently because he could feel Angela’s body trembling against his own and knew she was upset.

  ‘I won’t regret it,’ Angela said defiantly. ‘Why should I? What is she to me anyway? She’s nothing.’ She sprung forward away from the protection of Matthew’s arms and, her face inches away from Hannah’s, spat out, ‘You hear that? You’re nothing to me! Nothing!’

  Hannah recoiled slightly, not at all sure Angela wasn’t going to hit her. Not so her small son, who began pushing Angela away, and though tears rained down his face, he was shouting, ‘You’re horrible, horrible, stinking horrible,’ and Frances began to scream.

  They were attracting attention. Many people weary of shopping and worn down by the cold weather were happy to stop for a few minutes and watch the entertainment. Hannah and Matthew were only too aware of it and were embarrassed, while Angela couldn’t seem to care less.

  Matthew drew her away from Hannah, who held on to Adam, and said, ‘You’re upsetting the children and whatever happened between you is nothing to do with them. Why don’t you go somewhere more private and talk it over?’

  Angela turned to him. Her face flushed and she snapped, ‘You know nothing about it.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I don’t need to know perhaps, but you do.’

  Angela dropped her gaze from Matthew and he asked Hannah, ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Grange Road.’

  ‘Well then, Angela, why don’t you go home with your mother and I’ll see you later?’

  ‘No,’ Angela said to Matthew and then reluctantly continued, ‘Okay, okay, I’ll go if you think it’s so important, but I’m not going on my own. You’ve got to come too.’

  It was the last thing Matthew wanted to do, to go to some strange woman’s house and listen to the pair of them re-hashing some old injustice, maybe getting angry, tearful even. But he knew this thing between them had to be faced. Angela’s mother had walked out on her, that much he’d picked up, but she wanted to explain why and Angela had a right to know and she was afraid to face it alone. ‘All right,’ he said at last with a brief nod and without another word, Hannah turned the pushchair around.

  The walk back was torturous and almost silent. Hannah, too busy formulating what she was to say to her estranged daughter to make conversation, and Angela too angry and resentful at being talked into going back with her. Matthew concentrated his efforts at breaking the pregnant and uneasy silence by trying to talk with the little boy. He walked obediently beside his mother, but his mouth was mutinous and he cast many a baleful look at Angela.

  But he had nothing against Matthew and answered his questions about school and Christmas, not that far away, pleasantly enough. Hannah barely heard the two talking, for her mind was racing and she could have wept with relief when she saw Vic’s car in the drive, for she didn’t know how she’d explain everything to Angela, the way she needed to, with the children around.

  ‘I don’t know what the bloody hell I’m doing here,’ Angela said, standing awkwardly in the middle of the sitting room Hannah had shown them into.

  The use of the swear word in front of Matthew showed her level of distress, but he said nothing about that. Instead, he said, ‘It’s better this way. You were bound to meet one day, living as you do only a relatively short distance apart.’

  ‘Daddy will go mad when he hears.’

  ‘Why should he?’

  ‘Oh Matthew, you don’t know Daddy. I’ve never been allowed to even speak Mommy’s name since the day she left.’

  ‘A bit harsh that,’ Matthew commented. ‘So you were never able to ask questions about why she left?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you want to?’

  ‘What do you think?’ Angela said. ‘At the time, I was so upset, but he said that as far as I was concerned she was as dead as if she was laid in the cemetery and I was not to think of her again.’

  The pain of that time showed clearly in Angela’s eyes and Matthew felt so sorry for her that his arms encircled her and she buried her face in his coat.

  And that’s how Hannah found them when she came in with a tray of coffee and tea and biscuits. ‘Take off your coats,’ she said. ‘You’ll not feel the benefit when you go out. I’ll poke up the fire. It will warm up in no time.’

  Angela had drawn out of Matthew’s embrace at her mother’s entrance and she said, ‘We won’t bother, we’re not staying long.’

  But Matthew was already unfastening his coat and the look he cast in Angela’s direction was so like Mike Murphy’s that Hannah’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Come on, Angela,’ he said. ‘We might as well see this through now we’re here.’

  With a shrug, Angela unfastened her coat and Hannah took them both and laid them over a chair and Angela and Matthew sat side by side on the settee. It was as Hannah took Angela’s coat that she noticed the beautiful engagement ring on her left hand. A large cluster of diamonds surrounding a red stone, and Hannah’s heart fell for she knew the relationship was not a casual one, not if they were engaged.

  She also knew the ring was an expensive one, like the clothes Matthew wore. Ev
erything spoke of quality; his coat was pure wool and he wore an Aran sweater and blue trousers in the modern tight-bottomed style and soft leather boots.

  ‘Would you like coffee or tea?’ Hannah asked.

  Matthew would have been glad of either for the day was raw but Angela snapped, ‘Don’t bother with either. We’re not stopping. Say what you’ve got to say and then I can leave and get on with my life again.’

  Hannah sighed. ‘Angela …’ she began, but Angela burst in again, ‘I don’t owe you anything. I hope you know that.’

  ‘I know you owe me nothing, Angela, believe that, please,’ Hannah said. ‘Just give me one brief half an hour to explain what happened five years ago.’ She knew she was on shaky ground, for if she was to tell the truth, and she had to do that, she would have to speak against Arthur.

  She began gently. ‘You know your father and I had not got on for years,’ she said. ‘You know we had separate rooms?’

  ‘I hope you’re not going to blame all this on Daddy?’

  ‘No,’ Hannah said. ‘I’ll take my share of the blame, but usually it is never just one person’s fault. Will you hear me out?’

  Angela would have made some rude retort if it hadn’t been for Matthew’s hand that had covered hers and Hannah swallowed a lump of nervousness in her throat and went on.

  She went back to her pregnancy with Angela. ‘That’s when Arthur moved out of the bedroom,’ she said. ‘He … he was never interested in that side of marriage.’

  Angela shifted uncomfortably in embarrassment, but Hannah plunged on. Angela learned of her mother’s deep and long depression after her birth and of Pauline being engaged to look after her and the part that she and Arthur played in Angela’s rearing. ‘I was ill for so long and then when I was feeling better, you rejected me,’ Hannah said. ‘Before I got to know you properly, Arthur had got you into a school full-time and after a little while, there was little for me to do at home. Pauline ran the house and was there to see to you, that was until your father came home, because then you wanted no one else.

  ‘I took the job at the doctor’s to get me out of the house and to have money of my own because your father never gave me much. From the first I got on with Vic. We were friends – that’s all. It developed from there. Your father was often cruel, not that he hit me regularly or anything, but he was cruel in what he said and did. Vic was always so kind, compassionate and gentle.

  ‘I often felt a failure as a mother and your father helped my insecurities along. Vic and I knew we’d become attracted to each other, but I told Vic I was a wife and mother and however bad I was, I wouldn’t make myself worse by beginning an affair.’

  ‘Huh,’ snorted Angela. But Matthew saw the unshed tears shining in Hannah’s eyes and he squeezed Angela’s hand to show his support and said gently, ‘Let her finish, pet.’

  Hannah smiled at him, but he saw her smile was watery as she went on. ‘Believe me, Angela, I wanted no part in an affair, but the time your father took you away for Christmas – you remember that time?’

  Angela nodded and Hannah continued, ‘I was so lonely. Pauline had gone by then and Josie had her own plans and in the end … in the end, I phoned Vic and he came. That was the start of it. I loved Vic dearly, Angela, and I still do. I do want you to realise that. I wanted to be with him, live with him, marry him eventually. But I also loved you very, very much and Vic understood that. We’d worked it out. If I wasn’t living with your father, he could not prevent me from going to the school to see you.

  ‘I would have fought through the courts for access and then you could have possibly spent the holidays with us too, part of them at any rate. Vic was in total agreement with me on this. If you love someone, you want the best for them and he knew I could never just toss you aside. But in the end I could do none of the things I’d planned because I became pregnant with Vic’s child and was forced to leave.’

  Angela remembered the long lonely years without Hannah and said, ‘You could have taken me when you went away, other mothers do.’

  ‘And believe me, I wanted to,’ Hannah said earnestly. ‘Your father prevented me.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Angela said sarcastically. ‘That’s a good one. Blame Daddy, why don’t you? How could he stop you?’

  ‘Angela, he’d spent years trying to keep us apart, trying to drive a wedge between us. If you think back, you’ll know I’m right.’

  Angela did, and remembered various instances, not fully understood at the time, where her father had been undeniably cruel to her mother and she knew now her mother spoke the truth. ‘But this time,’ Hannah said, ‘he had the law on his side. Vic was my doctor and as such not allowed to have any sort of sexual relationship with his female patients. Your father said I could leave any time I wished, but that if I tried to contact you in any way, any way at all, he would report Vic to the Medical Council. He would have been struck off.

  ‘I couldn’t put him through that. Being a doctor was all he ever wanted to do and he knew his parents couldn’t stand the disgrace either. They were so proud of him and had made vast sacrifices to enable him to become a doctor in the first place. They are not wealthy people. Anyway, I had to leave. Your father told me I could take only what I could get into one suitcase and I left the same night.’

  ‘You could have written at least. I wouldn’t have said,’ Angela said mulishly.

  ‘The nuns would have,’ Hannah said. ‘I couldn’t take the risk. Josie wasn’t allowed to contact you either.’

  ‘I wrote you letters at first.’

  ‘I never got them. Your father would have dealt with that sort of thing.’

  Angela nodded slowly. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, he probably did. What about now though? What if I were to tell him about this? Would it matter after all this time?’

  ‘Probably not,’ Hannah said. ‘But even if it did, I couldn’t pass up the chance of seeing you, talking to you, trying to explain. If … if you tell your father, I don’t know what it will mean now. After all, your father divorced me and Vic and I married. I know in the Catholic Church our divorce and marriage are not recognised, but they are legal. Maybe as we are now a stable unit, Vic wouldn’t lose his job, I really don’t know.’

  Angela was silent for a moment and then said, ‘Maybe we should put it to the test?’

  ‘Maybe we should,’ said Hannah. ‘But whatever happens, I certainly don’t want to lose contact with you now.’

  Angela didn’t answer and Hannah let her ponder and turned to Matthew. ‘Tell me about yourself,’ she said. ‘You must be some sort of superman to have talked Arthur into letting you and Angela become engaged?’

  ‘How did you know?’ Angela demanded.

  ‘Angela, you are sporting the biggest diamond I’ve ever seen,’ Hannah said with a smile.

  ‘And I suppose you are going to disapprove?’ Angela snapped. ‘Say we’re too young. We don’t know our own minds.’

  ‘No,’ Hannah said. ‘I’ve lost the right years ago to disapprove of what you do. But I would like to know something about Matthew if he’s going to join the family.’

  She listened, her apprehension increasing as she heard of the family from Leeds where Matthew had lived for his early years before moving to Somerville Road in Sutton Coldfield. There was wealth in the family, but Hannah sensed a loneliness in the young man. Yes, he told her, he was an only child and as he spoke of his father she saw a child constantly trying to please an aloof parent, always falling short, and she saw also the deep devotion he had for his mother, who she heard was ill at the moment, and she saw too that Matthew was worried about it.

  Her apprehension increased rather than diminished as he spoke. Not only by what he said, but by his gestures and the look in those large blue eyes that spoke again and again of Michael Murphy.

  She told herself not to panic and jump to conclusions. Maybe it was just a dreadful coincidence. Sweet Jesus, she prayed silently, please let it be just that.

  And then, Matthew pushed
up the left sleeve of his jumper to check his watch and Hannah saw the mark on his arm and she felt a wave of fear envelop her as she asked, her voice sounding shaky, ‘Your arm. Is it a burn?’

  ‘No, a birthmark,’ Matthew said, pushing up his sleeve to reveal the apple-shaped scar. ‘I’ve always had it.’ Hannah could have told him that. He had it when he was minutes old and when she’d held him in her arms for the one and only time. Every bit of him then was ingrained in her memory and she remembered leaning down and kissing that blemish that he displayed now for her.

  After they’d gone, she sat for a long time in front of the fire thinking. He’d come from Leeds. His family were devout Catholics. He was an only child. It all fitted. He’d obviously never been told that he’d been adopted, but then that she knew was quite normal. Oh God, what should she do?

  For a couple of days she did nothing, knowing that she was risking raising a hornet’s nest, but also knowing she couldn’t do nothing and let the two … God, it was against the law, against nature and against all decency. She had to find out.

  She discussed it at length with Vic and Josie. ‘I’m frightened, Josie,’ she admitted. ‘If I spoil this for Angela, she’ll hate me for it.’

  ‘That’s a risk you have to take,’ Josie said firmly. ‘You can’t let it go on, Hannah, you just can’t. And it’s best to do something quickly before they are in too deeply.’

  Hannah knew Josie was right. But not wishing to rock the boat too much, too soon, she wrote to Tilly. She told her the whole story and asked if she could find out where her son had been taken and the name of the family.

  Tilly tried. The nuns who were involved in the home in the first place had scattered and to find any of them was impossible. She did find Father Benedict, who Hannah had also told her about, who she said had helped her initially. He was an old man now and in a home for elderly and retired priests, and he took some time to recall Hannah. It had been years ago and she was just one of many, but when he heard of the urgency and reason for Tilly’s enquiries he was upset he couldn’t help her further.

  When Tilly phoned and told her of her fruitless search, Hannah wasn’t altogether surprised. She knew there was little likelihood of locating any of the nuns from the home. She remembered Gloria saying Sister Monica had gone to Ireland, but she’d never mentioned the name of the convent. But even if one of them had been found, could they help? They might want to, if they were aware of the consequences if they didn’t, but would they remember? Would there be any form of records kept and would she be able to have access to them?