“Mam will never forgive me,” Keelin sighed, tucking her arm into his.
“You and I know she is the way she is. But she’s a good woman at heart, Keelin; don’t forget that,” Larry said loyally. “Part of the reason she doesn’t want you to come home is that she’s afraid you’ll be the subject of gossip and she doesn’t want that for you. To be honest, neither do I.” Her father dropped some coins into the ticket machine. “Now let’s go and have a cuppa somewhere. I’m gasping for the tay.”
“I’d love a cup myself. A real good strong cup of tea and a rasher sandwich,” Keelin confided, relieved that he had not asked who the baby’s father was. Larry was kind like that. He’d let her tell him in her own time.
“Dad, it’s great to be home; I only wish it was under different circumstances,” Keelin said sadly.
“Everything happens for a reason, love, and your precious baby will bring joy to many. So chin up. Chest out. Best foot forward.” He smiled, quoting one of his favourite lines from her childhood.
Keelin laughed and felt a frisson of happiness for the first time since she’d found out she was pregnant.
* * *
When he’d finally got through to the convent in Paris, with the assistance of a helpful international operator, Armand had been politely told that Keelin was no longer there and that she’d flown to Ireland.
“Stay calm,” the Monsignor ordered. “I remember she once told me her aunt was a nun in Senegal. Leave it with me and I’ll try to find the number for the convent in Dakar and see if they can tell me how to find her. It’s a bit late now to ring. I’ll do it first thing in the morning.”
The following morning, Armand hurried to the small office, his heart thumping in his chest, to hear what news there might be. “Armand, I’ve located a number in Ireland. Seemingly the aunt is now a Reverend Mother and no longer in Senegal. She’s in charge of a convent in Limerick. We’re getting places, son. We’re one hour behind them; do you want me to ring her now?”
“Oh please, Monsignor; let us not lose a moment. I will of course pay for the call.” Armand could hardly contain himself.
“Arrah, you will not,” the Monsignor said irascibly. “The Vatican has plenty of money; they don’t need yours—the little you have of it.”
Armand’s mouth was dry as the operator connected them to the number in Ireland. Please let me be able to contact Keelin, he prayed fervently as he heard the Monsignor say politely, “My name is Monsignor Patrick Kelly; I’m ringing from the Ivory Coast. Would it be possible to speak to Reverend Mother Brigid please?”
Armand heard a female voice on the other end but couldn’t hear what she was saying. “Thank you very much. I appreciate your help,” Monsignor Kelly said, scribbling a number down on a pad.
“The Reverend Mother is in a place called the Four Winds, down the coast from Limerick,” he said, dialling the long international number.
Another conversation and then the Monsignor gave him the thumbs-up and Armand heard him say, “Good morning, Reverend Mother, I’m ringing from the Ivory Coast. I wonder if you could help me? I’m trying to locate your niece, Sister Michael—”
He stopped speaking and Armand could hear the nun at the other end saying something.
“Excellent, excellent, he’s here beside me.” He handed the phone to Armand and said reassuringly, “She has her safe and sound.”
Armand took the phone, his heart skipping a beat when he heard Keelin’s beloved voice. “Hello, Armand, I’m here with my aunt in Ireland.” Her voice quivered and his heart went out to her.
“Chérie, I’m so sorry to be the cause of this for you. I’ve asked Monsignor to ask the bishop to start my laicization process. I’ll be with you as soon as I can,” he said earnestly.
“Oh, Armand, thank goodness.” He smiled, hearing the note of relief in her voice. “I’ll be fine here; don’t worry about me,” she added reassuringly.
“I will worry about you and our child until the day I die, mon amour,” he assured her, wishing with all his heart that he were with her right now. “I will be by your side soon.”
* * *
“I suppose the pair of them are calling me a right bitch,” Imelda said forlornly, watching Larry unpack his travelling bag. He’d stayed in a B&B in Butlersbridge for a few days while Keelin was settling into the Four Winds.
“I did explain that the main reason you didn’t want Keelin home was the finger-pointing and gossip she’d have to endure,” Larry said coolly. He knew of old that when Imelda was feeling guilty she either went on the defensive or put on the “doleful me” act.
“Well, that’s the truth,” she retorted.
“Part of the truth, Imelda. Be honest. You’re ashamed of our daughter. But let me tell you, she’s a great girl and I’ll be helping her out financially.”
“That’s fine with me,” Imelda muttered. It wasn’t only shame she felt about Keelin; it was disappointment. Huge disappointment for her. Her daughter had been living a life she would have given anything to experience. A life of freedom in Dublin. Sharing a flat and having a great social life and, the icing on the cake, foreign holidays with her friends. And most important of all, being financially independent.
It was the throwing away of all of that, so carelessly and unthinkingly, that wounded Imelda. She’d been so proud of Keelin. Her daughter was a liberated woman. It was unfathomable to Imelda that she’d given it all up to join an organization that was stuck in the Middle Ages, keeping women firmly in their place.
And now Keelin was even more trapped. Penniless, pregnant, and soon to be an unmarried mother in a society that had little sympathy for women in that situation. Could she not have used protection, if she was going to have sex? It was easy now for women to prevent pregnancy. How could she have been so stupid and foolish to turn her back on such privileges? She’d had it all—and she’d taken it for granted.
Let her stay in the Four Winds with Saint Brigid, Imelda thought bitterly. It was what she deserved.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Oh God! My waters have broken, Una, and I’m getting terrible cramps,” Keelin gasped, puffing and panting her way into the kitchen, where Una was peeling spuds for the dinner. “Am I in labour? The baby’s not due for another three weeks.”
“Oh Jesus, Mary, and Holy Sweet Saint Joseph!” Una exclaimed in dismay, assisting Keelin to a chair. “I’ll call Maura and tell her to ring Dr. McCormack. Or should we drive you to the hospital? It’s a long enough journey in case anything happens on the way?” Una went to the kitchen door and yelled for her sister, who was upstairs changing beds. There had been a lot of nuns staying the previous week, but thankfully there was a lull in the big house.
“What’s going on? Why are you yelling at poor Maura?” Sister Marie-Hélène limped into the kitchen on her crutches. She was recovering from a car accident, spending the summer in the Four Winds to recuperate and write her thesis.
“Marie-Hélène, Keelin’s waters broke and we think she’s in—”
Keelin groaned and doubled over as another spasm of pain engulfed her.
“Oh lordy! What do we need? They always say hot water and towels—” Marie-Hélène looked panicked. She was the same age as Keelin; they had become good friends. “Lie down and we’ll time the contractions,” she said, helping Keelin up from the chair. “Can you make it up to the bedroom?”
“I’m scared, Marie-Hélène,” Keelin confessed.
“Nothing to be scared of, Keelin. Giving birth’s the most natural thing in the world,” the young nun said confidently. “Maura, ring Dr. McCormack and tell him Keelin’s in labour and he needs to get over here,” she instructed. Keelin felt a modicum of comfort at her friend’s authoritative instructions and the way she was taking charge.
Another contraction hit and she felt a wave of sweat break out across her forehead. If Brigid were here, she’d know what to do, and how far gone Keelin was—she’d helped to deliver babies in Africa—but it would be two hours be
fore she got to Butlersbridge from Limerick, Keelin thought, trying not to panic.
“Dr. McCormack is out on a call. Mrs. McCormack said she’ll give him the message as soon as he gets back.” Maura hurried up the stairs after them. “Why don’t I go and get Katie Wickham? Everyone calls on Katie to come when there’s a birth or death in the village,” she suggested.
“Great idea,” approved Marie-Hélène. “Get her now, Maura.”
“Sure,” Maura agreed, clattering down the stairs at speed.
“You’ll be grand, Keelin. We better get your drawers off ya, in case the baby surprises us.” Marie-Hélène grinned. And in spite of her labour pains, Keelin laughed at the irrepressible nun.
Two hours later, after a fast and intense labour, Marie-Claire Durand shot into the world in an almighty hurry. Katie Wickham and Dr. McCormack, Una and Marie-Hélène were there, urging Keelin on, while Maura supplied the hot water and, when required, hot sweet tea.
“Now, child, here’s your daughter, and she has a fine pair of lungs on her, and she’s a grand size even if she’s early.” Katie smiled at Keelin, placing the baby in her arms, having wiped her off after the doctor had cut the umbilical cord.
“Oh, look at her! Look at the head of hair on her! Oh, she’s beautiful!” Keelin gazed in awe at her daughter.
“Just like her mama.” Marie-Hélène smiled, kissing the top of Keelin’s head. “You did great.”
“Thank you so much for helping me, Marie-Hélène; thank you, everyone,” Keelin said with heartfelt gratitude, stroking her baby’s soft cheek.
“Thank Katie and Dr. McCormack, and thank God they were here. Because now that it’s all over I have to tell you, like Prissy in Gone with the Wind once famously confessed to Scarlett O’Hara, ‘I don’t know nothin’ ’bout birthin’ babies,’ ” Marie-Hélène admitted drolly.
“You should get a best actress award, then.” Keelin laughed, and then her baby opened her eyes and stared up at her, and Keelin knew as she stared into those big blue orbs fringed by long, black silky lashes that she was the luckiest, most blessed woman in the universe.
“Awww, Keelin.” A voice at the door made them all turn. It was Brigid, newly arrived from Limerick, and she hurried over to kiss her niece.
“Do you want to hold her, Mère?” Keelin gazed up at her aunt, who had been such a stalwart support to her and Armand.
“Oh yes, more than you’ll ever know!” Brigid exclaimed, taking the tiny bundle into her arms and tenderly kissing her grand-niece’s downy head. “So here you are!” she murmured. “I couldn’t be happier.”
* * *
“Well now, isn’t she the most beautiful baby you ever saw,” Larry said proudly, cradling his first grandchild. “Was it hard, Keelin? I got a shock when Brigid rang me to say you were in labour.”
“I was fairly yelping all right.” Keelin grimaced. “How do women do that twelve and more times? They’re hardy women, our mothers’ generation.”
“They are,” her father agreed.
“And speaking of hardy women, did Mam make any comment when she heard I’d had the baby?” Keelin asked.
“She’s in Dublin. Up with Teresa. She doesn’t know yet. I told the lads to tell her if she phones. They send their love and are looking forward to seeing their niece,” Larry explained gently.
“She probably wouldn’t have come anyway.” Keelin’s resigned tone told him his daughter knew her mother as well as he did.
“She’ll come around eventually,” he said with fake optimism. “Don’t give up.”
* * *
“So it all went well, then, and it was a girl,” Imelda said unenthusiastically when Larry got home that evening.
“Yes, a little beauty. She’s a couple of weeks premature, but she’s a feisty little thing, like her mother,” Larry said proudly. “Wait until you see her,” he added tentatively. “You’ll come to the christening, won’t you?”
“No, Larry, I won’t. And please don’t ask me again,” Imelda said in a tone of voice that left him in no doubt that his wife meant every word she said.
* * *
“Is she as beautiful as her mother?” Armand asked Keelin, his voice such a welcome sound to hear down the phone from his grandparents’ home in France.
“The most beautiful baby in the world, Armand,” Keelin said happily.
“I wish I’d been with you, chérie,” he said regretfully. “My flight is booked for next Saturday.”
“I know. I wish you’d been here, too, but she came early. And everyone says I’m very lucky the labour was so short. She was certainly in a hurry to come. You’ll be here in another week, and then you’ll see what a beauty our daughter is,” Keelin consoled him.
“It can’t come soon enough,” Armand said fervently. “Have your parents seen her yet?”
“Dad has. I don’t think Mam will be visiting us in the foreseeable future, if ever.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Keelin,” Armand said sadly.
“It’s her loss, beloved. I’m not going to let it spoil this wonderful day.” Keelin was adamant about that.
“Good, that’s very good, chérie. It is a wonderful day for us. We’ve been blessed by the arrival of our child. Soon we’ll all be together. A family at last. As soon as I have my qualification to teach French as a foreign language I will be able to support us,” Armand assured her.
“I could go back to teaching. I might have to pretend to be married, though, because… well, you know the Catholic ethos in schools.…” She trailed off.
“You won’t have to pretend. We will be married, never you fear,” Armand said resolutely.
“No! I don’t want you to feel forced into a marriage,” Keelin replied firmly. “An unplanned pregnancy should never be a reason to marry.”
“Keelin, pregnant or not, I always wanted to marry you, once I’m laicized. Chérie, we are meant to be together. It’s been divinely ordained.”
“Oh, I feel that, too, Armand. So strongly. Now I know why I was meant to join the nuns and go on the Missions. It was to meet you.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Look at the size of her. And look at the smiles out of her for her granddad.” Larry was delighted with himself as Marie-Claire cooed up at him, beaming a toothy grin that seemed to stretch from one ear to another. “Can I lift her out?”
“Of course you can, Dad.” Keelin laughed. “Though Una will probably give out. She says we’re giving Marie-Claire bad habits, holding her all the time.”
“But sure, I’m her granddad, and I don’t get to see her half as much as I’d like to,” Larry retorted, lifting the baby out of her pram. “Make me a mug of tea and tell me all the news.” He smiled at Keelin.
“Armand will be here at the weekend. He has a job interview next week, in a school in Whitehall. We’re going to look for a place to rent in Dublin in the New Year.”
“Now that’s something I want to talk to you about,” Larry interjected, stroking his granddaughter’s cheek. “I lodged a couple of bob into your account. It should go some way to getting a deposit on a house for ye. Rent is money down the drain. Buy your own place as quick as ye can,” he advised.
“Aw, Dad, you’re so good to us.” Keelin was overwhelmed by her father’s kindness to her. “Does Mam know? Does she mind?” she asked, placing his mug of tea on the table in front of him.
“Yes, she knows. I told her. She never put up any protest. I think she’s glad, in her own funny way, to be helping you out.”
“And she knows you were coming to see me today?” Keelin queried.
“She does.”
“And she’d never say she’d come with you?” she asked wistfully.
“It will happen in time,” Larry predicted. “She’ll get used to the idea eventually.”
“She’s had nearly a year,” Keelin said glumly, thinking how hard it was to believe that this time last year she had been pregnant but hadn’t realised it.
“How’s the job go
ing?” Larry changed the subject, dunking a chocolate biscuit into his tea.
“Great. I love it. I’m finished this week. The hotel closes for Christmas until mid-January. The few extra bob are great and the hours suit me.” Keelin sat down at the table beside him. She’d started working part-time in reception at the local hotel, filling in for the regular receptionist who was on maternity leave, and she enjoyed it very much. Una and Marie-Hélène had insisted she take the position, offering to mind Marie-Claire for her.
“That’s good to hear. We’re up to our eyes, of course. This time of the year is always busy for us, but I’m not complaining. It would be worse if it wasn’t.” Larry made a funny face at the baby and she chuckled.
Her father looked tired and Keelin felt guilty that he had taken time out of his busy schedule to drive all the way to the Four Winds to see her and Marie-Claire. He’d been so good to her since the baby was born. She knew she would never have managed without him.
Larry had lunch with her and Una, and at Keelin’s urging he left around two-thirty so that he would be on the main road well before nighttime. She didn’t want him driving home in the dark.
“I’ll be down over the Christmas, Keelin,” he assured her, hugging her tightly before placing a tender kiss on his sleeping granddaughter’s head.
“I’ll be looking forward to it, Daddy. I love you,” Keelin said, walking to the car with him.
“And I love you, Keelin. Very much.” Her father smiled, giving her another hug before he got in the car. She waved him off until he disappeared from view, wishing with all her heart that Imelda would change her mind, so that Keelin and her baby could go and visit them in Glencarraig and save her father the long round trip.
* * *
“Imelda, you should get down here. Larry’s taken a turn.” The secretary sounded panicked and her tone frightened Imelda.
The Liberation of Brigid Dunne Page 20