“You bloody bitch,” Harry said in a low menacing voice. “You dirty tramp. You tried to kill me!”
Recovering from the shock of what had happened, she told him, “If I wanted a corpse in my cottage, I would have hit you on the head with the iron.”
Harry, in pain, held the wrist of his burnt hand, his face drained of color.
“Where is the cold water, damn it?”
“I’m sorry. There is no cold water here. You’ll have to go down the lane to the water tap you passed on your way here.”
She opened the door. As he left, through clenched teeth, he spat out the words, “You’ll pay for this, you damn bitch. My lawyer will know you deliberately burnt me and tried to kill me.”
“It’s your words against mine, Harry. There are no witnesses.”
Harry rushed down to the tap and put his hand under the flow of water, wetting his shoes, the front of his trousers, and his coat sleeves. After a few minutes he was gone.
Kate, shaken from the ordeal, put the child in the crib, pulled over a chair and sat down beside the crib. Her heart was pounding, her legs felt like jelly, and her mind was disorganized. Have some tea, she advised herself. In order to do so, she will need to fetch water, but her body refused to move.
After a brief time, she forced herself to get up. Going to the crib, she picked Eoin up, holding him closely to her breast. Could I lose him? No, don’t think the worst possible outcome, she chided herself. Pull yourself together.
With the child in her arms, she left the cottage and walked up to O’Toole’s cottage where she knocked on the door.
“Come in,” a voice from within called to her.
“Kate,” O’Toole smiled from his armchair by the fire, and then his expression quickly turned serious. “What is the matter, Kate? You’re as white as a ghost, lass. Are you sick?”
Kate shook her head.
“Is it the boy?” Again she shook her head.
Breathlessly, she told O’Toole of her unexpected visitor, the purpose of his visit, and what took place in her cottage. O’Toole listened silently and remained quiet for several moments after she had finished.
“Put the boy down on my lap, and make us some tea. There’s a tin of biscuits waiting to be opened on the shelf over the stove.”
“I don’t think I can eat anything,” Kate replied as she set about making the tea.
“You haven’t seen anything as delicious as these,” he told her. “They’re the kind you don’t have to have an appetite to eat. One look into the assortment in that box will do it.”
Despite her anguish, Kate smiled.
“I’ll take a plain one for Eoin,” she told O’Toole and, opening the box, she saw the richness of its contents. “Oh, nothing plain here, Mr. O’Toole” she smiled. “Well, Eoin you’re going to love this one with the hard icing on it,” and she handed the biscuit to the child, who smiled and said, “Tank you.”
“You’re the only one in the lane who knows about Eoin’s true parentage. Although if Harry Browne gets a lawyer, it will most likely make all the newspapers, and all will know.”
As she set the cups and saucers on the small bench next to O’Toole’s armchair, and poured the tea, he spoke. “You’ll need a good lawyer, Kate.”
“I don’t know the first thing about engaging a lawyer,” she answered as she took Eoin from O’Toole to enable him to have his tea. Eoin on her lap.
“Leave that to me. We’re not going to let young Eoin go off to any stud farm. We’ll fight.”
Eoin insisted on grabbing for his mother’s teacup. Since Mr. O’Toole had just two teacups, Kate rose with the child in her arms, walked to the shelf and took an eggcup off it. Then she poured in milk, added a few teaspoons of tea, a pinch of sugar, and sitting down, handed it to the child, who happily drank.
“You had said Francis sends you a small amount of money monthly. Do you have receipts?”
“No, but I’ve been depositing the money he sends into a separate bank account since I returned to work a year ago. Before that time I cashed the money orders at the post office and used them for our needs.”
“May I ask what name is on this account?”
“Francis and Kate Egan.”
“Ah, good.”
“In what way?”
“It shows he has sent money towards the support of you and the child.” He paused to drink some tea then continued. “You’ve mentioned the effects on the people of the lane should this become public. It is my belief that Browne and his in-laws would have many more problems with this kind of publicity. Browne wants the child, so we’ll assume his wife and he cannot conceive a child of their own. His father-in-law, a rich man used to having things his way, cannot be happy accepting Browne’s child by a woman other than his daughter as his grandchild. I doubt very much if the stud farm owner’s pride could withstand all his friends, workers, and business associates knowing that his grandson was not of his bloodline, but a child of his son-in-law, born to a woman he got pregnant and of whom he had no intention of marrying.”
“Mr. O’Toole, you give me hope.”
“What they will want, Kate, above all, is for this case not to go to court. Believing you can’t hire an attorney, and knowing they can’t bribe you to give up the child, they feel safe in threatening you with a court case. You don’t have a telephone. Therefore, if Browne does engage a lawyer, you can expect to have a visit from the lawyer’s solicitor. When or if he arrives, do not discuss any of this with him. Instead, you and young Eoin should bring him here, and here we’ll speak with him.”
“I will. Do you know of a lawyer who will take this case should we need one?” Kate asked as she washed the teacups, saucers and spoons.
“I’ll go tomorrow and speak with my brother and see about enlisting the services of Gilmartin, Rowan and O’Toole.
“Is your brother a lawyer?”
“No, Kate. He’s a judge.
“A judge?”
“Yes. His son is a lawyer, with the just mentioned firm, which is why when the solicitor arrives, you will introduce me as Eoin, no surname.”
“What if he asks for your full name?”
“Don’t worry about that. Just bring him here. I will take care of the rest.” As she and the child were about to leave, O’Toole called to her, “Kate, don’t breathe a word of this to anyone. I don’t make my family or private affairs known to others.”
“I won’t tell a soul.”
As Eoin O’Toole had predicted, several days later, Harry Browne’s lawyer had sent his solicitor to call on Kate. On hearing a knock on the door, instead of the customary words, ‘come in,’ Kate interrupted Eoin’s climb on the chair to reach the table where the freshly baked soda bread lay on a rack to cool, and picked him up before she opened the door.
“Mrs. Egan?”
“Yes.”
“I’m George Connelly for the law firm of Bailey, Duff and Harris.” Kate removed her coat from the back of the door, and casting it over Eoin’s and her own head against the heavy rainfall, moved forward closing the door behind her.
“Come with me,” she said simply.
“Do you not live in that cottage?” he asked turning around to point back at the Egan cottage, for Kate walked ahead without breaking her stride.
“Yes, but we can’t discuss this matter there.” He obediently followed.
“I have an umbrella,” he said, and catching up with her, held it over her and the child’s head. Who is in her cottage, he wondered, whose presence she doesn’t want known? Is it a boy friend? This might alter the case, but I don’t have the authority to demand entrance. I will report it.
Kate knocked on O’Toole’s door. On hearing his voice call out, Kate entered, followed by George Connelly. O’Toole with his back to them lowered the bellows he has been using on the fire, sending sparks jumping up the chimney. As he turned around, Kate introduced the two men stating, “Eoin, this is Mr. Connelly from the firm of Bailey, Duff and Harris.”
&n
bsp; “Sit you both down,” O’Toole offered. “Now Mr. Connelly, what brings you here?”
George Connelly gave his reasons, which were pretty much as Harry Browne had stated them only in a more gracious manner. After he had finished, he sat in much discomfort and waited for a response from either O’Toole or Kate. Since it was a cold, raw, rainy day, Connelly had dressed warmly, too warmly for this small room with its blazing hot fire. O’Toole, who normally was most particular about such things, had neglected to empty his chamber pot this morning. The one window in the room was shut tight against the cold and rain. Mr. Connelly began to perspire profusely in this mixture of dampness and heat.
“Would you like a nice hot cup of tea, Mr. Connelly?” O’Toole asked.
“No, thank you, sir.”
“Well, now, you have set your purpose clearly, and I will be equally clear. We intend to engage a lawyer and fight this case, and, I believe, we’ll win.”
“Have you any idea how costly hiring a lawyer can be?”
“Yes, indeed I do,” he answered shaking his head. “I have engaged the law firm of Gilmartin, Rowan and O’Toole.”
“Mr . . . eh I don’t believe you mentioned your surname?”
“I’m known as Eoin. You may call me Eoin. As you were saying?”
“Gilmartin, Rowan, and O’Toole are tops in this business. They . . .”
“Yes, I know, Mr. Connelly. That is why we’ve engaged them. They have agreed we have an excellent case. Mr. Browne convinced this young woman that he loved her and planned to marry her. After she became pregnant with his child, he abandoned her in that condition. Now, after absolutely no contact with her for the past three years, he finds his wife and he cannot conceive a child, and wants to claim the child he tried to get this woman to abort. This case will produce a great deal of publicity. Can Mr. Browne’s and his wife’s marriage survive it? And more importantly, what will this kind of publicity do to Mr. Fitzgerald, owner of the most prestigious stud farm in Kildare? He will, no doubt, do all in his power to quench this case; thus, the father-in-law of your own client will also be working against you and your law firm. You have opened Pandora’s box. Mr. Connelly, convey this to the lawyer who will represent Mr. Browne. Tell him, also, in compensation, we will agree to a sum of money, the amount yet to be determined, and to be given to the local orphanage. This money is to be used to help children as they come of age to leave the orphanage, and to finance their start in the outside world.”
Connelly was beginning to feel ill. The heat was overpowering as was the odor in the room.
“Do take off your coat, Mr. Connelly,” Kate urged, for she felt sorry for his distress.
“Is it giving comfort to the enemy you are, Kate?” O’Toole jokingly questioned her.
Connelly smiled wanly, and refused her offer. He wanted very much to leave, but knew he had to stay a while longer.
“Sir, why would you expect a donation to be made on your behalf by a client of ours?”
“You have grieved this young woman and tried to take her child from her. Since she is a kind-hearted woman, a donation to such a worthy cause, I feel, will alleviate the damage done to her by your client, Mr. Browne.”
Connelly rose. He had to leave before he embarrassed himself by being sick.
“I will see what can be done,” he answered.
“We must have an answer within a week,” O’Toole told him.
“Have we met before? You look familiar. I seem to recognize you from someplace?”
“That’s hardly likely, Mr. Connelly. We don’t move in the same circles, and I can assure you, I’ve never met you prior to this meeting.” A brief silence followed.
“I can see myself out, thank you.” Connelly said, as Kate rose to walk him to the door. The rain had stopped, but Connelly was soaked inside and out from perspiration and rain. He took a deep breath once he had closed the door behind him, then he walked briskly down the lane.
As the door closed behind Connelly, O’Toole laughed.
“I’m sorry, Kate, that you had to breathe in this odor. Quickly take yourself and the boy out and don’t come back until I’ve emptied the chamber pot and aired this place out.”
“You did this on purpose? That poor man sweated, and he could hardly breathe.”
“All part of the plan. I figured he would not come yesterday, that would have been too soon. He might come today, and if he didn’t, I would have wasted my turf and kindling. Worse than that, each day I would have had to keep the chamber pot in the cottage until he came. I can now let the fire die down a bit and empty the pot.”
“You’re a wicked man, Eoin O’Toole.”
“When need be, Kate, when need be. Now leave, Kate, and let me do what I have to do.”
“Thank you. You’re also a very kind man.”
“Kate!”
“Yes, Mr. O’Toole.”
“Buy a decent coat, and get rid of the old rain coat you’ve been wearing since you arrived in the lane.”
“Yes, sir, in due time,” she laughed, and taking the child, Kate returned to her cottage.
When Kate arrived back at the cottage, she noticed a letter had been dropped into the mail slot. Opening it she read Sheila’s letter. In a fortnight’s time, Sheila would be leaving England for Australia where she had secured a job. She wanted Kate and Eoin to come to England and sail with her to Australia. Sheila enthused about how wonderful living in Australia would be, how it would be a new start for Kate and Eoin, and how much in need of nurses was Sydney.
That night Kate wrote to Sheila telling her of Browne’s visit, and the solicitor’s visit, and how wonderfully Eoin O’Toole handled the whole matter. Now they awaited the outcome. She also mentioned that she didn’t want to take Eoin’s heritage away. Her son was Irish. Yes, she knew he might grow up and leave Ireland, but that would be his decision, not one she had made for him. Then there was Francis. He had never given her his address, but he did send money monthly from someplace in England.
Sheila wrote back immediately. She thought Kate was making a big mistake. Eoin would probably emigrate after he finished school in Ireland. Then she’d be alone with nothing but missed opportunities. Sheila also gave Kate the benefit of her thoughts on Francis, who she believed was keeping Kate dangling from a string while he was living it up in England, and suggested that the reason he never gave Kate his address was he didn’t want his present girlfriend to know about her.
There may be some truth to what Sheila believed, Kate thought, but she was determined to have Eoin grow up in Ireland. Perhaps Francis has no plans to come home. If this is so, why would he send money each month? That doesn’t suffice for his absence. She desperately wanted to hear from Francis and to know what his plans were and if they included her and Eoin. She would wait seven years before she would consider their marriage ended. In the meantime, she had a son and a part-time nursing job, and was grateful for both. She also had the cottage and the best possible neighbors living in the lane. She and Eoin also had good friends in Ned and Mary with whom they spent all holidays. They loved Eoin, and expressed a great desire to take care of him during summer vacation when he was old enough to attend school and she could work full time. There was also O’Toole, who saw Eoin as his grandson. O’Toole was a good friend to her, and she loved the dear old man. Yes, Eoin was being well cared for among generous, loving people.
More than three months had passed since Harry had visited the law firm. He was impatient with the delays. His constant telephone calls to the office never permitted him the opportunity to speak with any of the lawyers, only the receptionist or a solicitor. The solicitors, he felt, kept putting off with the same noncommittal language. ‘We’re working on it, Mr. Browne. These things take time and cannot be rushed, Mr. Browne,’ and‘We pride ourselves on doing a thorough job, and getting the desired results for our clients.’
Now, he sat down for dinner at the Fitzgerald’s on Sunday evening. Just before dessert was served, Brian Fitzgerald, sniffing h
is brandy, turned to Harry and said, “I need an explanation from you!”
“An explanation?” Harry, caught off guard, sputtered.
“I had a conversation with Mr. Duff of Harris, Bailey, and Duff law firm. He told me you’ve lost interest in producing a child the manly way, and are seeking to ‘buy’ a baby!”
An uncomfortable silence occurred, whereupon the horse trainer rose and said, “I’ll be calling it a night. Goodnight to all,” and with a head movement that told the jockey he should do likewise, they both left the room just as Brian had expected they would.
“What do you know of this, Kit?”
“Harry said since we were having so much trouble having a baby, he would get me a baby from a woman he knew of who was unmarried and had a baby about two and a half years old. We wouldn’t be buying a child! This woman and child were living in great poverty, and we would be doing this unfortunate woman a favor by giving the baby a good home, and giving her a lump sum of money to help her get her life back in order.”
“Is that the full extent of what he told you of his plan?”
“Yes. Harry also said it was a beautiful baby boy, and as soon as we knew for sure we could get this baby, we were going to tell you about our good news. I thought you’d be happy.”
“Let me fill you in on a few details that he omitted. The woman in question was a girlfriend of Harry’s whom he got pregnant and deserted. She married after Harry left her, and her husband is working in England. This woman, whom Harry had told to get an abortion, does not now, nor ever did wish to give up her child.”
Kit, horrified by what she was told about Harry, stood to leave the table, but her father gently covered her hand with his, and she lowered herself back into the chair.
The Lane Page 9