She was adopted as planned, but by a different family from the one you met, so you could never trace them if you ever had doubts about her ‘death’. It was your father’s idea, but I am equally to blame, as I willingly played my part, believing I was doing the right thing.
You were so young, Clare, and you’d committed such a cardinal sin against God and the Holy Catholic Church, but Father Finnegan – and old age – has helped me realise that the future of your baby was not my choice, or your father’s choice, to make. It should have been your decision, despite your youth. I now accept that we were very wrong to force you into giving up baby Shannon. We were even more wrong to tell you that she had died, poor little mite.
I don’t expect your forgiveness. I would find it hard to forgive anyone who had done such a wicked thing to me. I do, however, hope to belatedly repair the damage we’ve done. Your father knows nothing of these actions. I lost touch with my nephew five years ago when I received my diagnosis, confessed my sins and realised the error of my ways.
I enclose a photo and all the details I know in case you wish to track her down. I believe Shannon would have turned 16 today. Perhaps she is ready to meet her birth mother? Whatever you decide, may God be with you.
I have one more confession. Daran McInnery wrote to you many, many times via your priest, Father Doherty. At my insistence, he destroyed the letters. Your sister Aisling also tried to make contact. I returned her letters, unopened. I know now that I had no right to do either of these things, not that this will bring you any comfort.
I go to my Maker with my conscience at peace now and hope that one day you can perhaps understand, even if you can’t forgive. At the time, I genuinely did believe it was best for you, Clare, but I realise now that your father and I were thinking of ourselves, not what was right for you and your daughter.
God bless you on your journey, should you wish to find young Shannon.
Great-Aunt Nuala
I dropped the letter. Jesus Christ! She’s alive? After all these years, Shannon’s alive? They lied to me? Why would they lie? I’d agreed to the adoption.
My hands shook and my heart raced as I snatched up the letter again and scanned it for an answer: ‘… so you could never trace them’. What difference would it make if I had? I closed my eyes tightly and muttered, ‘Same as keeping her in the first place. Same reason I was banished to Cornwall. Disgrace to the family. Damn them. Damn them all. She was my baby. It was my choice. My body. My choice.’
I opened my eyes again and scanned over the names and dates of the family who’d really adopted Shannon, then reread the letter. ‘Photo. Where’s the photo?’ I rummaged through the sheets of the letter. It wasn’t there. Stay calm. It’ll be here. Think. The envelope! It’ll still be in the envelope. So where the feck’s the envelope?
I found it on the floor and relief flowed through me when my fingers touched something inside. I sat on the floor, leaned against the side of the bed and gazed at the image. A pretty, blonde baby with green eyes and pudgy cheeks grinned at the camera. She must have been about five or six months old. I turned the photo over. A scribble in blue biro on the back stated:
Shannon at 6 months. Thank you for our beautiful gift.
I flipped the photo back over and stroked her face with my fingertip. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t keep you. I wanted to. I can remember the day you were born, as if it were yesterday. And the pain when they took you away was not a patch on the pain that I felt when they told me you’d died. Because, while you were alive, there was hope that we’d find each other one day, then we’d track down Daran and be a proper family. He’d have wanted that. He loved me and he was true to me, whatever Da says. I’m sorry, Shannon. I’m so sorry they gave you away.’
For someone who’d barely shed a tear about my past in seventeen years, the outpouring of emotion was overwhelming. I gasped for air as my body shook and tears rained down my cheeks, soaking my PJs.
I needed to talk to someone. Desperately. But with Ben out of town and Sarah still on honeymoon, who could I turn to?
12
✉︎ To Elise
Do you have any plans this weekend? I need to talk to someone. Is there any chance I could meet you in Whitsborough Bay? Please!
* * *
✉︎ From Elise
Are you OK? Do you want to talk now? I’ve got 10 mins till break’s over. Just tried to call you but got voicemail. Worried about you! No plans for the weekend xx
* * *
✉︎ To Elise
Sorry for not answering. Don’t want to discuss it on the phone. Please don’t worry. I’m fine. Just received some unexpected news and I need to talk through my next steps with someone. And no, I’m not pregnant! Can we meet somewhere quiet at 10.30am on Saturday?
* * *
✉︎ From Elise
How about The Starfish Café a couple of miles down the coast? It’s lovely and really quiet first thing. Google it for directions. It’s easy to find. See you then, but call me if you need me before xx
I arrived at The Starfish Café shortly before ten. A heavy frost had settled overnight and blankets of snow covered the higher ground. Thankfully the café opened minutes later so I didn’t have to sit in the car with the heating on full blast.
Sitting at a window seat, I slowly stirred my latte, staring out at the grey sea pounding the distant shore, as I wondered what to say to Elise. Where could I start to talk about a past that had been buried for seventeen years? A past that I’d refused point blank to ever discuss with Sarah, even though I trusted her implicitly.
Elise was right next to the table before I even noticed her. ‘Elise! Sorry. Miles away.’
She unwrapped a long, fluffy turquoise scarf before sitting down opposite me. ‘You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.’
I sighed. ‘I may well do. I’m hoping I can unburden some of the pressure on you.’
‘Unburden away.’
I stood up. ‘Let me get you a drink first and then I’m going to tell you a little story that will make your hair even curlier than it is already.’
At the counter, I ordered Elise a hot chocolate and a piece of shortbread. As I placed them in front of her, I searched for the right words. ‘I found out something this week that has completely thrown me and I need some advice on what to do next.’ I sat down. ‘To get the advice, I’m going to have to talk about my past and, as I’m sure you already know, I never talk about my past, so this is going to be really difficult for me.’
Elise snapped her shortbread in half and wiped her fingers on a napkin. ‘I’m all ears. Just like you were for me last year.’
‘Thanks. Okay, here goes…’
‘You must have been terrified, being pregnant at sixteen,’ Elise said, when I’d told her the first part of my story – my relationship with Daran.
‘I was. Not of having the baby, but of telling Da. I knew he’d go ballistic so I kept it quiet. I had no sickness or fatigue so there were no physical signs of pregnancy. My parents found out, though.’
‘How?’
‘I honestly don’t know. Could have been anything. I got home from a walk with Daran on New Year’s Eve to find Ma, Da and Father Doherty waiting for me in the living room, looking very serious. A suitcase and a couple of boxes stood in the middle of the room. Da ordered me to put on the clothes that Ma had laid out on my bed, then come back downstairs immediately. His voice was calm, but his face was puce. I knew that he knew and I swear I nearly wet myself with fear. As soon as I got to my bedroom, I could see it had been stripped bare of my belongings. My drawers and wardrobe were empty and the black woollen dress and thick tights that I wore for funerals were laid out on my bed.’
My eyes filled with tears as I relived that memory. Those faces staring at me. Judging me. Hating me. I didn’t want to start crying again so I stared out the window at the sea while I composed myself. Elise remained silent, waiting for me to continue.
‘I changed as slowly
as I could but eventually had to go back downstairs to face the firing squad. Ma wouldn’t look at me. She just sat in the chair, arms folded, lips pursed, shaking her head. It was Father Doherty who spoke. He wasn’t angry. He just sounded disappointed. He wittered on about sinners and threw out a stack of quotes from the Bible. I wasn’t listening. I was too scared to concentrate. Then Da asked who the father was. I couldn’t tell them. They’d never have understood so I said, “I don’t know”, which was like lighting the touch-paper. Da obviously assumed I’d been sleeping around. For a God-fearing man who never swore, I heard words spew from his mouth that I’d never even heard before. I was called everything, from a harlot to a temptress to the village bike to Jezebel herself, before he told me I’d brought disgrace on the family and I was no longer his daughter.’
Elise gasped and reached for my hand as my tears started to flow.
‘He said he never wanted to see me or hear from me again. I know he was upset and ashamed, but what parent says something like that to their youngest daughter?’
Elise shook her head. ‘No parent should ever behave like that. It’s appalling. Parents should be supportive, not judgemental. I’m so sorry, Clare. What happened next?’
‘I was sent to live with Da’s Aunt Nuala in Truro. There was no talk of me returning. Father Doherty seemed shocked at that part and tried to convince them to have me back after the baby was born, but they both refused. It got pretty heated. He started talking about forgiveness, but Da just hurled everything he’d said about sin back at him. He couldn’t win. I got a letter from Ma a month later telling me that they knew who the father was. Apparently, Daran had been asking after me and they’d noticed he seemed overly surprised and concerned that I’d moved to the UK to help an elderly relative. Daran was removed from the county and given strict instructions never to contact me or he’d face legal consequences for having sex with a minor. Apparently, my parents didn’t judge or blame him because I’d clearly been – and I quote – “the harlot who’d chased and hounded a celibate man until he was powerless to resist your advances”. That was the last contact I had with either of them.’
Elise looked at me with tears in her eyes and whispered, ‘Oh, Clare, I don’t know what to say. I had no idea you’d been through anything like this. I knew you weren’t close to your family, but I never imagined this.’
I wiped my tears and blew my nose. ‘Nobody knows. Not even Sarah. It hurts too much to think about it. It’s one of the reasons I don’t do Christmas and New Year. It reminds me of being with Daran, then having our happy bubble burst on New Year’s Eve.’
‘I don’t blame you,’ she said. ‘So what happened to the baby?’
‘It was a baby girl. Shannon. She was born on the twelfth of June. She was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. But I only got to hold her for a few minutes before they took her away. Da and Great-Aunt Nuala had arranged for her to be adopted. I’d had to sign some paperwork to give her to the Flannerys – a good Irish Catholic family from Exeter. I kept telling myself it was for the best, but best for whom? Me? Shannon? Or my prejudiced family? I tried to convince Great-Aunt Nuala to let me keep her, but she gave me an ultimatum: give Shannon up and she’d put me through school, college and university, or keep her and she’d throw me out with no money.’
‘What sort of ultimatum is that?’ Elise cried. ‘It didn’t give you any real choice.’
‘I know. I knew I couldn’t support Shannon because I had no money, no qualifications, no job and no prospect of getting one. I needed to start again with English qualifications two years behind everyone else and I figured that, if I let her get the right start in life with a family who could provide for her, I could try to find her once I got my education and a job. I knew I could never fully be her mother, but perhaps I could still be in her life.’
‘And you never found her?’
‘I never looked. They told me she died a few hours after being born. Post-birth complications or something. But I got this letter on Wednesday.’
I reached into my bag and passed Great-Aunt Nuala’s letter to Elise. She scanned down the contents and I watched as her jaw dropped open. ‘And you thought she was dead for, what, sixteen-and-a-half years?’
I nodded. ‘This is her at six months.’ I passed Elise the photograph.
Elise smiled. ‘There’s no doubting she’s yours. Absolute image of you. She’s beautiful.’
‘I know. So now you know the huge skeleton in my closet. Only, it turns out it’s not really a skeleton, but a young woman now. And while I’m confessing everything, I have another biggie that you may as well know. I hope you believe me that I wasn’t the village bike at age sixteen, as my father so nicely put it, but I want you to know that I’ve never been the village bike since then…’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t judge. I know I’ve made snide comments in the past, but I haven’t meant them. How many men you’ve had sex with is up to you.’
I laughed. ‘That’s just the point. I haven’t had sex with any. Well, obviously I did with Daran, but he was my first and only.’
‘But why…?’
‘Why do I make out that I sleep around?’ I wet my finger, picked up some sugar granules off the table and dropped them into my empty cup. ‘It’s easier that way. I created a persona to protect myself from my past, based around the person my parents clearly thought I was. If you make out that you don’t do relationships, people want to know why. If you make out that you don’t do relationships because you prefer one-night stands, people don’t question it. They see it as a lifestyle choice. Which begs the question, why don’t I do relationships? Quite simply, it was because I loved Daran so deeply that nobody else stood a chance. Every moment we were apart hurt.’ My tears started again. ‘Sorry. I can’t stop crying now. It’s like a dam has burst.’
‘Are you going to try to find Daran?’ Elise asked.
I shook my head. ‘No. I thought of him constantly for years after I moved to Cornwall. I’d dream about how different things could have been if I’d told Daran I was pregnant or if I’d stood up to Da. The thing is, I don’t even remember why I didn’t tell Daran. I’ve been racking my brain and it feels like there was a reason, but I just can’t put my finger on it.’
Elise shrugged. ‘It was a long time ago and you’ve been through so much since then.’
‘I know. It’s so strange, though. It’s not the only thing I can’t remember. There’s so much of our time together that I remember so vividly yet there are other things… well, it’s like there’s a thick fog hanging over parts of my past and I can just see shapes, but I can’t convert them into anything tangible.’ I smiled at Elise. ‘Sorry. That sounds like absolute bollocks, doesn’t it now? Hindsight’s a great thing. I know now that I should have stood up to my da, but the man terrified me. He still terrifies me. I saw him on Sunday and I was completely defenceless all over again. I didn’t put up a fight on Sunday and I didn’t put up a fight when I was sixteen. Back then, I let him put me on a plane and send me to England, away from Daran. I wrote to Daran every other day until Shannon was born. I sent the letters to Father Doherty and begged him to pass them on. I’m assuming he didn’t, since he destroyed the letters that Daran wrote. The only thing I do know is that we could have been really happy together if I’d been a bit stronger and pushed a bit more. But I can’t try to recover what we had nearly two decades later. I just can’t.’
Elise shook her head again. ‘What a waste.’
I sat back in my chair and looked out the window again. ‘Father Doherty used to say Confession was good for the soul. I do admit that I’m feeling a little relieved just now.’ I looked back at Elise. ‘What should I do?’
She took a deep breath. ‘Crikey. Where do I start? That was a lot of unexpected information that I can’t believe you’ve been carrying around for half your life.’
‘I know. And now I expect you to solve all my problems.’ I smiled. ‘Thanks for listening.’
‘You’re welcom
e. You’ve been there for me and baby bean so it’s the very least I can do. Firstly, I’d say don’t beat yourself up about any of this. You couldn’t have prevented what happened. Making you put Shannon up for adoption was cruel, and to tell you she’d died was unforgivable.’ She rubbed her own stomach, as if to reassure her baby that she was safe from imminent adoption. ‘Secondly, I suggest you drop the sex-mad persona and just be you. If you don’t want a relationship, you don’t have to have a relationship, but you don’t have to make out that you have a different one every week, either. Thirdly, I think you should confront your parents. I don’t mean you have to fly to Ireland to see them, especially as it sounds like things with your dad didn’t go well on Sunday. You could write to them instead. You don’t even have to post it, but I think it would do you the world of good to get down on paper what you think of them, to help box it off and move on.’
‘Did you do that to your mum?’ Elise had a very volatile relationship with her alcoholic mother, who, even before the drinking, had resented the disruption that Elise and her sister had created by being born.
Elise nodded. ‘My counsellor, Jem, suggested it. I’ve written loads of letters in my time. I’ve never sent any. Mind you, when I saw her between Christmas and New Year, I gave her a piece of my mind, then walked out on her, so I think I’ve finally had my opportunity.’
‘Good for you.’ I pondered on what she’d said. ‘That’s all good advice, so it is. Anything else?’
‘I think you should start looking for Shannon.’ Elise smiled. ‘But you’d already decided to do that, hadn’t you?’
I smiled too. ‘Was it that obvious?’
‘The way your eyes lit up when you spoke of her was a big clue. I don’t think you really needed my advice, did you? I think you just needed to tell someone, after all these years.’
Coming Home to Seashell Cottage Page 6