Coming Home to Seashell Cottage

by Jessica Redland

  ‘Oh no! I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. Finn and I were friends who tried to make a marriage work, which was fine until he met someone he wanted to be more than friends with. You can imagine what Da had to say about that.’

  ‘I bet he thought it was your fault.’

  ‘Of course. Apparently, I didn’t know how to keep my man happy so it was no wonder he looked elsewhere.’

  ‘Sounds just like Da. What about Nia, Keenan and Éamonn? Do they know what happened to me? Do they care?’

  She shrugged. ‘There was no point in talking about it at the time. Keenan and Éamonn were like mini versions of Da and Nia was too scared to talk about it. She married someone just like Da, poor thing. She isn’t allowed to wear make-up, to work, to have an opinion or do anything that would make her a real person. I don’t really see much of her, but I do see the boys from time to time.’

  ‘Did any of them know about the baby?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. If they did, they never mentioned it. Father Doherty told me the baby died. I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘She didn’t die,’ I said. ‘They lied about that too.’

  Aisling cried when I told her about Great-Aunt Nuala’s letter and my findings about Shannon since then. ‘Just when I think that man can’t get any lower… Oh, Clare, you must have been to hell and back. And poor Daran. I liked him.’

  My heart raced at the mention of his name. ‘We were going to get married. He gave me this, although I wear it on the other hand now.’ I stretched out my hand with the Claddagh ring on it.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said. ‘He must have really loved you to give up joining the priesthood, which makes the whole thing even more tragic.’ She bit her lip. ‘Oh Christ! You do know about him…?’

  ‘Yes. A friend Googled him and found out about Thailand. Discovering that he died and Shannon lived made me determined to confront Da, which is why I was at the house today. I wanted answers. Fat lot of good it did me. I let him get to me again and bollocksed the whole thing up. Stood there like a right eejit, quaking in my boots.’

  ‘I’m sure you didn’t bollocks it up. Did you get any answers?’

  ‘Yes. I didn’t like them, but at least I got them.’

  ‘Then it’s mission successful or mission partly successful, isn’t it?’

  I smiled at my sister. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Purely selfishly, I’d say it was very successful because, if you hadn’t visited them, I’d never have found you and I’m absolutely thrilled to finally catch up.’

  ‘Thank you. Me too.’

  ‘If your man, Daran, had still been alive, would you have tried to pick things up with him?’

  I shook my head vigorously. ‘No. It’s been too long. I still love him, I always will, but there’d have been so many regrets niggling away that I don’t know if we’d have made it. I thought about him constantly for years, though. I ached for him. I wrote long letters to him and posted them without Great-Aunt Nuala’s knowledge. I didn’t know where to post them, though. The only place I could think of was care of Father Doherty. Ma had threatened to call the Guards if I tried to contact him, but they obviously hadn’t knocked all of the rebellion out of me, as I wrote anyway. I have no idea if Father Doherty delivered them. I suspect not because Great-Aunt Nuala said she told him to destroy the letters that Daran sent him for me. I wonder if he did.’

  ‘Only one way to find out.’ Aisling knocked back the last of her orange juice and stood up. ‘Let’s go now.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘To see Father Doherty and ask him about the letters.’

  My eyes widened. ‘He’s here?’

  Aisling pulled her coat on. ‘He’s in a retirement home about ten minutes away. I visit him every few weeks. He sometimes asks about you, but I’ve never been able to tell him anything. He’ll be delighted to see you.’

  ‘Really? I know he tried to convince Da not to disown me but he still believed I was a sinner.’

  ‘I think you’ll find that old age and retirement have had a profound effect on our former priest. Come on.’

  As we stepped out of the pub, she turned to me. ‘Are you ready to face your past now?’

  Was I? I’d already made one failed attempt this morning with the parents but, as Aisling pointed out, I had got some answers, even if I didn’t like them. I’d also had an unexpected serendipitous moment in finding a sister who’d never stopped caring and trying to find out what had happened. Could Father Doherty hold more answers?

  ‘Your kids?’ I said, grabbing her arm. ‘Who’s got your kids?’

  ‘Don’t you be worrying yourself about that. They’re with Finn’s parents. They stay there every Friday night which is great because it means they don’t miss out on time with their nice set of grandparents. So I’m free all night. Are you ready?’

  I opened the door of my hire car. ‘I’m ready. Bring it on!’

  18

  ‘Are you sure it’s okay for me to turn up unannounced?’ Seeing Father Doherty had seemed like a good idea in the pub but now, in the car park of the retirement home, it didn’t seem such an enticing plan. I’d already faced two of my demons and it hadn’t been pleasant. Was I strong enough to face the third?

  ‘And here was me thinking you were a strong, confident woman,’ Aisling said.

  ‘I am. I’m just thinking of Father Doherty. I don’t want him to drop dead of a heart attack at the sight of me.’

  Aisling laughed and grabbed my hand. ‘I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. He had a stroke round about the time Daran died. It seemed to really mellow him.’ I followed her along a carpeted corridor until she stopped outside a door with the number thirty-six on it and a simple wooden cross. ‘Are you ready to face himself?’

  I drew a deep breath. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

  She knocked on the door, then turned the handle. ‘Father Doherty? Are you home? It’s Aisling.’

  ‘Aisling? Come in, child, come in.’

  She pushed the door wide open and we stepped into a small hallway. We walked past a couple of closed doors then into an open-plan lounge/diner/kitchen. He was reclining in an armchair by the window with a glass of sherry on a table beside him and classical music playing.

  ‘I’ve brought someone to see you.’ Aisling pushed me forward. ‘Someone from your past.’

  He looked in my direction expectantly and frowned. He removed his glasses, opened his mouth, replaced his glasses, then closed his mouth. Still staring at me, he pressed his feet on the recliner to bring the chair to an upright position, then shuffled towards me. ‘It can’t be,’ he said. ‘Is it yourself, young Clare?’

  I nodded.

  He reached out his hands and took both of mine in his, then brought them to his mouth and kissed them. ‘I always prayed that I’d have a chance to meet you again one day and now the Lord has delivered you to me. Come and sit. Please.’

  I looked at Aisling and she nodded encouragingly. I sat down on a two-seater sofa next to Aisling as Father Doherty shuffled back to his armchair.

  ‘It really is you?’ he said.

  I finally found my voice. ‘It really is me, Father. How are you?’

  ‘Blessed,’ he said. ‘Blessed to see that you have grown into a fine young woman after everything your parents and I did to you. I have dreamt I could make amends for so many years and now here you are like an angel of mercy, so you are.’

  ‘I’m confused, Father,’ I said. ‘You seem pleased to see me.’

  ‘Of course I am, my child.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you’ve never been far from my thoughts for nearly two decades. I’ve longed to make sure you’re well and to ask for your forgiveness for the part I played in your exile. Tell me, how is the child? She’d be, what, sixteen now? Does she look like you?’

  ‘You don’t know, do you?’

  ‘Don’t know what?’

  ‘Why do you think my da sent me to Cor
nwall?’

  ‘So you could have your baby away from the gossip and rumours in the village and give her a better start in life.’

  I looked at Aisling but she shrugged and mouthed, ‘I thought he knew.’

  I took a deep breath as I looked back towards Father Doherty. ‘Da arranged for Shannon to be adopted, but they told me she’d died shortly after she was born.’

  ‘She died? Oh no, child. That’s too tragic.’ He closed his eyes.

  ‘She didn’t really die, though, Father,’ I added quickly. ‘It was just a ploy to stop me finding her. She was adopted by another family, which I only found out a week ago when I was sent a confession letter that my Great-Aunt Nuala wrote before she died.’

  He opened his eyes. ‘Oh my goodness! I should have realised something was afoot when your da didn’t want to talk about his grandchild. He told me that he was in touch with you and had offered you the chance to return, but you loved it in Cornwall and wanted to stay.’

  More lies. How could someone who claimed to be such a devoted Catholic lie as easily as breathing? I sat forward. ‘Can I ask you a question, Father?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What happened to the letters I sent you for Daran? Did he ever get them?’

  He sighed, then stood up and shuffled out of the room. I heard the sound of a cupboard opening, then he reappeared holding a cardboard box. ‘Here.’ He handed the box to me.

  I opened the lid. On the top lay a large bundle of letters in various pastel-coloured envelopes, tied together with a piece of string. ‘My letters. You kept them. I take it Daran never saw them?’

  ‘I’m sorry, child. Daran was a good man from a good family. I wanted to protect him, and them, from scandal. If word had got out that he’d impregnated a minor…’ He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid your da threatened to contact the Guards if I acted as any sort of conduit between the two of you. I felt I had no choice. What good would it have done for anyone if he’d been arrested? It could have ruined both of you, and I only wanted what was best for you and the child.’

  I pulled out another bundle from underneath. ‘These are for me. This is Daran’s writing. You didn’t destroy them?’

  ‘Your great-aunt asked me to, but I couldn’t do it.’

  I stared at the bundles of letters, my emotions in turmoil. ‘Did Daran know you had letters from me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did he know his letters never made it to me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why did he write?’

  Father Doherty looked at me with watery eyes. ‘For the same reason that you wrote to him for all those years.’

  I gently placed the bundles back in the box. It had been my way of keeping our love alive. It had also been my way of coping. If I hadn’t been able to hide away in my room for hours and write, I’m not sure I’d have got through it. It was comforting to know that Daran had done the same. It was further evidence that Da’s claims that I hadn’t been the only one were absolute bullshit. He wouldn’t have written so many letters if I’d meant as little to him as Da had tried to make out. And he wouldn’t have given me the Claddagh ring. I twiddled it again.

  ‘We were going to get married,’ I said. ‘He proposed to me on my sixteenth birthday. He gave me this.’

  ‘I know.’

  I stopped fiddling with it. ‘He told you?’

  ‘He asked me to hear his Confession. Oh, child, you do know what happened to him, don’t you?’

  I nodded.

  He sighed and shook his head. ‘Tragic. Absolutely tragic. I blamed myself for my part in him being in Thailand that day.’ He leaned forward in his chair. ‘He really loved you, you know. All I could think of in that memorial service was how I should have been strong and asked God what to do about the two of you, rather than being led by your da. If I’d done that, things could have been very different.’

  We sat in silence for a while. I riffled through the letters although I didn’t open any. I didn’t feel strong enough.

  A glass of water was pushed into my hands. I hadn’t realised Father Doherty had got up. I sipped it slowly.

  ‘We should go,’ I said. ‘Can I have these?’

  ‘The letters are yours, my child. I’m sorry Daran’s are with you too late.’

  ‘You weren’t to know. I blame my da for all of this. Not you. So if it’s forgiveness you want, you have it. Although part of me wishes you had passed on our letters, I have no doubt that Da would have called the Guards on Daran. What good would that have done anyone? You did the right thing in the circumstances.’

  A flicker of what I could only describe as peace passed over the old man’s face. ‘What you do next is entirely up to you, Clare, but I implore you to draw a line in the sand and move on. What’s done is done and we can’t change the past, but you have a chance for a new future. Find Shannon and don’t waste a further thought on your father. He’ll be judged by the Lord when the day comes. You don’t need to waste the energy on judging him yourself, so you don’t.’

  Aisling and I hugged him goodbye, then left his flat and walked to the car park in silence.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said to her, when we reached the cars. ‘I’m glad you made me do that.’

  ‘I told you he’d changed,’ she said. ‘What happens next?’

  I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I feel drained.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. Will you be reading the letters, do you think?’

  I screwed my nose up. ‘Not sure I’m strong enough for it today. I never cry, but I’ve barely stopped since finding out about Shannon. If I start on these today, it might completely break me.’

  Aisling smiled and patted my arm. ‘The main thing is that you have them. You’ll know when the time is right. Will you go back tomorrow?’

  ‘Probably. I booked a Sunday flight in case I bottled seeing the parents today, but the deed is done so I’ll see if I can change it for the morning.’

  ‘I understand if you want to head home after what you’ve been through today, but I’d love it if you’d stay. I know a couple of kids who’d be thrilled to spend a day with their long-lost Auntie Clare.’

  ‘They know about me?’

  Aisling grinned. ‘Not the full family scandal, but they know I have a baby sister who lives in England with whom I lost touch. They’ll be thrilled.’

  ‘You’re sure it wouldn’t be too complicated?’ I asked.

  ‘It would be a pleasure.’

  ‘If I spend the day with you, I have one condition.’

  ‘Name it.’

  ‘We don’t talk about the past. I’ve had my fill of history today. Tomorrow I just want to focus on getting to know my big sister, my nephew and my niece.’

  ‘You’re on.’ She flung her arms around me. ‘Jesus, Clare, I’m so glad you came back. The rest of the family may be bloody eejits but I want my baby sister in my life.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I hope you want me in yours.’

  The tears started again. ‘Of course I do. You’re the only family I have.’

  ‘You get three of us for the price of one. Not bad, eh?’

  As I drove back to my hotel, I glanced at the box of letters on the passenger seat and shook my head. What a day. Of all the ways I’d played it out in my mind, I hadn’t expected to end it having gained a sister, a nephew and a niece. For the first time since I was sixteen, I had a family. I had real-life blood relatives who wanted me in their lives. Most unexpected.

  19

  ‘Will you stop passing me from one department to the next?’ I snapped on Monday morning. ‘I’ve been on the phone for forty minutes and I’m going round in circles.’

  ‘It’s illegal for a mother to try and find out about her adopted child before they’re eighteen,’ said the woman on the end of the phone.

  ‘You are the eighth person to tell me that this morning and, as I said to the other seven, I’m very aware of the law already. However, I would like you to listen to what I’m saying to you about the cir
cumstances of my enquiry, instead of repeating the words that I’ve already found online. Will you do that? Please?’

  There was a pause and a sigh. ‘Okay, Ms O’Connell. I’m listening.’

  At last!

  ‘I see,’ she said, when I finished. ‘Quite an unusual set of circumstances.’

  ‘I know. Thank you for listening to them.’

  ‘You’re welcome. I’ll tell you what I’m not going to do, Ms O’Connell. I’m not going to pass you onto anyone else. I’m also not going to lie to you. I don’t know the protocol in this case, as it’s unusual. What I am going to promise you is that I’ll personally find out what we can do in these circumstances. May I take your phone number and assure you that I will call you in an hour’s time? I suspect I won’t have an answer in an hour, but I’ll definitely call you to update you on my progress. Would that be acceptable?’

  ‘That would be far more acceptable than any other offer I’ve had today,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘My name’s Valerie Sinclair. I’ll call you back within the hour.’

  And she did. But only to tell me that she’d hit a few brick walls and was unable to get hold of the people she needed to speak to. She asked me to leave it with her and promised me she’d come back to me by the end of the week. Let the waiting commence.

  I put the phone down and made myself a coffee, glad that I’d booked a long weekend off because my mind was on anything but work.

  Despite the hideous confrontation with the parents, the weekend had ended up being pretty special. I’d had a long soak in the bath, then ordered room service on the Friday evening, before falling asleep in front of the TV. I met Aisling, Torin and Briyana for lunch on Saturday, then spent the day with them. The avoid-the-past pact worked well. Despite the six-year age difference, Aisling and I seemed to have loads in common. She was a strong, confident woman who also had a fragile relationship with our parents because she wasn’t afraid to challenge their views and opinions. A biology and chemistry teacher from Monday to Thursday, she devoted her weekends to her kids. Torin and Briyana were a joy to be around: funny and vivacious yet polite at the same time. And they seemed to immediately accept me in their lives.