‘Unlock the car, sir!’ he was shouting, banging on the window.
‘Let me go! This is abduction. They’ll arrest you,’ I hissed at Paul. Finally, somehow I managed to twist enough to free my left arm, and unlocked my door. The security officer opened it immediately and reached in to haul me out.
Paul opened his own door, almost fell out of the car and began running. God knows where he thought he was running to. The security officer shouted something into his radio and gave chase.
‘Are you hurt at all? Sit down, now.’ The check-in clerk had come out and was leading me to a chair in his booth. He was young, with a kind face, and a name badge that read ‘Gabriel’. My guardian angel. Cars behind Paul’s in the queue were manoeuvring across to join the other check-in line.
‘I’m all right, just a bit, shocked, you know.’
‘Is he your husband?’
‘Yes, but we’re separated. I was … asleep. Woke up here. I’ve no intention of getting on the ferry.’ My head felt fuzzy; it was spinning and aching. That whiskey …
‘You’re booked on,’ Gabriel said.
‘He must have planned this. I live in Ireland now.’
‘How could he know you’d be asleep at check-in?’
I didn’t want to voice my suspicions, that there was something other than just whiskey in that flask. He’d spiked it. I was pretty certain of it. But if I mentioned this, Gabriel would call the Gardaí and Paul would be arrested. I’d have to give a statement. It would all take ages, and all I really wanted was him gone. Gone from my house, gone from Blackstown, gone from Ireland. In answer to Gabriel’s question I just shrugged.
Over his shoulder I could see a couple of security guards had caught up with Paul and were frog-marching him back over to his car. ‘They’ve caught him,’ I said, and Gabriel looked around. ‘I want a quick word with him.’
‘You sure?’ Paul and the security guards had almost reached us. ‘I can call the Gardaí if you want to press charges. He more or less tried to abduct you, so he did.’
‘No, thanks. I’d rather he just got on that ferry and left me alone.’
I went out of the booth as Paul and the guards approached. He at least managed to look contrite, mortified by what he’d done.
‘Paul. I told you our marriage is over. Why on earth did you think pulling a stunt like this would make me change my mind?’
He shook his head. He was still being restrained by the guards. His shirt was untucked, jacket half off his shoulders where they’d caught hold of him. ‘I don’t know. Desperation. A mad moment.’ He sighed. ‘I’ve fucked it all up, haven’t I?’
I nodded. ‘There’s no way back from here. But, Paul, there never really was, anyway. You need to accept that. Our marriage is over.’
‘Are you pressing charges, ma’am?’ asked the guard who’d helped me out of the car.
Paul stared at me. ‘Please don’t. Just let me go.’
I regarded him carefully for a moment. He was sweating, terrified he was going to end up in an Irish police cell. ‘All right. But you must let me go, too.’
He nodded. Just slightly, but enough that I knew he understood.
I turned to the guard and shook my head. ‘No. Just let him get in his car and on the ferry. Away from me.’
‘Clare, I’m sorry. Really.’ And for once, I believed his apology was genuine.
I turned my back, retrieved my handbag and passport from Paul’s car, and went back to Gabriel’s check-in booth. The security guards then allowed Paul back into his car, and waved him on to the ferry.
‘Can I get a bus from anywhere near here?’ I asked Gabriel. ‘I need to go to Blackstown.’
‘Sure. Just in front of the ticket office building. You going to divorce that fella?’
‘I most certainly am,’ I replied. And I suspected after this, he wouldn’t try to contest it.
Gabriel smiled in approval, and waved as I set off towards the bus terminal. My head was still pounding, so I bought a bottle of water from a vending machine to drink on the journey home. Once on the bus, I called home and told Jon I was on my way back, on my own.
I was so glad to get back to the farmhouse. The boys were waiting for me, with a pot of tea on the table.
‘Mum, sit down. Drink tea. Tell us what happened. I only got a garbled message from Jon that Dad tried to force you onto the ferry or something.’ Matt pulled out a chair, gently pushed me into it and sat beside me.
Jon took a seat opposite. ‘Yes, tell us everything. Don’t try to defend him.’
I took a deep breath and told them all that had happened. The boys’ jaws dropped open.
‘And where is he now?’ Matt asked.
‘Halfway across the Irish Sea.’
‘Dickhead,’ Jon commented, summing up what we all thought of Paul right there, in one word.
‘It’s still your birthday. We should go out, and actually celebrate it properly, if you feel up to it, Mum?’
I considered his question. Actually, I did want to go out. There was a table booked at The Carlton for four – now, who could fill that fourth place? ‘Boys, mind if I invite Ryan along to make up the numbers?’
‘I think that sounds perfect,’ Matt said, smiling. ‘Ring him now.’
I did. But I took the phone into the sitting room, away from my well-meaning but nosy sons.
Ryan’s tone sounded guarded. ‘Happy birthday. Hope it’s all going well, with your boys and your husband.’
I couldn’t help it. I snorted.
‘What?’ Ryan said.
‘It’s not exactly going well. I will tell you all the details later. But for now, I wanted to invite you out to dinner tonight at The Carlton. With Matt and Jon.’
‘And Paul?’ Ryan sounded confused.
‘Paul’s, um, not available.’
‘He had to leave, and you have a spare place? Listen, Clare, for a while I thought I was in with a chance with you. But I’m not someone who you can call to just step in whenever your husband is not available. I’m sorry, but sure I don’t work like that.’
‘Ryan, that’s not how it is at all. I am separated from Paul, will divorce him as soon as I can. There is no way I want him back in my life.’
‘Then why was he staying with you? I saw you in the café, all happy families …’
‘He turned up, out of the blue. I felt I owed it to the boys to try to be civil when he’s around. But not any more. Never again.’
Ryan was silent for a moment. ‘Not if he turns up again charming you?’
I laughed. ‘He’s burned his bridges. He’s …’ I took a deep breath. May as well tell him now and get it out of the way. ‘He’s on his way back to England, after having tried to abduct me. Believe me, Ryan, after what he’s done to me today there is no way on earth he could ever charm me again. Not that he charmed me this time, either.’
‘What? What on earth did he do?’
‘It’s a long story.’ But I told him. Matt brought a cup of tea in to me part way through the conversation and I nodded my thanks.
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph,’ Ryan said quietly, when I’d finished. ‘That’s unbelievable, so it is. Thanks be to God you’re all right. Look, I’m so sorry I went off on one there. Just seeing you with him, I jumped to conclusions. Thought you were trying to restart your marriage, and I should back off. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s OK – it’s totally understandable. Anyway, are you free this evening? As I said, we do have a spare place at the table tonight, and I would very much like you to be there. We’re booked in for eight o’clock.’
‘I would love to come. See you there at eight, then.’
I could tell he was smiling as we said goodbye and hung up. I was grinning too. It had been a hell of a day, but it was going to get much, much better before it ended. One thing was for certain – I’d had a fiftieth birthday I would never forget.
Chapter 28
Ellen, March 1921
The Black and Tans allowed no one el
se to leave the pub until after dark. The local people then filtered out, grumbling. Two men were arrested and taken away by the gang, and the dead man’s body retrieved by a local undertaker. Ellen left when she could, fetched her bicycle, which thankfully was still where she’d left it, and debated her options. She could not cycle to the Merciful Sisters in the dark. She would need to find somewhere to spend the night, but it would have to be away from here.
She was shaking as she pedalled a little further along the road, out of town, and into the countryside. As soon as she was away from all buildings she turned into a field, dismounted from her bike to open the gate and hauled the bike through. There was a good thick hedge, and for the second time that day she crawled into a ditch, thankful for the recent spell of dry weather, and lay down to sleep.
It was a long, cold and sleepless night. Ellen had no blanket, or even a coat. Just a thin shawl she’d collected from home. She wondered if she should move on; perhaps try to find a barn somewhere, or a farm that might take her in, or another person sleeping in a field who might share a blanket – but the thought of venturing further in the dark, in an area she was not familiar with, where companies of Black and Tans raided pubs and shot at anyone who ran, made her decide that her best bet was to stay put until dawn, then get going.
At long last the eastern sky lightened and turned pink. Ellen hauled herself to her feet, feeling stiff and cold, her clothes damp from dew. Once the sun was above the horizon it would warm her, and cycling would help. She comforted herself with the thought that she would be reunited with little James today, brushed herself down, and wheeled her bicycle out to the lane. There was no one about, thankfully.
She was hungry and thirsty but there was no hope of finding anything to eat this early. Perhaps when she arrived on the outskirts of Dublin she’d find a shop and buy herself an apple or a bread roll. She still had a few pence left from the money Jack Cunningham had given her.
It wasn’t a straightforward cycle ride. She took a wrong turning somewhere, and found herself on a road that one side or the other had sabotaged. A bridge had been blown up, and there was no way to cross a small river. She retraced her route and tried another lane. This one had ditches dug across it – she knew this was a tactic the Volunteers had used to prevent the RIC and Black and Tans from being able to move around as easily in their motor vehicles. At least with a bicycle you could dismount and lift the bike across.
Finally the lane emerged onto a main road, and a signpost informed her there were just six more miles to Dublin. The Merciful Sisters institution was on the north side of the city, so perhaps just four more miles. With renewed energy she pedalled faster, stopping for a few minutes to buy something to eat and to ask directions.
It was midday by the time she reached the Merciful Sisters. Her heart beat faster as she approached the entrance. Within those walls was her son, and he could be in her arms in minutes. She only had to hold her nerve, demand he be brought to her, and then leave with him. They couldn’t stop her. It wasn’t a prison. She had every right to take her son and go back to her father’s cottage. She’d find a way to make some money to keep them both, until Jimmy returned to her. It would all work out. It had to.
She leaned her bike against the wall to one side of the laundry’s main entrance, and tugged on the bell pull. It seemed like another lifetime when she’d stood in this very spot with her father, on the day he’d brought her here. She pressed her lips together at the memory. Had Da known what kind of place this was? He’d persuaded her it was the best option, but had he any idea of how the Sisters treated the inmates? Well, she was outside now, but her son was inside, and she needed him.
The huge oak door opened with a creak, and Sister Anthony peered around its edge, her face hardening when she saw Ellen.
‘You’ve come back,’ she stated. ‘You had better come in.’
‘I’ve come for my son. My father is taking me back. We can live in his cottage now, and trouble you no more.’
The sister just stared at her and frowned, then stood aside, gesturing for her to enter. As the heavy door clanged shut behind her Ellen felt a shiver of dread run down her spine. What if they refused to let her leave? What if they forced her back to the laundry, and kept her away from her son?
‘Mary-Ellen, go into the office and take a seat,’ Sister Anthony told her.
‘Will someone fetch my baby, please, Sister?’ Ellen could not bring herself to call the nun ‘Mother’ as the inmates were instructed to.
Sister Anthony did not answer, but instead gestured to a chair for Ellen, and walked around the desk to sit behind it. She regarded Ellen in silence for a moment.
Ellen tried to read the nun’s expression. She looked as though she was trying to find the right words for something. ‘Sister? May I see Mairead?’ Perhaps Mairead would be able to bring little James to her.
‘Mairead is at work and you may not disturb her. I understand that you do not wish to return to live here and it is good that your father will take you back. You are a lucky girl. Perhaps you have learned from your experiences and will go on to live a good, Christian life.’
‘Yes, Sister.’ Ellen could hardly believe what she was hearing. She had not thought it would be this easy. ‘May I fetch my son now, please?’
The nun sighed and shook her head, glancing down at the desk. When she raised her head there was some new emotion in her eyes. Sadness, but with something else behind it, something that made Ellen feel Sister Anthony was enjoying this moment, relishing wielding her power. Ellen could do nothing but wait patiently, and try not to antagonise the nun.
At last Sister Anthony spoke. ‘When you disappeared, Mary-Ellen, we were left rather at a loss as to where you had gone and whether you were ever coming back. You abandoned your baby son. He was already showing signs of ailing on the day you ran away, and I’m afraid the poor little mite deteriorated rather rapidly.’
Ellen gasped. ‘What do you mean? He was perfectly well when I left, and Mairead had promised to keep an eye …’
Sister Anthony shook her head. ‘Mairead is not allowed anywhere near the nursery, as she is not a mother. Your poor child became seriously ill, and only this morning he passed away and is now in the arms of Our Lord in Heaven.’
‘What? No! He can’t be!’ Ellen leapt to her feet, pushing the chair back hard so that it fell over, and leaned over the desk. She wanted to grab the nun, shake her, and have her admit that she was lying, and that James was perfectly well and she could take him home now.
‘I’m afraid so. He didn’t suffer and is in a better place now. Tis a blessing, really. A child born to one such as you has no chance in this world. And without him, just maybe you will be able to move on and make something of yourself.’ Sister Anthony rose to her feet and opened the door to the office to show Ellen out.
‘I can’t go … I need to see him. Please, let me see him and hold him one last time?’ Ellen clasped her hands together, pleading with the nun.
‘The babe has already been buried,’ Sister Anthony said.
‘Already? You said he … d-died only this morning?’
‘Indeed he did. But we cannot let a dead child lie around. The priest blessed him and he was buried.’
‘May I at least see his grave, then?’ His grave. Her darling James’s grave. How could those two words belong together? It was all wrong, so very wrong!
Sister Anthony sighed heavily. ‘I suppose so. It might help you to accept what I’m telling you. Follow me.’ She led Ellen along a corridor and out through a door. It led into the second courtyard, the one through which Ellen had escaped just two days earlier. There was a patch of recently dug earth beside the wall, and the sister led her to it, and gestured at the ground. ‘Your son’s body lies here. His spirit is with Jesus. Be thankful.’
Ellen sank to her knees and laid her hands flat on the muddy earth, as if somehow she could feel little James’s body through the ground, as if her love could penetrate through and comfort him. B
ut it was too late. She would never hold him again, never kiss his soft head or smell that wonderful milky scent of him. She should never have left him. This would not have happened if she’d stayed. She’d have held him and loved him and somehow she’d have healed him.
‘Sister, what did he die of? Did he see a doctor? Was there … was there really nothing to be done?’ She fought hard to hold back her sobs as she spoke.
‘We sent for a doctor, but the child died before he came. It was … a fever. Sudden and unstoppable. It happens, sometimes, with very young children. Do not mourn him, Ellen. Jesus wanted him, and who are we to question Our Lord and Saviour?’
‘I wanted him too! I loved him, I’d have done anything for him!’
‘You left him, all alone here, without a mother’s love in his final hours. Come, it’s time for you to leave now. Go back to your father. Pray for your son and pray for your own salvation.’ Sister Anthony bent and caught hold of Ellen’s arm, hauling her to her feet.
Ellen was numb. It was too much to take in. Tears were streaming down her face and she could barely see. She glanced back once at the unmarked grave, and let herself be led back through the building to the main door. ‘We won’t expect to see you again, Mary-Ellen. Lead a good and humble Christian life and you will soon forget this unfortunate baby.’
‘I will never forget him,’ Ellen whispered. Sister Anthony was holding the door open for her. Ellen was torn between wanting to stay close to little James’s remains and wanting to get as far away as possible from the Merciful Sisters.
‘I suspect you will in time, child.’ Sister Anthony pushed her gently but firmly outside, and closed the door behind her. It sounded so final. The ending of a chapter of her life, a chapter in which she had all too briefly been a mother. Ellen walked numbly back to where she had left the bicycle, and sank down to the ground beside it, her face resting on her knees, arms folded around her head, huge sobs racking her body as she tried to come to terms with the shock of her loss.
How long she stayed there, crouched sobbing on the roadside, she had no idea, but at some point she became aware that a woman was kneeling beside her, tapping her shoulder. ‘Are you all right, love? Is there anything I can do? Is there someone I can fetch for you?’
The Forgotten Secret Page 25