by Lorna Peel
She went into the bathroom, slipped out of the bathrobe and turned on the shower, waiting until the water ran warm.
“Is there room for two?” Thomas asked from the doorway while undoing his trousers.
“It might be a tight squeeze.”
He smiled. “Good,” he said, following her in and closing the doors. “I love you,” he whispered, smoothing wet hair back off her face.
“I know,” she replied, standing on tip-toe and kissing his forehead. “Now stand still,” she instructed, reaching for the shampoo.
“Yes, madam. Thank you for rescuing me last night. I don’t think I deserved it.”
“Don’t do it again?” she asked quietly. “Please?”
“I won’t.”
Thomas came down to the kitchen when the day’s final tour group left the house. Helping himself to a cup of coffee, he kissed her cheek.
“Lady Heaton’s gone,” he whispered at the same time.
She nodded. “Bun?”
“No, thanks, just coffee. No wanderers?”
“No, none.”
“I’m going to start offering herbal tea,” Helen announced. “And decaffeinated coffee. Two women asked and it’s lucky I had some.”
“Decaffeinated coffee.” Thomas rolled his eyes. “Well, whatever you think.”
“And low fat spread for the scones.”
“Why don’t we just offer bread and water?”
Helen laughed. “Because someone will ask whether the bread is gluten free and whether the water is still or sparkling.”
“Well, at least one of us has the patience of a saint. Because I find your teas, coffees, cakes and buns delicious.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Thomas smiled then turned to Sophia. “Come to the library.”
“When did Lady Heaton leave?” she asked, following him up the stairs.
“Very early this morning. Des is bringing her belongings to the farmyard.”
“When will you tell Stephanie?”
“Tomorrow. Will you come to the hospital?”
She smiled and nodded.
Stephanie was delighted to see them.
“I was beginning to think I’d been forgotten about.”
“How do you feel?” Sophia passed her some magazines before sitting down beside the bed.
“Thank you. I was going to try and see if I can make it down to the shop in the lift. But, according to Fiona, over there, all they’ve got is old women’s magazines.”
“And celebrity ones.” Thomas retrieved a second chair and sat down.
“I’m not that desperate.”
“Fine. It will have to be old women’s magazines next time, then.”
Stephanie rolled her eyes exactly like Thomas. “So, how are things chez Heaton?”
“Mother has moved out.” Thomas came straight to the point.
Stephanie’s eyes bulged. “Where to?”
“The farmyard.”
“When did this happen?”
“This morning.”
“Why?”
“Because I have asked Sophia to marry me,” Thomas explained, “but not to answer me until she is absolutely sure.”
Stephanie stared at her at first in surprise before sighing. “I suppose it is a huge step. You’re not just marrying Thomas, you’re marrying everything. Don’t let him rush you, take your time.”
Sophia nodded.
“Well, Mother obviously thinks you’ll say yes. It will be very strange not to have her living in the house. When they let me out of here, will I have to go and stay with her for a bit?”
“That is up to the doctors, whether they think you are capable of living on your own. If not, then probably, for a little while.”
“A couple of weeks will be all I can stand if that.”
“Do as the doctors tell you, Stephanie,” Thomas warned and she pulled a face.
“You’d never know I was the eldest, would you?”
Sophia smiled. “I took Thomas out to the cinema the other night. We saw an okay thriller and went to the pub afterwards.”
“Good grief, Thomas.”
“Let’s get all the jokes out of the way now, shall we?”
“What jokes?” Stephanie asked. “I’m completely flabbergasted. Thomas on a date.”
“And we’re going to do it again sometime,” Sophia added.
“I should think so, too, considering he’s asked you to marry him.”
From the hospital, they went to the County Record Office and began to plough through the registers of St Mary’s Parish. After two hours, they took a break and went to get a coffee and to take stock of what they had discovered.
Thomas’ great-grandfather was another Thomas O’Hara born in 1881. His wife was Sarah Price born in 1886 and he was one of the O’Hara brothers listed as a miner on the 1901 Census. Thomas O’Hara’s father was yet another Thomas O’Hara, an agricultural labourer, and his wife was a Margaret Milmoe. Their baptisms were not to be found in the parish records but their marriage was, having taken place in December 1879.
“Thomas was a miner and I think we’ve found the Irish connection,” she told him, typing the information into the genealogy program on her laptop. “I think we should look at the 1881 Census next.”
The 1881 Census proved Sophia correct but infuriatingly, place of birth was only stated as ‘Ireland’, Thomas having been born there circa 1842 and Margaret circa 1847. Their eldest son was born in Yorkshire in January 1881.
“Wasn’t the Irish Famine in the 1840s?” Thomas asked. “Maybe they had to emigrate because of it?”
That evening at her flat, they went back to the 1901 Census on the internet. Both Thomas and Margaret were still alive and their years of birth were again circa 1842 and circa 1847 in Ireland.
Then Sophia found a link to the 1861 Census for Yorkshire and found a Thomas O’Hara in the town born circa 1842 and his five brothers and sisters. His father was yet another Thomas O’Hara born circa 1818 and his mother Eleanor born circa 1820. All the family were born in County Kilkenny, Ireland, except one child who was born in Yorkshire circa 1849.
“Is it the right family?” she wondered aloud and went back to the 1881 Census.
Both Thomas and Eleanor were still alive in 1881 and were living with their eldest son, Thomas, born circa 1842, and his wife Margaret born circa 1847, and their family in the town.
“It’s them.” She smiled at Thomas in delight. “They came from County Kilkenny in Ireland.”
Thomas was staring at the laptop screen. “Where is County Kilkenny?” A quick search brought up a map of the counties of Ireland. “Ah, I see it. And they moved to Yorkshire between the birth of Gerard O’Hara in 1847 and Andrew O’Hara in 1849.”
“We need to verify this, get birth, marriage and death certificates, and print-outs of the various census forms, but you have an ancestor who was a miner and we’ve traced them right back to Ireland. And we can tie-in the gravestone inscriptions we found, too. Look. Thomas O’Hara, born 1842. He died on the 15th August 1914. His wife, Margaret, nee Milmoe, was born 1847. She died on the 18th September 1919. This is brilliant, we’ve got the O’Haras right back to 1818 in County Kilkenny in Ireland.”
Thomas exhaled slowly as if he couldn’t quite take it all in. He watched as Sophia inputted all the information into the genealogy program before clicking on the descendants of Thomas O’Hara born circa 1818.
“They’re all called Thomas,” he said. “All the eldest sons are called Thomas, except for Danielle’s father. He named his eldest son Andrew. Then, I’m called Thomas.” He looked at her. “I wonder who named me?”
“Sophia?” Des called up the stairs and she quickly closed the lid of the laptop while Thomas closed his notebook.
“Yes?” she replied. “Come up.”
Des climbed the stairs and opened the door. “Oh, you’re both here.” He sighed. “There’s someone in the house.”
“What?” Thomas got to his feet.
&nbs
p; “I’ve just seen a light in the house.”
Thomas pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, scrolled down to a number and rang it. Listening for a moment, he ended the call while Sophia and Des stared at him curiously.
“Shouldn’t you ring the police?” Des urged.
“It’s not a police matter. It’s Lady Heaton. Right. We have to catch her in the act.”
“Lady Heaton?” Des was dumbfounded.
“Sophia and I will go to the front door. Des, you go to the side. She’ll be in the drawing room.”
Sophia and Thomas hurried around the side of the house and crept up the steps to the front door. As quietly as he could, Thomas unlocked and opened the door and they went into the hall. One of the drawing room doors was open and they could see torchlight inside the room. They crossed the hall and Thomas went into the room first, snapping on the light. Lady Heaton was at one of the china display cabinets, a figurine in her hand. She almost dropped it when the light came on.
“What are you doing?” Thomas asked calmly.
“Thomas.”
“Well?”
Lady Heaton looked past him at Des standing awkwardly behind them in the doorway. “Do you really want Des to know?”
“I’ll go.”
Thomas nodded. “Thank you, Des.” He waited a couple of moments before turning back to Lady Heaton. “Well?” he asked again.
“It’s for Danielle.”
“What is?”
“The money. You don’t think she’s interested in this, do you?” She put the figurine on top of the cabinet. “Danielle has been asking for money for years.”
“You’ve been stealing items for years?”
“No, only the last year or so, when she threatened to go public.”
“And you believed her?” he demanded. “You really think she’d go public? She’s got far too much to lose. Her children know nothing about this.”
“I couldn’t take that chance. She said she wanted to try and dry out, too, in some clinic or other.”
“That figurine will give her at least a month in the most expensive clinic in the country. You’ve been in contact with her all along, haven’t you?”
Lady Heaton grimaced. “She wouldn’t leave us alone. Letters. Phone calls. Did you never wonder why we changed the house number so often? Threatening that she’d come here and demand to see you. At first, her husband was able to reason with her but as her drinking got worse she started to disappear for days on end and he would ring here and tell me to be on the lookout for her. Now I’ve had enough. I’m too old for all this.”
“So you’re just going to give her what she wants?” Thomas asked.
Lady Heaton gave him a little smile. “I can never do that. It’s you and Stephanie she wants.”
“But we’re not children anymore.”
“She calls you her ‘babies’. Always has done.”
Thomas sighed. “If I were to meet her? Would that satisfy her?”
“It might.”
“Then suggest it to her. And tell her if she looks for any further money there isn’t any and if she persists, her eldest son will have to make himself known to his half-brother and sister. See how she likes that. There will be no more stealing, no more money. Now, please leave.”
Lady Heaton walked past them without a word and they heard the front door close.
Thomas went to the cabinet, picked up the figurine, and put it back inside.
“Will I ever finish paying for Stephanie and me? God knows what all she’s stolen because of me and for me.”
“Do you think meeting Danielle is really a good idea?” Sophia asked. “What if she blurts something out to Michelle about meeting you?”
“Well, what can I do?”
She sighed. “I honestly don’t know.”
A week later, Thomas followed Sophia up the stairs to her flat.
“Lady Heaton’s gone to bring Stephanie home from hospital and Danielle and her husband are coming up here to visit the family. I’ve agreed to meet her at the Royal Hotel in Leeds on Thursday. Will you come with me? Her husband is coming with her.”
“I’ll come.”
“You don’t have to,” he added quickly.
“I know, but I’ll come.”
“I won’t row with her. At least, I’ll try not to.”
That evening, Thomas’ phone rang while they were searching the online General Register Office birth, marriage and death indexes.
“It’s Stephanie,” he told her, swiped the screen to answer the call and listened for a few moments. “Just a minute,” he said and pressed the mute button. “Stephanie’s very bored and she’s wondering why we haven’t been to see her. We’re going to have to go over there.” Sophia pulled a face and he pressed the mute button again to unmute the call. “Stephanie, we’ll be over tomorrow morning. Yes, both of us, I promise.” He ended the call and rolled his eyes. “We’re going to the apartment for coffee in the morning. How cosy. I can’t wait.”
“At last.” Stephanie opened the door to them. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”
The farmyard apartment had been finished and furnished to a very high standard and Sophia followed Stephanie to a cream leather sofa and sat on the edge.
“Where’s Mother?” Thomas asked.
“Making the coffee. She won’t let me do a thing.”
“Good.”
“But I’m going mad. She watches all the soaps and all the reality TV crap.”
“I thought you liked that sort of thing?”
Stephanie glared at him then turned to Sophia. “So? Been out on any further dates?”
“No, not yet…” She tailed off as the door opened and Lady Heaton came in with a tray.
“Here we are. Milk and sugar, Sophia?”
“Milk, one sugar, please.”
“Biscuit?”
“No, thank you.”
“Thomas?”
“No, thank you.”
“Well, I’ll have one.” Stephanie took a chocolate biscuit. “It doesn’t cost any extra to sit down, Thomas.”
He gave her a weak smile and sat down on the opposite sofa.
“Sophia and I are going to Leeds on Thursday,” he announced and Sophia saw Lady Heaton’s face pale.
“Shopping?”
“No, just some galleries and museums.”
“Good grief, Sophia, bring him shopping,” Stephanie urged her.
“I might do if there’s time.”
“Well, at least you’ve got him out of those terrible suits.” Stephanie eyed Thomas’ jeans and shirt.
“He managed that himself.”
“Better late than never. I bet half your clothes were moth-eaten.”
“Mothballs,” he replied drolly. “Don’t you like the scent?”
Having somehow managed to talk about nothing in particular for well over an hour, Sophia was greatly relieved when Thomas made their excuses and they left.
“Small talk,” he said as they walked back to the stable yard. “I don’t know how the queen puts up with it day in, day out.”
Standing outside The Royal Hotel, Sophia could feel Thomas’ trepidation. He clasped her hand, his was freezing and squeezed it.
“Am I doing the right thing?” he asked at last.
“I can’t answer that,” she replied softly.
“I know.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, here goes.”
They went into the lobby. Danielle and Don were seated in a corner to their right. Sophia nudged Thomas and nodded to them just as Don spotted them and touched his wife’s arm. They got up as she and Thomas approached. Danielle couldn’t tear her eyes away from Thomas but Sophia was mightily relieved to see that the older woman was sober.
“Thomas,” she said softly.
“Mrs Armstrong.” He put out a hand.
Danielle’s face fell but she shook his hand. “Danielle. This is my husband.”
“Don.”
“Thomas.”
“Shall I order some coffee?” Don looked at Sophia and she smiled and nodded. “I won’t be a minute.”
“Shall we sit down?” Sophia went to one of the sofas arranged at right angles around a coffee table.
“I’m sorry,” Danielle began. “About…before…”
“Before?” One of Thomas’ eyebrows rose. “Which ‘before’? The before when I saw you for the first time and you were drunk? Or the before where I learned that Lady Heaton had been stealing from the house in order to feed your alcoholism?”
“Both.” Danielle glanced up as her husband returned.
“Good. I believe Lady Heaton has been in contact with you?”
“Yes.”
“So you understand that there will be no more money?”
Danielle swallowed noisily. “Yes. I’m sorry. Don didn’t even know.”
Thomas looked at him. “So where did you think the money was coming from? Alcohol isn’t cheap.”
“You’ve never lived with an alcoholic, have you?” Don replied shortly. “They will do anything for their next drink and—”
“It’s all my fault, I know,” Thomas finished.
“No,” Danielle hissed.
“So when did you start drinking, then?” he asked and Danielle looked at the floor. “What would it take for you to stop drinking?”
Danielle slowly raised her head. “To have my babies back,” she whispered.
“Stephanie and I aren’t babies anymore. And Stephanie knows nothing. I only found out by accident. Her blood group meant that there was no way Lady Heaton could have been our mother.”
“Will she ever be told?”
“I don’t know. She’s home from hospital and in a couple of weeks she’ll return to her apartment here in Leeds.”
Danielle nodded. “You were such beautiful babies. You’re still beautiful.”
Thomas smiled self-consciously. “I don’t know about that.”
