Daughter of Mine

by Anne Bennett

  ‘You poor cow.’

  The sympathy in Ada’s voice brought tears to Lizzie’s eyes, but then Gloria said, ‘Have you thought that if Steve hadn’t…I mean, what if…?’

  ‘I’ve thought of little else since I held the child in my arms and realised I could never let her go,’ Lizzie said. ‘I wrote to Steve to tell him everything, but I don’t know if he’d received the letter before he was killed. I wasn’t asking him to accept the child, but I thought he had to know. In a way, though I wished him no harm, at least this way he is saved the shame of it.’

  ‘Aye,’ Gloria said. ‘But there’s still Flo to contend with.’

  Lizzie gave a shudder. ‘Don’t remind me,’ she replied. ‘But at least I can tell her what I think of her now. If I’d done that in the past, she used to write and tell Steve I’d done this or that, dreadful things I’d not done at all, worrying him unnecessarily. Oh,’ she added, ‘I have a young friend with me, name of Celia. She’s minding Georgia for me while I go to the lavvy.’

  ‘Georgia, is that what you call her?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Can we go and have a wee look at her?’

  ‘Of course,’ Lizzie said, and added sharply, ‘but look at her as you would any wee baby, not as if she is some sort of peep show. She hasn’t two heads.’

  ‘Lizzie,’ said Ada gently, putting a hand on her arm. ‘We’re your friends, not enemies.’

  And they were, and how much Lizzie needed friends. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m touchy at the moment. Go up to the house and Celia will be delighted for you to see the baby, I’m sure.’

  While Lizzie took herself to the lavvy, the news flew around the court, and when she returned it was to see the small house crowded with the women from the yard. They were passing the baby around and oohing and aahing over her, while Celia stood watching them, a smile on her face at their positive reaction.

  Violet stayed on after the other women had gone and said quietly to Lizzie, ‘I have Steve’s effects, if it won’t upset you to see them. They came next door like the telegram and I signed for them, knowing you were coming back, like.’

  Lizzie wanted to see Steve’s things, in particular to find the letter she’d sent him, for if he’d received it she’d always feel as if she had a hand in his death. But Mike had done a good job of resealing the envelope and when Lizzie pounced on it, she cried, ‘It’s not been opened yet. Oh, thank God! Thank God!’

  ‘I told you Steve’s death had nothing to do with you,’ Celia remarked. ‘The man was fighting a war, wasn’t he, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Violet put in, ‘I’d say you have quite enough on your plate already.’

  ‘You think she was wrong to bring Georgia home with her, don’t you?’ Celia said, just as she’d asked Johnnie the previous day. ‘She wasn’t. You don’t know what those nuns are capable of. I’ll show you just one thing they did to us, as soon as we entered that place,’ and with that she pulled off the scarf.

  Violet looked at Celia’s hair, cut roughly and only about half an inch from her scalp all over. She’d wondered why Celia had kept the scarf on in the house. ‘But Lizzie’s hair isn’t like that?’ she said. ‘It’s shorter than it was, I’ll grant you, but…’

  ‘Johnnie stopped them cutting mine,’ Lizzie said. ‘Before that, mine was like Celia’s. He said I’d not be able to take up the strands of my life again if I had my hair shorn.’

  ‘And what of you, Celia?’

  ‘Oh, there was no brother or uncle to come for me. I’d have languished there for years, and for what? For eventually giving in to my fiancé’s urging to let him have sex just the one time. When I found myself pregnant, I told him and he skedaddled off to England. I thought my father would kill me when he found out. He beat me black and blue and then went for the priest. I was in the convent before I had time to draw breath.

  ‘But far, far worse than the pain of the beating was that of being thrown out, disowned by the family. I’d never felt sadness like that. I have three brothers and three sisters and we were all brought up together in a farmhouse in West Meath. Suddenly, it was as if I didn’t exist any more, as if Mammy and Daddy had a list of their children and my name had been rubbed out.’

  Celia’s whole face was filled with sorrow, and even Lizzie, who’d heard the story, was moved afresh, and she saw tears glistening in Violet’s eyes.

  ‘I learnt to cope eventually,’ Celia said, ‘because you have to. Then I gave birth to the child, a little boy. Everything that had gone before, even being incarcerated in that bloody awful place, worse than any prison, was nothing to how I felt when my son was eventually removed from the room. It was as if they’d removed part of my heart. I thought I would die, the pain was so bad. I wanted to die. There’s not a day goes by when I don’t think about my little boy and miss him and wish with all my heart I hadn’t had to give him up.’

  The tears were running down Violet’s face, and Celia’s. Lizzie had never seen Celia cry before. She was like a hard nut, one the nuns could never crack, but now Lizzie realised the hard shell was how she had survived. Inside, she was aching with loss and rejection and Lizzie put her arms around her.

  ‘Oh God, Celia, I never imagined you felt this bad,’ Lizzie cried. ‘You told me about your son, but…’

  Celia grabbed Lizzie’s arm, which was resting on her shoulder, and looked at her. ‘You didn’t dare show emotion in that place,’ she said. ‘If you did, they’d won. You know that as well as me.’

  ‘I too had a son I lost,’ Violet told Celia. ‘His name was Colin and he was a fine boy. He was a sailor and died when his ship was blown out of the water and I miss him too. It’s like an ache that never goes away.’

  ‘The nuns would ridicule you for shedding tears, showing you cared,’ Celia went on. ‘I don’t think any heartache will ever be greater than the loss of my baby, and I survived it. I told myself, if I could survive that, I could survive anything.’

  ‘Was it really so bad?’ Violet asked.

  ‘Worse than you could ever imagine,’ Lizzie said. ‘I dared write nothing of it in the letters I wrote to you, just in case the nuns asked to see them. I dread to think what they would have done to me then.’

  ‘Do you mean they actually hit you? Grown women hitting other grown women?’

  Celia sighed. ‘If that was all it was,’ she said, and together the two young women began telling Violet about their life in the convent.

  When, eventually, the tale drew to a halt, all the women’s eyes were bright and their cheeks wet. ‘You see now why I couldn’t leave a wee baby in such a place?’ Lizzie said.

  ‘Yeah, I see it,’ Violet answered. ‘But few will, and you’ve paid a high price for her.’

  ‘I know that,’ Lizzie said grimly. ‘My home is forbidden to me too.’

  ‘Your home? You mean, you can’t go home again?’

  ‘No!’ Lizzie said sadly. ‘My children are lost to me, Violet, for now at least. If their father had lived he might have had other plans, but as it is, even if I were to go to court to try to claim them, to all intents and purposes I am a fallen woman, unfaithful to my husband and him a serving soldier, and unfaithful with a black man. That is what society sees and a court would never release the children to me, but might take them from my parents, who do love them, and put them with strangers who’d care not a jot, or place them in an orphanage, the very thing I rejected for their halfsister. I can’t risk rocking the boat. I know it and my parents know it.

  ‘However, despite the way that Georgia was conceived, I have grown to love her with the same passion I felt for the other two, and I will never desert her now. I just wish I could build a high wall around her. I know I can’t, but I will protect her as much as I can.’

  And I will help you, Celia thought. She knew she would never forget what Lizzie had done for her and she would stay with her as long as she was needed, for inside, Lizzie was still soft, capable of being hurt. She needed to harden herself to s
urvive.

  ‘I bet that there’s one you didn’t tell you were coming back and you’re not really keen on meeting either,’ Violet said.

  ‘Aye, Flo Gillespie,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’m terrified of her, to tell you the truth.’

  ‘Is this the harridan, Steve’s mother?’ Celia asked.

  ‘The very same.’

  ‘She knows about Steve, though, doesn’t she?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Violet said. ‘After I redirected the telegram to your mother’s place, I set off for Pershore Road. I’ve never had much time for Flo, you know that, but God, when I told her I did feel sorry for her. The colour drained from her and she gave one small cry and fell like a stone. The doctor had to be called out, and people say she lies like one dead, according to her sister, anyroad.’

  ‘But someone will feel it their duty to tell her I am back and living with a black bastard in Steve’s house,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘Oh, bound to,’ Violet agreed. ‘Mind you, they might not get to see Flo herself, cos Gladys might not allow it; but no odds to that, if they tell Gladys it will be bad enough.’

  Lizzie gave a sigh. The confrontation with Flo was one thing she’d been dreading since she decided to return home.

  ‘Well, the old sod can rant and rave all she likes,’ Violet said, ‘and call you all the names under the sun, but remember, when she does, you ain’t responsible for any of it. Nothing you can do can change Steve’s death either, and you must go forward. You have a child to rear and a life to live.’

  Violet’s words roused Lizzie, for there were things to do that couldn’t wait. There were just coppers left from the money Johnnie had given them and she had to sort out ration cards, and a gas mask and an identity card for Celia. Maybe they could also get some clothes from the Mission Hall. Lizzie’s clothes hung on Celia’s slender frame, and anyway, there was scarcely enough for the two of them.

  ‘I’ll mind the babby if you like,’ Violet said when Lizzie said what she must do. ‘Don’t want to be dragging a baby about, and certainly not in this weather. That wind would cut you in two.’

  At the same time that Lizzie and Celia were setting out on their errands, Tressa had waylaid Johnnie, who was whitewashing the cow shed. He hadn’t reached home until well after midnight the previous day, and this had been the first chance Tressa had had to see him. ‘Is it true Lizzie’s baby was black?’ she said, her lip curled in repugnance and disbelief.

  ‘Who told you?’

  He hadn’t denied it. Despite Mike’s letter, she’d expected Johnnie to pooh-pooh the whole notion of it, for it was incredible.

  ‘Is it true?’

  Johnnie looked around to see if anyone was in earshot, and then realising it would be stupid to deny it, said, ‘Aye.’

  ‘So, it was a black man that assaulted her that time.’

  ‘Obviously. According to what she told me, the man could have been pink with yellow spots, for she could see nothing.’

  ‘Why didn’t she leave the child with the nuns?’ Tressa asked. ‘They find homes for them. According to Mike she wants to take this child back to Birmingham with her.’

  ‘She’s taken her,’ Johnnie said. ‘I left her at Dun Laoghaire yesterday. The nuns didn’t want the child. Apparently, there’s few homes for half-caste bastards, and Lizzie wouldn’t let them take her to an orphanage.’

  ‘Oh Jesus, Johnnie, they’ll crucify her.’

  ‘I know that and she knows that,’ Johnnie said. ‘But she’s been through the mill with those nuns and she said she couldn’t leave a wee, innocent baby in their clutches.’

  ‘Does she know Steve’s dead?’

  ‘She does now. How do you know?’

  ‘Mike told me. He had to collect his effects and the letter from Lizzie, telling him all, was on the bed.’

  ‘I don’t have to ask you to keep this to yourself?’

  ‘No,’ Tressa said. ‘I’ll not spread it around, don’t you worry, and neither will Mike. Steve just walked out of the city, you know, and was killed by a sniper. Many thought it was battle fatigue that sent him over the top, but when Mike read the letter he knew what had tipped the balance for Steve. He blamed Lizzie in a way at first. I mean, Mike was his mate after all. But still, he thought she’d gone through enough and he resealed the letter, so Lizzie never needs to know Steve ever received it. I’m glad he did that, for she has enough on her plate and she is a great one for feeling guilty is our Lizzie.’

  ‘Don’t I know it,’ Johnnie said. ‘Write to her, Tressa. I think she’d value your support.’

  ‘I will,’ Tressa promised. ‘I’ll tell you what, though, she’s one unlucky sod.’

  ‘You can say that again,’ Johnnie said. ‘I’m worried sick about her, and the bloody thing is I’m helpless to do anything about any of it.’

  Lizzie and Celia came home in good humour, pleased with their achievements for the day, for they’d registered with Moorcroft’s on Bell Barn Road for their rations and Lizzie had also drawn some money out of the Post Office and picked up some lovely clothes from the clothes bank at the Mission Hall. They’d also been issued with new ration books and identity cards, and at the Town Hall Lizzie found she was entitled to a pension of fifteen shillings and sixpence. Although it wasn’t a fortune, Lizzie was glad of it. She would also be getting eight shillings and sixpence for Niamh, and six shillings and thrupence for Tom. ‘I’ll get that made up into postal orders and send it to my mother,’ she told Celia.

  ‘Will she accept it?’

  Lizzie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. If she doesn’t I’ll open an account for the children here and put the money in.’

  ‘Do they know?’

  ‘About Steve?’ Lizzie asked. ‘They will by now. My mother was going to tell them. That was hardly the sort of news I could break to two weans by letter.’

  ‘No, I see that.’

  ‘I will write to them, though, and tonight if possible,’ Lizzie said. She gave a sigh. She knew she really should be there beside them to support them, but there was nothing she could do about that.

  They’d dumped all their packages on the table and collected the grumbling, hungry baby from Violet’s. Lizzie was just about to feed her when there was a knock at the door.

  Celia opened the door to Father Connolly. He made no greeting to her, but strode across to Lizzie where she sat in a chair with the baby on her knee. She would not hide her daughter away, and so when the priest’s long, bony fingers prised the shawl away from the baby’s face, she made no move to stop him.

  She saw his lip purse so tightly that creases appeared each side of his long, thin nose, and in his eyes she saw blazing anger and disgust as they raked over Lizzie and the young woman behind her. He didn’t know who Celia was, and didn’t much care. His business was with Lizzie. ‘I was told,’ he said, his voice cold and clipped, ‘and I scarce believed it. There are women I wouldn’t have been surprised to find carrying on like that, as soon as their husbands were out of sight, but you…and then to give yourself to a black man.’

  Anger coursed through Lizzie’s body. This was not to be borne. She stood up and handed the baby to Celia before facing the priest. ‘Look here, you. Don’t you dare go around preaching and judging me. That wee baby is the result of the attack that you know all about.’

  The priest cast his mind back and said, ‘I remember the attack, but you said nothing about any other type of assault.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure,’ Lizzie said. ‘That is, I was unconscious and I had no recollection of it. When I found I was pregnant, I went to my mother’s. The idea was to give my child up for adoption, but when she was born she was half-caste, as you see, and they could barely bear to touch her, never mind care for her. The man who attacked me I hate with a passion, and my greatest wish would be to have him before me this minute and a knife in my hand. But that isn’t the baby’s fault and I love her with all my heart and soul. I will rear her to be decent and honest and respectable and proud of herself for who she
is.’

  Father Connolly was struck by Lizzie’s words, for he guessed every syllable was true. If it was, the woman had suffered twice and would continue to suffer, he knew. However, it wasn’t in his nature to feel sorry for anyone, and to give himself time to collect his thoughts he turned to look at Celia. He wondered what her relationship was to Lizzie, was she a sister maybe, or a cousin? ‘And this is?’ he said, and his very tone annoyed Celia.

  ‘My name is Celia Hennessy and I’m a friend of Lizzie’s.’ The words were said as a challenge and Celia gave a toss of her head at the same time. She wasn’t privy to the priest’s thoughts, but she’d heard his rebuke and Lizzie’s heart-rending response. After her own experience, she had little time for the clergy, and she owed this man nothing.

  ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’

  ‘’Fraid I can’t say the same,’ Celia retorted. ‘In fact, if you’ve said your piece you best go now.’

  The priest had never been spoken to like that, and by a young girl too, and he bristled in annoyance. ‘Really, I…’

  ‘Celia’s right, Father,’ Lizzie said. ‘Everything worth saying has been said.’

  The priest looked from one young woman to the other and decided he would leave. Nothing would be achieved by his insisting on staying. As neither woman opened the door for him, he opened it himself, and once there he turned back. ‘Will I see you both at Mass?’

  ‘No,’ Lizzie said. ‘Not at St Catherine’s anyway.’

  ‘Lizzie, I’m sure…’

  ‘Goodbye, Father,’ Celia cried and she sped across the room with the baby in her arms and shut the door with a resounding crash, almost before the priest was through it. ‘Sanctimonious prig,’ she said with venom as the baby’s hungry wails rent the air.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Flo awoke from her grief-ridden stupor on Sunday morning, feeling stronger than she’d done in a long time, and she decided to go to eleven o’clock Mass at St Catherine’s. Maybe she’d have a Mass said for Steve while she was about it; not that he needed it of course, and yet prayers never went amiss and maybe a mass said in Advent would have special significance.