Dublin's Fair City

by Cathy Mansell

  The sound of children echoed up from below, and her da got up and looked out of the window. Aileen came and joined him. Children ran about playing with each other; they looked happy and didn’t appear to have a care in the world. One or two huddled alone in the corner of the concrete yard. But they couldn’t see any babies. Most of the children were five years and upwards. The large area was divided into two—girls at one end and boys at the other.

  ‘You wait here, Da. I’ll see if I can locate that nice nun, she might be able to tell us where my brother is.’

  Aileen found her as she came out of the office. They talked as they walked back to where her father was waiting, his back against the table.

  ‘I don’t know the circumstances, Mr Maguire.’

  ‘Well, I want that remark obliterated.’ He pointed to an entry in the open ledger. ‘My wife would never have left our son behind. That excuse for a nun, Sister Amelia—and I hate to speak ill of the dead—was not only cruel but a liar.’ He straightened his shoulders.

  ‘Entries can’t be altered. I’m sorry.’ She looked apologetic as she locked the ledgers away before taking out another even bigger one and laying it down on the table.

  ‘This should give us details of what happened to your son, Mr Maguire. Most of the babies placed in our care are easily adopted. The ones that aren’t, stay here until they are ready to go out into the world and fend for themselves.’

  The nun was young, not much older than Aileen, with the sweetest smile she had ever seen. ‘I’m pretty new and I don’t recall ever seeing your son, Mr Maguire.’ Her long slender finger slid down the entries. Then she glanced up. ‘Your son, Tom, left the orphanage two years ago. It says here he was good with figures and a model student.’

  ‘Really?’ Aileen glanced down at the entry. ‘It also states that he was a sickly child and didn’t go for adoption. What does that mean?’

  ‘Yes,’ the woman said. ‘He remained here, learned well, and passed his leaving cert with flying colours. He was offered a position as a bank clerk.’

  Her da lowered his head. Aileen could hardly contain her own emotions. ‘Isn’t it wonderful news, Da?’

  ‘It is indeed.’ He blew his nose. ‘Where’s he working, Sister? Do you know?’

  ‘Yes, he lives in a bedsit in Lucan, above the Royal Bank of Ireland.’

  ‘I can’t believe it. My son is well and working in a bank.’ Sighing, he straightened his shoulders. ‘Thanks so much, Sister.’ He shook her hand. ‘You’ve been most kind.’

  Too emotional to speak, Aileen nodded her thanks and followed her father out of the building.

  They sat in the car for some seconds, both a little overcome by what they had learned. Aileen leant across and hugged her da. He patted her arm.

  ‘This is wonderful news, love.’ He sniffed.

  ‘It is, Da.’ Aileen knew he was still upset about the entry in the ledger. ‘We can tell Tom the truth when we find him.’

  Aileen, emotionally drained, sat quietly while her da drove them back to the city. Persistence had paid off, and she was more than happy with the result.

  ‘I’ll go to Lucan at the first opportunity. Find out how he’s doing,’ her father said. ‘I can’t believe he’s living just twenty miles away.’

  ‘I wish I could come with you.’

  ‘I know. Now I guess you’ll be wanting to spend a few hours with Dermot before you catch that plane.’

  ‘Da… I… well, I don’t want to go back. But I must for now anyway.’

  He remained silent, concentrating on his driving. Then he said, ‘I don’t want you to go either, love.’ They were approaching the city. ‘What do you say I drop you off at Dermot’s?’

  ‘Grand. I’ll be back in time to pick up my case before I go.’ She swallowed. ‘You know, Da, this has been a wonderful Christmas. I promise I’ll be home for good soon. I can help you in the shop if you want me to.’

  ‘Aileen. I don’t expect you to give up your life.’

  ‘I have no life in England, Da. Now that everything is coming together here, I’d like to consider coming back.’

  He stopped the car outside the butcher’s, and a smile brightened his face. She kissed his cheek and got out. It had been such a long time since she had felt so happy that she had forgotten what it was like.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Aileen’s long chat with Dermot in his mother’s back room hadn’t gone well. Although he had been thrilled to learn about the news of her brother, he had constantly referred to their relationship and where it was leading.

  ‘I thought we had settled this. You know how I feel, Dermot. With everything that’s been going on, I would have thought you, of all people, understood. Was I wrong?’ She sat down on the sofa.

  ‘I do. But you’re still going back, and you don’t need to. Your da has recovered, and you’ve found your brother. Isn’t that enough to keep you in the Fair City?’ He came and sat next to her. ‘If you go, where does that leave me?’

  ‘Where you’ve always been, here, in my heart.’

  ‘That’s not enough, Aileen.’ He moved closer, his eyes searching hers. ‘Please don’t go. Something’s changed you. I don’t know what it is, but it feels like you’ve been avoiding me.’

  Guilt about Roy Pickering surfaced. She sniffed. If only she had more time, but it was too late now to bring all that up.

  Dermot pulled her to him and buried his face in her hair. He kissed her cheek, and his breath fanned her face. ‘I love you, Aileen. I want to marry you.’ He held her at arm’s length. ‘I don’t mind waiting as long as you’re here, not miles away across the sea.’

  She sighed, stood up, and moved across to the window that looked out into the darkness of the back yard. It was bleak. She wasn’t looking forward to the flight that lay ahead. Now Dermot’s demands on her to stay only increased her anticipation.

  She turned towards him. ‘I have to go back, Dermot. I have commitments that I can’t walk away from, but I’m thinking–’ She never got to finish.

  ‘Oh, well, if that’s how you feel, don’t let me keep you.’

  Tears welled in her eyes. It was so unlike Dermot, but she wasn’t going to back down. She picked up her bag and gloves and left through the back entrance. He didn’t follow.

  On the way back to the sweet shop, she felt torn by guilt. She wished she had told him how much she loved him and that she would make it up to him when she finally returned home. She had been consumed with winning back her father’s affections and finding her brother. Now that things were just coming together, she had hoped that Dermot would support her. Together, or apart, she still loved him.

  But tonight she had learned a valuable lesson, and she feared she might lose him. If only he hadn’t taken on so, she might have told him that she was considering coming home for good.

  * * *

  Her da was still up when she arrived home. He glanced outside then locked the door and followed her through to the back. ‘Where’s Dermot? I thought he was taking you to the airport.’

  ‘We’ve had a row, Da. Dermot wants me to stay.’

  He looked at her. ‘Aileen, I’d love you to stay, too, but I don’t want to influence your decision one way or the other.’ He ran his hand across his forehead. ‘You’re cutting it fine if you still want to catch that flight.’

  She rushed upstairs, threw the rest of her things into the case, and clicked it shut.

  Her da came up behind her. ‘I’ll take that.’ He walked ahead of her down the stairs. ‘I’ll keep you informed about your brother.’

  She hugged him, choking back tears. ‘I love you, Da.’

  Nodding, he went through to the shop. Aileen checked her handbag for her plane ticket and followed him to the car.

  At the airport entrance, he passed over her case then hugged her and wished her a safe journey. She felt him tremble.

  ‘I won’t come in with you. It will only make it harder. Phone me when you arrive at Mary’s.’

&n
bsp; ‘I will, Da. I’ll see you soon.’ As she disappeared inside the large complex, a tear rolled down her face. After checking in, she went to wait in the departure lounge. Going over in her mind every last word of her disagreement with Dermot, her anxiety increased. If only things hadn’t gone so terribly wrong. Now here she was, returning to a life in England she didn’t really want.

  It was ironic that it was her da who knew her best. She wanted to make up her own mind about when to return home. Why hadn’t Dermot realised that? She wasn’t going to be pushed in spite of how she felt.

  It wasn’t long before her flight was called, and she followed the crowd across the tarmac towards the plane. The few days in Dublin had been successful. She had been re-united with her da and discovered the whereabouts of her twin brother. That happy thought would sustain her on the journey back.

  As she boarded the plane, something made her turn and look up at the viewing window, and she was pleased she had. Someone was waving furiously. Although she couldn’t recognise his face in the dark, it was his green and white scarf that caught her eye. She waved back, mouthing the words, ‘I love you.’ Once Dermot had time to calm down, she hoped he would understand.

  The bumpy and unpleasant flight hardly bothered her. Her stomach lurched with every dip of the plane, but she centred her mind on pleasant things like her plans to return home and be with the ones she loved. And she couldn’t help wondering what 1967 had in store for her.

  When at last the plane landed, it was after nine o’clock, and she was looking forward to getting back to the lodging house. She hoped Mary had enjoyed Christmas with her sister. If it hadn’t been for her landlady’s kindness in loaning her the flight money, Aileen would never have been able to make the journey home.

  She retrieved her suitcase and walked through the busy airport to arrive at the customs checkpoint. When she entered the green area, a security man asked for her ticket. This surprised her, as she had nothing to declare, then she was taken behind a screen where a PC stood waiting.

  ‘Excuse us, Miss. Are you Aileen Maguire?’

  ‘Yes. Why? Is there something wrong?’

  ‘May we see your passport?’

  Aileen’s heartbeat quickened, and her fingers shook as she opened her bag and passed over the document.

  ‘Miss Aileen Maguire, we would like you to accompany us to the police station for questioning.’

  ‘What?’ Aileen felt her face redden. ‘What’s this all about?’

  ‘Let’s go, Miss. It’s best if you come with me. Everything will be explained at the police station.’ He took her case and escorted her from the airport towards a waiting police car.

  Petrified, she sat in the back. The PC refused to explain, instead concentrating on his driving. Aileen didn’t know what to think. Had something happened to Mary?

  It was only when they arrived at the station—the same one she had found herself in less than a week ago—that Roy Pickering sprang to mind. Had he changed his statement? Had he let her think she was free of all charges, and then hit her with them again? All manner of stuff shuttled through her brain: his angry face as he chased after the car; his arms waving for her to stop. It was the only explanation she could think of.

  ‘In here, Miss,’ the PC said, and Aileen went into the same questioning room she was now familiar with.

  He pulled out a chair, and she sank down before her legs gave way. Aileen felt nauseous. The PC returned, followed by an older man in plain clothes, his coat over his arm as if he was about to leave. He hung it up and sat down.

  ‘I’m Sergeant Ross,’ he said, ‘and this is PC Smith.' Aileen gripped the sides of the chair.

  ‘We’re sorry we had to send a PC to the airport. It was the only way we could be sure we wouldn’t miss you.’

  ‘But… why?’

  ‘We just need to ask you a few questions, Miss.’

  ‘What’s this all about?’ The sinking feeling in her stomach worsened.

  ‘We believe you know a man by the name of Roy Pickering?’ The PC took out a notebook and pen.

  Aileen’s hands shook. ‘I, well yes, we work for the same firm.’

  ‘Can you tell us about the last time you had contact with him?’

  ‘He offered me a lift to the airport last weekend. He had no…’ She paused, unsure how to continue without incriminating herself.

  ‘It’s all right, Miss. Take your time. So, did he take you to the airport?’

  ‘No, no, he didn’t. I went by bus.’

  The Sergeant opened a folder and whispered something she didn’t catch. He cleared his throat as he scanned the notes inside. ‘We have it on record that you took Mr Pickering’s car without consent, and that he dropped the charges against you. Why would he do that, Miss?’

  Aileen’s heartbeat quickened, and she played with the zip of her jacket, pulling it up and down. ‘I’ve no idea. I only borrowed the car.’ She swallowed. ‘I was frightened. I had to get away from him. He…’ She came over hot, and her hands felt clammy.

  ‘So, after that incident, did you have any contact with him whatsoever?’

  ‘No!’ She shook her head. ‘Of course not.’ She loosened her red woollen scarf from around her neck. ‘He was acting insane. He wanted me to marry him. I was frightened. It was a ridiculous suggestion; I have a boyfriend in Ireland. My friendship with Mr Pickering was purely platonic. I don’t want to set eyes on him ever again.’ She got to her feet. ‘Look, please tell me why I’m here? Has Mr Pickering changed his mind about the charges?’

  ‘No, Miss. Please sit down. Roy Pickering won’t be making any charges against you or anyone else. You see, he’s dead.’

  * * *

  Silence followed. She was aware of them watching her reaction. Aileen felt the blood drain from her face, and she slumped forward.

  The PC rushed to get her some water and she sipped the drink with shaking hands, then leant forward, her face in her hands. This was a nightmare. Did they think she had something to do with his death? Dear God! Could this get any worse?

  ‘We are still trying to establish why Mr Pickering took his life.’

  Shocked, Aileen glanced up. ‘He killed himself? How? I mean…when…when did this happen?’

  ‘He hanged himself in the living room at his home on Boxing Day. We had a call here at the station from the hospital, and we were obliged to follow it up. When we called at the house, his mother gave us your name.’ The Sergeant’s eyes narrowed, and she was aware of him watching her. ‘His mother is under the impression that you led him on, and then rejected him at a very critical point in his recovery.’

  Aileen couldn’t speak. Each time she tried to say something the words stopped at the back of her throat.

  ‘Why do you suppose she’d say something like that, Miss?’ Aileen’s head felt dizzy, and she thought she was having an attack of vertigo. She took another sip of water. ‘Did you know Roy Pickering had feelings for you, Miss?’

  ‘Yes. No. I-I don’t know. My God. I’m so sorry.’ A sob caught in her throat. ‘We were never more than friends. I thought he understood.’

  ‘Did you know he was suffering from an acute mental disorder?’

  ‘No. Not at first. He had been stalking me, and then told me that the man I had seen was his brother, who had taken his car and had problems.’ She paused to massage her temples. ‘He…’

  ‘Take your time, Miss.’

  ‘He totally convinced me.’ She sniffed. ‘I believed he was genuine.’ She shifted in the chair, imagining the headlines with her name implicated as the cause of his death. She took a claming breath then straightened her shoulders; no way was she taking the blame.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘On the night he was supposed to drive me to the airport, I-I overheard him and his mother arguing about his medication. That was when I realised he…he was the one with the problems, and that he didn’t have a brother. I was frightened he would…try and stop me from catching my flight.’ She sucked in her breath.
‘I acted on impulse; we were in the middle of nowhere. I had to get away.’

  ‘Well, it looks like you had a lucky escape, Miss. According to his physician, Mr Wainwright, our Mr Pickering was given to mood swings and could be a danger to women.’

  Aileen sat back in the chair. She felt completely overwhelmed at the news of Roy’s death. Frightened to ask, she took a deep breath. ‘Am… Am I in any trouble?’

  The Sergeant closed the folder and stood up. ‘No, Miss, we are satisfied for now. As you were one of the last people to see him alive, we will need to speak to you again after we’ve questioned his mother. We found no suicide note, which is unusual in these cases. One of my men will escort you home.’

  Aileen closed her eyes. She felt drained and, after what she had just heard, she wasn’t about to refuse a lift. She stood up on shaky legs and followed the PC outside.

  It was late when the police car stopped outside the lodging house. There was no-one around to witness her arrival, which was of small comfort. The light was on in the front room, and she walked up the path and opened the door. Mary heard her and came into the hall.

  ‘Am I pleased to see you! I’m just about to phone our Bead.’

  Uncontrolled tears ran down Aileen’s face. ‘Oh, Mary, you’ll never believe what has happened now.’

  ‘What is it?’ Mary guided her into the room and sat her down. ‘Is it your da?’

  ‘Da’s fine. Roy Pickering hanged himself on Boxing Day.’

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Aileen lay awake, her mind churning with assumptions as to what had made Roy end his life. If it had been her fault, it would embed itself on her conscience forever. But she refused to believe that. Something else must have caused him to take such drastic action. From what little Aileen had witnessed at the house that night, she got the impression that his mother controlled him. Dear God! Poor Roy. If she had stayed, would he still be alive? She asked herself the question, knowing that she could never have done that. Guilt weighed heavily until she recalled what the PC had said earlier; he might have killed her instead.