No One Wants You

by Celine Roberts

  We arrived at Clarina and took directions from Kit for Ballybrown. As we drove through Ballybrown, Kit yelled from the back seat, ‘Hauld your horses there, Harry, you’ve passed it.’

  I said from the back, ‘How could we have passed it? There has not been sight nor light of a mansion for miles.’

  ‘Reverse up there about 50 yards, Harry,’ Kit ordered.

  Harry reversed the car and stopped outside a small cottage.

  Kit said in a low, serious and somewhat angry voice, ‘There it is now for you geril. This is what all the grandeur is about. There is your mansion for you now. Your mother’s family really have something to crow about, don’t they?’

  I was aghast. I said, ‘Kit, it is no bigger than the place that I grew up in. They condemned me to that life because I was not good enough for them. Who do they think they are?’ I wanted to say so much more but I didn’t want to upset my boys.

  It was a grey, unpainted cottage. It had three rooms at most. I mean three rooms altogether. It looked a wreck. Memories flooded back to me. I would have walked by this house many times, as part of a group of inmates who were being brought for an afternoon walk from the Mount industrial school, just a couple of miles down the road. This triggered a flashback to the few times that Sister Bernadette said that she had met my grandmother ‘in town’. She referred to my grandmother as, ‘The grand lady in her fur coat.’ Sister Bernadette often asked her if she would like to come and meet me, to which she would reply that she wanted ‘nothing at all to do with me’. She ‘wanted no shame brought on her family, by acknowledging the existence of her bastard granddaughter’. If Sister Bernadette had only seen the ‘large mansion’ that my grandmother, the ‘grand lady’, had lived in, the nun might not have held her in such high regard.

  The entire estate consisted of no more than one acre, two at most. I could not equate what I saw in front of me, with what I had experienced when I met my mother and her sister, and what I had been told by Sister Bernadette. How could these people have paid £300 to imprison me in such a hellhole, while they were nothing more than ordinary cottage-folk, living in hardly better circumstances than I had been sentenced to? It didn’t make any sense.

  Thinking back to my mother’s conversation with Sister Bernadette at our previous meeting, I realised that this tiny cottage could never in its wildest dreams have accommodated an Adam’s fireplace. Who was she trying to impress?

  I could not even laugh at the absurdity of it all.

  Reeling from a sense of shock, I knocked on the door. A man, who turned out to be Rosaleen’s son Clifford, answered the door and invited us in. Both he and his wife Barbara were friendly, welcoming and hospitable. It was a very strange feeling for me, to stand in the home of the woman who had sold her first-born grandchild.

  I was completely churned up inside.

  I felt physically sick.

  Clifford said that I was the spitting image of his Aunt Doreen. I told Clifford that I had met my uncle, Paddy O’Sullivan, for the first time, just the night before. He was visibly taken aback and very shocked at this news. I told him that my Uncle Paddy and a Father Houlihan were going to speak to my mother, to get her to tell my father of my existence.

  I felt Clifford become uneasy. After that he could not get rid of us quickly enough.

  We left after a short time and headed back to Buttevant. My mood lightened on the car trip, as Kit and I had some good laughs about the lifestyle of the ‘rich and famous’ I had imagined going on in the Clifford lands and estates!

  We returned to London at the end of a very eventful week. So much had been revealed and yet, so many questions remained unanswered.

  FIFTEEN

  My Father’s Voice

  DESPITE MY CAREFUL strategy, events now began to take on a life of their own and to spiral out of my control.

  As soon as I reached London on the following Sunday night, I telephoned Kit to say that we had arrived home safely. This was standard procedure when we travelled from Ireland. Kit told me, ‘That man that you went to meet in Limerick rang here looking for you. He said to call him because it was important.’

  I rang Paddy O’Sullivan in Ireland immediately. Paddy himself answered the phone. When he knew that it was me he said, ‘I have good news for you. Your father has been told about you.’

  ‘So he is my father?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, there never was any doubt about that!’

  He gave me a telephone number and told me that it was my father’s. He said he thought that it would be best if I waited for my father to call me, rather than I call him. ‘He has had quite a shock, but you will be hearing from him.’

  Then he hung up.

  I slid to the floor with the phone in my hand. I sat there and I cried for a long, long time. I eventually got up, went in to the sitting room and said to Harry, ‘He is my father and he knows about me.’

  Once I had this information, I became impatient.

  I wanted to hear his voice.

  I could not wait for him to call me.

  I had to call him. I dialled his number. I had prepared no speech. I had no idea what I would say to him. A lady’s voice answered the phone. I suddenly did not know whom to ask for. So I blurted out, ‘This is Celine, and I am calling from London.’

  Then the lady at the other end of the phone said in the sharp tone of voice that I knew well, ‘I hope you are satisfied now!’ and hung up on me.

  I dropped the phone as if it was on fire.

  It was my MOTHER’S voice!

  I could not figure it out. What was she doing at that number, my father’s number? The awful truth slowly dawned on me.

  She must live there.

  She must live with my father.

  She must be MARRIED to my father.

  Little by little it sank in that she must have been married to him all along. All those years while she had spoken of ‘her family’ and ‘the family’, Sister Bernadette and my mother had spoken of my father’s family as if it was a separate and different unit. Now I suddenly realised that they were one and the same family. My father and my mother were husband and wife. That meant that I had brothers and sisters.

  Once again, I was the victim of my mother’s cruel games.

  I began to unpack all our stuff from our trip. I worked like a Trojan getting Anthony’s school clothes out and ready for him. I had to distract myself.

  I was really low. I could not believe it. My mother had won again.

  In a moment of madness, I rang my Aunt Rosaleen, just two streets away. She was not there, but her son Terence was there. I blurted out to him all that had happened. I told him that my father now knew of my existence. I told him in what I thought was a calm voice. I did not tell him that my mother had answered the phone to me. I did not yell at him in anger, ‘Why did you not tell me that my mother was married to my father?’

  I did not hear from my Aunt Rosaleen or her son Terence after that for a long, long time, years in fact. Our bi-weekly dinner dates ceased immediately. I thought it was their way of punishing me for trying to make contact with my father. I felt that they did not want what they saw as the family’s shameful secret, out in the open. They certainly did not want it flaunted about. I can only assume that I was a ‘loose cannon’ as far as they were concerned. Mentally exhausted, I went to bed and cried my heart out.

  When Anthony came home from school on Monday evening, he was standing beside me at the sink in the kitchen, in his school uniform, hugging me before I even knew he was back. I needed that hug.

  I asked him, ‘How would you like to have real grandparents?’

  He said, ‘But we already have real grandparents, Granny Roberts in Ballyogan, in Kilkenny.’

  ‘That’s right, darling,’ I said. ‘But you don’t have any grandparents on Mummy’s side.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right Mum, because your mum and dad are dead.’

  ‘That is not really true, Anthony,’ I said.

  Imagine saying this to an ei
ght year old. It was difficult.

  ‘The mummy and daddy that brought me up are dead, but my real mummy and daddy are still alive. Remember the lady that we met in the hotel with the nun, who I told you was auntie Kathleen, that lady is really your granny. Also you are going to have lots of new aunties and uncles.’

  Anthony became very excited and wanted to meet them.

  I told him not to tell anybody.

  He went to school the next day and immediately told his teacher that his mummy had been adopted and had found her mummy and daddy. He also told his entire class. When I went to collect him from school in the afternoon, his teacher, Sister Pat, approached me and excitedly told me exactly what Anthony had told her and the entire class. She asked me if it were true. With an air of pride about me, I said that it was.

  On that Tuesday night, I had a phone call at home, at about 9 pm.

  A strong, clear, male voice, with an Irish accent said, ‘Hello, can I speak to Celine?’

  ‘Celine speaking,’ I replied.

  ‘You must be my long-lost daughter?’

  I felt about seven feet tall.

  I cried.

  He cried.

  He said, ‘I love you and I can’t wait to see you. I have a big gang here waiting to speak to you. You will never be on your own again. All your brothers and sisters want to meet you. They are all going to speak to you and they will each tell you their names.’

  A female voice then came on the line and said, ‘I am Eileen. Hello, big sister.’

  She cried.

  And then I cried.

  Eight more voices, four male and four female, came on the line, each one identified themselves and then broke down in tears.

  I cried with them each time.

  After nine different voices, my father came back on the line. ‘Your mother and I want to go over to London and meet you and our grandsons. Would you be able to accommodate us?’

  I replied, ‘It would be my privilege.’

  He then said, ‘I lived and worked in London after the war.’

  ‘Where did you live in London?’

  ‘Regent’s Park,’ he said.

  ‘Well, I live in a much more humble part of London. I live in Streatham.’

  ‘We will travel to London on Sunday next, if we can get a flight. I work at Shannon Airport, and we will be on standby.’

  I gave him my address. I told him that we would collect him at the airport.

  He then ended the phone call with, ‘Goodbye. Good luck until we meet!’

  When I put the phone down, I was in absolute shock. I was shattered emotionally.

  I somehow dragged myself to the sofa and lay down. My mind was in a whirl.

  As excited as I was, I could not help but have questions about my parents’ first trip to see me. Why did they not fly over immediately? Why wait for a ‘stand-by’ flight when I would have happily paid for the tickets?

  And most of all, where does my mother stand in all this? She had not communicated a word to me since her last, angry, phone response.

  I hoped these questions would be answered soon enough.

  SIXTEEN

  The Royal Visit

  PREPARATIONS FOR THEIR arrival began. I spring-cleaned the entire house from top to bottom. Nothing could be too good or too clean for the arrival of what I now considered to be ‘my royal family’.

  On Tuesday of that week, in the early afternoon, my new-found sister Eileen phoned. She said, ‘I can’t wait to see you. I was thinking of cashing in my insurance policy to pay for my fare.’

  ‘Don’t do that, I am sure we will meet soon,’ I said.

  ‘Daddy is delighted to have found you and he can’t wait to see you, either. He was mad at Auntie Rosaleen for not telling him about you.’

  I found that remark really strange. I expected my father to be really angry with my mother for not telling him about me for so many years. But that did not seem to be an issue. I did not pursue it with my new sister as I was trying to build bridges, not destroy them.

  She said that she had lived in London when she was first married. She asked about my children and I reciprocated. It turned out that her daughter and my son Anthony were born in the same year. We ended by saying that we would meet soon.

  Finally, she said, ‘I love you, Sis.’

  I said in reply, ‘I love you, my new-found sister.’

  I found it really strange, saying such things to someone that I had never met and had just spoken to for the first time.

  I discovered later that events had spiralled out of control after I had been to visit Clifford at Clarina. The following day he had set off for Janesboro. He was going to see my mother and tell her that I had visited Clarina and had talked to Paddy O’Sullivan. On the bus he had met Charlie Healy, who I would later learn was my brother-in-law. He was married to my oldest sister, Eileen. Clifford had told Charlie about my visit and my existence. Charlie had been gobsmacked and recognised imminent trouble on the family horizon.

  Charlie told Clifford not to do or say anything to anyone, until he got back to him. He had then contacted his sister-in-law, who was married to Eileen’s brother, Tommy O’Sullivan Junior. They had met and discussed the situation. Marion had been shocked to hear about me. They had decided to talk to their respective partners and then to question my mother.

  When Tommy Junior arrived home from work that evening, Marion had told him that he had a full older sister whom he had never met. He was incredulous, but said that if he had another sister, he wanted to meet her and know her. Charlie meanwhile took Eileen to the pub that night, bought her a few stiff drinks and told her about me.

  Her first reaction was, ‘That is a load of rubbish. There are nine of us in the family and I am the eldest child.’ As a throwaway question, Eileen then asked Charlie, ‘As a matter of interest, what is her name?’

  Charlie replied, ‘Celine.’

  ‘Holy lamb of divine Jaysus, it must be true. Mammy’s name is Doreen Marie CELINE,’ said Eileen.

  Charlie then told her that Tommy Junior and his wife Marion also knew that I existed, so the four of them had got together and hatched a plan. They had all agreed that the following Saturday evening, November 5, 1983, while my father pursued his favourite pastime of greyhound racing and its attendant gambling, they would entice my mother to visit Eileen’s house. When they had her on her own, they would ask her if they had a full sister, called Celine. Charlie’s part in the plan, was to collect Tom O’Sullivan from the dog track, and on the pretext of discussing some business with him, take him to his house where Doreen would be waiting.

  When Saturday came, the plan had been put into action and was executed faultlessly. Tom O’Sullivan was at the dog track. Charlie had collected Doreen, my mother, and taken her to his house. When she got there and all the preliminary greetings were over, Marion and Charlie, being the in-laws, retired to the kitchen, while Tommy Junior and Eileen confronted their mother.

  They told me much later that Tommy Junior said to her directly, ‘Have we got a sister called Celine?’

  My mother, apparently, looked at him aghast and said, ‘How do you know?’

  Tommy Junior said, ‘It does not matter how I know, is it true?’

  My mother then answered, ‘Yes, it is true. You do have a sister called Celine.’

  Then Eileen asked, ‘Who is the father?’

  My mother answered, ‘Your daddy is, of course, but he has never been told of her existence.’

  When Clifford had spoken to Charlie initially, he mentioned that I had seen Paddy O’Sullivan, Tom’s brother, and that he was aware of my existence. When the four ‘conspirators’, Charlie, Eileen, Tommy Junior and Marion, had talked together, they all assumed that Paddy O’Sullivan had always known about me, from day one.

  Tommy Junior had then said to his mother, ‘Paddy O’Sullivan knows about Celine, do you want him to be here, when Daddy comes over, after the dog racing?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  Eilee
n had then phoned Paddy O’Sullivan, and asked him to drive over to her house. He agreed and had arrived shortly afterwards, with his wife Mary. Charlie was then dispatched to collect his father-in-law from the dog track.

  The grand finale was ready to unfold. In some ways I wish I could have been there.

  Tom O’Sullivan had had a good night at the dogs and was in great form as he had won some money. After they got out of the car and were approaching the house, he had recognised cars belonging to various members of the family, and said, ‘You never told me that you were having a party.’

  ‘I don’t think that there will be any party tonight, Tom,’ Charlie had muttered.

  They entered the house and Tom had sat down beside my mother Doreen, slightly bewildered. Everyone was in the room. As Tom looked at everybody quizzically, Paddy O’Sullivan asked his brother Tom, ‘Do you remember back 35 years ago, to 18 Sarsfield Street, to when Doreen and you were young lovers?’

  Cautiously, Tom said, ‘Yes, I can. I make no apologies; I took advantage of a situation.’

  Paddy had then said bluntly, ‘What you do not know, is that out of that love a baby girl was born that you have never been told about.’

  Tom wheeled around and stared at Doreen and said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I was afraid,’ she replied.

  Paddy added, ‘You will be very proud of her. She is a nurse. She is married. She has two children and she lives in London.’

  Tom had been shocked. He had then said to Doreen, ‘I am extremely hurt by this. You know that I would never have left you.’

  There was no more to be said at this particular time. Tom suggested that it was time to go home and Charlie had got the unenviable job of driving them back to their place.

  I asked my father, many months later, how he had felt at that particular moment. He told me he wished, ‘that the ground would have opened up and swallowed him.’ He felt so ashamed. He said that night he recalled the house that they used to make love. He remembered asking Doreen, around that time, if she was pregnant. I later asked my mother about this, and she said that she did not know what pregnant meant, at that age.