Liam tried to digest what he said, especially the part about his conscience and the church teachings. Father Aquinas didn’t miss a trick that was for sure. Everybody had their challenges, their own set of worries, and he noticed everything. He was probably referring to Patrick and his condoning of the breaking of one of God’s commandments, but he wondered if the priest had any inkling about Hugo.
‘Thanks, Father. I do often find myself at loggerheads with the church’s teachings, especially of late, I mean how can I follow the vow of obedience if I’m totally opposed to the church’s rule on something?’ Liam asked.
‘Well, I don’t know the answer to that one, and I don’t think a priest exists that hasn’t had to battle with that at some point. Not anyone that takes his vocation seriously, anyway. I’ve had moments myself, times when what the church taught and what I believed to be right were totally opposed. I’ll give you an example, I saw mothers there when I was in the school having baby after baby, year in year out and no money to provide for them, and yet the church says to interfere in the procreation process is a sin. I can’t stand over the church’s teaching that a man and woman who are married should abstain from normal marital relations if they don’t want to risk a pregnancy when science has developed a way for them to do that. I’ve probably shocked you now, but I just want you to know that we all face dilemmas at some time.’ Liam felt the weight of his impasse lift a little. Just knowing that Father Aquinas felt it too helped enormously. He was a great priest, kind, compassionate, and dealt in the real world.
‘We are human beings as well as priests. We’re not exempt from moral dilemmas, far from it. I remember one particular occasion, one night a few years back, when I gave a bottle of whiskey to a violent drunk to make him forget an incident. Was that a sin? Technically, it probably was, but having him remember and take his revenge on two innocent young lads was, in my eyes, much worse.’ Liam smiled. It was the first time Father Aquinas ever referred to that night in all these years.
‘I don’t know what the answer is, except to say this. I ask myself, what would Jesus do? If he was here right this minute and you could ask him about somebody who was not living in a way that the church deemed to be right, and you could ask him to decide, what would he say? Generally, I think he would say as he did in Corinthians, “And now these three remain, faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” I think if there is love, and the motivation is love and not hate, or bitterness or revenge, then how can love be wrong?’
The two men shared a glance that said a thousand words. Father Aquinas knew about Hugo, Liam didn’t know how he knew, but he knew he did, and he was giving his absolution in as far as he could. Liam looked forward to relaying the details of the conversation to Hugo sometime in the future. Hopefully, Patrick will be there too. Liam imagined the three of them some evening in Greyrock, sitting around the fire analysing the whole lot. He wished for both of his friends long life and happiness but given the life paths they were on, it wasn’t looking likely.
Chapter 25
The week after the end of the trial passed in a blur for Hugo. As he sat one morning in his study, he despaired of the amount of work to be done. It was bitterly cold, so all the animals were inside and that made the workload double. Feed, staff, water, vet visits, all were needed, and someone had to run the entire operation. His absence from the estate meant that paperwork had piled up and while Tom was doing his best, Hugo could see he was not back to full working capacity. He doubted that the old manager ever would be, but he would never dare raise that topic with him.
Tom Courtney was a taciturn man at the best of times and made no secret of the fact that he thought the generation of today compared most unfavourably with those that went before. To be fair, Hugo knew Tom’s feelings included him in that, but his disdain was not reserved particularly for the young earl. He felt that way about all young people.
Hugo wished he was more approachable but even his father had treated Tom with kid gloves. He would have loved to enquire about Martha to find out where she was, maybe even write, though what he would say he had no idea. Perhaps, he often told himself it was better to stay away. She knew perfectly well where he was. If she wanted to hear from him, she could easily make contact. He felt awful about that day in the tree house, how horrible it must have been for her to endure his rejection afterwards and then the disgust when she realised that he really was the abomination he told her he was. His cheeks burned with shame at the memory of that day.
Since the conversation with d’Alton and the visit to his little house by the lake, Hugo felt a lot better, less of an outcast, less alone, but now that d’Alton was gone back to France, that glow of acceptance was fading fast. He was home in Greyrock, and he had to keep telling himself that it was going to be all right. It was all very well to have conversations with exotic men who lived in France in the dead of night over bottles of wine, to think it was all normal. That he was normal, but the harsh reality was very different. He wished he had someone to talk to, Liam was gone back to the seminary, so that was out, and Patrick was still languishing in jail. He would have loved to phone d’Alton, but he was only gone a few days, and he said he’d call. He didn’t want to seem like a lovesick teenager, so he’d just have to wait. Hugo tried not to worry. D’Alton explained that when he was in a case, he was all consumed by it, blocked out everything else, so he said he’d call when it was over. Also, he didn’t trust phones in hotels or public places. His cases were often high profile with potentially disastrous consequences for some very influential people, who would love nothing better than to expose the famous Geoffrey d’Alton as a homosexual, so discretion had to be paramount. He said he’d call when he got back to his house in Antibes, and Hugo just had to hold on to that.
The days seemed long though, waiting for d’Alton, waiting for a sentence for Patrick, wondering what had become of Martha, and all the time the work in Greyrock piled up. It was probably just as well he couldn’t talk to Liam or Patrick.
Anyway, while Hugo was incredibly touched that Liam had chosen friendship over his deeply held faith on the subject of homosexuality, he still hated the idea of forcing his friend to deal with the reality of Hugo’s attraction to men. The thought of Liam struggling to accept him in an actual relationship rather than a notional one made him cringe. Patrick, too, was accepting and non-judgemental in theory but if anything came to pass between him and d’Alton, Hugo knew he would dread telling them.
As he sifted through the endless bills, receipts, requests from tenants, vet reports, Department of Agriculture directives, invitations to events in the area, he felt guilty. His father would have never allowed things to become so chaotic, but he had so much on his mind lately, the needs of the vast estate were pushed aside. He swore that by the end of today, no matter how long it took he would get to the end of his overflowing in-tray. As he started, the phone rang.
‘Hello, Greyrock, how can I help you?’ he said absently. He heard peculiar clunking noises and realised the caller was ringing from a payphone.
‘Oh hello...hello, is that you, Hugo?’
‘Mrs Tobin? Yes...yes, it’s me. Is everything all right?’ Hugo was worried. He knew Liam’s mother hated using phones so something must be wrong.
‘Oh yes, pet, everything is fine, but I got a letter this morning, and I just don’t know what to do about it. From the bank on the South Mall. The letter says that...’ Hugo heard the rattle of paper.
‘I set up a standing order, Mrs Tobin,’ Hugo interrupted her. ‘I didn’t ask you because I knew you’d say no, but please take it. Every month some money will be lodged in there for the girls and for you. The bank will send you out a book so you can just go in and withdraw whatever you need. I don’t have personal experience, but I hear children are expensive, so I wanted at least to alleviate any worries you have in that area. We can revisit it as soon as we know what’s happening with Patrick but, in the meantime, please, will you just use it?’
/>
‘But, Hugo, you can’t do that. I mean, it’s a ridiculous amount of money, you need your money for that big place of yours and...well, whatever else you need it for...’ She was flustered.
‘Mrs Tobin, I have more than enough money, let me assure you. Please let me do this, it remains between you and me. I owe you for a lot of dinners.’ He smiled.
‘Hugo FitzHenry, you do not indeed owe us anything, you’re like a son to me and having you in our house, well, you’re just one of the family, fancy and all as you are.’ He could visualise her standing in the draughty telephone box on Patrick Street and felt a wave of love for her.
He would never have children of his own, any nieces or nephews, but he had the Tobins and the Lynches and he cherished them.
‘Thanks, Mrs Tobin, that means a lot. Now, not another word about the money, all right?’
She sighed. ‘All right, Hugo, just until we know what’s happening. I’ll get them something nice from Santa Claus and maybe coats and shoes and that sort of thing so, if you’re sure.’
‘I am,’ he said as the phone began to beep.
‘I’ll go so, I’m about to get cut...’
Hugo grinned as he returned to his paperwork. Maybe Mrs Tobin and Liam would bring the girls to Greyrock for Christmas. Patrick’s sentencing would be decided and at least the endless waiting would be over. Maybe even Father Aquinas could visit, and Santa could come for the girls down the big chimney for the first time since Hugo was a boy. The thought of filling the house with his dear friends gave him a warm glow. After the chaos of the trial and his misery at his situation, things were looking a little brighter.
He worked all morning. Patterson brought him sandwiches and tea and insisted on opening the windows when he entered as he claimed he couldn’t see Hugo through the cigarette smoke.
‘Patterson! It’s freezing, close the bloody window,’ Hugo exclaimed as a pile of papers fluttered off the desk in the stiff breeze.
Patterson closed it though he exuded disapproval through every pore as Hugo retrieved the pile.
‘Thank you, Patterson,’ Hugo said with a smile. ‘I’ll cut back, I promise.’
‘You’re welcome, Master Hugo,’ he replied and left the room, mildly appeased.
Hugo spotted an envelope with familiar writing addressed to him that had been buried under stacks of bills. It had been posted two months before. He slit the envelope with a beautiful, pink mother-of-pearl letter opener. He dreaded to think of Patrick’s reaction if he saw that, but it had been at Greyrock forever.
Inside was a letter, but there was also something else.
Hugo stared, stunned. With shaking hands, he unfolded the letter.
Dear Hugo,
Right, I’ve started this letter around a hundred times. The waste paper bin beside me is overflowing. I just can’t find the right words. So I’m just going to spit it out as your friend Patrick might say.
I’m sorry I left so abruptly, I had to. I couldn’t explain to you, well, because I knew how you would react, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t know what I wanted, to be honest, but I definitely didn’t want you doing the ‘right thing’ as I knew you would.
I wish I could see your face as you read this, to judge how you’re taking the news, but I can’t. The thing is, Hugo, I discovered I was pregnant a few weeks after that day in the tree house. I know you might think I’m a wanton hussy based on the way I seduced you, but I swear to you what happened wasn’t planned on my part, it just happened. You, my best friend, were so sad, and I just wanted to make you feel better, I suppose.
God, this must sound like total gibberish. Anyway, I’m going to keep going. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to think I’d tried to trick you, to get Greyrock or something. There was only one other before you, and I told you about that. Well, anyway, I knew you’d suggest we get married but that would make nobody happy in the end, would it? Least of all our son, so I decided it was best to go. My father knows, but I made him swear never to mention it to you or anyone else, so I’m sure he’s not breathed a word. I told him that I knew you’d marry me if I told you and that I didn’t want to marry you nor you me. He was not pleased as you can imagine, but I told him I was going to stay with Mammy’s sister, my Auntie Betty in Birmingham. So that’s what I did. The baby was born last May, and he’s a lovely little fellow. I wanted to call him after you but yours is such an easily identifiable name, I decided against it. His name is William, after your father, and he looks just like you, blond curls and blue eyes, and he makes us all laugh with his chuckle.
I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner, but I hope you understand. I’ve met someone over here, a really nice man, and we’re going to get married. He knows the whole story. I would never betray your confidence, Hugo, but if we are to be married and he is to be in William’s life, it is only right he is in possession of all the facts. Terence, my intended, is a lot like Dad, actually, quiet and trustworthy. He won’t ever say it to anyone, I give you my word.
So, my dear Hugo, there you have it. I’ve wrangled with this for months, often deciding to leave well enough alone, but I know how much having a child to pass Greyrock on to means to you, and I figured William might be your only chance, so that’s why I’m writing. If you choose to ignore this letter, I understand, and there will be no bad feeling from my side. I don’t want anything from you but if you want to be in your son’s life, in some capacity, as he grows up, Terence and I would be happy to accommodate that.
I enclose a photo of William taken last week and my return address. Take your time, Hugo, there is no pressure. William will grow up happy and healthy in a loving family whatever you decide.
All my love always,
Martha and William
Hugo picked up the two-inch square photograph and stared at it. A smiling baby beamed back at him. Martha was right, he thought, William looked just like him as a baby.
‘Hello, William,’ he said, his voice croaking with emotion as tears ran down his cheeks.
He sat there, just staring at this baby boy’s picture. How could this be happening? He was unsure about religion at the best of times and even questioned the existence of God on occasion, but he was overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude. Gratitude to whatever force was at work to have allowed him to become a father, to have a son, not just for himself, but for Greyrock. Martha was a wonderful friend, and he believed her completely when she explained her reasons for staying silent until now. He wasn’t angry that she didn’t tell him once she found out she was pregnant. Poor Martha, what an incredibly difficult situation to find oneself in. Tom must have been livid; it certainly explains his reticence on the subject since she left. She was right. If he’d known, he would have offered to marry her and that would have been disastrous for both of them.
Hugo kept looking at the smiling baby and felt instant love. He couldn’t wait to meet him, his son. He repeated the words over and over to himself, ‘My son, William.’
Martha didn’t send a telephone number, just an address, so he promptly wrote her back.
My dear Martha,
I’m sitting here in the study trying to take in this wonderful news. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to reply, but I only discovered your letter this morning. So much has been happening here, too much to go into now, but I’ve not been here in Greyrock much of late, and I let the paperwork and correspondence slide, I’m afraid.
Martha, can it be true? I am a father and that beautiful little boy is my son? I can hardly believe it. Perhaps, I’d have more doubts if he wasn’t the image of me as a baby. Remember the photograph in the oval frame on the sideboard in the downstairs drawing room? It could be William. I’m so touched you called our son after my father, he would have been as well, he always loved you Martha, as I do.
I can’t tell you how much it means to me. You could have said nothing, you could have just lived your life, got married and been happy, and I would have known nothi
ng of my child but your generosity and selflessness means more to me than words can ever say.
I want to see him, to hold him, to show him Greyrock, to teach him how to ride a pony, but Martha, I’ll do whatever you want. I’m just eternally in your debt for what you’ve done. You make the decisions, you are his mother.
But, just say the word, and I’m on the next plane.
I can’t believe this is happening, it’s amazing.
I want to shout it from the rooftop.
All my love,
Hugo
Chapter 26
Patrick looked across the battered table at Helen.
‘I do, of course, I like you, you’ve been amazing...’ he was struggling to explain.
‘Well, it’s just I know the type you go for, you know, the very glamorous girls, and I’m not that and so I just want to know if I’m wasting my time?’ The whole speech came out in a rush as if she’d practiced and practiced it and if she didn’t blurt it out now, she never would. Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment.
Patrick leaned over and held her hand. Though strictly speaking there should be no touching, the warder on that day was half blind.
‘I have nothing to offer you, Helen, not a single thing. I’m going to be sent to prison for years and even when I do get out, sure what will I have to offer someone like you? No job, no prospects, and a criminal record following me around forever. How could I make any plans, you’ve been so good to me and to the girls, I’ll never be able to repay you. I just can’t ask you for anything more than friendship. You should find someone else,’ he finished miserably.
Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars Page 106
