Daughter of Mull

by Joan Fleming

  She tried to imagine a picture of Janet Maclean. Maybe all she had to do was look at herself in a mirror? After all, George had apparently recognised her because she looked so like Janet. But try as she might, the picture of a mother figure resembling herself refused to appear. The image simply became more blurred.

  Eventually, she dozed off, worn out by the conflicting emotions of the morning.

  Anna woke with a start to the sound of her mobile ringing. She had left it on the bedside table, beside the package George had brought. As she stretched out her hand to pick up her phone, but stopped herself. Memories of her jumbled thoughts came bounding back. She was in no fit state to speak to anyone, no matter who it was. Perhaps they’d leave a message? But no. The caller clicked off as soon as soon as her mobile went into message mode. But she knew there would be a record of their number on her phone – she would investigate later.

  The sun was beginning to set when Anna stirred herself to move from her bed. Pulling up the blind, she stood for a few moments to admire the sky: against a backdrop of cobalt blue, a multi-layered scene of clouds in hues of black, white, and grey shot through with arrows of gold projected by the setting sun. She took a deep breath, drinking in the beauty of the scene, feeling it flow through her, like balm for the wounds she had sustained.

  Leaving the package behind, she walked through to the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry, nor had she the energy to cook, but she looked in the fridge and found some soup which Elsa had sent over.

  I’ll have a plate of soup, she thought. Then I’ll open the package.

  Two hours later, however, Anna still hadn’t summoned up the courage to look inside the package. What if it was yet another rejection? Maybe Janet Maclean wanted to confirm that she had no desire to see her.

  It had been such an emotional day that Anna reckoned she was in no fit state to deal with anything else. She would sleep on it, and leave the package till the morning.

  She lay in bed, her eyes closed in a determined effort to sleep, but she was unable to clear her mind sufficiently to relax. She tried deep breathing exercises, reciting Burns’ poetry, even singing lullabies to herself – all without success.

  Switching on the light, she scrabbled in her rucksack till she found her notepad, and started to sketch some of the people she’d met since she came to Mull. Sometimes she found that artwork relaxed her; maybe it would allow her to go to sleep. Art had been her best subject at school, and she had been disappointed that her application for Art College had not been successful.

  George, Finn, Elsa and Charlie, Sandy and Amy, Kirsty. Jimmy the builder… Finally, she began to yawn.

  When she awakened, it was morning; her notepad and pencils were lying on the bed where they had slipped out of her hands as she drifted off to sleep. She glanced at the sketches she had made in the early hours of the morning, scanning the various characters she had worked on. Then a strange thought hit her – all the men had the same face. Glancing at the women, she saw that they all looked different, almost recognisable.

  But the pictures of the men, though of different shapes and sizes, all looked like one person: Roddie.

  Was she going mad? Had all this upset about her birth mother knocked her over the edge? If only Roddie was still with her! He always knew how to keep her grounded. Deep down, though, she knew she would have to face whatever was inside that package by herself.

  CHAPTER 22

  Anna used an ornate dirk she found in the living room to slit along the top of the envelope. Her fingers trembling, she slowly extracted a sealed folder from the package.

  Accompanying the folder was a letter written on both sides of a single sheet of blue notepaper. She turned the folder round in her hands, excited by the thought that the last hands to touch it were her birth mother’s. Taking a deep breath, she read the accompanying letter.

  My dear Anna,

  I’ve no doubt you were hurt by my response to your letter suggesting that we meet. The only explanation I can give you is that I took fright. I’ve longed to see you since the day I handed you to the adoption agency, but when the moment came, I was terrified our meeting would not be a success. I wrote two letters, one saying yes and one saying no. And I sent the one saying no.

  The moment I put the letter in the post, I regretted my decision. This might be my only opportunity to meet you – ever.

  So, what was I afraid of?

  Rejection, recrimination for giving you up all those years ago. I could only guess at your reasons for getting in touch with me, and all my guesswork might be wrong.

  George is a close friend of mine, and when I heard from him that you were on the island, I decided I had been given a second chance.

  I’ve taken the liberty of sending this to you directly by hand. The pages in the folder will speak for themselves – they will explain to you the reasons for the decision to have you adopted. If you prefer not to read them, please hand them back to George when you next see him.

  I hope you will read them, though, and that you’ll have it in your heart to understand the reasons why I made that enormously difficult decision.

  Best wishes,

  Janet Maclean

  Anna fumbled for a tissue from the box on the coffee table and wiped her tears. Yes, she understood that her letter suggesting they meet must have sparked all sorts of emotional responses in Janet Maclean, coming, as it did, out of the blue. Anna tried to put herself in Janet’s position – how would she feel? Panic would probably be her immediate reaction, maybe resulting in taking steps she could later regret. And that’s precisely what Janet had done.

  She picked up the folder once again, and gently stroked it with her fingers. It was cold to the touch but smooth, as if it had been dusted down with fine powder. She raised it to her face and rested her cheek against it, inhaling the faint scent of – what? Lavender?

  Anna realised that this was her moment of decision. Should she send the unopened package back and forget the whole episode? Collect her research findings and return to Glasgow?

  Or should she open the folder?

  It was what Roddie would call a ‘no-brainer’.

  When Anna opened the package, she pulled out several pages which were clipped together. They were all filled with tiny handwriting set in tight rows, which Anna found quite difficult to read. She crossed to the window where the light was better. The pages were beginning to yellow round the edges, but she glanced at the date at the top of the first page. 1991/92. Around the time of Anna’s birth? Twenty-five years ago. A quarter of a century.

  She picked up page one. It was dry to the touch, even threatening to tear if she handled it roughly. Settling herself into the chair nearest the window, she began to read.

  CHAPTER 23

  1991/92

  My darling Anna,

  At some point in the future, you will wonder why you have been adopted. You may find it hard to understand how any mother would be able to part with her first-born child. I will try to explain to you what led to my decision. I cannot find words to describe how sad I felt when I handed you over, forever, to someone else. My heart was broken. And there is no cure for a broken heart.

  In the summer after we left school, Duncan and I had married secretly in Glasgow, without the consent of our parents. We were both eighteen. We had been attracted to each other since our first year away from home at high school in Oban. Why was our marriage secret? Our two families in Mull had been at loggerheads for three generations, and neither would have given their blessing to a union with the other. I reckoned my father was capable of attacking Duncan if he ever found out that we were seeing each other.

  But we were very much in love, and we were happy for the short summer weeks we lived in the city. Yes, we would have to face the music when we returned to Mull, and we dreaded telling our parents what we’d done, but we pushed these thoughts to the back of our minds.

  As the summer wore on, however, we began to think seriously about the repercussions there would be with
our families on the island. We knew we were expected to obey our parents, which meant there was no possibility of either family accepting our marriage, let alone approving of it.

  However, that worry faded into insignificance when I realised I was pregnant.

  So, what did the future hold for us?

  Duncan had been accepted for a course at a university in America, while I was hoping to go to art college, provided my exam grades met those set in the conditional acceptance. Suddenly our dreams of higher education melted like snow in the sunshine. But there was nothing sunny about the position we had landed ourselves in, and I admit I was disappointed.

  From the euphoria of young newlyweds, in one fell swoop we were immersed in misery. As if someone had snapped his fingers, the glow of our love was snuffed out, to be replaced with worry and resentment.

  We had an almighty row, which ended with Duncan walking out.

  And he never came back.

  So, there I was in Glasgow – a married woman, pregnant, with no visible means of support except my wages from a temporary job in a restaurant, which could finish without warning at any time. It barely covered the rent of my room. Duncan did send me a cheque – I imagine he cleaned out his bank account to do this – which I put into my own account at the first opportunity. Already, our dream-like love had developed into a lack of trust. If he was prepared to walk out on me, perhaps sending the cheque was an empty gesture, like the promise to love, honour and cherish. But no, the large cheque was honoured by the bank, and at least I had enough money for the immediate future.

  I knew I would have to return home to Mull at some point, but I delayed as long as I could. Provided I could conceal my pregnancy, I still had time to make up my mind what I should do. The results of my exams came through – I had passed at a high enough level to start my course at art college. But I could delay for a year, so I made arrangements to do that.

  I examined myself frequently in the cracked mirror in my room to see if I could continue to hide my bump. There were a couple of women in Mull who boasted they could detect a pregnancy before it started to show, and they were almost always right. I would have to be careful to avoid them when I returned to the island.

  When at last I had plucked up the courage to go back home, I still hadn’t made up my mind whether to tell my parents or not. In the event, the decision was made for me. I learned that my father, who had lost a lot of weight, was suffering from terminal cancer. How could I add to his misery with my news?

  Having deferred entry to college, I now carried on working in the restaurant, living in my bedsit. I managed one more trip to Mull before I reached the point where I could no longer conceal the fact that I was pregnant, and told my mother about the baby. She was stunned when she heard the news, and warned me not to tell my father about our marriage or the pregnancy. ‘It’d be the death of him,’ she said. When I returned to Glasgow, she wrote letters, keeping me informed about my father’s condition, which was slowly deteriorating.

  As the time of my confinement grew nearer, I realised I had a decision to make. How could I keep this baby? There was no way I could go back to Mull carrying a newborn infant. Even if my parents accepted me back into their home – and I thought that unlikely – what sort of upbringing would that be for my child, living in a house of resentment?

  Although I had tried to blot Duncan out of my thoughts, with only four weeks to go before my due date, I knew I had to do something. Even after he had deserted me, I would have welcomed him back to share the responsibility of my present situation, but there was no further contact from him. I couldn’t bring a baby into my bedsit – they didn’t encourage children there, anyway.

  One day, during a break at work, Grace, who worked the same shifts as did, asked me what I was planning once the baby came. I burst into tears, and told her I had no idea. By this time, I was desperate.

  ‘Why don’t you give the baby up for adoption?’ she asked. ‘There are always childless couples looking for babies.’

  What was the alternative? In giving my baby up, I would be offering her the chance of happiness, a settled life, opportunities I was in no position to provide.

  My beautiful baby girl arrived three weeks early, so I had to make the decision sooner than I thought. The night before I went into labour, I had phoned my mother from a call box. My father had taken another turn for the worse. She thought I should come home as soon as possible.

  When I signed the papers for your adoption, I felt my own life was coming to an end. I knew I would live with my guilt for the rest of my life. I had two weeks to change my mind, but as each day went by, and I thought of the life my little girl would have with her adoptive parents, I became convinced it was for the best. My spirits sank lower and lower, counting the days until I could no longer go back on my word. That final day was the blackest of my life.

  CHAPTER 24

  Anna returned the papers to the folder, but there was an additional page, folded in two. It was fresher than the others, again with a hint of the scent of lavender. She glanced at the date, confirming that it had been written recently.

  May 2016

  My dear Anna,

  Those were the circumstances in which I gave you up for adoption. Perhaps I could have found a way of keeping you, but I couldn’t see that at the time. I knew you were going to be well looked after, that you would have a far better life than I could offer you.

  I didn’t take up my place at art college. Instead, I came back to Mull to help look after my father until he died. Then I cared for my mother, whose health worsened after the loss of her husband.

  I’ve never understood how news of my marriage and my pregnancy didn’t filter through to Mull, but there’s only one other person on the island who knows about what happened: George.

  He was in the same year group as we were, and he took up a career in the navy when he left school. After I returned to Mull, he once asked me to go out with him, but I couldn’t start a relationship with any man. Besides, at the time I was still married. However, he was persistent, and in a moment of weakness, I told him my long, sad story.

  George made no criticism of me. All he said was: ‘I could have told you that Duncan Grove was a waste of space.’ He hadn’t returned from America, and the rest of his family had gone out to join him. They all decided to settle there.

  George has been a good friend to me all these years. Knowing he was there to support me has helped me through many dark periods, when life threatened to become too much for me. Whenever he’s been home on leave, he’s come to see me, and I’ve always looked forward to his visits.

  I now live in my family home on the island, painting to make a living.

  So, that’s the story of the circumstances in which I gave you up for adoption, Anna. Did I do the right thing? Perhaps, if we meet, you will be the best judge of that.

  Janet Maclean

  Anna sat back on the chair, staring into the middle distance. Her birth mother’s account explained the circumstances leading to the reasons Anna was adopted. This certainly wasn’t the way she’d imagined it. It sounded like a story from a much earlier time, a time when parents’ word was law, and children were ‘seen but not heard’ – almost Victorian.

  During her short time on the island, Anna had recognised that time moved more slowly here; perhaps that applied to the way of life of the islanders? Without the influences of the town, would they cling to the old ways?

  It must have been such a sad, sad time for Janet, Anna thought. She must have had a struggle both with her conscience and with her natural maternal desire to keep her baby close. What a dilemma for a young woman, still a teenager, to try to sort out. What would she, Anna, have done in her place? It was difficult to apply the 21st century mores of the city to the ethos of a small island twenty-five years ago. Would she have made the same decision? Then lived to regret it? Or not?

  Giving herself a shake, she knew she needed to do something to stop herself thinking about her adoption. Un
til a few months ago, she had never spent any prolonged period of time focusing on the subject. Once she had contacted her birth mother, however, she hadn’t been able to stop it from slipping into her thoughts uninvited at any time of the day or night. Since Janet Maclean’s letter refusing to see her, though, the rejection had claimed an increasing place in her mind, even at times when she should have been focusing on other matters. Like her research.

  Catching a message on her mobile from Finn offering to take her on a research trip wherever she wanted to go on the island, she decided to take him up on his suggestion. If her mind was occupied with other topics, perhaps it would help her to see her adoption through different lenses, now that she knew so much more about it. Unlike George, Finn knew nothing about her background, which meant there would be no conversation on the subject.

  She sent him a text.

  Are you by any chance free this afternoon? I’d like to take you up on your offer. Anna

  Sure. I’ll pick you up at 1.30. Finn

  Finn’s reply was instant. Had he been waiting for her response? Or was it by chance that he had picked up her message so quickly?