A Letter From America

by Geraldine O'Neill

  “Don’t go,” Ken said. “You don’t understand.”

  “No,” Joseph said, “It’s you who doesn’t understand. Will you just get it through your thick head that she doesn’t owe me anything? She’s only my aunt!”

  “But she’s not...she’s not your aunt. She’s your mother.”

  Joseph and Angela both froze.

  “What did you say?” said Joseph.

  There was a silence while Ken tried to focus his eyes. “I said your Aunt Nance is your real mother. She gave you to us, and we adopted you.”

  Chapter 39

  The waiter brought two cups of tea and set them down on the table in front of them. “Would you like biscuits with them, madam?”

  Angela glanced at Joseph, who was sitting back in the deep, winged, leather armchair, lost in his thoughts again. There was no point in asking him anything so trivial.

  “No, thank you,” she said. “The tea will be fine.” The waiter went out of the otherwise empty sitting-room, quietly drawing the door closed behind him.

  Angela leaned forward and picked up his cup and saucer. “Talk to me, Joseph,” she said, handing it to him.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Angela,” he said, taking it from her. “I’m just not sure what to say. What do I do, now I know all this? It changes absolutely everything.”

  “You mean, what do we do?” she said. “You’re not alone in this, it affects us all.” She suddenly smiled. “There is good news in all this, Joseph. It means we’re not just cousins, we’re brother and sister.” He looked up at her, and she could see confusion and vulnerability stamped on his face. “We’ll face it together.”

  “What are we going to do?” he said, putting the tea back down on the table. “Should I get on the phone to my mother now...my aunt...whatever she is? My first instinct is to do that, because I need to know one hundred per cent if what my father told me is the truth.” He sighed. “And yet, I know in my heart it is the truth. I know the way my father was when I was growing up. He’s an idiot at times, and I find it hard to forgive him for all he’s put my mother through – but I know he cares about me. He wouldn’t do that.”

  “I believe him too,” she said quietly. “It makes total sense what he said. When he explained about them discovering they couldn’t have children, and then my mother going over to live with them in England when she was pregnant with you...I suppose it was the obvious answer.”

  “That’s the easy part to understand, Angela.” He looked down at the floor now, his gaze directed on the patterned carpet. “We all know what people are like about unmarried mothers in Ireland even now, and it must have been harder back then – twenty-five years ago. I’ve always wondered if I was illegitimate...being adopted...so I suppose I was half-prepared for that. But what I don’t understand is why my real mother has always seemed to hate me so much.” He looked up at her now. “I need to find out the truth, so, do I just throw everything up here now and fly back to Ireland to confront them both?”

  “Well, I suppose it’s the only way to find out the real truth,” Angela said. “But I’d advise you to plan it. Think carefully how you’re going to go about it.”

  “I don’t want to throw a bomb into everyone’s lives – my mother especially – I mean Catherine. I don’t care about Nance, I don’t care how she reacts. My mother and father are to blame for keeping the truth from me – letting me think they just randomly adopted me from an orphanage – but the real villain of the piece in this is Nance. But I need to think of people that it affects, like Fiona and Bridget – Bridget especially. Can you imagine how she will feel when she hears this, and her preparing to be a nun? And it’s so soon after Uncle Seán – they’re not over that yet.”

  “They’ll be fine, eventually,” Angela said. “When they hear the truth, they will understand. You’re the last person they will blame.” She thought back to the rows at the funeral with her mother about the way she had been treating Aunt Catherine and Joseph, she thought back to the huge row between her parents the night before her father died. She now realised that it had all been about Joseph. About Joseph being her son, and about her being terrified that the truth would come out.

  “And, of course, I still don’t know anything about my real father,” he said. “I need to find out about that as well.” Tears glinted at the corners of his dark brown eyes. “What should I do?”

  “I was thinking as we walked back over here, and, after talking now, I think for the time being you should do nothing with regards to your mother. I think you should go and see your father tomorrow – when he’s stone-cold sober – and get him to tell you everything he knows.”

  Joseph sighed and looked up to the ceiling. “He’s a bloody idiot!”

  “But he does love you, and I think he will want to help you,” she told him. “When you know more of the facts, you’ll be able to plan what is the best thing to do next. You don’t need to make any decisions tonight. Drink your tea. It will make you feel better.” She reached into her handbag and found a hanky. Then, she got to her feet and went over to give it to him.

  She perched on the arm of his chair, put her arm around him and kissed him on the side of the head. He leaned in against her, his head resting on her shoulder. They sat in silence for a few minutes, then, just as she thought to move back to her own chair, the door opened and Major Harrington came in.

  He looked at the young couple in front of him, cuddled up on one chair together, then he took a step backwards. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, Angela – I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise you had company...”

  Angela moved off the chair as quickly as she could, and went towards the door, but before she had a chance he had closed the door behind him. “I won’t be a minute,” she said to Joseph. “That’s my boss, and I just need to talk to him.”

  She went out into the hallway, and could see the major striding off in front of her to the bar. She stopped for a minute, to catch her breath, to steady herself before she spoke to him. It was then that she realised her leg was aching badly. It was no wonder it was sore, she thought. She had been on her feet for a good part of the day, and then she had walked all the way from the hotel to the pub and back. If she was at home, she would have immediately gone and put her calliper on, but tonight she would push through. She had more important things to sort out first.

  She straightened her back now, and walked across the hallway and into the half-empty bar. Her eyes moved straight to where she knew he would be, standing at the end of the bar, waiting while the young man serving poured him a large whiskey. As she slowly went towards him, she noticed for once that he was not talking to the barman. He was just standing quietly.

  She went over and touched him on the elbow and he turned around.

  “Angela...” he said. “I’m sorry I disturbed you. You needn’t have left your friend. You’re not working tonight.”

  “It’s my cousin,” she said. “I just wanted to explain.”

  “My dear,” he said, “you don’t have to explain anything to me. You’re entitled to your privacy. I don’t expect you to spend your time off with me, or justify what you’re doing during it.”

  She suddenly felt she needed reassurance from this storm that had erupted around her. And for some reason, this older, eccentric employer suddenly seemed like a safe raft in the middle of it all.

  “My cousin has just had a terrible shock tonight. He’s adopted, which he has always known, but he has just discovered that his real mother is a family member. His aunt.”

  “The poor chap,” he said. He sucked his breath in, thinking. “That must be an awful thing to happen...the feeling of betrayal. I can’t imagine...” He shook his head. “I know it’s small comfort, but these things are not uncommon – secret adoption within the family.”

  Her lip suddenly trembled. “It’s more complicated than that. It affects our family too. It appears that my mother is actually his real mother...she had him before she met my father. Her sister, my Aunt Catherine, and her husban
d adopted him. Joseph’s father turned up tonight, rather the worst for drink, and it all came out. None of us had the slightest idea.”

  “Oh, my dear Angela!” he said. “What a terrible shock for him – for you both. Is there anything I can do?”

  She shook her head. “I honestly don’t know what to do myself. It’s the most awful situation.”

  The barman put the major’s whiskey down in front of him now.

  “Would you bring me two brandies please?” the major asked. He turned to Angela. “Brandy is good for shock. A small drink might possibly help the two of you. Since there’s nothing else I can do.” He paused. “If you want to go back to him now, I’ll send the waiter into the sitting room with the drinks. I don’t want to come myself – I wouldn’t like to intrude or embarrass the chap. But I will be waiting here when you need me. Take as long as you both need.”

  “I don’t think Joseph will stay much longer as he has work in the morning, and he will probably need some time on his own to think all this through. To decide what he’s going to do about it.”

  “Of course, of course...”

  Angela glanced towards the door, thinking of Joseph sitting on his own. “I should go now.” She turned back to the major and put her hand on his, and looked up at him. “Thank you for being so understanding. I feel a little better after speaking to you.”

  His hand moved to cover hers. “I wish there was more I could do to help.”

  “Knowing you are here is the biggest help,” she said quietly. Then as she looked at him, something inside her seemed to shift. She didn’t know what it was, but something had changed. “Thank you,” she said, drawing her hand away. “Thank you, Edward.”

  Chapter 40

  The next morning, Angela lay in the comforting warmth of a deep bath, her mind going over the events of the night before, scene by scene. She was surprised, in a way, by how little the revelations about her mother and Joseph had affected her. She felt quite happy now knowing that Joseph was her half-brother. He was the best person she could imagine to be her brother.

  How she felt about her mother, knowing what she did now, she was still unsure. Not having been close to her physically or emotionally for years, she had no real idea of the sort of person her mother was, deep down. She knew her only as a meticulous, practical woman who had to have everything done just the right way. To have the shop run in a certain manner, to dress in a certain manner, to behave in a certain manner – a manner that was as correct and perfect as possible. A manner that was above criticism or reproach.

  For Angela, to picture her now as a young girl giving birth to an illegitimate baby over in England all those years ago, seemed almost incomprehensible. And yet, she knew in her heart every word her drunken uncle had said was true.

  At the time – in the mid-forties – it would have been the ultimate shame. To many in Ireland, she knew it still was. Times had moved on in the world now, and people were more relaxed about sex before marriage in big cities like London and even amongst certain types in Dublin – but nothing had really changed in small towns like Tullamore. The church still had the same rules and most people still subscribed to them.

  Whatever now followed was not going to be easy for everyone involved – especially her mother. She was surprised her Aunt Catherine had managed to hide this huge secret all these years, considering how awful her mother had been to her and Joseph. Especially of late. She wondered about it all now, and concluded that there would be more things to come out – more pieces of the jigsaw to be put together, before the whole picture became clear.

  Over breakfast, the major asked her if she wanted to go home. “I understand if you do,” he said. “And we can organise it quite easily. You don’t need to worry in the least about me. I come over to England often – we can easily shelve things until another time.” He smiled. “It’s one of the glories of being an independent employer. We have no one else to answer to.”

  She shook her head. “No, I would rather we continue with the plans we made. Finish off what has to be done here, and then go back to Thornley Manor and get the notes and the typing up to date while it’s all fresh in both our minds.” She looked at her watch. “I will probably hear from Joseph at some point this morning. He said he would ring the hotel when he had a spare minute.”

  “We’re in no rush,” the major said. “And we’re fairly ahead with things down here. I thought, since it’s wet outside today, it might be a good day to visit the Victoria and Albert museum. I think you will enjoy it, and it might help to take your mind off other things.”

  “That sounds ideal,” she said. “I might try to get some work done while I’m waiting to hear from Joseph. I could go through the papers you brought back from your uncle’s and from the record office?”

  Angela was busy typing when Joseph rang at eleven o’clock. He had thought about things, and decided not to do anything rash.

  “I’m not going to phone my mother,” he told her, “because she is all on her own. She doesn’t even have you there to talk to. I would rather talk to her face to face. I know it is going to kill her, and I’d rather be beside her and reassure her that nothing will change.”

  Angela listened, saying very little, letting him make all the decisions.

  “I spoke to my father,” he said. “He came out to the hotel early this morning. He was well–dressed and sober, and full of apologies. I got half an hour off to go and sit somewhere quiet and we had a good talk. It seems he and my mother argued for years about telling me about how my adoption came about. My father thought I should know the truth, but my mother had promised Nance never to tell me. And I think she was also terrified that if I found out who my real mother was, I might want to go and live with her. She kept telling Dad that she wanted to wait until I was older and could make my own choices. Well, of course, they split up and my father went to England before that ever happened.” His voice sounded a little choked now. “It’s sad really, because I think this secret was always a bone of contention between them.”

  “It must have been very difficult. I suppose an ordinary adoption is more straightforward than an adoption in the family. All the people involved are strangers, and presumably all the arrangements are made by nuns or the people running orphanages.”

  “My mother and father were living in Dublin and so was Nance. Apparently Nance was overwhelmed when I was born, and somehow between them it was decided that Catherine and Ken would adopt me. Nance was living nearby so she could still see me on a regular basis.”

  “It’s all so hard to believe,” Angela said. “We’re not the closest mother and daughter, but it makes me feel as if I don’t know anything about my mother at all...Imagine all that happening to her and none of us knowing...”

  “I don’t know all the details either,” Joseph said. “It seems it all worked for a while after I was born, and then Dad said there was a big falling-out because Nance was becoming too involved. Apparently she was calling in after work every night and wanting to have me at the weekends. I couldn’t take in everything that Dad was saying, it was too overwhelming, but the gist of it was my mother and father went over to England for a few years so she couldn’t interfere. In the meantime, your mother met your father and they got married and started their own family. Then a few years later, my mother and father brought me back to live in Dublin. That’s as much as I know.”

  Angela shook her head. “It seems like an awful lot of coming and going when you were little.”

  He shrugged. “I suppose with Dad being English, they were used to going backwards and forwards between Ireland and England.”

  “Can I ask you something?” she said. “Did my father know early on about the adoption? I was wondering that this morning.”

  “Yes, he did. Your mother told him a short while before they got married. To give him the chance to back out if he wanted. They must have worked it out, because they went ahead with the wedding.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Angela said, f
illing up with tears. “My father was a decent man.”

  “All the business about me losing my job and my mother asking if I could come down to Tullamore – Uncle Seán was in agreement with that. Ken explained it all this morning. What I didn’t know was that he and my mother were in constant touch about me. Odd really, since they were separated, but it seems he was the only one she could talk to about things. The only person who knew all the facts.”

  “I can understand that,” Angela said. “It must be hard when you’re bottling everything up and have no one to share it with.”

  “Well, my father admitted he was the one who was pushing for them to tell me the truth. He felt it was time I knew, and that your family knew I was your half-brother. He warned my mother that if she didn’t tell me soon about the adoption, then he would have no choice but to tell me. She asked him to wait, and she said she would talk to Nance and Seán and give them time to think about it – to prepare.”

  Angela rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “And of course my mother just shut down – evaded the whole thing.”

  “My mother told them all this when they went to visit her house after Christmas.” He halted. “Just before your father died...she told them that Ken was planning to tell me, and your father said he agreed that I should know. Then, my mother told them about me being out of work and the trouble in the band. So, Seán being the decent man that he is, said the best thing would be if I came to Tullamore to work in the bar and live with them for a while, then they could both break it to me about the adoption, at the right time. And that, of course, is when the big row happened between your parents, as your mother didn’t agree with any of it. She didn’t want to hear of me coming to live with them, and didn’t want me to know about the adoption.”

  “Yes,” Angela said, nodding to herself. “It all fits into place. It’s exactly as Fiona described.” She thought now of her sister, and wondered how she would react to this news, after all the months of pressure of looking after Mam. Selfish, uncaring Mam– who had brought everything on herself.