Harry slept fitfully through what remained of the night. He received a hot meal at lunchtime brought to him by the duty sergeant,
“Here we are, it’s the best we can do. Cooked and brought by the manageress of the local café. Liver, cabbage and spuds.”
“Thanks, I’m grateful. Any news on how long I’m to stay here?”
“No not yet. The M.P.’s are still checking records somewhere in town.”
Harry remained in the cell throughout that day and the next night. He kept piecing together in his mind the events of the previous day.
Later in the morning he asked a warden, “Is there any chance I could ‘phone my fiancé?”
“No sorry, but I’ll bring some paper, you can write a note and I’ll make sure it’s posted.”
It was the hardest letter Harry had ever had to write and because he guessed the police would want to check the contents, there was no way he could reveal what he knew about Andrew.
‘Dear Eileen, I’m sorry that you must have been worried about me these past few days. I did try and ring you but since then I’ve been arrested by M.P.s.
Please try not to worry, I always intended to go back and face the music, but it happened perhaps a little sooner than we’d expected. I met up with Darlath and I’m told that he has since been released. He will be able to explain everything to you.
I understand that I’m to go to Catterick so you may be able to write to me there, I should like that. Did you manage to talk to Dermot about selling the cottage?
Once I know exactly where and when the Courts Martial will be held I’ll get the authorities to contact you so you can follow up the proceedings and verdict.
Despite this sudden loss of freedom I actually feel quite chirpy about the future, our future together that is. Please write and update me with any news when you can.
I love you Eileen. My best love to you. Harry.’
Harry was eventually taken to the ‘charge room’ to be interviewed. The duty sergeant sat next to an M.P. that Harry didn’t recognise from the previous day.
“This M.P. is Sergeant Green, we have confirmed your identity so this constabulary will formally hand you over to the Military Police. Sergeant Green here will escort you down to Catterick. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand.”
Sergeant Green was a powerfully built six footer, about the same age as Harry but much stockier and a lot fitter. His pock marked face, strong jaw line and high cheekbones belied the fact that he was softly spoken and well educated,
“It’s handcuffs all the way.”
“It’s what I expected. If I tried to run you’d soon catch me anyway.”
Green smiled as the Police Sergeant presented papers for him to sign.
“Now Mr Davies you need to sign for your possessions.”
Harry quickly scrawled his name and took back his watch and wallet. Green then applied the handcuffs,
“You can put your mac over them when we’re at the railway station. That way the public won’t see that you are in fact under arrest.”
“I’m obliged, thanks.”
February 24th 1943
The death of Dermot by natural causes at a hotel in Northumberland was notified to Tommy Bunn at his garage in Glasgow. He passed on the news to the others. A few days later Eileen was still undecided whether she would attend the funeral. Tommy rang her again,
“Do you want to go; I can take you down if you want?”
“No, I’ve decided I shan’t be going, I’ve not been too well these past few days. But thanks anyway Tommy.”
“I was sorry to hear about your flat and what happened.”
“Yes, it belonged to Dermot. After he discovered that Harry and I knew all about Darlath and Andrew he turned a bit sour towards me. He gave me a week’s notice to quit.”
“But now with him gone wouldn’t Darlath let you stay on?”
“He probably would, but no Tommy, I don’t want to stay there anymore. Too many things have changed.”
“You mean with Harry being arrested? I understand. And you’re staying with Wemyss at the moment?”
“Yes, he was kind enough to take me in at such short notice.”
“Have you heard from Harry?”
“I had a letter from Peebles, the Police Station, but that’s all so far. It’s all been a terrible mess hasn’t it?”
“It’s been dreadful Eileen.”
After the conversation was over Eileen returned to her bed to recuperate following her visit to the woman in Shettleston the previous day. She had confided to Wemyss about her situation and it was he who had taken her to and from Shettleston…
Chapter 28
“How many weeks is it?” The women asked.
“It’s over twelve maybe fifteen, thereabouts.”
Eileen said as she was shown into one of the bedrooms,
“At my age I thought I was passed all this, I don’t know what went wrong.”
Eileen allowed the woman to complete the intrusion and much later in the day after severe cramps and bleeding the evacuation of her uterus began.
“It would have been a girl.” The woman said.
Wemyss who had paid for the abortion of Harry’s child collected Eileen.
In the late afternoon of Dermot’s funeral Tommy and Darlath found time to sit down together.
“I’m very sorry Darlath …”
Tommy was finding it difficult to convey the right words.
“- you know with your Dad going and Andrew as well. Tell me do you have any immediate plans for what you’ll do now?”
“Thanks Tom. You may not know this but I have just resigned from my job in Dublin. I need to spend time here sorting out my Fathers businesses. Some of his work became intertwined with Andrews so the lawyers will be occupied for many years to come I think.”
“Darlath stop me if this question is out of order, but did Andrew have any relatives that his estate may go to?”
“There isn’t anyone except a second cousin that apparently lives in Canada I believe. But Andrew never kept in touch with him and didn’t know if he was still alive. But as Andrew never made a will the Solicitors are trying to trace him over there, and that could take many years!”
“Oh I see.” Said Tommy.
“Tom, I need to put a question to you. I’m aware that the counterfeit money was passed on to my Father to hold in his lock up. And I know that he was uncomfortable about storing it, but I don’t know what happened afterwards?”
Tommy moved forward in his chair and lowered his voice,
“It was all disposed of. You see, soon after Andrew’s death your father became very concerned, knowing that some of their businesses were linked, he feared the Police would also want to interview him in depth and perhaps search his premises. He didn’t want that risk and he asked me to get rid of it.”
“How did you manage that?”
“Within two days of Andrews’s death I met your Father and took the stuff back to my garage initially. As there happened to be a Freemasons meeting arranged for that evening I took the notes and threw them into the furnace. Our garage is in the same street and I’m a key holder so it was easy for me to arrive early and dispose of it.’
“So it all went up in flames?”
“’Fraid so.”
“I’m glad Tom. That last project was perhaps too big for us. Better to get rid of the evidence.”
“And just to complete the story I crushed the tin trunks and left them on a bomb site somewhere in the city!”
Chapter 29
Darlath was early for the appointment at his solicitors and was requested to sit and wait. He busied himself reading the local newspaper for about twenty minutes.
“Darlath Cassidy,” The receptionist came back in,
“Mr Auldgirth will
see you now.”
He followed her through a narrow dark corridor into the Solicitor’s Office.
“Please sit down Mr Cassidy.”
At the reading of Dermot’s ‘Will’ Darlath discovered that despite their recent difficulties most of his father’s substantial wealth and property would pass to him.
“My Father never had the time or health needed to enjoy the money he had made over the years in both his letting businesses and other projects.”
The solicitor looked up from his desk,
“In my line of work you hear of these situations quite often, it is always sad. That is the way of the world I’m afraid. But now I have to inform you that you are the main beneficiary Mr Cassidy, except for a few bequests your Father made.
The details are as follows, ‘five percent of his estate to go to the Freemasons Charitable Funds, five to the Magdalene Homes and five to the Glasgow School of Art’. The details are here for you to read.”
The Solicitor, a large man in a black suit, stiff white shirt with a winged collar and tie looked impassively at his new client.
“The Magdalene Homes, I don’t understand?”
“It’s clearly designated here sir.”
Darlath was shown the document entry.
“As you will see there is also a reference there to a codicil that Mr Cassidy, I’m sorry, the late Mr Cassidy, has requested us to expand upon at this meeting today.”
Darlath leaned forward in his chair and placed his arms on the desk eager to listen.
This sudden movement somewhat alarmed the Solicitor who instinctively moved his chair backwards in order to retain what he felt was the ‘correct’ space between them.
Eileen was not a beneficiary in Dermot’s ‘Will’ but she had already agreed to remain with Wemyss; after all he was now providing the security and comfort that she desired. Wemyss had replaced Dermot’s advocacy.
Later that day her son came to visit her at her new surroundings in Wemyss’s house,
“Hello Darlath” she said bursting into tears.
“I’ll leave you two alone. I need to go to the Dugout, I’ll see you later.” Wemyss said.
“Does he know?”
“Yes Darlath, I thought I’d best tell him this morning, knowing that you were going to see Mr Auldgirth. Dermot had told me years ago that his ‘Will’ would reveal all.”
“I never knew until it was read out. Dad’s codicil disclosed that I had been adopted by him and his wife.”
He then asked the inevitable question,
“Tell me what happened all those years ago?”
Eileen sat back in her chair then reached forward to hold Darlath’s hand.
“I’ve been dreading this day, yet over the years was somehow looking forward to telling you as well. If that makes any sense?”
“I’m listening Eileen, just relax and take your time.”
She dried her eyes and sat forward in the chair.
“Here goes Darlath. I lived with my Mum and Dad in a little village near Mullingar, west of Dublin. This particular year, it was in the late summer, as I walked home from school I called in to collect eggs from the farm for my Mother. I met a boy there, a nephew of the Farmer who was on holiday.”
“What was he like…if you don’t mind telling me?”
Eileen squeezed his hand and continued,
“Well over the days that followed I looked forward to calling in and seeing him. He was about sixteen perhaps a bit older, fairly tall, dark haired and yes he was good looking. I never told my Mum. Well as the weeks went on we became good friends and I was always pleased to see him. Not every day but perhaps two or three times a week we’d meet. Then we heard that there was going to be a ‘social’ in our village hall, harvest or something, and he said he was going. Mum and Dad took me along, they always went every year. There of course I met him again that evening.”
“What was his name?”
“Eamonn, Eamonn was his name - It was during that evening we slipped away outside, no one missed us. We had time together and he was tender and loving and seemed to know what to do. It happened then.”
Eileen’s eyes welled up with tears again. Darlath gently squeezed her hand.
“It’s OK you can tell me. You don’t have to carry any secrets any more.”
She nodded and wiped her tears away,
“But soon…too soon after, he had to return home to the north. He promised to write but I didn’t receive any letters, I think my mother burnt them. She didn’t know what had happened, but she felt I was too young to get involved with anyone just yet.”
“And then?”
“Well I realised I felt somehow different, It was strange at first and then within a month or so my mother became suspicious. One night I blurted the whole story out, much to her disgust. She took me to the Doctor and he confirmed…”
“That must have been awful for you…”
“It gets worse, much worse.”
Darlath gave her a handkerchief to wipe her tears.
“You see at that time single girls with children were presumed to be prostitutes by the Church and authorities and they arranged for such girls to be sent away.”
“Your parents did nothing to assist you?”
“They couldn’t really, you see my mother was accused by the Church of being negligent in her supervision of me. As I said they were also appalled at my behaviour and concerned about what the neighbours would think. So our local Priest came up with a proposal to send me away. Apparently this sort of thing had happened to other girls in the parish before. The Priest insisted I should go to the Magdalene Home near Wexford to be cared for. The Priest and the Nuns put our family under tremendous pressure. My Mum just packed a small suitcase for me and the Priest took me away in his car within days of the Doctor’s confirmation. I didn’t see my parents again ever.”
“I’ve heard of the Magdalene Laundries, but is that the same institution that you went to?”
“That’s them, they’re all over Ireland. They’re run by the so called Sisters of Mercy but that title doesn’t begin to describe the isolation and mistreatment inflicted there. My memories are still etched with that depressing and squalid period in my life.”
“I had no idea. I’m so sorry. What happened when I was born?”
“Well you were taken away immediately by the Nuns or Mothers and given up for adoption.”
“So you lost touch with me?”
“Yes, to start with.”
“And Mothers?”
Each inmate is allocated to one of the Nuns. It didn’t matter whether your ‘Mother’ was still a young Novice or one of the many aged custodians. They were the ‘Mothers’ while I or any of the inmates, regardless of their age, were always the ‘Child’.
“When did you get away?”
“I was sixteen and decided I must escape and start a proper life outside. I didn’t discuss my plan with any of the other girls, although I knew a few had similar thoughts. I realised that there were one or two sneaks amongst us girls that relayed such information back to the Nuns for some temporary privileges. Anyway, one day I managed to slip away on my own and never went back. I headed up to Dublin and found work washing up in a hotel.”
“What a story, it’s so sad.”
“It was there, in Dublin, that I met Dermot for the first time, your adoptive ‘Father’ he was to bring you up and send you to school.”
“Please go on.”
“He was a lot older than me and single, he had great charm. He was a popular man who was always fun to be with. Even then he had money; he was in business over there. To cut a long story short we became just very good friends, we never talked about marriage or anything like that. We never got together if you understand my meaning. It was a friendly open relationship that became steadfast. Within two years Dermo
t had gone to England to work, that’s when he met and started working with Andrew’s Father.”
“I know I’m interrupting but there’s a gap that needs filling in, where did I go to at first?”
“When you arrived I knew that I couldn’t keep you; I was only thirteen. It wasn’t allowed and so you were adopted by a lady whose husband had been killed in 1918. There were no formal arrangements then, the Nuns simply passed you on to what they felt was a suitable person. Anyway this lady kept you and without the Nuns knowing I managed to trace her and she allowed me to visit you as her ‘friend.’ But she suddenly died about two years later. By then Dermot had married but his wife couldn’t have children so on hearing from me about the situation he offered to take care of you. The Nuns arranged it and that’s what happened; he paid for your education and everything.”
“But he still had a soft spot for you?”
“Well yes, as I said he was much older and married but he made sure I had accommodation. When I came to England he helped me with a flat and a job. So I’ve got a lot to be grateful for really.”
“But the ‘father’ I knew in his later years always seemed remote and cold.”
“He had great aspirations for you, some of which you fulfilled. But his illness coupled with your admission about Andrew deeply wounded him. His condition made him irritable and bad tempered. He was still very good to me, that is until…well you know the rest.”
“Why wasn’t I told about you being my mother?”
“Dermot wanted it kept a secret from his wife; as far as she knew he had arranged to adopt you and that I should remain silent. I promised I would, he told me that it would be revealed after he’d died. That’s why it was written into his ‘Will’.”
Shadows of Deceit Page 24
